Admire

A while ago I met a brain-damaged man selling tickets to a duck race. His contorted, half-shaven, spittle-crusted face seemed twisted from agony. He walked like he had to drag half his body but spoke with clarity. He told me that the doctors had said it would be impossible for him to walk again after his accident, but after 14 months he had learned to walk. He said “What can I do? I have children, I have a family, I have to stand up.” I’d never met anyone with brain damage before, and he was amazing.

Yesterday a young girl approached me with a donation box as student pests often do. As I waved her aside she looked up and smiled and I saw the same twisted, contorted face that belies brain damage. When I returned along the same street I searched her out and found her facing the street, pretending to read her phone. She was so out of place, in a society that prefers to keep its disabled tidily behind closed doors. She had guts to stand out there trying to make money. I gave her money and she gave a big smile and said thank you in English. She was pretty, despite her tortured muscles, and I felt something like admiration. Exactly admiration.