I mentioned the other day that people seem to choose funny heroes; a lot of sportsmen it seems. Just because they can run faster than their peers, hit a cricket ball accurately or smack a golf ball they get hero status. It would seem that their strength of character means little to the adoring fans. Until these “heroes” fuck up in public. ( Tiger Woods, Hansie Cronje and now this Oscar Pistorius, who guilty or not has been shown up as not a very nice person ) I have a hero living in the same building as I; she receives no fame no glory and is not at all wealthy. Let me tell you a shot story, from one of my Strange Classrooms.
This little girl I know, she was born with very crooked legs, I think if she were born into a wealthy family she may have been curable. Eve n now if money were no object I believe something could be done to help straighten her legs, even a little bit. She is generally a cheerful child and all smiles when I greet her, and tells me all is well when I inquire how she is doing. She goes to school each day, and sometimes when she returns she is not so happy; as children can be cruel, I think she gets left out at best and teased at worst by the other children. One day she came back and she was crying bitterly, and although see greeted me back, she had no smile. That broke my heart. Then the other day I saw her running in front of her mother, all excited. It was an very awkward run and not very fast, but run she did. She told me her mom was taking her to buy something, I missed what she said it was.
Now the child is not my hero in this story, her mother is. She is a single mother that has to work; fortunately she works in one of the factories in the building where we live. Every day I watch this woman walk with her child across the busy road outside to the bus stop, and every day I watch her cross the road in the afternoon to see her daughter safely home. This mother is always patient and loving with this small hurt child, she always shows a cheerful face to the world, with no complaints, asking for nothing. I have seen her sitting in the courtyard, thinking she is unobserved, looking very sad though. But in front of her child, never. On the weekend I see her take the child up to the shops, sometimes the child is obviously in pain and walks ever so slowly, this patient woman never falters in her kindness and matches the child’s pace.
This woman is a hero to me.
A compilation of my Strange Classrooms is soon to be released, please “Like” and keep an eye on this page.
Here is a story of developing and breaking an addiction, while dealing with Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome at the same time.