She stood out in the light rain. She had this gait that sort of ambles along. Probably in her late fifties, she portrayed toughness. Maybe it was the apparent strength with which she lugged those plastic bags of stuff with her two hands.
As I drove, I spied her from a distance, a lone lady along the raised road median. She wore “aunty” clothes, those light blouse and pants usually worn by amahs and kampong women of my grandmother’s generation. Another bag lady, I thought to myself. Otherwise, who would be crazy enough to be in the middle of nowhere especially in the rain?
Those plastic bags don’t look like they came from the supermarket nearby. Who walks to the shops nowadays? Everyone drives or is driven. Definitely another bag lady, I thought.
The light was red just as I neared the junction. I saw her quicken her pace towards me. Sure enough, in an instant she was knocking on my window uttering something. Asking for a lift or she had something cheap to sell?
My reaction? Outright rejection. My mind was already made up long before she came near. She can only be up to no good, not to me at least. If it was a lift she wanted, she was wet and looked dirty. She would mess up my car!
I did not hear what she was saying through the glass. Neither did I cared. I just waved no. Surprisingly she accepted without resistance and walked right away to the lorry stopped behind me. The rain continued to splatter indifferently on my windscreen.
From my rear mirror, I could see her. The lorry driver had refused her same as I did. She next proceeded to her next target, a taxi with a passenger in the front seat.
Just as the light turned green, I saw her face light up as she happily opened the rear door of the taxi. She had only wanted a lift. It was at this moment that I wished that I had not been judgmental. A lift for someone in need can’t be too heavy, even if it is a little way off my route. If fear of harm is a reason, goodness, she is not stronger than me. It was a hard lesson in self cherishing and I had lost.
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