Driving past him everyday, on my way to work. I notice him, as he walks lopsidedly, yet with a strong look of determination on his face. Others driving by scarcely notice the position that he takes on the side of the road. Dedicated he stands and raises the sign ; Need Work-for-Food .
The clothing is worn, yet clean, face shaved and tan, physical presence healthy. The appearance of this guy has been a daily occurrence for the last few years. In all types of weather, the cold of the winter, and the heat of the summer. The attendance at this roadside compares to a military sentry.
“What has caused this situation?” is the question that enters my mind. “Why does he not have a job?”
These thoughts repetitiously enter my mind, as I drive away from the red-light. As always, I gaze at
the few coins that are in the ashtray. “No, not today !! I may need these !!” I tell myself.
I finally reach my morning destination, sit and figure out the plan of the day. “Which one of these avocado trees need the most attention ?” I ask myself. My conscience replies with “You could of
given that Guy the coins.” I stubbornly ignore the ‘small voice’ , as I go and begin to move among the ripe fruit of Mother Nature's Bounty. Another day of the same routine. Check sprinkler, dig the dirt, look for the working of the little critters. Only difference today is that the image of that guy keeps entering my mind. “Ok !! I will say a little prayer for this fellow !!” hoping that the sight of him will peacefully dissipate. “Ahh!! Peace at last !!” I say to myself. Only to be haunted again a few hours, later. I finish the day, driving home by a different route.
Morning already !! Once again on the side of the road is that guy, with his sign. I speed up, hoping to not hit the red-light. Nope, didn’t make it. I attempt to drive away, not looking at him. My Inner Self speaks loudly, “Go back and give him the coins.” I turn around nervously, swerving as
if I were under the influence. I stop my truck, grab the coins, and proceed to where the guy with the sign is standing. Cautiously I hold out my hand, as if the guy was quarantined. “This is for you,” I tell him. He reaches out and thankfully takes hold of the currency. I notice that his hand is scarred, and has four fingers missing. Without a thought I ask “What happened to your hand?”
The guy looks at me, then gazes away at the sky, as if he did not understand. I apologize for my inquiry. The guy looks deeply into my eyes and says "They cut my fingers off !!” as he clears his throat. “ I am a teacher, or I was, till the government became aware of me.” I become interested in this guy's story. I ask him “What ? I mean Why?” as a veteran I was sure I could handle the reason.
The guy tells me about how he studied for many years to be an educator of the young generation. Explaining to me that he excelled with honors at the University. The guy emphasized that he fully enjoyed instructing the young. Till the day arrived when he was ordered not to use the books and
materials that were his curriculum. “ I refused to submit ! I refused to teach falsehood ! Untruth!”
I listened with amazement . “ The government monitored all the classes. The books were rewritten and all the material was changed !” I asked what happened then. The guy continued;
“ The officers entered the school, arrested me, and after I ,with all honesty refused their requests. They cut off my fingers. Telling me that this is only the beginning of what is to be for determined people like me.” I, with tears in my eyes, thanked the guy, and once again prayed. Not just empty words to appease my conscience, but with sincere words for that guy. Who is now, my friend !!!
Editor's note: The author, Bro. Phil Bara constructed this allegory. It contains a lot of truth, not all of it historical but all of it is food for thought. Have some for breakfast.
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