A Thief in the Night, Part 2

(Cont’d from Part 1)

The family was watching television, which I could see and hear through the open, but barred windows, nearest to the street. Calling out “buenos noches”, the tv went silent and a younger teenaged boy came to the window. I could hear the grandmother behind him, telling him what to say, though she was out of sight.

I explained my situation, and that I was looking for a hammock for the evening, not usually a problem especially here where every house has dozens of hammocks, for guests, for couches, for everything under the shaded sun.

The mother speaks from behind the curtain, the boy, shy, replies for his mom that they do not have a hammock at the house.

No problem. I point to a patch of grass, safe, on their side of the fence, and ask if they have a small place in the grass where I can sleep for the night, where it is secure.

The mother speaks and again the boy replies that they do not. I point to the ground for clarification, but the reply remains the same.

I shake the dust from my shoes, cursing under my breath as I walk into a desolate landscape. The woman tells the boy to say, “May God go with you,” but the boy does not call out.

In my anger, I tell them it is bad for them (to refuse a pilgrim seeking shelter), but after I speak, I feel damned by words. When I said it was bad for them, it was bad for me. I hear the boy repeat what I said to his mother, and again she urges him to say “God go with you” but he does not.

Cont’d