Image by Nel Botha from Pixabay

Over the years, I have tried perfecting the game of school shopping but nothing worked. I have kind of gotten used to the comfort of pushing school shopping to the last line at the bottom of my to-do list.

The truth is I don’t enjoy shopping. Well, I mean offline shopping. And I don’t think I should be blamed for this. Shopping with three children of different ages and tastes was never a fun activity.

However, part of what I gained during the six months lockdown was self-awareness. Amidst gardening and growing our own vegetables I rediscovered my self-worth, my strength and what self-love truly meant. As expected, I decided to iron out some crumbled-up old habits and turn over a few leaves.

I did part of the school shopping online for a change and those I couldn’t get online I bought in stores. Part of the uniform my children wear includes tailor-made blazers. Apparently, I had no choice but to physically attend shops that offer such services with one of my children.

The only problem was with the few shops that render these services. These shops have ridiculous opening hours and they operate by appointments. Customers have the opportunity to walk in only twice a week. I tried booking appointments online but got none. I had no choice but to walk-in.

Joining The Queue

On a Tuesday morning, two weeks before the end of August, I grabbed my child and drove 20 minutes to the uniform shop. The shop sat the edge of a quiet street but the queue of the parents and their wards went further down the street occupying half of the adjoining street.

We left home early hoping to purchase the blazers without the queue. Disappointedly, we joined the long queue avoiding direct gazes from people under drizzling August rain.

Tried as much as I could, it wasn’t easy beating the majority to the game of shopping. The present climate contributed to the long queue, safety and social distancing needed to be taken seriously and strictly to combat the spread of covid19.

The Art Of Waiting

Right in front of me was a woman with two children. The youngest was around eight. As we moved in snail-pace towards the front of the shop, it was obvious the youngest of the two boys was getting tired and bored of doing nothing.

The wait was getting unbearable for everyone. My little girl stood close by, shedding in my shadow. We had no umbrella with us and the gentle breeze that carried the drizzle of rain had suddenly turned cold.

After two hours of waiting, we heaved a sigh of relief. By now, the little boy with his brother had had a few arguments, read all the writings their eyes could find and play-fight. The boys’ mother was in a deep conversation with the couples in front of her. Undoubtedly, they knew one another from somewhere.

The Unexpected Chatter

Out of the blues, the boy blurted out loudly ” I hate Turkish”. The mother turned around as if stung by a bee. She cast her gaze over the long queue behind her checking to see if anyone heard what her child just said. The mother’s gaze then rested on the boy and the said quietly, “Shush”.

Leaning back against the glass wall of the uniform shop, the little boy said slyly “No mum, we all do. We hate Turkish”. My heart skipped a bit. For the mother, there was nothing else to say or do. The couple the mother had been talking to swiftly came to her rescue. One of them said joking, “You’re a racist”, bending down to until she reached the same height as the boy. Both the mother and the couple bouted out laughing making light of the situation.

My Exact Thought

To a passerby, this was a hearty healthy laugh among a group of friends with some children, but it wasn’t. I really didn’t know what to make of the laughter. But, I was sure it wasn’t funny. I thought of what I would have done if the boy had said ” I hate blacks” instead. Would I have reacted?

I thought maybe I took these whole standing in line too personal. A part of me denied the truth in what I witnessed. Maybe, Turkish wasn’t a race to this family, maybe it was a word used to denote something else. I couldn’t but wondered what the adults here found funny in the boy’s bluntness.

Some opinions are best kept away from children. The world is a global village. Racism shouldn’t have a place in our world.