bandits!’
Relief. ‘Don’t worry about bandits,’ I said breezily. Everything will be fine. You have nothing to worry about!’
Akio regarded me seriously; obviously I had interrupted too soon. He had something more to say.
‘I not-o worry about bandits. What I think is, when we meet bandits today, I not want to give money.’
‘You what?’
‘Bandits no good-o.’ He became more confident, more focused. I could tell from his tone that he feltdetermined about what he was saying. ‘It is not a donation, they rob us. I not want to be robbed so I no want to give my money!’
Obviously he had a point—and one that I agreed with. Donating at gunpoint sounded more like robbery than charity to me. But if they had guns I was going to give them whatever they wanted. The Maoists didn’t scare me off the trek but I wasn’t planning on messing with them either. Years of travelling up and down to Northern Ireland had taught me that it was better to avoid confrontation; do as they asked and go home.
‘Akio, I think you should give them what they want.’ I spoke softly but with purpose. ‘It won’t be very much money to us,’ I continued, ‘and I think it’s better to be safe than sorry.’
Akio remained calm, his tiny eyes staring at me intently. I saw that he was trying to size me up, trying to calculate whether it was worth arguing with me. Whether I could be persuaded to stand up with him against the rebels.
‘We will see,’ he eventually replied. ‘I will think about it today while we walk.’
I wasn’t satisfied. Sure, it was every man for himself, but I knew too well that in such situations it was better to be united. The fact that I’d give a donation wouldbe entirely outweighed by Akio’s reluctance. We’d be seen as one defiant unit. And Akio had probably never known the kind of violence that a terrorist group could mete out to those who resisted.
I wanted to shake some sense into him. Make him see the danger. Make him see it my way. Listen here. You’ll keep your mouth shut and give them whatever the hell they want or you can piss off.
It’s amazing how fantastic your imagination can make things look, especially a confrontation. I remembered back to when I was in primary school and I was being bullied by a boy older than me and twice my size. I told my parents and they advised me to confront him.
‘Don’t run away from him,’ Dad instructed. ‘Talk to him, tell him to leave you alone.’
For the rest of that night I’d thought of different conversations I could have with the bully, and before I fell asleep I had planned an entire speech.
The following day in the schoolyard I walked up to the boy. I was terribly nervous as I recited the speech in my head.
‘What do you want?’ he growled.
I was petrified. The words I’d practised just vanished from my mind. Suddenly I did what I neverthought I would do—I lunged forward and kicked him between the legs. The bully collapsed to the ground. My look of astonishment must have lasted all day.
For now, I decided to let things lie with Akio. Time out. I was irritated though—and overcome by an urgent need to pray and rub my hands together. I began repeatedly brushing one palm roughly over the top of the other. Dear God …It was a familiar action to me but to another it would have looked absurd—as though I was desperately trying to remove some imperceptible affliction from my hands.
‘What you doing?’
I turned away from Akio, trying to conceal my embarrassment. ‘Nothing,’ I muttered. ‘Just trying to think of something.’ It was a pretty lame excuse, but I’d been using it for years and it had always seemed to work.
‘But, with your hands, why you do that?’ Suddenly it wasn’t me directing him; I was the child now.
‘I…’ I what? What kind of stupid excuse can you give now, Sean?
I was exposed. There he was, this forthright little man I hardly knew, catching me off guard in the most uncomfortable of ways.
Have
Relief. ‘Don’t worry about bandits,’ I said breezily. Everything will be fine. You have nothing to worry about!’
Akio regarded me seriously; obviously I had interrupted too soon. He had something more to say.
‘I not-o worry about bandits. What I think is, when we meet bandits today, I not want to give money.’
‘You what?’
‘Bandits no good-o.’ He became more confident, more focused. I could tell from his tone that he feltdetermined about what he was saying. ‘It is not a donation, they rob us. I not want to be robbed so I no want to give my money!’
Obviously he had a point—and one that I agreed with. Donating at gunpoint sounded more like robbery than charity to me. But if they had guns I was going to give them whatever they wanted. The Maoists didn’t scare me off the trek but I wasn’t planning on messing with them either. Years of travelling up and down to Northern Ireland had taught me that it was better to avoid confrontation; do as they asked and go home.
‘Akio, I think you should give them what they want.’ I spoke softly but with purpose. ‘It won’t be very much money to us,’ I continued, ‘and I think it’s better to be safe than sorry.’
Akio remained calm, his tiny eyes staring at me intently. I saw that he was trying to size me up, trying to calculate whether it was worth arguing with me. Whether I could be persuaded to stand up with him against the rebels.
‘We will see,’ he eventually replied. ‘I will think about it today while we walk.’
I wasn’t satisfied. Sure, it was every man for himself, but I knew too well that in such situations it was better to be united. The fact that I’d give a donation wouldbe entirely outweighed by Akio’s reluctance. We’d be seen as one defiant unit. And Akio had probably never known the kind of violence that a terrorist group could mete out to those who resisted.
I wanted to shake some sense into him. Make him see the danger. Make him see it my way. Listen here. You’ll keep your mouth shut and give them whatever the hell they want or you can piss off.
It’s amazing how fantastic your imagination can make things look, especially a confrontation. I remembered back to when I was in primary school and I was being bullied by a boy older than me and twice my size. I told my parents and they advised me to confront him.
‘Don’t run away from him,’ Dad instructed. ‘Talk to him, tell him to leave you alone.’
For the rest of that night I’d thought of different conversations I could have with the bully, and before I fell asleep I had planned an entire speech.
The following day in the schoolyard I walked up to the boy. I was terribly nervous as I recited the speech in my head.
‘What do you want?’ he growled.
I was petrified. The words I’d practised just vanished from my mind. Suddenly I did what I neverthought I would do—I lunged forward and kicked him between the legs. The bully collapsed to the ground. My look of astonishment must have lasted all day.
For now, I decided to let things lie with Akio. Time out. I was irritated though—and overcome by an urgent need to pray and rub my hands together. I began repeatedly brushing one palm roughly over the top of the other. Dear God …It was a familiar action to me but to another it would have looked absurd—as though I was desperately trying to remove some imperceptible affliction from my hands.
‘What you doing?’
I turned away from Akio, trying to conceal my embarrassment. ‘Nothing,’ I muttered. ‘Just trying to think of something.’ It was a pretty lame excuse, but I’d been using it for years and it had always seemed to work.
‘But, with your hands, why you do that?’ Suddenly it wasn’t me directing him; I was the child now.
‘I…’ I what? What kind of stupid excuse can you give now, Sean?
I was exposed. There he was, this forthright little man I hardly knew, catching me off guard in the most uncomfortable of ways.
Have
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