watching
I found him standing in front of his house, looking confused and sad— like someone who had been told they’d done something wrong but didn’t know what it was.
I approached him and asked, “What happened?”
He told me they didn’t want him in the house for the moment.
I decided to keep him company and suggested, “Maybe we could be friends?”
He hesitated, then set a few conditions: “If you don’t get angry at me and don’t scare me, then you can be my friend.”
I promised him. And just like that, we became friends.
He took my hand and showed me his world. It wasn’t much—just the intersection of four roads. That was all he knew. That was how big his world was. It didn’t take long to see it all.
We stopped by his uncle’s shop on one corner to grab some seeds, then positioned ourselves in another corner, where we had a full view of the intersection. We squatted and rested our backs on the wall, cracking seeds.
“What are we doing now?” I asked.
He explained, “We’re watching people. We’re going to see what they do and learn from them.”
At first, I thought it was just a way to pass the time. But as he spoke, I realized it was more than that. He wasn’t just observing for fun—he was studying. Watching to understand. He wanted to learn what to do and how to do it. His understanding would depend on what he could see and how much he could grasp.
“Do you watch yourself?” I asked.
The question captured his whole focus. His head turned immediately, his expression shifting through disbelief, doubt, surprise, and amazement, all condensed into a single word of curiosity: “How!?”
After his question, he returned to watching others.
He keeps watching others. I keep watching him.
He tries to understand others. I try to understand him.
He will know when he understands others. I will know when I understand him.