This story
is from the mid-nineties, when I was on assignment in Hanoi, Vietnam, and my
family had joined me after a few months.
Our infant
son was rapidly growing out of his clothes, and we had decided to buy some new
stuff for him. Back in those days there were very few shops that specialised in
baby clothes, and even fewer shopkeepers who could understand English. I
consulted my office colleagues, and they directed me to a couple of shops near
the Hoan Kiem Lake area.
We entered
the first shop – their shelves did have a very wide variety of baby clothes.
After a bit of searching and trials with my fidgety baby, we settled on a set
of clothes that we thought, would last him at least a few months. (A couple of
sizes bigger, if you know what I mean…)
My wife,
while checking the fabric, asked the lady shopkeeper, “Is the colour fast ?”
Her instant
response was, “Yes, Ma’am, very fast”…. Then her face clouded as she wrestled
with the dual target of closing the sale, and satisfying her customer… Then
remarked, “No, no, I mean colour is slow… very slow,” and brushed her hand over
the clothes slowly, to emphasise the point.
We
pondered over her statement for a while, then bought the stuff. She packed the
clothes in a big plastic bag and assured us once again, “Colour very slow, Ma’am,
no worry.”
Well, she
was indeed truthful – the colours never faded in the few months my son wore those
clothes, and indeed remained the same long after.
The
colours were slow indeed… I mean, fast. I think they should do something about
this English language.
