The Karang Guni Man

www regaloptions com Who remembers the Karang Guni Man? binäre option option Or rather who can forget the Karang Guni Man, an Icon of old Singapore? The Unseen Recycle Machine of an inevitable, consumer, use and throw Culture.

rencontre kabyle ile de france Somewhere, in the mix of hawkers and peddlars, would shuffle the Karang Guni man in his threadbare Khaki, shirt, shorts and open flip flops. The Karang Guni man was a faceless, nameless, decrepit, tinker-man-cum-rag-picker. He got his name from  microphone hookup for mac Karang Guni , gunny sack in Malay.  He scoured the streets of Singapore, calling out to the houses, honking his horn or hand bell, urging residents to keep throwaways ready, to stuff into a gunny sack, slung over his drooping shoulders. He would take these  often free or for a pittance and trade them as reusables. Where, When and How, no one knew.

follow link No one knew where he came from or where he went. He was the body that carried the gunny sack, that visibly burgeoned out, in odd shapes, on his rounds. He just faded away, with his gunny sack, as a silhouette in the sunset.  They were just glad to get rid of the junk that occupied their lives. No one ever bought from the Karang Guni man. No one picked up anything, from the jute bag strung, over his shoulder. That would have been totally unacceptable. What he collected, would reach a second hand dealer or a waste recycling company in the later years. Some of these treasures, would find their way, after a makeover, into the Flea Markets , especially the ones on Sungei Road.

go to link Writing about this memory from my childhood, I am tempted to make a detour to the present and share a story from my marriage. Sam and I are as different as Chalk and Cheese, which may explain why we overcome the urge to wring each other’s neck and stayed married.  The fact that we are good friends, must have helped too. Sam is the biggest hoarder, this side of the Suez. He absolutely hates parting with anything.

see url Or anyone, which also might explain why he stuck with my craziness.

enter On the other hand, I am the biggest non-collector, you would ever find. I go on ruthless, exhilarating, cleaning binges, that lets me get rid of the clutter in my life. The only problem is, that if I throw things out, when Sam is around, you can be sure, that dear old Sam, would sit outside with a basket to collect everything, to bring back. This ended up with no movement of throwaways. Two steps forward and one step backward. I soon realised that these spells of cleaning, had to be done, when Sam was travelling, if I had any hopes of spring cleaning to improve the Feng-shui of our lives. One day, when Sam was away, the Church Kids of the St. Thomas Garrison Church in St. Thomas Mount, Chennai, came around collecting Bric-a Brac for their jumble sale. I was delighted to get rid of stuff and went on a rampage. I picked up some well worn shoes from Sam’s cupboard and added it onto the growing pile. Days went by and  Sam came back. We went for the church sale and walked around the Stalls, browsing, aimlessly. Suddenly, Sam let out a yelp….…Susieeee….. Imagine Sam’s shock and horror, when he recognised his Italian shoes lying forlornly, atop a pile of faded clothes, tied together with designer shoelaces. He was speechless for all of 5 secs….

Those are my Italian Shoes, Susie…..he growled, as he strode with a purposeful stride, towards the kids selling the jumble and said …Those are my shoes …I want them back…. he said, smiling, through gritted teeth. You cannot fool young entrepreneurs these days and they know a biggie, when they see one. Uncle Sam, was a great favourite with the kids at church, but, they were not going to let a deal of a lifetime, slip though their adolescent hands.

Uncle Sam , are these yours ? they asked, with an innocence that belied their business acumen.  You want them back, Uncle Sam ?  How much will you pay for them, Uncle Sam ?  

After relentless haggling and after an indecent sum of money had passed hands, all for a good cause I might add, the kids handed over Sam’s shoes to Sam, to take home and I got the “Why can’t you leave my things for me to clear, Susie” lecture, ad nauseam, all the way home in an air conditioned car, with the windows up and I could not escape with my famous one-liner…. There is someone at the door….

Suddenly, the Karang Guni man from my childhood, wafted up as a visual on the windshield . I was sure that he would have become a millionaire, with a Rags to Riches story, if we had lived in Singapore after we were married.  The thought of a desperate Sam scrounging around the Flea Market, in Sungei Road, haggling to buy back his own shoes, bubbled up and I got the giggles , which did not help Sam’s exasperation or mood.

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