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May
1, 2007
Day Eleven
Help is on the way.
Well, our servants arrived last night. Shortly
after switching off my reading light there was a
knock on my door. DJ wanted me to come out in
meet the lads. One fellow was probably 18 or 19
(he would turn out to be 23) and the other
fellow was probably 14 (15 – closer on that
guy.) He kept himself hidden behind the older
guy, who was quite gregarious. They were both
from Nepal I shook both their hands and tried to
gather names. The older boy’s name was too
difficult for me to retain with the first two or
three repetitions. I’ll have to try again
today. I think I’ll write it down
phonetically. The boy’s name was Santos. He
didn’t speak a word of English. The older boy
spoke a few more words than his friend. This
was going to be a challenge.
When I woke this morning they were both asleep
in the living room on our two narrow benches.
These “sofas” measure 5’ by 12”.
The older boy sprang awake when I walked in the
room around 6:45. Santos didn’t stir a muscle.
I wondered how far they’d travelled to get here
(15 hours). I understand it was a long train
ride but our language gap is too wide for me to
pose the question.
I tried to ask the older boy why they didn’t
sleep in the spare room but again communication
wasn’t happening.
It would be immeasurably interesting to be to
talk with these boys. I’ll wager they have some
interesting stories to tell. Frustrating.
I spent the rest of the day working on the
outline for the movie and the two boys sat in
the living room watching me. At one point I
boiled water to make myself a cup of Nescafe and
the older lad really wants to be a part of it.
I tried to explain that the ritual of making the
coffee is part of the enjoyment. I’m not
getting through.
The younger lad spent more than an hour with the
latest issue of Triathlete. He seems absorbed
by the content. It took me less than thirty to
get through it and I can read.
Later in the evening DJ and I go over to Kabir’s
apartment to meet his mother, sister and
brother-in-law who are visiting from Canada. We
enjoy one of the best meals I’ve had since
arriving and some good conversation. Felt nice
to have some estrogens in the same room.
At one point during the meal I snatched up a
queer looking pea pod and chomped it down.
I knew in an instant that in my haste I’d made a
lethal mistake. I saw Kabir’s sister looking at
me with a dropped jaw. A moment later and my
mouth exploded. This was no pea pod. It was an
Al Quedia suicide bomber disguised as a
vegetable. Never in my life have I experienced
an item of food so painful. Trying to maintain
one’s cool exterior while resisting the urge to
scream and lurch is a tough task. It took about
seven minutes for the worst of the pain to
pass. After that I was left with a dull
throbbing ache. I ate naan bread and drank
enough water to float the Titanic.
Later, in the middle of the night, I would be
saddened to learn the pain of the pepper was as
fierce leaving as it was coming.
Live and learn. |
