THE SCALE AT THE MARKET

 

Aunt Ayşe was once again at the neighborhood market to do her weekly shopping. One of her greatest pleasures was going to the market. She thought of it not only as a way to socialize, but also as a way to buy quality goods at low prices. Pulling her wheeled shopping cart, she entered the market slowly. Carefully arranged fruits, vegetables, nuts, pickles, cheeses, olives, and colorful clothes dazzled the eye. She blended into the crowd of young and old, men, women, and children. The voices of sellers calling out to advertise their goods, reciting rhymes, and bargaining with customers echoed all around. The scent of fresh produce mixed with the aromas of roasted chestnuts and boiling corn. The market seemed to have merged into one living, breathing whole.

This week, Aunt Ayşe needed to buy a bit more than usual—her grandchildren were coming to visit, and she wanted to cook them delicious meals. She first stopped by her favorite vendor, Hüseyin, whom she enjoyed chatting with. Hüseyin always asked how his customers were doing, then eased into conversation—talking about his work, the economy, and the state of today’s youth. He never let a customer leave too quickly, and Ayşe was no exception.

"How have you been, Aunt Ayşe? Has Uncle Mehmet recovered? When are the grandchildren coming?"

"Thank goodness, your uncle is better. The grandchildren are coming this evening. Hüseyin, my boy, weigh me two kilos of mandarins and two kilos of bananas."

"Oh! So you’re expecting special guests, Aunt Ayşe. I’ll pick out the best ones for you. If you take three kilos of mandarins, it’ll be fifty liras. Should I give you that much?"

"Alright, Hüseyin, I won’t say no to you."

While weighing the fruit, Hüseyin began telling her stories about his hometown, which he had recently visited for a funeral. “Nice conversation, but I’ve still got a lot to do. Take care, Hüseyin,” she said, leaving his stand. It wasn’t until her phone rang that she realized how much time she had spent there. Evening was approaching, and she still had a lot to buy. “Ah, Hüseyin! You’ve caught me again with your sweet talk,” she thought, smiling to herself.

She quickly made her way to Mahmut’s stand, where she always bought her greens. Mahmut’s produce was always fresh—much of it grown in his own garden. His goods were both high quality and delicious. But his stand was anything but tidy; he placed things however they fit. He never praised his products, nor did he like to talk much. In that sense, he was the complete opposite of Hüseyin.

"How are you, my boy?"

"I’m fine, Aunt Ayşe. How about you?"

"What have you brought from your garden this week? What are the prices?"

"Everything on the stand is from the garden."

Mahmut looked cold and distant, but Ayşe had never once regretted buying from him.

From a distance, she noticed Yakup’s stand. Shiny red apples were neatly stacked, and right beside them oranges and mandarins were lined up like a string of beads. The display was a burst of color—red, green, yellow, orange. Yakup himself was as colorful as his stand. Even his clothes were bright: a red beret and a green cardigan.

As she reached his stall, Aunt Ayşe felt tired. Yakup noticed right away and quickly pulled out a stool from under the counter.

"Come, Auntie, sit and rest for a bit!"

From her seat, Ayşe watched Yakup. His every move was lively and quick—he simply couldn’t stand still. With his energy, clothes, and vibrant stand, he caught the eye of everyone entering the market. Then, from her stool, she began observing the people around her—the vendors, the customers, the children, the young and the old. Everyone spoke and behaved differently.

Her gaze fell on Yakup’s scale. He placed weights on one side, and the bag of fruit on the other. If the bag weighed too much, he’d remove some; if it was too light, he’d add a bit more.

Aunt Ayşe thought, “What would happen if the vendors didn’t have scales at all?” They would have to rely solely on guesswork. And what if a vendor had a scale, but it was faulty? If the scale showed something heavier than it really was, customers would lose out. If it showed lighter, then the seller would suffer. Even a small error could grow into a big loss when multiplied by many customers.

So, for a seller not to lose or make others lose, a proper scale was essential. And the seller also needed to use it correctly.

She looked around at the crowd again, thinking of the vendors she knew. When she first met Hüseyin, she had thought, “What a talkative man!” Yet now, if she didn’t see him, she would worry something had happened. She had liked Yakup right away because his energy reminded her of her own youth.

During her first encounters with Mahmut, she had said, “My boy, don’t you want to sell your goods?” His quietness and seriousness had seemed strange to her. But over time, she had come to see him in a completely different light.

"In life, we usually like people who are like ourselves," she thought. "We assume that those who think and act as we do are the ones who are right. And we see those who are different as wrong or strange. But in doing so, we forget to measure people with a fair scale. Since I entered this market, I’ve shopped from many different vendors and learned something from each of them. The differences between sellers and customers are what make the market rich."

Should everyone really think and act just like us? Shouldn’t we be more understanding toward those who are different? When we judge someone’s behavior, shouldn’t we use a fair and balanced scale? Should we be like the seller who fills a bag by mere guess, or should we measure carefully, weighing the reasons behind people’s actions? If every stand in the market is different, can the people around us all be the same? When we measure them, what kind of scale do we need?

Every person wants to make a profit in their exchanges. But how can both sides come out winning in life’s marketplace?

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Yahya Hamurcu