All sewn up

This morning we walked over to spend a little time with the cobbler, who is a near-miracle worker when it comes to fixing leather stuff that everyone else has given up on. He did that with a pair of sandals that I dearly prized and even duplicated them for me in the colour and with the embellishments that I wanted - the same kind of thing was not available anywhere in the city and was a perfect fit for a bum ankle and a personal ethos that at that time included more walking than I had pavements to pound. Today we collected a camera case that almost classifies as an antique, it is that old and treasured, as is the camera that it cradles. And, as we stood there waiting for him to do the final polish after repair approval, we listened to the story he had to tell.

Not too long ago, he had a flourishing business making watch straps for an export company, he said. But the company went bust and so did his little enterprise. And there was no obvious leftover rancour or negativity. He smiled cheerily as ever and told us how he now worked the night shift as a security supervisor at a local hospital, the same healthcare facility where his wife was ward assistant. He spent all night there, sleeping after 2 in the morning in an air-conditioned cabin (which seemed to be a point of great pride for him), and then came to his small stall near the market where he cleaned, repaired and polished leather of various kinds for a whole family of clients. He lived not too far away and either walked to his work, or rode his motorbike. At times, he volunteered at the church nearby, helping with counselling and treatment for alcoholics. One of his sons was in college, doing well, while his son-in-law had his own business and his various relatives had shops and factories in different parts of the city, working on everything from shoe-making to selling vegetables. The man beamed at us while suggesting we go to his brother to have footwear made, and said that if he mentioned his name, the price would be far less than otherwise.

We stood there listening, chatting, smiling, strangely moved by the cobbler's positive attitude to life and his upbeat attitude. Things could not have been blissfully happy for him all the time, but he had his priorities in order and said with pride that he was law-abiding, all his stalls and spaces properly licensed and legal. I would not have been surprised if he had told us that his family included a policeman or two and maybe even a politician. It would have added to the complete experience that he and his existence were all about.