I would never claim to be a saint, as a child or now as a man. I was, as all children are, greedy, vindictive and scheming but with a gentle side. A need for expression, be that through art or the use of building blocks of lego. I would work with my brother, inventing scenarios or borrowing from real-life, imitating TV shows. We shared and performed stories, a comic strip, transcribing chunks of information into nature copies with facts and coloured illustrations, watercolour paintings, doodles and other crudely drawn characters. Multiple tools were used in the pursuit of expression but I found when I needed a pair of scissors I couldn't find them.
As a child my income was limited to donations from relatives, neighbours and family friends and birthdays.
I was in a pharmacy with my mother. She was picking up those essential items a mother needs like baby food and new bottles for one of my younger siblings. I leafed through the various items, collecting liquorice sticks and whatever else tickled my fancy. Then, I saw them.
A small pair of blue scissors.
I pulled them off the display and happily slammed them on the counter as my mother chatted to the lady at the till. Success. These shopping trips were often dull affairs, lightened only by whatever essential items or supplies I might have gathered up. I push the blue scissors closer to the other items. Unbeknownst to me, a miniature secret dialogue took place between the two women, without words. I can only assume they conveyed each other's sentiments with micro-expressions.
The lady dropped the scissors into the bag.
Even then I was worried. I was wary and keen to uncover any trickery. I was aware that something had happened and I suddenly decided that I didn't trust this woman to deliver my coveted pair of scissors. So, I politely asked if I could hold them.
No.
I gently insisted.
No.
My requests grew steadily in volume and I persisted to the point of tears.
No.
The scissors were in the bag and I would get them when I got home.
I submitted. I wasn't happy and in truth I was suspicious.
When we got home it seemed my
fears and suspicions were justified.
I emptied the contents of the bag, searching frantically for that pair of scissors I was promised. The scissors I needed for oh so many reasons.
But they were nowhere to be found.
There were no scissors even though I had seen them go into the bag.
I had seen them.
I thought they were in the bag.
I believed them when they told me so.
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| The blue scissors did not look like this. . |
