They call it Stormy Monday. Tuesday's just as bad...
I stepped outside of myself and witnessed a blind man walking down life’s street. You breathe in. You breathe out.
Neither of us had seen each other before. Dressed in rags, he stooped under a torn shouldered bag. He had no left hand. His right hand stabbed cracked cement with a crooked staff.
In the middle of the sidewalk he stumbled into a parked motorcycle. Chinese schoolgirls eating sweet junk food on sharp sticks whispering silent secrets about his stupidity passed me with empty black wide eyes.
I remembered. If a man wants to be sure of his road he must close his eyes and walk in the dark. A blind man crossing a bridge is a good example how we should live our lives. Enlightened mind.
I followed him. I sensed a lesson in humble existence. He scraped his staff against shuttered shop steps. He massaged a long concrete wall. A beggar sat in rags made from boiled books. His skeleton supported a battered dirty greasy cap, threadbare jacket, no socks, broken shoes. He struggled to light a fractured cigarette. His cracked begging bowl was empty.
The blind man ran into him.
“Go around” screamed the beggar. “Can’t you see I’m here you idiot!”
“Sorry, I didn’t see you.”
“This is my space! Pay attention. Keep moving you fool.”
“Sorry to bother you. Maybe you’re a little sad, angry or lonely? Maybe I can help you.”
“What! Are you completely fucking crazy as well as blind? I have no wife, no children, no parents, no friends, no home and no job. I live here hoping people will take pity on me.”
“I see. I know the feeling. I’m on my own. Maybe we could work together, be a team.”
The beggar rubbed his stubble. “Hmm. Let me think about it.”
“Take your time. Knowing our destiny means there’s no hurry.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Call it a hunch,” laughed the beggar, “Fate’s a great teacher. Ha, ha, ha.” Kids passed. One coined the bowl.
“Thanks kid. Good luck on your exams next week.”
“I hate school. Too much homework. It’s so boring and tedious. I rather be home playing violent computer games or chatting online with my friends. I am an only child. I am a little Titan in my universe of want, want, want.”
“Your attitude sucks. Only 5% of the Chinese population has a university degree. Did you know every June, four million students graduate from a university. 60% will not find a job. They will work the street like us. Your so-called developing society faces hard cruel lessons.
"Reality outside your textbooks. Your people have fucked up the environment. Do you sleep where you shit? Sixteen of the most twenty polluted cities in the world are in this country. You sound like one of those single pampered little emperor kids I see, hear and smell every day. Busy, busy, busy. Get used to it or you’ll be out here with us.”
“A fate worse than death,” said the kid. “My father owns a factory. He is rich man making huge profits off the sweat of poor illiterate fools and idiots like you. Bum. My future is filled with money, a big house and a new car.
"Thank God for the one-child policy. I will buy a trophy wife. I will give her blood diamonds imported from African mimes. My country is investing huge amounts of capital around the world to export raw materials. We feed our machines of consumption 24/7.
"As you know our country was squeezed, manipulated and exploited for years by big nose foreigners. Now it’s our turn to cash in billions of T-bills and let them dance to our sweet tune. And...my family has a multiple-entry visa for Macau so we can leave whenever we feel like it. So, fuck off beggar man.”
“Yeah, begging isn’t a job, it’s an adventure.”
Rural Chinese school, Sichuan. A paradise to learn. Cradle to become a useful person.
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