The Lesson of the Basket

I have been working in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, for the last year or so, as an expatriate with a multinational company. One day, after a satisfying lunch of local food with my Vietnamese colleagues at a restaurant close to our office, we walked back briskly, trying to get out of the heat of the midday sun and back to the air-conditioned comfort of our office. On the way, we passed by the usual array of mobile street vendors who peddled their wares on the uneven sidewalk on their bicycles, motorbikes or hand-carried baskets and trays.

We passed by this one elderly man selling baskets of all kinds – from large rattan laundry baskets to small dainty ones, all artfully balanced on his bicycle. He was just unloading his merchandise to display them on the sidewalk, when I noticed a small woven rectangular basket, about 20 cm x 10 cm (8 in x 4 in), just the size I was looking for. It was in a lovely natural rattan colour, offset by a forest green trim on the edges, with two small wooden handles – it would be perfect to put on the dining table to hold paper serviettes.

I asked one of my Vietnamese colleagues for help to enquire about the price of the little basket.

“He said it costs ten thousand Vietnamese Dong”, said my colleague.

“Wow, that’s only about RM2.20 – what a good bargain!” I thought to myself, as I took out my purse to pay for it.

In the meantime, unbidden, my colleague had asked the vendor for a discount, in Vietnamese.

“He says he will sell you the basket for seven thousand Dong”, said my colleague.

I thought that was great – a discount, even when I didn’t even ask for it – but I still intended to pay the man the full sum of ten thousand Dong, as I thought it was an extremely fair price.

While I got out the money to pay for the basket, my colleague and the vendor were still engaged in conversation.

“Guess what, said my colleague, “he’s going to give you the basket free of charge, because he says you are a visitor to Vietnam and he wants to give it to you as a present”.

That’s when I froze and stared at the man, a million thoughts racing through my mind – I could almost see the whole scene playing out before me, like I was an observer to the entire event.

The old man stood there in the sun, small in stature with a wrinkled, weather-beaten face tanned from the constant exposure to the outdoors. His thinning hair lay in grey wisps over his head, and his threadbare clothes hung loosely about his slightly hunched frame. He was smiling at me, his dark brown eyes crinkling as he did so.

And there I stood opposite him, an expatriate with a large company in a well-paying job who worked in a modern air-conditioned office, being driven to and from work everyday, dressed in smart professional attire complete with a brand-name handbag, obviously in a hugely better financial and social standing than this unsophisticated street vendor who offered me the little basket as a present.

With an effort, I recovered from my incredulity and mutely held out the ten thousand Dong note, which the man promptly waved away, refusing payment. I tried again with no success, and finally had to practically force him to take it by putting it into his hand.

I thanked the man and walked away clutching the little basket, this time my steps a little slower, my head bowed in thought and my heart greatly humbled by the act of a simple man who showed me what it means to have true generosity of heart, even if one has so little materially.

I still feel grateful to this day to that elderly street vendor, for teaching me the Lesson of the Basket.