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Food
for Thought
Never
A Dull Moment…
musings From the Shop Floor
(part
1)
Farah
Ghuznavi
The
heavy chill in the morning air was the harbinger of winter.
I hurried to the shop, grateful for the meagre warmth of the
takeaway coffee cup I cradled in my hands. The bell above
the door chimed as I entered, making Sulei look up from his
position at the till. He gave me a cheerful grin, eyes twinkling,
"Always in a hurry to get going, hey, Farah?" he
teased. "Just be grateful for it!" I retorted sharply
(perhaps as an unfair payback for years of being scapegoated
for punctuality in a generally unpunctual world - not least
in my homeland, where Bangladesh Standard Time operates!).
Sulei
(short for Suleiman) was a bit of a character. He had moved
to the UK from Turkey, over 20 years ago. Obviously a Muslim
by birth, he didn't seem particularly devout (at least not
enough to fast during Ramadan). His considerable energy and
good humour made him an excellent manager for the charity
shop. I sometimes felt that he ran the small army of volunteers
(30 individuals over a series of shifts) almost as a kind
of miniature social experiment - not that strange, given the
considerable diversity of backgrounds among the volunteers.
His methods combined coaxing, encouragement and the occasional
spot of bullying, and generally yielded positive results (something
his ready smile probably contributed to as well).
It was
hard to know what led people to volunteer. Sometimes the motive
was fairly evident, a desire to contribute some free time
to a good cause. At other times it was less obvious. Some
of the volunteers spoke very basic English, others were new
immigrants, filling in time between job searches. As I grew
more familiar with how the shop operated, it became increasingly
clear to me that for many, this was an opportunity to not
only better their English, but also improve their social skills
and learn how to operate in "mainstream" British
society. It was also evident that Sulei took his role as guide
and mentor quite seriously, not hesitating to provide praise
or corrective feedback to his flock. Although he could be
brusque at times, his good intentions were not in question,
and the new arrivals could certainly do a lot worse in terms
of their initiation into a foreign culture. I sometimes wondered
if they reminded him of himself, when he first came to this
country.
They were
a mixed bunch. There was Ramani, from South India, whose husband
had been posted in the UK for the next four years, by the
bank he worked for. She was a full-time mother, and had, like
most South Asian parents, great educational aspirations for
her only child, who was planning to be a doctor. Ramani assured
us that this was a reflection of her daughter's own wishes,
rather than parental pressure, but that didn't stop the rest
of us from teasing her about the strange coincidence whereby
so many South Asian children wanted to be doctors, lawyers
and engineers! She was a warm person, and engaging, and I
admired her for choosing to go out and be part of something
bigger, rather than sitting at home and making endless glasses
of brain-boosting Ovaltine for her daughter (which of course,
she may have been doing during her hours at home!).
Then there
was David. He was Jewish and had grown up in Peru, where his
grandparents had moved before the Second World War, sensing
the way the wind was blowing in Germany. Because of his familial
origins, David had recently applied for, and been granted,
a German passport. As an EU passport holder, this was what
entitled him to now live in the UK. But he spoke limited English,
no German, and of course, fluent Spanish! In fact, in between
volunteering at the shop, and looking for jobs, David spent
his time writing Spanish poetry…
Farzaneh,
who helped out on an occasional basis, was another interesting
character. Her parents were Iranian, but she had grown up
largely in Britain. Unlike many second-generation immigrants,
she remained a devout Muslim, but not intolerant in any way.
She and Sulei were having a running battle - albeit a good-humoured
one - about his failure to fast during Ramadan. No one could
accuse Farzaneh of being a stereotypical "submissive"
Muslim woman - she was confident in both her opinions and
her faith, and had no hesitation in speaking out on either.
She also had a great sense of humour, and even those on the
receiving end of her sometimes sarcastic asides, found her
likeable.
For anyone
wanting to understand how volunteering at the shop or purchasing
goods from there contributed to charity, there was a system
of labelling which I found very useful. For each item for
sale, it was explained what the price (i.e. the contribution)
meant to the organisation. The same was true of the hours
worked by volunteers, e.g., four hours of voluntary work provided
the equivalent of immunisation against six diseases for twelve
children, seeds for so many farm families in developing countries
to grow food and so on. Somehow, this made both volunteers'
and customers' contributions to the cause more tangible to
many of us. And on bad days, it reminded us what we were doing
there!
(To be continued…)
Copyright
(R) thedailystar.net 2004
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