Plastic culture -"we love Ya !"

"We have told people how bad plastic bags are for the environment, we had advertising campaigns, but people still use plastic bags."

Joseph had dropped himself on the sofa in Madame Pickwick's house in Syngapore's1) Chinatown.

"The government has even asked businesses to charge for plastic bags. But it's not made much difference so far."

Madame Pickwick stood smoking a long white cheroot and looking at her plants. Her place was like an urban jungle of flowering, medicinal plants. She put down the cheroot, capped the end, and and slowly blew white smoke through her nose, turning to face Joseph.

"Yes, you worked really hard, I saw the articles."

"Why do people not change ?

Don't they understand ?"

Madame Pickwick drummed her fingers on the table, looking at Joseph, evaluating what to say.

"Ritual,"

"Ritual?".

"Madame, some tea?" voice asked from the stairs. The speaker's head was just visible in the stairwell.

Madame raised one eyebrow and looked at Joseph. He nodded, Madame nodded and the head disappeared.

"What else can we do ?" Joseph held his hands palm up, "I've tried everything I can think of."

Madame Pickwick, looked at him, but said nothing, the question had largely been rhetorical.

The head that had asked about tea came up the stairs, carrying a tray of dried fruit, spicy tea, and three cups.

Madame helped her set the table. The tea bearer was about half of Madame Pickwicks age, a little taller and had classic Chinese features.  

"Let me introduce you," Madame Pickwick gestured to Joseph, "This is Joseph."

"I'm Chellah."

Joseph stood up to shake her hand.

Chellah simply stood looking at him, her hands at her sides then sat down.

Joseph tried to hide his shock  

Sat down abruptly and took a dried fig.

Chellah held out a cup for Joseph.

He took it, without making eye contact.

The sounds of the street markets in Chinatown drifted up to them.

"Balcony ?"

"Sure."

They moved everything to the balcony.

A broad couch surrounded by pot plants, some the size of small trees, decorated the balcony.

Shorter plants crowded as high as the bannister.

They moved everything to the long thin table in front of the couch.

The flat was on the top floor of one of the higher buildings facing north over Chinatown.

The towers of the financial center in the distance, the colourful houses of Chinatown below them.

Madame Pickwick caught Joseph's eye:

"How did you feel, just now ?"

"When you couldn't shake hands ?" Chellah added, she spoke with a slow melodic rhythm.

"You, you mean you did that on purpose....?"

Chellah laughed and looked at Madame Pickwick.

"How did you feel ?"

"Stupid, confused, a bit annoyed."

"You said couldn't understand why people keep using plastic bags."

"You mean habits ?"

Madame Pickwick shook her head.

"It's more than that, shaking hands is a ritual, it's what we do naturally," Chellah said.

"When you stop a ritual you need to replace it with something else. The momentum of expectations can't just stop, you need to redirect it in some other way," she continued in her melodic way, "otherwise people feel 'stupid, confused, a bit annoyed.' "

"Ok I get it, " Joseph took a deep breath, picked a date and some almonds and leaned back, "wrapping things in a bag, is a ritual. The sale isn't finished until it's in the bag."

Joseph looked at Madame Pickwick, at Chellah.

"You want to stop people using plastic bags."
Joseph nodded, picked up a cup.

"Before plastic, paper was used." Chellah looked him in the eye,

"And before paper ?"

"Bring your own bag."

"In Korea they used a bojagi to wrap and carry things in, a furoshigi in Japan. They're pieces of cloth," Madame Pickwick added.

"You use one don't you ?" Chellah asked.

"Hmm...yes."

"You had the same one for over 10 years, I think ?"

"Twenty."

"Ok, so what can we put in place of the bag giving ritual ?" Joseph asked, standing up and  walking to the bannister.

Chellah laughed and shrugged, "Good question, and did you notice that with plastic bags it is the seller who gives something to the buyer ?"

"Hmmm.... that's a good point," Joseph paced between the bannister and the door.

He stopped looked at the two ladies on the couch, "Any ideas ?"

Chellah smiled and looked at Joseph, "you got the basic outline." She paused, "By the way: have you forgiven me yet?"

"You mean 'have I got over my embarrassment and wounded pride ?"  

MarketPlace supermarket, Sule Square, Rangoon.

"Have you ?"

Joseph laughed and reached for more nuts.

"Thank you, I got the message."

"But you didn't answer the question."

"How about I answer it tonight at Fullerton ?"

Chellah shook her head, "no time. I have an hour before a meeting at three, let me show you something you haven't seen in Chinatown ?"

Joseph, looked at Mme Pickwick.

"Twelve noon tomorrow ?"

She nodded and waved them away.

She looked out over the roofs of the houses.  In the street below she saw Chellah guide Joseph to the old warehouse,

She would introduce him to Master Wu.

No telling what the old master would make of Joseph.

She picked up her cup, added some more tea, and leaned back, watching the reflection of the sky on the surface of the tea. 

1) A parallel universe version of Singapore.