Letter to the Editor Tuesday May 27, 2014

An inspiring cuppa

While driving south some time ago I called into a cafe at Otorahonga for a cuppa, and upon entering noticed an Asian man behind the counter, humming to a tune on the radio. I recognised the tune straight away, and said to him, "You don't hear this song on the radio very often. It's the Pointer Sisters song Slow Hand, 1981."

"Aah," he replied in quite good English. "In 1981 I was in an orphanage in Cambodia." And with a little prompting he let me glimpse into his life.

Pol Pot had murdered his mother and father, forcing him to hide in the jungle for some years until he was able to be taken in by the orphanage. He came to New Zealand 11 years ago with nothing and unable to speak our language, which he said was a very strange way of talking.

"You put the adjective before the noun, not like most other languages where you put the noun first."

Anyway, he taught himself English, bought the caf, and now has a wife and family. They all work together. He works 14 hours per day, seven days per week, no holidays, and he said to me, "I'm a happy man."

I looked across at a nearby table where a group of chubby youths were slouching over a bowl of fries drowned in tomato sauce, grunting in an indiscernible language, and texting each other in equally distorted English.

After enjoying my cuppa I stepped cautiously out on to the street and peered along it carefully. I saw lots of hanging baskets full of brightly coloured flowers. I saw people talking and smiling at each other. I could not see a single AK47 or burnt-out car bomb. I did not see any evidence of a suicide bomber. I did not step on a land mine.

I thought to myself, " I wonder if those young lads realise just how privileged they are?"

PAUL MULLER

Kaitaia