Keys - Chapter two
Some of my thoughts were a consequence of my appearance 'a monster'! I had a skin disorder called vitiligo, consisting of loss of melanin from the natural colour, from the age of seven to sixteen. My natural complexion is dark with an olive skin but the anomaly took all that away and left me with nothing but myself. I went through nine years of hell and as far as my social life was concerned, I didn't make any friends or find out about life the natural way; my only resources being television, by the way, in England even the poorest family had a tv set, just think! Anyway, my suffering made me more compassionate torwards others and less inclined to judging people by their looks. You see, I think that sometimes our eyes don't see what is really there and reason too much, for example, if someone is dressed in rags and begging in the streets, we assume they are poor and unfortunate, but that is not always true. They could have chosen to do just that or perhaps are pretending to be poor so that they can become rich. In fact, not long ago, there was a story in the paper about a beggar who died and left millions behind! Very often, people are classified as dumb just because they don't speak or if they do, what they say isn't very interesting. There are also many others who never stop talking and don't ever say anything!
There was a man called Celentano, who pushed his bike along everyday but never rode it, he carried his humble belongings on it all around town. He never spoke but had a heavenly voice he would enchant us with when singing at street parties. His soul really came out on those occasions, and wow! What a wonderful man! I went to see him in the Chapel when he died and the lid of the coffin was open so I looked in and to my amazement, he looked so peaceful and at peace, in spite of his illness. I think he is the only dead person I have ever been to see. Our eyes have to learn to go beyond the image that appears before us. It's only then the truth emerges. By the way, who would I be dressed up like? That lady I described at the beginning of the chapter or the monster? I'll leave that one for you to meditate on.
I've come to the conclusion that people are all different no matter who they are and where they're from. What I mean is, whatever category we examine has various personalities in it. For example, you can meet a handicapped person who is nice and humble and happily lets you lend a hand, while another is difficult to get on with and absolutely refuses your help! This also happens with normal people, some are nice some are not. See what I mean? Very often, the usual thought is to feel sorry for abnormal people immediately, but it's wrong. In my opinion, they should be treated just like normal people, I hate pity! Some of those abnormal people take advantage of others who suffer from guilty feelings and use them to get their own way. I personally treat everyone in the same manner, no concessions,in fact, I get on very well with children, animals and abnormal people, now, what does that tell you? huh?
Well, now let me describe our new home and its surroundings. In chapter one I told you a little about my hometown and the way of life in that place. I certainly think the English village we moved to was completely the opposite! Let'say from a fig tree to a green end, where the road ended and in front of you you had nothing but green fields with the most enchanting river you could wish for. Our house was semi-detached with three bedrooms, bathroom, sitting room and kitchen. It had a very long garden, too. This led to the River, but first you had to cross a field full of cows! I had my own little bedroom and that was a big change from sleeping all together in one large bedroom back there. My sister had her own, as well. The larger one was for my parents and my little brother, who was five.
My dad liked working on the farm and had learned to do lots of things such as driving a tractor, feeding animals, taking care of plants, etc. He loved hunting for wild game and would often bring it home for mum to cook for us. One day, he took us all to help him dig around the sugar beet plants and pull out the weeds...so much fun. He was a real wonder this man and I don't know how he managed to buy a car and take us all on holiday to Italy four years later, this on his meager wages, mind you my mother worked as well and my sister already did a paper round and worked in a shop at the weekend.Our arrival in the village in Italy was clamourous! They were all amazed to see us in a new flashy Ford Cortina, wearing our new British clothes, they probably thought we were really well off! My mum had filled a suitcase up with sweets and chocolates, which she distributed among our relatives. My dad bought my grandma a fridge. She was so happy. But somehow, I got the impression my grandad wasn't. He just left the place and came back late that night. Poor dad, he just couldn't get it right with his old man. Let's hope he did better with his own family... next key?
𝓜𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓟𝓸𝓮𝓽 𝓜𝓲𝓴𝓲
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