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As part of my first McJumpin tale to tell I’d like to share a tale with this pond of new audiences… having been removed from my original pond in Malawi by that dreadful petting zoo collector I’m feeling inspired to express my melancholy with that tale. Today I saw something very inspiring, well not exactly inspiring but rather ordinarily brilliant, something that has no relation with the setting
I saw a teenager today with a shaggy like hair due, speakers in his ears and what seemed to be an incomplete jogging wardrobe (he had the track pants but not exactly what I’d call running shoes). The kid looked pumped up and ready to go, he stood prepared on the thin sidewalk sandwiched between two streets which were packed both ways with traffic. My friend who was driving went on and on about this urban hell hole we live in and for some reason his voice began to fade out in my mind as I looked at that kid, waiting to see what he’d do. I instinctually thought that he’s up to something but didn’t know what, all of a sudden he started running, running like a bloodhound to catch his master’s kill. I then realised that this guy had been running for a bit because he looked sweaty prior to when he started running.. he probably stopped to adjust his mp3 player, which is when my eyes initially caught him, but that’s not the point. Some cars looked at him, trying to decipher what in god’s name is this boy doing running in the middle of the day, where a breath of fresh air is as rare as water in Somalia, on a sidewalk that wouldn’t even fit a two dimensional cartoon. I then realised the inherent meaning in this scene, that whenever something stands out in this country, we take it for granted or simply dismiss it as ‘weird’ or ‘not normal’… what we ought to do though is celebrate things like this, things that otherwise would lapse into our mental recycle bin without a lesson to be extracted.
While we were all imprisoned in our metal bastions, he was free; barring the fact that the air is so polluted around him, he just kept on running, till we couldn’t catch a sight of him anymore because we were in steel chains and he was in his not so cross country shoes cutting the air like a gazelle.
The moral of the story is that difference is to be celebrated, when we see things that don’t appear ‘normal’ to us, that don’t fit the social order of things, we can’t simply dismiss it we have to understand it, make use of the infinite values that can be derived out of it and even if we don’t accept it upon us, we should be able to come to terms with this difference and respect it’s beholder. This country has to many normalising forces, all around us and to see people escape that force-field is simply beautiful.
That kid had no reason to run there, but he did, he was, I hope he still is.