Let the little children come to Me. Don't stop them...
I was supposed to be having a Chinese "lesson" from one of my Chinese teacher friends who is leaving next week. He suddenly revealed to me that he tutored people in language learning, a fact which made me demand why he had been withholding his skills from me... So in an effort to glean everything that I can in the few final remaining days of contact we set up an appointment for me to have a lesson.
We decided to ride our bikes down to the Lhasa riverside because there was such beautiful weather and why miss the chance to soak it in. We biked down there and climbed over the concrete barrier and found some flat rocks near the river to sit on... honestly the view was so breath-taking I wasn't really paying much attention as my friend tried to give me a crash course in tones, grammar, and basic pronouns (everything I would need to learn Chinese quickly according to him). Picture a slightly dirty river, with all variety of birds splashing across the water and ducking underneath for fish, cutting a line across the bottom of (impossibly) still green mountains which looked as though someone had pinched the earth together with their hand and top it off with the bluest of blue skies... yeah, all that grammar will remain buried under that scene forever I think. And my friend was trying so hard.
Amazing scenery or not, our lesson was destined to be interrupted.
Stumbling over the rocky shore a tiny little boy came straight toward us. Though he couldn't have been more than 6 years old, his clothes looked as though they had been on him all his life, grungy as though he had just sprung up from the earth. There were two dried up snot trails on his face and his hair was short but long in the back, a common style of nomad children, but his eyes were fresh, brown, and alive.
In one hand he carried a rope of some sort, in the other a rock. He looked very upset and held his toys out to us, imploringly. My friend began telling the boy to go away, but I quickly stopped him, motioned for the little boy to come closer, gently took the rope and the rock from his hand. I know what little boys like to do with ropes and rocks.
So I tied one end of the rope to the rock tightly. Then I picked it up and, as the little boy was holding the other end of the rope, I threw the rock a little ways off... the whole thing flew out of his hand and his previously sullen face broke into giggles and laughter brighter than the sun that was glaring over the water. He ran to go get it and brought it back to me. This time I motioned for him to hold the rope tightly and again threw the rock... it went out but, because he was holding the rope, bounced back to him. Again, this was somehow the most entertaining thing that had happened to him all day.
The Chinese lesson forgotten, this little boy stole every bit of attention I possessed. At one point he came up mumbling something, my friend told me that he was asking for food. Oh I wished that I had some, or that there had been some sort of vendor nearby... I would have bought this kid a four course dinner. All I had was just a bit of candy in the bottom of my bag. Gladly sharing it with him, I asked "ran mingla kada sigeyu?" (what is your name? in Tibetan) he stared at me in wonder and said "Dawaji".
I wish the story ended there but it does not.
A few seconds later a stern looking man came over fussing at little Dawaji. The man took the rock and rope toy that we had made and threw it down and then slapped Dawaji across the face with the back of his hand. In tears and with, no doubt, a stinging face Dawaji stumbled after the man.
See that you don't look down on one of these little ones, because I tell you that in heaven their angels continually view the face of my Father in heaven.
What did your face look like then, Father?
We decided to ride our bikes down to the Lhasa riverside because there was such beautiful weather and why miss the chance to soak it in. We biked down there and climbed over the concrete barrier and found some flat rocks near the river to sit on... honestly the view was so breath-taking I wasn't really paying much attention as my friend tried to give me a crash course in tones, grammar, and basic pronouns (everything I would need to learn Chinese quickly according to him). Picture a slightly dirty river, with all variety of birds splashing across the water and ducking underneath for fish, cutting a line across the bottom of (impossibly) still green mountains which looked as though someone had pinched the earth together with their hand and top it off with the bluest of blue skies... yeah, all that grammar will remain buried under that scene forever I think. And my friend was trying so hard.
Amazing scenery or not, our lesson was destined to be interrupted.
Stumbling over the rocky shore a tiny little boy came straight toward us. Though he couldn't have been more than 6 years old, his clothes looked as though they had been on him all his life, grungy as though he had just sprung up from the earth. There were two dried up snot trails on his face and his hair was short but long in the back, a common style of nomad children, but his eyes were fresh, brown, and alive.
In one hand he carried a rope of some sort, in the other a rock. He looked very upset and held his toys out to us, imploringly. My friend began telling the boy to go away, but I quickly stopped him, motioned for the little boy to come closer, gently took the rope and the rock from his hand. I know what little boys like to do with ropes and rocks.
So I tied one end of the rope to the rock tightly. Then I picked it up and, as the little boy was holding the other end of the rope, I threw the rock a little ways off... the whole thing flew out of his hand and his previously sullen face broke into giggles and laughter brighter than the sun that was glaring over the water. He ran to go get it and brought it back to me. This time I motioned for him to hold the rope tightly and again threw the rock... it went out but, because he was holding the rope, bounced back to him. Again, this was somehow the most entertaining thing that had happened to him all day.
The Chinese lesson forgotten, this little boy stole every bit of attention I possessed. At one point he came up mumbling something, my friend told me that he was asking for food. Oh I wished that I had some, or that there had been some sort of vendor nearby... I would have bought this kid a four course dinner. All I had was just a bit of candy in the bottom of my bag. Gladly sharing it with him, I asked "ran mingla kada sigeyu?" (what is your name? in Tibetan) he stared at me in wonder and said "Dawaji".
I wish the story ended there but it does not.
A few seconds later a stern looking man came over fussing at little Dawaji. The man took the rock and rope toy that we had made and threw it down and then slapped Dawaji across the face with the back of his hand. In tears and with, no doubt, a stinging face Dawaji stumbled after the man.
See that you don't look down on one of these little ones, because I tell you that in heaven their angels continually view the face of my Father in heaven.
What did your face look like then, Father?
