The aunty in pink has been working as a hawker for over 40 years. As I sat near her stall chowing down a delicious plate of hor fun (flat white noodles), a man in his 70s came by with a bottle of beer and asked if he could sit at my table. I said: of course. Hawker centres get incredibly crowded, and it’s common for strangers to share a table over a meal or drinks.
He introduces himself as John. The American kids call him Uncle John, he said, when he plays his guitar for them in the evenings. He used to work in the hawker centre as a pork butcher: “Very good pork”, he says with obvious pride in his craft – and, after selling pork in the mornings, he sold cooked seafood in the afternoon.
However, his stint as a hawker was short-lived when the government confiscated all his goods because he was operating without a license. In Singapore, you cannot sell raw food and cooked food at the same stall. This rule intends to prevent food contamination.
There are more rules in the markets: the hawker needs to be present at their stall (they cannot sublet or leave their stall to a worker all day) and raw food and cooked food cannot be sold in the same zone. This means that John would need to rent two stalls in different parts of the market. Since he obviously can’t run two stalls simultaneously that are spread apart, he would need to choose what to sell: raw pork or cooked seafood. After his stall got closed down, he simply gave up his trade.
During the conversation, John mentioned that he had cancer, lifting his shirt to show me the massive scars across his stomach and chest. He had gone for chemotherapy, and he was feeling better now.
Meanwhile, he kept asking how I was enjoying the plate of hor fun. “Is it good?” I told him it was delicious. I had informed the hawker: “No need to add any meat” and she went beyond my expectations by personalising the recipe and whipping up a mushroom soya sauce on-the-spot.
This is what I love about hawkers: they are not only the CEO but Chief Chefs who can make the call about their menu, tailoring the culinary experience to your delight.
John insisted on treating me to rice with salted fish. It’s not on the aunty’s official menu, he said with conspiratorial delight, and only cooks it when he requests it. I pleaded and protested. “After this hor fun, I can’t eat another bite!”
He insisted, and told me to pack it up to take it home to eat later. I convinced him that we could share a plate of rice with salted fish another day. And, hopefully, in the regularity of these shared spaces, we will meet again!
Shopkeeper Stories is a photographic documentary of small business owners with their trades around the world. You can catch all the posts on Facebook and Instagram @ShopkeeperStories. See you there!
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