A good man

Posted: August 26, 2013 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

The bus was small, but many white people filled the bus. I ran along the bus with my fellow villagers. We were all kids expecting something exciting. White people visiting our village was not usual. The bus stopped in our little field with our mud-dirt houses on all sides. We surrounded the bus and were waiting for the doors to open. When the doors opened, I wove my way to the front as the white people came out. I grabbed hold of a white guy with blue letters on his back spelling, “Thompson”. I held onto his hand as I led him out of the crowd. All I wanted to do was play with him, but it was complicated. My Dominican Republic village spoke Spanish, and he spoke only English. For some reason, I still blabbered in Spanish and waved my arms. I found a ball and tossed it to him and he threw it back. I was having the time of my life and the white man’s face had a big smile on it. I shouted out to my friends to join and we played keep-away. We played with him and the other white people. I thought they would leave soon, but they didn’t. They stayed the whole afternoon, which made my day and all the other villagers’ too. At the end of the day when the sun started going behind the trees I walked into my house and saw my mom in tears. I asked why are you crying. She replied, they gave us a week’s worth of food, baby; we can save this week’s money for once.

Comments
  1. A really poignant read … Thank you so much for following my blog, published in Marseille, France !

  2. hakariconstant says:

    Awesome writing. Reminds of a little Spanish-only-speaking orphan boy I was told was named Eddie, who I bonded with on a mission trip to Tijuana, Mexico in the summer of 2005. The trip was to help build an addition on the orphanage, so more staff could live on site, and to hang out and love on the kids there. We put together a Orphanage Fair for them, with games and prizes and such. It was awesome, and the kids, staff and volunteers all had a blast. When it came time to leave and had back to the states, Eddie tackled me with a hug, not wanting me to leave. Someone snapped a photo of it, and I have a copy of it. It’s one of my favorite bitter-sweet memories… I didn’t really want to leave either.

  3. I was that white man once in a small village in the Philippines. It is very rewarding to see how a little time and effort can make such a big difference. A trip I will never forget.

  4. darellphilip says:

    A well written short story! Based on ur own experience maybe?

  5. And definitely you are one of the white man, aren’t you? mesmerizing piece indeed and thanks for stopping by my blog. Happy times. 🙂

  6. borntobfree says:

    Great post…simple and heart warming

  7. illiterategirl14 says:

    I love this! Put a smile to my face 🙂 well done!

  8. Mo says:

    Short sweet and touching. A lovely piece.

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