Humanity
You know those people you meet in ordinary situations who just touch your soul? They seem to make life worth living. When complacency begins to take hold of my everyday life from time to time, caught up in my own responsibilities and selfish cares, sometimes it takes the fresh face of a human being to remind me how wonderful life really is. Occasionally I meet people with whom I will only interact for a cursory moment (a man on the public train or a cashier at the grocery store, for example), but with whom I feel a kind of strange and almost kindred connection. For example, I will never forget the Indian (I believe he was Indian) man at DFW Airport who sold me a pack of gum one day while I was killing time before a flight. All he did was make a simple transaction, but there was something about his presence and his demeanor that was so kind, so humbling. I wanted to have a conversation with him, to hear stories of his country, of his family. It probably sounds strange, but recognizing and connecting with the humanity in others is something that I simply love about living.
What inspired me to write about this is another such encounter I recently had with a man whom I will never be close to, but with whom I felt such a sense of peace and hope. Last Friday night I was returning from a full day of eating and shopping in two of Gaborone’s more cultural malls, and my friend Dominique called him to give us a taxi ride back to campus (there are several cab companies in Gaborone, and we have a few “favorite” drivers). He’s given us rides before, and I remembered him being very nice. He was in the area when we called, and within 15 minutes he came to retrieve us and agreed to accept the very decent price of 20 pula (about $3). As I climbed into the passenger's seat, Dom and Maggie getting into the back, the driver (I hate that I don’t know his name yet) asked if I could hold a large piece of just-purchased, plastic-wrapped watermelon during the ride. He told us that his son requested that he bring home fresh watermelon once he was done with work for the day. Hearing him say that just touched my heart. Such a simple act, but so thoughtful. I’m not sure why it touched me so, but it did. I suppose one reason is because I haven’t normally found taxi drivers here that easy to connect with. Sure, we make small talk once in a while, but their fast driving and generally pushy manner can be a deterrent to conversation (glancing at the speedometer registering 90 km an hour, I often think to myself, “Please just get me there safely!”). Being in this driver’s presence, however, reminded me that every person has an origin, a family, a unique story that is unlike anyone else’s. Perhaps this driver doesn’t think of himself as someone who might impact a lot of lives, but it brings me so much joy to know that not only is he impacting the life of his son and whoever else he is close to, but mine as well.
People are amazing, magical, complex, beautiful creatures.
Botswana is showing me that every day.
What inspired me to write about this is another such encounter I recently had with a man whom I will never be close to, but with whom I felt such a sense of peace and hope. Last Friday night I was returning from a full day of eating and shopping in two of Gaborone’s more cultural malls, and my friend Dominique called him to give us a taxi ride back to campus (there are several cab companies in Gaborone, and we have a few “favorite” drivers). He’s given us rides before, and I remembered him being very nice. He was in the area when we called, and within 15 minutes he came to retrieve us and agreed to accept the very decent price of 20 pula (about $3). As I climbed into the passenger's seat, Dom and Maggie getting into the back, the driver (I hate that I don’t know his name yet) asked if I could hold a large piece of just-purchased, plastic-wrapped watermelon during the ride. He told us that his son requested that he bring home fresh watermelon once he was done with work for the day. Hearing him say that just touched my heart. Such a simple act, but so thoughtful. I’m not sure why it touched me so, but it did. I suppose one reason is because I haven’t normally found taxi drivers here that easy to connect with. Sure, we make small talk once in a while, but their fast driving and generally pushy manner can be a deterrent to conversation (glancing at the speedometer registering 90 km an hour, I often think to myself, “Please just get me there safely!”). Being in this driver’s presence, however, reminded me that every person has an origin, a family, a unique story that is unlike anyone else’s. Perhaps this driver doesn’t think of himself as someone who might impact a lot of lives, but it brings me so much joy to know that not only is he impacting the life of his son and whoever else he is close to, but mine as well.
People are amazing, magical, complex, beautiful creatures.
Botswana is showing me that every day.
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