Two days ago a boy was staring at me as I lay reading on the beach. This is nothing unusual. I ignore him. Eventually he greets me. I respond and we make small talk, with me slipping in English, under my breath and directed towards answering myself, in the manner I always do whenever I am slightly annoyed. Astoundingly he understands all that I am saying in English. His name is George and he speaks the best English of anyone I've met in Tukombo. He is nine years old. I gave him a book, some magazines and a snorkel.
Today was an absolutely beautiful day. Kuwirwi was crystal clear. The trees looked like mold or algae on a rock, begging me to smoosh it down with my thumb. I could not take my eyes off the mountain today.
Reading Pedagogy of the Oppressed. I actually think that the dated socialist jargon and concepts (Praxis! Liberation! And that most dreaded sentiment in serious hoity-toity social science: love.) are what make it sing to me.
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1 comment:
My Darling,the books you read amaze me,but different strokes for different folks!!I am loving every minute of The Obamas,hopefully life will be good again!It was good of you to share with the boy on the beach,he won't forget that act of kindness.I love you, Gram E.
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