The smile of the man fixing umbrellas..

The man fixes his workspace. A folding chair, back legs missing. He braces the chair on the folded door of the store. He has a piece of wood tucked at the bottom of the seat. The piece of wood will form a kind of third leg to balance the chair.  He puts his bag on the chair.
 

He has a bundle, dark reddish brown cloth. There are some umbrellas, some ribs. He puts the bundle on the cardboard which might be on to of another box. This is his work bench .  His face is set, no smile. He does not look at me.


He takes out his tools and lays them on the cardboard.  A knife, white handle, blade with edge slightly curved in from repeated sharpening.  Black thread. Tarnished pliers. Some wire.

He takes the umbrella from me. He does not say anything. Opens the umbrella and examines it. Realises that he has forgotten somethings in the storage space in the 'crack' between the two stores.

He gives me back the umbrella. Gets up. Says nothing.
I stand waiting there, watching the laid out work table and the bag on the chair. Not sure if the man trusts me, or the other people around to not steal anything.

He comes back. Takes the umbrella. His movements are quick. He is flexible. Hands are like those of men who plant and do labour.
He starts working on the umbrella.  He picks up the knife, scrapes it on the pavement to sharpen it.
He does not tell me anything. I am not sure if to wait or to go away and come back.
He takes out the needle and thread to begin working. He puts the needle in his mouth. There was a story in my family of someone who had done the same thing, and bit off a piece of the needle and swallowed it and might still have this piece of metal in her body.

Man must have thought my thoughts. Next time he has to use both hands, he puts the thread in his mouth and the needle hangs down.

Two young people come up. One of them asks about the cost of fixing the umbrellas
"Just now" .. first words he says.
They stand looking at him fixing my umbrella. I am watching his hands, the needle, the thread, the knife to cut... quick movements, neat movement.

"Open them" he says.
They open the umbrellas

"$400" he says.

"Can we leave them?" one of the young people asks.

"No, people say they leave them and never come back.." he says.

He finishes with the needle and thread. He opens the umbrella, runs his hands along the ribs, straightens one.

He closes the umbrella. He opens it again bounces it on his hand and looks up at it examining every rib and tip. Face has no expression.

He looks at me and smiles.

The smile is the work complete. He looks more satisfied than me that the umbrella works.

He gives me the umbrella.

"How much?" I ask

"$200" he says, the only time he talks to me.


 Man working here, sitting on the half chair, with the work table of flattened cardboard box on something else. Temporary space.

Man working with materials, fixing things which could easily  be discarded as rubbish.