unwelcome shutterbug

It was a back alley somewhere in Chinatown. (I don't really know where but had stumbled upon it as i let myself wander about the area.) I had decided to walk into a corner instead of past the shophouses lining the main road. That turned out to be a rewarding move, for i chanced upon a mini flea market of sorts which i never knew existed in this part of Chinatown.

The first thing that one noticed isn't the haphazardly displayed items being laid on some groundsheet. It's the sellers who were sitting idly by their makeshift stalls on either sides of the alley. Unlike other flea markets which are often bigger and most certainly would have young entreprenuers selling their stuff, this one consists only of a few sellers, most of whom are doubtless in their sixties. Even the few passers-by who had stopped to examine the things displayed, they were mostly middle-aged adults. But of course, it was a lazy afternoon and here is an obscure corner of Chinatown, probably the reason why this small hub of activities had sprung up.

I tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, observing the people and studying the scene in the least unintrusive way. But the rather bulky camera that i was holding made for unwanted attention. When i turned to the other side of the alley separated by a small road that joins the main road from where i had turned into, i caught sight of a roadside barber, one of those dying trades that belonged to the era of the 50s or 60s. The space in which the barber operated his business is but the size of a bathroom, sheltered by a canvass that is held up by wooden poles. At the centre of this small space is the central feature - an inclined armchair which his customers sit on to have their hair cut. From where i stood, which is a few polite metres away, i observed that the barber was trimming the nose-hair of his elderly customer.

I was thrilled. Somewhat possessing the the mentality of a prying, self-conceited photographer, the first thought that came to my mind was: I have to capture this rare find. But i had to do so without incurring the possible wrath of my subject. Inasmuch as one is just a curious, harmless photographer taking snapshots of the things and people that he comes across, I believe it is something akin to being unethical were one to take a picture of someone who is against being photographed. Two shots were snapped hurriedly when i realised that the barber was done with the customer. But as they were taken without any focus, i felt compelled to linger around and capture better shots when the next customer comes along. It was then that i became aware of a man standing not farwaway who was eyeing me warily. I did not look at him, not wanting to give him the impression that i was aware of his attention. Instead, in the most nonchalant and insouciant manner i could muster, i turned away and strolled back to the other side of the alley.

I walked about and surveyed the smorgasbord of items that were up for sale. They range from the usual old CDs - even pirated DVDs - and cassette tapes to the likes of plastic toys from the 80s, lighters, jade rings and other paraphernalia. A player was emitting a slow-tempo hokkien oldie sung by a high-pitched female singer - the image of a songstress in cheongsam singing comes to mind - that registered a rather lazy quality, as though the song had floated langurously through the air before reaching my ears, suffusing the entire backlane alley with a nostlagic atmosphere.

A woman whose entire hair is greyish-white spotted me trying to take a picture with her in the background, and she instintively held up a plastic board and covered her face away from the unwelcome lens of my camera. Feeling uneasy myself, i felt guilty of having become the face of an unwelcome, trouble-inviting photographer who with a camera in his hands can only possess selfish motives. This was all the more acutely felt as i wondered if these elderly people are making a living out of this. My presence was doing them nothing good, and in fact, it was their presence which i now appeared keen to exploit. Whether or not these people are licensed to sell their stuff here, it seems to me that they represent the part of our society who are robbed of their time by modernity and relentless progress. And how ironic it seems that Chinatown embodies that all-important link to our heritage and past, yet is simultaneously also a testament of rapid development and change, courting crowds of tourists to experience a taste of Chinatown, that quintessential place in cities around the world that supposedly exhibits cultural traits that are common to all Chinese in the world.

I walked back to the other side where the barber was at. This time around, the man who had observed me with a cynical eye earlier was lying on the armchair. Alas, as i walked in his direction with the camera in my hands - but not taking aim or anything - he finally spoke what was running through his mind when he first spotted me. 'You don't take any photos here,' he said in a steady, defiant voice as his stern gaze followed my every movement. A chill went down my spine but i once again pulled off an indifferent look, seemingly paying no heed to what he had just said. I avoided looking at him but merely walked on, neither hurrying nor slowing my footsteps. I meant to prove him wrong, that although i had my camera in my hands, i hadn't the intention to photograph him having his hair-cut; his worries are thus unfounded. Thank god there was a corner just ahead and i turned into it almost as a natural course, as if my purpose in walking this direction was only to get there and nothing else. Stealing a quick glance as i was about to disappear from the man's sight, i saw that his gaze had not left me even as i was surely leaving the scene. I thought, this guy surely has something against benign-looking lads like me holding a normal digital camera that isn't even the kind used by an amateur photographer. He had a most unfriendly and insistent stare that cuts to your bone and which conveys a quiet but powerful dislike for any creature that carries a camera.

It was well that the afternoon was getting late and i needed to get home soon. This was actually the first time i had set off on a trip just to take random shots of things that i come across. I had decided that Chinatown wouldn't disappoint, for it has always been that odd place trapped between the past and the demands of the future. Yet I must say that even as Chinatown isn't quite what it used to be, there are still many scenes and things that are worthy of appreciation. You need to take time to walk the area in order to appreciate its multifarious contents, be it the large elderly crowd who live in the area or wjo hang around with their friends in the day, or the gentrified buildings that are justaposed with the looming commercial buildings at the fringe. Not many a young person today would find much in Chinatown that is attractive or a cool place to hang around, but i've grown to like the place a lot. Maybe someday in the future i will hopefully find the time to spend another afternoon visiting other alleys and backlanes which i surely have never set foot on.

Out of respect for the people whom i came across at that back alley, i shan't be posting here any of the photos that i took of the place and of them.