Just another story from the great adventure of Life....
It's my last day and I'm taking the cab to the bus station to leave the town and eventually the country after seven wonderful months. Like many days before, the young man can be seen walking along a street. Suddenly the cab driver waves at him. Curious, I ask him if he knows the young man and what his story is. He says he does, and a second later he points out the young man's sister, a young pretty woman riding a bike. During the two-hundred meters that are left of my short trip, the pieces fall into place. The cab driver tells me that the man is mentally ill, not a junkie, and has to take medicine. When he's not on medication, he's walking. Within instants I'm hit by two flashbacks. The first one is in the early months of my stay here. The young man is arrested by the police, an event that seemed perfectly right at the time and would've passed if it hadn't been for the lack of force they used at the time; they simply pointed to the back of the pickup truck, and the man just got up. The second flashback is another cab driver asking the man something about pills, and me being too busy to care. Now I learn that the young, mentally ill man lives with his mother and sister in a house, which explains why he always wears different clothes, even though they are old and worn. He's supposed to be on medication, but when he fails to take his medicine he gets an urge to just walk and walk. I get a deeper respect for the local police when the cab driver explains that if they encounter the young man on the street and he shows signs of not being alright, they take him to a doctor who gives him an injection, just like that day many months ago. And the other cab driver who asked the young man about pills was actually checking him up to see whether he was doing alright or not.
All these pieces fall into place on a sunny warm day, my last in the town by the coast. I can't help to be moved. In a land far from perfect, the people show what it really means to care about each other. And once again I'm reminded about the risks of judging a fellow human by his face before I have the facts. A great gift from the country I'm about to leave, and a great lesson for the life I'm about to live. Perhaps with a tad more wisdom.
Stefan Lindqvist, Sweden
Words by Soulfire
Read 454 times
Written on 2009-09-15 at 13:14
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The wanderer in Parrita
There's a young man who walks in Parrita, on the Pacific coast of Costa Rica. The town is small, and the man recognizable. He's slightly darker than the other locals, suggesting a black parent. He distinguishes himself from the crowd by his worn look, always sporting a t-shirt and shorts, walking in flip-flops that barely stay together. You can tell he's living a hard life, but unlike the junkies in the shade of the big tree by the liquor store, he is walking. Walking everywhere, with his head held high, his eyes fixed at the horizon and at a purposeful speed. In that sense he is a mystery, this dirty young man walking the streets of the small town.It's my last day and I'm taking the cab to the bus station to leave the town and eventually the country after seven wonderful months. Like many days before, the young man can be seen walking along a street. Suddenly the cab driver waves at him. Curious, I ask him if he knows the young man and what his story is. He says he does, and a second later he points out the young man's sister, a young pretty woman riding a bike. During the two-hundred meters that are left of my short trip, the pieces fall into place. The cab driver tells me that the man is mentally ill, not a junkie, and has to take medicine. When he's not on medication, he's walking. Within instants I'm hit by two flashbacks. The first one is in the early months of my stay here. The young man is arrested by the police, an event that seemed perfectly right at the time and would've passed if it hadn't been for the lack of force they used at the time; they simply pointed to the back of the pickup truck, and the man just got up. The second flashback is another cab driver asking the man something about pills, and me being too busy to care. Now I learn that the young, mentally ill man lives with his mother and sister in a house, which explains why he always wears different clothes, even though they are old and worn. He's supposed to be on medication, but when he fails to take his medicine he gets an urge to just walk and walk. I get a deeper respect for the local police when the cab driver explains that if they encounter the young man on the street and he shows signs of not being alright, they take him to a doctor who gives him an injection, just like that day many months ago. And the other cab driver who asked the young man about pills was actually checking him up to see whether he was doing alright or not.
All these pieces fall into place on a sunny warm day, my last in the town by the coast. I can't help to be moved. In a land far from perfect, the people show what it really means to care about each other. And once again I'm reminded about the risks of judging a fellow human by his face before I have the facts. A great gift from the country I'm about to leave, and a great lesson for the life I'm about to live. Perhaps with a tad more wisdom.
Stefan Lindqvist, Sweden
Words by Soulfire
Read 454 times
Written on 2009-09-15 at 13:14
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
