About a month ago, I started carrying shoes in the car. I bought a bunch of the plastic white sandals common in West Africa and keep them in my car- in case. This is the kind of healing I can do. I drive with my eyes on the talibe feet. I can happily say that a good many of them of have shoes. Were I still in Kinshasa, my shoe bag would have emptied within the hour.
The first boy I passed here in Bamako was sleeping in a driveway. I was a little shy about giving the shoes and the whole scene turned rather comical. I drove by, turned around, and finally stopped the car just down the street from him. I wished I'd had some food to offer. The ability to sleep on concrete so near to a busy roadway is something I will never understand. Why not find a piece of cool shade under a tree? Or a private place removed from danger? Or maybe that's where danger lies? In the private, hidden places.
I can only think of the exhaustion that must be present for this kind of public sleeping and food seemed a much better offer than shoes. As he lifted his head, I saw why his feet were bare. Of course you cannot sleep with your shoes on, not if you want to keep them. I drove away then, thinking it would be better to stock up on bread or fruit or cookies even.
I didn't stop for the next two barefooted boys I saw. Either traffic made it inconvenient or something inside held me back. It's not easy to give. It needs to be sincere, and genuine and done in a matter of fact this-is-happening-because-we're-humans way. A space needs to be created.
The fourth boy I saw was walking with friends. They turned down the same road I intended to turn down. There were four or five of them altogether and I hesitated- again, no food to give. What did I have for the others? Only one had bare feet. Was this going to create a problem?
The bag of shoes had been mocking me, all these weeks in my car. I pulled over next to the boys. They walked up and I opened the door. "Where are your shoes?" I asked. None of them really appeared to understand me, but the oldest one came closer, peered into the car and figured it out. I gave over one shoe and indicated the boy should try it on. When it seemed likely to fit, I passed the other one along.
The boys walked off together. One of them waved and smiled at me as I drove away. He seemed genuinely happy that his friend had new shoes. I was really glad there wasn't a fight or a request for something more. I guess I should really get some food. It's always back to basics.
"When your stomach is hungry, your feet don't feel the rocks." I am sure that could easily be a proverb from somewhere. There are no solutions, no quick fixes. I am still trying to figure out the who and how behind community emergency systems.
I didn't save a life, but at least this time I did stop.
