One Egg, One Sachet, One Cup of Rice: The Sari-Sari Store — Epoche A2
Tingi means buying by the piece, and in the Philippines the sari-sari store — the small shop built into the front of somebody's house — is where it happens. I stood at one such window for half an hour and wrote down what people bought. One sachet of shampoo, enough for one wash. Cooking oil in a small plastic bag, a few spoonfuls. One egg. A cup of rice, measured with a tin can. Two sweets, paid for with coins. A single cigarette. Nobody bought a bottle. Nobody bought a box. Every purchase was the smallest possible piece of a bigger thing, and every one cost a little more per gram than the large packet in a supermarket. It is easy to call this a bad deal. But look at the wallet, not the shelf. Many people here are paid at the end of each day, or after each job, in small amounts. You cannot buy a month of shampoo on Tuesday if Tuesday's money is for Tuesday. The shop does not sell cheaply; it sells in the size of the money that walks past. Buying in bulk is sensible advice for people who already have the money in hand. The sari-sari store is what an economy looks like when it is cut to fit the day.