When I was a kid, there was a time when a rambunctious old man used to frequent the shophouse where my brother was running some sort of business. It was a double storey shophouse. We took residence on the upper floor. The old man was usually dressed in a white singlet and khaki shorts, a Good Morning towel around his neck and a wooden pole on his shoulders balancing several bamboo trays containing loads of fried fish balls.
My brother's apprentice had tea breaks at about 3 each afternoon. That's the time the old man arrived with his trays. Effortlessly, he eased himself out of the pole, removed a soup bowl (with the rooster design) and placed three dices inside the bowl. I never did understand the essence of the game. Each apprentice paid a small quantum (probably 20 sens or 50?) to get a go at those dices. The coins usually ended up in the old man's pocket but occasionally a winner is rewarded with a bowl full of fried fish balls. Winners are a magnanimous lot and their loot (fish balls) are often shared among the others.
I missed those fish balls.
Sometimes the Man with the dessert (tong sui) stopped by at the shophouse. The rich aroma of hot steaming dessert came from the cart welded to his bicycle. He carried all the local favorites from bubur chacha, red bean, mung bean, wheat porridge to sweet potato, all served in ceramic bowls and spoons with a dash of santan from a bottle. In all the years I saw the man, he had never once smiled.
Once a month or thereabout, an elderly woman in her fifties appeared at the shop with a basket full of steaming hot vegetable pau. These were usually gobbled up by our hungry apprentices which made her pau appear all the more delectable. In this time and age, you don't find food bearers like them anymore. I missed the good ole days.
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