Sometime around Midnight

As I performed my weekly ritual of popping around the nearby Spar to grab the boring weekly essentials for lunch, snacks and potential dinner ingredients, I saw a man, fairly shabbily dressed. He looked like the stereotypical bum. The quintessential wastage of society. Battered, bruised and certainly not donning the latest variation of Armani Mania, this man walked through the car park, into the store. As he took each step, almost leaning on this worn out back pack, his shoulders hunched like a man not wanting a world to see him, his cap pulled low, like a man not wanting to see a world, I noticed that he had with him a companion. An equally scruffy looking, mangy, medium sized dog. Casually walking beside him. No collar, no leash, no restriction. This dog calmly walked beside the man, as if in complete knowledge of the next destination. Not perturbed by the cars funneling in and out of the car park, nor the people hustling towards their next social stop on the busy Sunday that lay ahead.

This, almost equal respect, that the two exuded for one another, had piqued my interest. On getting out of my car, I feverishly looked to confirm my initial suspicion that a man devoid of respect for and from my Northern Joburg suburb would have cavalierly walked in, with dog in tow. Instead, I was rather surprised to find our not recently washed Fido, calmly, casually, sitting at the entrance of the store. Still, no leash nor anything resembling a restriction. It surprised me that this dog, which in all likelihood, wasn’t formally trained was so composed and content with having to just…hang out, and wait.

With my intrigue firmly activated, I grabbed my basket as I walked past the dog, and with me not taking my eyes off him, he propped his head, glanced at me and turned away. Almost to say…well, nothing really. It was as arbitrary a glance as people walking past one another in a mall with no specific intent to actually look at each other.

I found the mystery man, picking up an unsliced loaf of bread. He didn’t stop for any other piece of consumable good. He didn’t pick anything else up, window shop in any specific isle or even look around. He just walked with his loaf of bread, to the check out point, paid for it and walked out.

I feverishly grabbed most (my curiosity got the better of me) of my list and hurried through paying for them. I then grabbed my packets and made for the exit as if I had shoplifted the entire contents. To my sadness, I could no longer see our Rip Van Winkel, nor his well behaved companion. I then packed up the car and settled for the fact that my career as a purely voyeuristic private investigator was over.

Until, as I turned out of the car park, I found the objects of my intrigue, nestling under a nearby tree. It was at that point that the man pulled out of his bag, a small plastic bowl along with a bottle of water. He pours a decent amount of water into the bowl and then breaks the loaf he had earlier bought in half. Both are gently placed near the dog, now comfortably sitting next to his friend. They both then proceed to dig into the loaf, stopping every now and again to wash down the dry bread with quick sips of water. The man, affectionately ruffling the fur of his canine companion.

This image instantaneously brings a smile to my face. Not only does it remind me of pets gone by, but also instills in this low on hope individual, pure, unadulterated economy sized packets of confidence in humanity yet. This mans selflessness, for whatever reason, speaks volumes of the potential of the human psyche. Who knows why he looked the way he did. Who knows why he was the way he was. Sure, I run the risk of over romanticizing and over dramatizing the event, but the simple, undiluted fact is, it was what it was and he did what he did. The dog knew who his friend was and so did the man. Those few seconds that I shared remotely with them, made me wonder for many more hours about the very decency and emotional centering that exists around me.

I am filled with rage. Passive aggressive with extra aggressive. I have become a whining malcontent within myself at the very callous personas that punctuate my life. The frivolous change of opinions and sheer lack of respect at the concept of processing things on an intellectual, logical level. The people shaped baskets that contained many, many egg shaped emotions are starting to come apart at the bloody seams and it feels like I am the only one who sees it. I am filled with contempt towards actions and behavior that has little to do with and minimal impact on me. I feel a growing void between myself and the rest of the world based on the lack of insight, introspection and analysis performed within those that surround me.

With witless tongues we articulate without filters. We act on impulse and go back on paramount philosophies. We throw away who we are in the search for that most instant of instant gratifications. Consuming ourselves in trivial games that have little or too much bearing on our journey. We affirm shifting beliefs with actions hoping that they will become true. Though all they ever end up being are half truisms. We sleep walk our way through it all…passively acting on predefined scripts of what we think we are supposed to want and do.

As I sit, perched on my crucifix, with my comfortable dwellings, clothes filled cupboards, more than decent salary and plethora of other proverbial creature comforts…I wanted to be this traveler, under a tree, breaking bread and sharing a drink with sincere friendship, loyalty and respect…in complete trust and honesty.

“live…love…fight”