It’s a
remarkable thing, I think, that there are over seven billion people in the
world, and yet each one of them is significant. Often, I look at someone in the
street and think, “You mean nothing to me. I wasn’t even aware of your
existence until a moment ago, and in another moment’s time, I will have
forgotten you. But from where you are
standing, you are the most important person in the world.”
Sometimes
I’m tempted to go up to people and demand, “What’s your story?”
Here are
some of the people I have seen recently, all of whom have a story that I don’t
know about:
1)
CONCERNED WOMAN
A lady and
a gentleman of fairly advanced years were walking down the road. The gentleman
was dressed in a jacket and tie, and the lady was dressed in an unflattering
but formal dress. It was Sunday, so perhaps they were coming from or going to
church. Suddenly, the woman stopped, swung round, glared at something on the
ground behind her, and then carried on walking.
What had
she seen?
2) SUPERHEROES
This was
one story I managed to resolve. I was having coffee with a friend in the city
centre, when I saw a flash of blue and red out of the corner of my eye. I
looked up, and there was Superman swooping off down the road, flanked by Batman
and the Incredible Hulk.
We leapt up
and ran after them.
“Hey!” we
said. “What are you doing here?”
They beamed
at us. “We’re recruiting,” they said. They went on to rattle off a litany of
information regarding wages, hours, benefits and much else, without ever making
it clear precisely what they were recruiting for, nor why the recruiting had to
be done by superheroes.
But who was
saving the world while all this was going on?
3) EMBRYONIC FOOTBALLER
The
Janiculum Hill is one of the most enchanting places in Rome, with its
magnificent views of the city and the feeling of tranquillity even so close to
the pandemonium that is Rome city centre.
Two
families were standing around chatting there, while their two little boys, who
were in the initial stages of learning to walk upright, toddled around at their
feet. Then one of the parents gave the little boys a ball. One child attempted
to pick the ball up, but was thwarted by insufficient motor skills. The other
staggered over, with that curious gait that toddlers have when they attempt to
run, and gave the ball a determined kick, quite as if he were a professional
footballer.
How does a
child who probably can’t even say the word “football” yet know that a ball is
to be kicked?
4)
MELON MAN
A man,
unshaven, dirty and probably homeless, was sitting on a low step next to the
pavement. He was devouring a melon, tearing it apart with his bare hands.
“I could
judge him for eating like an animal,” I thought, “but I’m not the one who’s
living on the street. If you don’t have enough to eat, table manners are
probably not top on your list of concerns.”
That is
what made me think that “culture” is a luxury not to be taken for granted in
our society, since it is very much dependent on quality of life.
Had the man
always been in such miserable conditions? If not, what had happened to lead up
to this moment?
5)
MOLE CHILD
I passed a
family going for an evening stroll.
“Excuse me,
Daddy,” cried out the son, who must have been about six, in an imperious tone.
“Where do moles live?”
“Underground,”
the father replied.
“No, no,”
said the boy, shaking his head. “I mean what region do they live in?”
“Lots of
different regions,” replied the father, probably a little unsatisfactorily.
Why would a
child find it so important to know in which parts of the country moles could be
found?
6)
SPECTATOR SPORT
In the
little hilltop town where I lived for a while, a group of old men would gather
on the side of the road every evening – not outside a bar, as might be
expected, but just outside a nondescript building. They would line up and lean
against the railings, and wait for the bus to come past. Then they would raise
their eyebrows at the driver.
Why did
they stand at that particular spot? And what did they do for the rest of the
day when they weren’t standing there? And did they know all the bus drivers
personally?
7)
PINK LEOPARDSKIN GIRL
Outside a
university, a girl dressed from top to toe in pink leopardskin – shoes, socks,
miniskirt, crop top and headband – was dancing to a song blaring out from a CD
player on the ground. At first I took her for a busker, but then saw there was
no receptacle for money in front of her. I put it down to the popularity of
arts degrees.
What was
she trying to achieve and why? And, more importantly, where did she get all the
pink leopardskin?
8)
TRUCK MOTHER
Crossing
the road, I had to stop to let a lorry go by. This was not in itself unusual,
but then I looked at the driver. It was a pretty, blonde young woman – and next
to her was a booster seat containing a small child.
Where was
she going in that massive vehicle? If she was working, then how did she end up
in such a traditionally male job? And if she was just going out to do the
grocery shopping, then why was she driving such a cumbersome vehicle?
9)
TORTOISE LADY
In another little
hilltop town, there was an upstairs window looking out onto a little square.
The shutters were always closed, no matter how glorious the day might be
outside. Every day at about 5pm, an elderly lady opened one shutter a few
centimetres. Clutching onto the underside of the shutter, she would peep out.
She would stay there for about ten minutes, just watching people going past
outside, and then withdraw once more, like a tortoise into its shell, and
barricade herself in again.
Why did she
keep the shutters closed? And what did she do once she went back inside?
10)
ORANGE BOY
A teenage
boy used to get the bus with me every morning. And he was always wearing orange.
Was he
aware that his wardrobe was entirely orange, or did he just pick clothes that
he liked, without realising that they were the same colour as everything else
in his wardrobe?
11)
BEACH VENDOR
There were
men walking up and down the beach selling bags, clothes and jewellery. One man
stopped to try and sell a purse to my friend and me.
“It’s the
first time I’ve done this work,” he told us. “In my country, in Bangladesh, I’m
a nurse, but I couldn’t find work there, so I came to Italy. My wife came to
Italy before me, but she’s in another city, and I don’t see her very often. I
want to do a course to requalify, so I can work as a nurse here, but it’s very
expensive. So for the moment, I’m selling things on the beach. You’re my first
customers.”
What kind
of a life is that??? How many people leave their countries because life is
impossibly hard, and go to Europe or to America or to some other place where
they think everything will be idyllic, only to find themselves facing just as
many hardships there? And how many people judge these immigrants, thinking of
them as faceless, uneducated masses, without realising that many of them were
professionals in their own countries and have shown admirable courage in
starting a new life in a foreign environment?
