"The Miner"
I have the most intriguing neighbor whom I consider near and dear to my heart. Everytime I see him his face becomes engulfed with a broad grin as he claps his hands at me, a sign of his respect.
He stands slightly shorter than me: just under 5'5. His most distinguishing trait is the mining hard hat that never leaves his head.
The children refer to him as "the crazy man," but he is harmless. He would be labeled as mentally ill in the U.S. but labels are irrelevant here; he is simply another man trying to survive.
His home is an intricate mixture of traditional structure and ood materials. He lives in a small mud hut with a thatched roof. He has erected a sign in front of his house made of materials the unsuspecting eye would dismiss as trash: attached to a pole is a sheet of tin decorated with cans, random papers, and a pale, yello, diamond sign with the word "Sagre" printed across it. His fence is thin sticks strung with wire. A proud, strutting rooster stands guard in his yard.
Each morning he sets off from his hut wearing a white button-down shirt tucked half in half out of his severely frayed khaki pants. Though the clothes are encompassed by tears they are immaculately clean. His white mining hat is placed derisivedly on his head, a strap under his chin holding it firmly in place. In each hand is a bundle held together by cords and belts. When he returns in the evening the bundles will be stretched full with papers and other odd objects. He will bear the weight in his arms as he trudges down the dirt path with an obvious limp.
At night he will sit in front of his hut as he cooks his dinner in a large black pot over a hand made fire. After, he will sit in a chair created from pieces of wood, while he eats this dinner and flips through a large "book" he has compiled from the papers he has found. Later, he will got about his chores and have intermitent conversations with his neighbors.
He will end his evening peacefully in this way, seemingly more content than most.
He stands slightly shorter than me: just under 5'5. His most distinguishing trait is the mining hard hat that never leaves his head.
The children refer to him as "the crazy man," but he is harmless. He would be labeled as mentally ill in the U.S. but labels are irrelevant here; he is simply another man trying to survive.
His home is an intricate mixture of traditional structure and ood materials. He lives in a small mud hut with a thatched roof. He has erected a sign in front of his house made of materials the unsuspecting eye would dismiss as trash: attached to a pole is a sheet of tin decorated with cans, random papers, and a pale, yello, diamond sign with the word "Sagre" printed across it. His fence is thin sticks strung with wire. A proud, strutting rooster stands guard in his yard.
Each morning he sets off from his hut wearing a white button-down shirt tucked half in half out of his severely frayed khaki pants. Though the clothes are encompassed by tears they are immaculately clean. His white mining hat is placed derisivedly on his head, a strap under his chin holding it firmly in place. In each hand is a bundle held together by cords and belts. When he returns in the evening the bundles will be stretched full with papers and other odd objects. He will bear the weight in his arms as he trudges down the dirt path with an obvious limp.
At night he will sit in front of his hut as he cooks his dinner in a large black pot over a hand made fire. After, he will sit in a chair created from pieces of wood, while he eats this dinner and flips through a large "book" he has compiled from the papers he has found. Later, he will got about his chores and have intermitent conversations with his neighbors.
He will end his evening peacefully in this way, seemingly more content than most.
posted by Cait at 9:14 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home