The water Pedler could no longer be ignored. Twenty minutes before when she stopped at the table she had been declined. Dark, with that kind of axe feature of African masks that sometimes appeared on the street. From the table she had gone to lean against a pillar, where she found no better luck. While stopped there another Pedler of the same came up before her, a younger woman, blind in one eye from some kind of mishap. There looked to have been no words exchanged, not a syllable. Without any communication, the Elder knew what was needed. From a corner of her own little stand, which she had removed from her neck, a bottle was taken and exchanged for a similar in the half-Blind’s shelf sitting on her midriff. The Elder’s may have been cooler, a more appealing product on the blazing street beyond the veranda. When the regular busker was given his Rp2k (20c), he was slipped an additional five to deliver across, something which gave him pleasure.
Malioboro, Yogyakarta
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