There’s an old man who shuffles down the street each day collecting pieces of trash. The local people greet him as he walks by. They raise a hand as they laze in coffee shop chairs and call him ông as he does his rounds.
As the sun blazes down and while everyone seeks the shade, the old man continues to work. His movements are slow, each step seems weighed down and measured out as he makes his way along the road. Every time he finds a piece of trash – a discarded bottle, an unused bag, a beer can – he kneels down and gives it a little shove with his cane. The old man stops for a while longer, turning over the trash as if in deep thought, before pushing himself back to his feet.
Whenever he gathers up two or three pieces of trash he ambles over to the nearest gutter and shoves them in. For the next hour, he wanders off and repeats this under the unforgiving sun as folks continue to sit by the road and watch.
After he’s cleaned the street he finds his way back to the gutter. The old man crouches down and uses the end of his cane to push the trash as deep as he can. He stays there on his hands and his knees and pokes at it for a good five minutes until all of the trash is out of sight.
Once he’s finished his work he takes a break and drinks cà phê sữa and talks to the patrons in the coffee shop.
When he finishes his drink he lights a cigarette, takes a few puffs, and then gets to his feet and makes his way home.
—
During the monsoon season the clouds build around midday and by two o’clock the sunshine is exchanged with black and looming clouds that darken the street. It stays that way for an hour until the first heavy drops of rain crash down. A few seconds pass and then it turns in an instant and the rain roars down like gunfire.
Within ten minutes the road floods. Everyone on their bikes and scooters pull over to the side of the road and tuck themselves into tea shops or hide under the umbrellas of street food vendors.
As the roads flood the gutters gurgle.
The rain comes down and fills the street and the trash from the gutter begins pouring out, piece by piece, and floats down the road. The gutter begins to sputter as the rain hammers down and the water continues to rise.
After an hour or so the rain would stop faster than it began.
Within ten minutes the sun returns and the streams along the road diminish and fade until the dryness and the heat return. The only thing to remember the flooding was the trash that was now strewn across the road and on the pavements.
—
The next day the old man came shuffling down the road with his cane and began his work again.
A young lady spots him as she cycled by, ‘chào, ông,’ she calls.
He looks up and waves his hand at her, before turning back once more to the road.
