Papita

Her name, she said, was Papita.

Papita ran a small ‘shop’ in a busy sidewalk in one of the commercial centres of the city. She sold amusing amulets, hand-crafted necklaces, stone-spankled bangles and bright coloured earrings. There were other potential customers who stopped by to look at the wares on display. The price quoted was much low as against high-street shops.

I was looking at either an amulet or a bracelet as a souvenir.
That was when she pointed to the hand-made bracelets with the name of your choice.
You could also choose something like “love” or even “peace” if that was your choice.
I chose a name and asked if it would take much time and if so, I could wander around the nearby market and return.
As her reply, she offered me a kind of wood piece that would serve as a mini-bench which meant that she could finish the work while I waited.

The bracelet workshop was just next to the ‘shop’.

Papita got down to work. She had chosen the beads bearing the letters of her name and had stuck them on her work-bench. Two red heart shaped beads adorned her name.
I asked her permission to capture a few photograph of hers to which she nodded which meant “that’s fine with me”.
For a better view of the working, I settled down opposite her, sans the offered seating.

Bright couloured strings, multi-faceted cubic beads, a piece of wood, polished with constant use and a lighter.
Why the lighter, wait and watch, she said, still searching for the letter E, observing my impatience with a faintest smile. Some letters are in much demand, she said, in her own dialect. I remembered that comment from our casual game of Scrabble (Regd) back home.

Well, we are almost done, can you hold this string for me now, Yes, is this tight enough, That is fine.

She handed me the bracelet for almost a dollar, the cost agreed before start of the work.