As I step out onto the burning sand, the smell of stuffy summer air overwhelms me. However, walking a little further past the airport gates eases my ambiguity. The midday air sways to the rhythm of bird song, and the land is covered in blooming buds and glowing green shrubs. I see before me a scrawny, somewhat undernourished young boy; his bare feet crackled by the sizzling sun of Goa.
He is unlike anything I have seen before. I wonder why he has no shoes on, and how his baggy shirt had become so torn and soiled. Why is he without a mother or father, since you would think that a busy airport is no place for a lone child? I agonize that such a tall stature like me may just alarm the vulnerable youngster into eternal hiding. Nonetheless, it is not long before I realise how unfazed this child is by my presence- and our disparity, for that matter.
He takes my bags from underneath my palms, and begins to make his way down to the conveyor belt, where I hope to be greeted by my battered suitcase. I am reluctant to follow; not sure whether or not to relieve this weak being of the heavy load he has burdened himself with. I am now feeling slightly uncomfortable; watching as he continues to struggle on with my bags (that must weigh at least half of what he does).
At last, the youngster comes to a halt, and throws himself down next to a case that looked remarkably like my own. I am suddenly worried for his safety; surely, such a fall would have condemned this infant to great pain? I am wrong. He starts to giggle- a sound which makes me shiver. How can such a feeble and poorly child be so content?
The answer was lying in the domineering heat of South Asia: he had been granted life, and that was something that I’m sure not all of his siblings had been lucky enough to possess. I take his hand and place a small pile of Rupees I had gathered over my many years of travelling. The little one shrieks in delight, and skips off across the gleaming floors.
As she headed towards the archway of coconut trees, and out beyond the boundaries of ecstasy, the elderly photographer only hoped this adventure would be better than her last.
Coastrider, hi there, and apologies for my late posting. I like your choice of photograph, and of narrator. Rather than just looking at the image, you’ve looked inwards, as it were, and imagined who it is that is looking, and what that boy represents for them.
ReplyDeleteThe paragraphs linking the boy to his environment are strong. On the one hand they are full of direct sensory impressions, but these are counterbalanced by the anxiety and uncertainty of the narrator. The final paragraph, too, is impressive. I like the way you switch perspectives and step back to show the photographer, who suddenly becomes as enigmatic and mysterious to us as the boy had been to her. The ending, too, ‘opens a door’ onto a story. It could be the beginning of a short story, or even a novel. You give the sense of your character’s life beyond the scene you have presented, and of themes (the difference between the poor boy and rich woman, the lure of the exotic) that might be explored there.
Favourite lines: “The midday air sways to the rhythm of bird song” really gives the sense of sensory overload, of the impact that stepping out of a cool plane into a hot airport can produce.
Also . “He starts to giggle - a sound which makes me shiver.” There is a real tension in this line, firstly in the ‘giggle’, which is unexpected, and then in the ‘shiver’ which, in the heat, really shows how unnerved the narrator is.
Things to look out for: over-writing. A line like “I agonize that such a tall stature like me may just alarm the vulnerable youngster into eternal hiding” could be rewritten using simpler, clearer words. “I worry that someone as tall as me could simply scare the small boy off”. Always ask yourself, Could I write this simpler?
Also, there’s something a bit unlikely in someone as well-travelled as the photographer describing the boy as “unlike anything I have seen before”. If she’s that well-travelled (loads of rupees, loads of adventures) she will have seem hundreds of boys like this. That doesn’t mean the scene’s unworkable – just that perhaps there’s something about this boy – from the hundreds she’s seen – that really affects her. Again, the story opens up.
And, finally, did you consider putting any dialogue in? You could just have a line or two from the boy – “Help you with your bag, Mrs?” “Need a taxi Mrs” – you don’t have to have her replies, but it will break up the monologue and increase the realism. Good work, though.
Hiya! Hope you’ve had a great summer, and sorry this has taken me so long!
ReplyDeleteI really like this piece; it’s so evocative. You capture the exotic atmosphere so well; I especially like “the smell of stuffy summer air,” as you really can smell the heat in the air in hot climates. The alliteration here adds to the thick atmosphere too. I wonder though, if you’re stepping off a plane at the airport, would you be stepping onto sand? Is tarmac not more likely?
You poignantly address the age-old problem of poverty, and the stark contrast between it and the affluence of the West, with your juxtaposition of this tall, well-off photographer and the poor, small child. Your attention to the detail of their heights adds to this contrast effectively, and makes the reader feel as if they are this photographer staring down at the child.
What I’m really impressed by is that you don’t fall into the trap of over-pitying the child. You surprise us with his giggle, and then make us question our own views by showing how grateful this child is, despite his poverty. You highlight how life, such a wonderful gift, is too often taken for granted by those of us who have everything we need.
I like how your narrator asks questions, “I wonder why he has no shoes on,” etc. rather than tries to explain everything. This leaves it up to us to imagine the background of this child, which is much more moving than a description of his past.
Make sure that everything makes sense, though, as there are a few word choices that don’t quite fit. For example, “eases my ambiguity” doesn’t quite work, as it is not you who are ambiguous, but the unfamiliar surroundings. “Eases the ambiguity” would be better. Also, “he takes my bags from underneath my palms” doesn’t seem quite right either, as it gives the impression that the narrator is simply resting her hands on top of her bags. Something like “he takes my bags from me” would work better; it is OK to use simple language sometimes.
The present tense can be tricky to work in, but you use it effectively, bringing out the immediacy of the situation and creating a moving snapshot. Yet you switch at the end to the past tense and third person, to give a picture of who the narrator is too, which works well as a kind of hindsight, and again brings out the huge contrast between the two figures. Well done!
Hi - apologies for the delay in posting. It's a shame really as it means little to add but I too was very impressed by some of your descriptions - particularly "The midday air sways to the rhythm of bird song" and "towards the archway of coconut trees". You also did an excellent job of working in the present tense and also handled the transition to the past tense and third person well.
ReplyDeleteWhat I also liked about your piece is that it wasn't overly moralising. While you do well in highlighting the problems of poverty, I didn't feel like I was being beaten over the head with them.
Look at inserting a couple of bits of dialogue to further increase the realism and you have a very good piece. Look at developing this further.