Carefully rationing each sip of my coffee as it turned cold over the last 2 hrs since daybreak, I am parked in an Indonesian warung (food stall) within a lane in the old colonial section of Padang.

The environment is perfect. I couldn't have prayed for anything more rustic and time-frozen. Latif the stall keeper is slaving over an ancient brass boiler feeding pieces of cut wood into its furnace. On one half of the boiler, sits a pot bubbling with hot water while the other half stays open, toasting bread and cooking half-boiled eggs.

Neat tins of Milo, coffee powder, sugar and powdered milk sit stacked one on the other on a side table together with cups, teaspoons and saucers. Benches whose tops were polished shiny by generations of human buttocks and creaking nailed together tables completed the trappings of a typical traditional cafe.

Latif throws a dirty glance in my direction. His eyes says "only one damned coffee and he's still sitting there" I shook my head indicating I didnt want to buy another cup. Its not the money (at 15 cents a shot) but the strength of the brew that worries me. This was a mighty strong Sumatran Robusta roast that kicked in hard.

I've got Latif slaving over the fire, Latif filling up the water tank, Latif toasting bread, Latif boiling eggs, Latif washing the cups, Latif getting change for a finished customer, in fact Latif everything.....all in great light in a great environment. I feel sorry for Latif, a trapped subject tied to the warung photographed by a paying customer

Reluctantly, I asked for a piece of toast "Bapak! Roti bakar ke-satu" and his face lights up ("at last the stingy bastard's ordering")

I dont feel fulfilled. The "Shot" is not in the bank as far as I'm concerned. Its just too perfect to be right. That one winner with its X factor still eluded me and I cant put a finger on it.

A stray dog scampers in to pick off bread ends dropped on the dirt floor. I swing the camera up and go for the man-dog relationship. Latif gives it a swift kick on its way out before I could release the shutter. A satisfied smirk on his face says "lets see you catch THAT!"

Like a tiger still hungry, I sat back and continued the vigil.

With the heat cutting through the warung's thin canvas roof from the rising morning heat, I'm getting desperate to move along to the next locale. People in ones, twos and threes were coming in and out of the warung but nothing that really said much.

I give up and called for the bill. "Its ABOUT TIME!" as Latif snatches the 3000 Rupiah (30 cents US) from my palm. I put away the light meter and the filters.

Just before I stuff my camera into the bag, a little girl walks in.

With a couple of rusty coins, she orders a hot cup of Milo with milk. She sits down and blows on it in an attempt to cool the drink. Latif scrummages around and picks out 2 discarded ends of a loaf of bread, spreads some butter and jam on to it and gives it to the little starving one. This bastard's got a heart after all.

Oblivious to my presence, she takes huge bites out of the bread into her tiny mouth, afraid that it might disappear if she stopped eating.

The thick steam from the Milo continues to emit from her glass and wafts around her like a magical mist. She is too engrossed in the meager feasting to move away from a shaft of light hitting her from a tear in the roof. The Light bounces off the table top and lights her up like an angle.

My hands tremble and I mutter a silent prayer to God to hold the scene as I power up the camera, grope for the 4 fps mode and lift the viewfinder up to my eye. After the initial spray of 12 exposures, I lift my sore backside off the bench and move over to her other side for a different and lower perspective. I am rewarded with a huge pair of lit eyes gazing curiously into the lens, with dribbles of Milos off the corners of her mouth, bread crumbs and all held together by the spread.

Finished, I get up off my knees, dusted off the dirt and ordered 2 eggs for her. She stuffs one into her pocket and the other ends up in her belly before I could finish saying "Hi, what's your name" ("Kamu dengan siapa?")

Yanti is too shy to speak except to give me a big smile and a simple "Terimah Kasih Banyak Pak" ("Thanks alot Sir")

I return her smile.

Exchanging nodding glances with Latif, each seeing the other for who he was, I step out into a warm Padang morning with "The Shot" that made my trip.

End

Ed: A stake out is one of my favourite ways of photography. It allows me to choose an environment and its elements and thereafter, waiting it out for a subject to walk into the 'trap'. The only price to pay is that of time. Sometimes, great subjects keep coming and going and provides for wonderful 'fishing' whilst other times, I'd get lots of nibbles but no real keepers.