Things

Sometimes things are brought to my attention in subtle yet disturbing ways.  I recently met a young boy who experiences serious learning difficulties at school.  His mother is trying with her limited income to have him assessed by specialists. She is sent from hospital to hospital where she has to sit and wait on hard benches in long dreary queues.  She also has to take lifts in extra full taxis (backs of pick-up trucks) where she and her son sit squeezed and bent.  In the mean time the school year flies past the Little Boy Lost.

On our way to one branch of our congregation, Benjamin waved with a smile for us to pick him up. Although he does sometimes complain about him experiencing intellectual and emotional challenges, he has adjusted to a unique life.  He is a son of one of the elders, and he is in his late twenties.  I smiled when he mumbled during the service about one of the children (another eight year old boy with severe intellectual and physical challenges) that was crying when his mother wanted to keep him still. “That child,” he complained out loud while the elder next to him motioned with a finger to his mouth to keep silent.   

At lunch he saw the pastor and the elder writing in books and he showed me his book where he had written some English words. It was his address with spelling mistakes. “Where did you learn to do this?” I asked with amazement. A few months ago he could only master written words like “see” and “it”. He told me that he went for adult literacy classes, and then suddenly jumped up from his bench.  His friend appeared like a phantom and was reclining on a bench like a barefoot Caesar waiting for his lunch, his chin cupped in his right hand. He nodded solemnly at Benjamin and there they sat till The Friend decided he had had enough. He made his exit by twirling like a ballerina towards the door.

Outside the little disabled boy stared at me. We stood in a circle saying goodbye. The boy came to me, took my hand and hastily let it go. He was like a frightened animal. He took it again, let go, and ran away. On my way to the car he grabbed my hand again and softly brought it to his lips, but he didn’t run away.