Namu gets up at five in the morning. He lives in a small shack in the heart of a squatters’ settlement. He shares the shack with five other beggars. The shack has no running water. Its single bare electric light bulb is illegally extended from a neighboring shack. The condition of the shack is deplorable but it is home for them. They make do with whatever they can get by begging or other means.
The first light of dawn falls on the rusty roof of Namu’s shack. The sound of sparrows chattering signals the beginning of yet another day. Somewhere on a nearby tree, a magpie-robin sings sweetly. Even among the deplorable hovels of the squatters’ settlement, the beauty of life is still evident.
For Namu however, living is by no means beautiful. At seventy-two years of age, he still has to struggle to make a living. Ever since he lost his job twenty odd years ago his life had been downhill all the way. His family deserted him and he began to drown his sorrows in drinking. First, it was whiskey and brandy. Then it was toddy and beer. Now it is anything he can get hold of.
He makes his way to the central market where he goes every morning. He has been doing this for as long as he can remember. On reaching the market, he stations himself at his usual corner, places pieces of old newspapers on the floor and sits down on them. He then holds out a battered old tin cup in his scrawny hands and beseeches every passerby to give him some money.
The shoppers come in droves. Some walk past Namu without even noticing him. Some pause to look at him with pity, disgust or revulsion. Yet some chastise him for being dirty and unwashed. Namu does not care a hoot what others say or think of him. All he wants is some money so that he can buy a bottle of samsu or beer.
The morning passes. Coins of all denominations collect in his cup. There is even a couple of wrinkled ringgit notes. Namu empties the money into his trousers’ pocket. He gets up and heads for his samsu supplier. He is a fat bald-headed stall-owner who deals in sundry goods. That is his legitimate business. He also deals in illegal samsu which is far more lucrative than sundry goods. Namu hands the fat man some money. In return, he is given a bottle of illegal brew. Namu takes a swig. It calms his nerves.
Namu returns to his corner and continues begging. Lunch hour comes. A kindly lady gives him some food. Namu gulps the food down. Then it is back to more begging.
For the rest of the day, Namu sits on his corner holding his cup with practiced ease. By the time the shops close, he has collected enough money to buy some food and another bottle of samsu.
Evening comes and Namu heads home just as the last of the crows pick up the pieces of rubbish behind the market. He does not notice them. All he knows is that he has to get home with this food and drink before it gets dark. Thus ended yet another day in the life of Namu, the beggar.