Jun and the Night Market

A story about family work, community and taking pride in what you do.

Every Saturday night, Jun’s family set up a stall at the night market. Their stall sold hot noodles, in big steaming bowls, with fresh herbs and a spoonful of chilli oil. Jun was eleven, and this year he was old enough to help.

At four o’clock, they loaded the van with pots, tables and boxes of ingredients. The market square filled with stalls, with lanterns strung overhead. The air smelled of frying garlic and sweet roasted corn. Jun felt a flutter of excitement.

His job was to take orders and hand over the bowls. His father cooked, and his mother chopped. At first, Jun was nervous. He mixed up an order for two noodles with one noodle with extra chilli, and the customer frowned. “Sorry,” said Jun, and he fixed it quickly.

As the night went on, the queue grew longer. Jun learned to smile, and to say, “Thank you, enjoy.” An old woman patted his hand. “You are a good boy,” she said. A group of teenagers laughed, and took photos of their food.

By nine, Jun’s feet ached, and his shirt was damp. He looked at his parents. They had been standing since morning, without a break. His father’s face was tired but cheerful. “How do you do it?” asked Jun. “Every week?”

“When you love people eating good food,” said his father, “the work feels lighter.” His mother nodded. “And we are making a living for our family.” Jun looked around at the hundreds of faces. He felt a sudden respect for all the stallholders.

At closing time, they packed up. The square was littered with cups and napkins. Without being asked, Jun picked up a rubbish bag, and began to tidy the ground around the stall. Others did the same, and soon the square was clean.

On the way home, Jun fell asleep in the van, with the smell of noodles in his clothes. He dreamed of lanterns and laughter. The next Saturday, he asked, “Can I help again?” His father grinned. “We will make you a real member of the team.”

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