The generosity of jeans
A generous act by a young Italian
I was nineteen years old, and in a coveted job in Sri Lanka, I worked as a telco professional in the international arm of the state-owned Telecom Service, popularly known as OTS, the only gateway from Sri Lanka to the rest of the world. I joined at eighteen, the previous year and graduated from their training college. I was the youngest in a batch of twenty-five graduates.
In my job, I managed message exchanges from Colombo to various cities, London, Tokyo, Mumbai, Singapore, Aden and Yangon. The networks that ran these exchanges were the forerunners of modern-day high-speed connections. I invite you to read on those early networks where I cut my teeth.
I was a teenager in a well-paying job. I looked younger than my nineteen years. My interests lay in my social life and not in my work. I loved hanging out with my friends and girls, going on holidays, dance parties and all the mischievous activities teenage boys get into at that age. I came to work in between my leisure. The money I earned, I could spend in any way I wished. It was a carefree life with no family responsibilities.
I wore my casual clothes to work. I had a collection of bell bottoms, jeans, T-shirts and colourful singlets; they were the only clothes I had. My co-workers took their formal appearances seriously and dressed in office attire. Nobody dressed like me in OTS. I was the odd young lad who dared to defy the office norms by dressing in my swinging seventies clothes.
English was the only medium of communication. Thanks to my education in Christian schools and a short stint at a university college, I had a good command of English. As a result, I could confidently strike up conversations with anyone and strangers.
While working, I met a young Italian lad, and we struck up a conversation. His name was Franco, a techie from Olivetti, a major network equipment supplier. Franco was sent to Sri Lanka to install equipment in OTS. We instantly became friends. We talked with each other regularly, often going out for tea in the staff cafeteria. I was curious to learn about life in Italy, music and fashion from him.
Sri Lanka was a socialist country with import restrictions that included garments. Foreign-made clothing was in rare supply and was sold at a premium in black markets. I bought most of my clothes from fellow Sri Lankans returning from Europe at exorbitant prices. Jeans were the premium with a hefty price tag.
My jeans made from local cloth, paled in quality compared to Franco’s jeans. Instead, Franco wore slick jeans made by Levis and Fiorucci, an Italian fashion house from Milan.
Franco shared with me fine points of his lifestyle in Milan. He was living with his girlfriend on the weekends. During the workweek, he resided near Olivetti’s Head Office, some distance away. He owned a Fiat car. He and his girlfriend were into music. They had their own music stereo set. He attended music festivals in Italy. Franco had a dream life in Italy, while I had none of the things he had. I wished that I could live like him one day. I told him about my life, my parents and what I did when I was not working. Our conversations were interesting, diverse and engaging.
A month later, Franco’s assignment in Sri Lanka was complete. He took me out for a beer at a city bar the day before he left. We parted, bidding each other farewell.
On the next day, I turned up to work. To my surprise, on my work desk was a package wrapped. Unwrapping the box, to my surprise, was a pair of virtually new, neatly pressed jeans. It had a fresh odour, and I smelled it close to my face. I was thrilled to have my first pair of foreign jeans, a treasured item for any teenager in Sri Lanka. The jeans required minor alterations by my skilful personal tailor to fit my slim waist.
I did not have Franco’s contact details to send him a thank-you note. So I had no way of showing my gratitude.
I was sure Franco knew that by a simple act of generosity, he had put a big smile on a young aspiring lad from Sri Lanka. I wished he could see my reaction after seeing his considered gift.
This is a story of generosity and kindness transcending barriers of borders and nations.
Franco! wherever you are, may you live long and be happy.
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