As a canteen vendor, I saw with my own eyes, day in and day out, countless number of children of school-going age. Children, like fish sold in the market, come in all shapes and sizes. Most are innocent and cheerful, some others more mature and a small fraction of them surprise us with the way they behave and act.
Dishes cooked, rice apportioned into plates, I was all prepared to get busy once the bell rang for recess.
The canteen came into life as the ever energetic children buzzed in like a swarm of bees. Squeals of laughter, lively chatters filled the air. A line formed in front of my stall and I served my little customers promptly.
The queue shortened. Most of the children were at the tables, tucking into their food. It was then when a scrawny boy, out of nowhere, showed up in the canteen. Unkempt and filthy, a revolting odour emanated from his body wafted intrusively through the air. Our canteen, humble in size, was instantly filled with an overbearing stench.
Many children noticed this outsider’s presence. Apparently not a pupil from this school, he was cast with looks of hostility. I observed with interest from my stall, anticipating what this boy would do and how the children would respond.
The boy shuffled listlessly to the eating area. Other than in clothing that was over-mended and dirtied beyond imagination, he looked no different from all the other children. Aged 11, my guess, his blood-shot eyes scanned around the canteen. Like a hungry lion in search of its prey, he quietly decided on his target. Target identified, he made hesitant steps towards Mandy, a Primary 3 girl who patronised my stall frequently.
I watched, more curiously and intently, for the incident to unfold itself.
“Errr, excuse me. Do you think you could lend me a dollar or two? I am starving,” he spoke like a gentleman, which surprised me greatly.
Mandy was however caught not by surprise but shock. She recoiled and was lost for words the next few seconds. Two pupils at the next table reacted strongly. They threw him rude stares, pointing fingers and gesturing to Mandy against helping the beggar boy. Others frowned with disgust.
Oblivious to all the disapproving remarks, he spoke again, confirming my impression of him as a well-mannered boy, “Erm… excuse me. I’m sorry if I have scared you. I am wondering if you can spare me some money to buy some food. I’m really hungry.”
“No, Mandy! You don’t have to give him,” her classmates said, trying to influence her decision.
Having regained her composure, Mandy reached her hand into her pocket for her purse. From the purse, she pulled out a crisp piece of five-dollar note and passed it to the boy nonchalantly.
“You may keep this but you should not go about begging for money. It steals away your dignity,” said Mandy matter-of-factly like a wise sage.
“Thank you very much. I will remember your kindness and teaching,” the boy received the note politely with two hands. With that, he left the school leaving everyone, including me, completely nonplussed.
This episode which took less than ten minutes taught me much. I learnt from Mandy the unconditional willingness to help and her wisdom. It was no surprise she was awarded the Star Pupil at the end of the year. What came as a real surprise was that the beggar boy was actually the Principal’s son in disguise to test if Mandy fulfilled one of the selection criteria of a Star Pupil.
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