in bugis, my friends and i came across an uncle selling hand-made crafts. the exquisite vases, recycled from used cans, stood neatly in rows within a styrofoam box. no one stopped to chat with this uncle; perhaps no one noticed his existence.

intrigued, we decided to interview him and make him the next protagonist of our 'the human touch'.

as we were interviewing this uncle, a crowd gathered.

we learned that he worked from 7 am to anywhere between 5 and 8 pm daily, be it rain or shine. such draining hours!, i thought, i wouldn't want to lead his life. can you imagine a life of long working hours and a low yet unstable income?

'uncle, how's your business nowadays?' my friend asked out of concern.

'ai yah, the economy's bad now and who would want to buy such stuff from an old man like me?' he sighed and answered.

as the interview unfolds, we found out more about him. this uncle, he didn't want help from others. he wants to depend on himself, on his craftworks to make a living, not survive on the charity and sympathy of others.

emotions - admiration, respect, joy - threatened to overwhelm me. admiration for his nifty skills; respect for his independence; joy in his indomitable spirit. words deserted me. i couldn't help but be impressed by this uncle. i also felt a twinge of shame. how often have i bypassed these people without noticing their presence?

the crowd circling around us didn't purchase any of his finely-wrought vases. it's okay, i guess, if one didn't have sufficient cash to buy any of his handicrafts. but it would be decent to chat with this uncle, instead of simply ignoring him.

a little 'hello', a little 'how do you do?' goes a long way, friends. next time you see an uncle peddling his wares, ask after him. and perhaps, in chatting with him, be inspired by his determination to live and make a living.

interested? find out more about this craftsman..