Everyday heroes :
Haniffa, the kola kenda vendor
By Carol Aloysius
Haniffa is my favourite street vendor. The tiny man sporting a goatee
beard and an oversized hat that resembles a ladies bonnet to cover his
bald head, and a pair of rubber boots on his feet, is not quite your
usual image of a hero.
After all, all he does is trundle a cart full of different leafy
gruels. Yet, his nutritious soups are so popular, they are always in
demand. So much so, that hundreds of kola kende addicts I know, have
confessed to being hooked on his drinks from the time he started his
business fifty years ago!..
Haniffa's path to success was by no a means meteoric rise. It was
strewn with obstacles that might have deterred a less persevering man.
But on that hard and stony journey of endurance, the gutsy little man
learned lessons of endurance and survival - lessons he never failed to
share with newcomers to his world, always urging them to live their
dreams and pursue them with perseverance.
A gentle, mild mannered man, Haniffa has had more than his share of
troubles. Starting his business alongside his father at 16 years, he
became its proprietor when he was in his early twenties, after his
father passed away following a heart attack.
After he married, Haniffa began training his wife and two sons to
follow in his footsteps.
When his older son died in a road accident, his wife was his only
helper, since the younger boy was physically and mentally disabled.
He used to tell me that together, he and his equally hard working
wife, worked an 18-hour shift on a daily basis.
Their only day of rest was a Sunday. The money they earned went to a
school for special kids they ran for differently-abled children, like
his son.Haniffa became his neighbourhood's unsung hero the day he lost a
couple of toes while attempting to settle a fight between two friends
living in the vicinity.
One of them had pulled out a knife and slashed his toes in a drunken
rage. Despite his physical disability, the gutsy little man, who began
sporting a thick pair of socks to cover his missing toes and rubber
boots, never stopped trundling his cart..
Whenever I invariably stop by Haniffa's gruel cart to buy one of his
nutritious leafy drinks, we make it a habit to trade news and the day's
experiences.
I supply him with the news of the day in my role as a journalist.
Haniffa tells me real life experiences, picked up all the way from
his familiar route, starting from his Maradana home through the Hospital
Square, past Lipton Circus and Slave Island and back to Maradana.
Naturally his stories are far more interesting than anything I can
offer.
Unlike most other vendors of his ilk Haniffa's specialty is that he
is able to dish up as many as eight to 10 varieties of steaming hot
leafy soups in one go.
The secret lay in the secret shelves in the cart each fitted with a
small kerosene stove which could heat up any of the soups he carried
around.
From moonkenda, hathavariya, gotukola, karapincha, pol pala,
thampala, mukunuwenna to uncommon drinks like carrot kola kenda, leeks
kola kenda, and even murunga kola kenda, each drink is served in a take
away cup and piece of kitul hakuru. Unlike the usual kola kenda vendors
who simply serve their customers their products and rarely chat with
them, Haniffa has gone a step further.
Not only does he take time to talk to his customers and learn their
names which he commits to his excellent memory, he has voluntarily
undertaken the task of teaching them the beneficial value of his
products.
His facts are not based on hearsay, but learned from books found in
libraries where he spends his leisure hours. From his extensive reading
he went about printing leaflets at his expense about the health value of
each of his products which he usually distributed free of charge to
every customer. If a customer could not read, he would take time to
explain what the leaflets contained.
When I saw him last, a month ago, Haniffa was still hard at work,
enjoying a brisk business.
A few days ago, I was saddened to learn he had suddenly passed away.
May God speed you to your heavenly abode my friend and mentor.
As for me, you will remain my unsung hero always...
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