When I lived in Madagascar in the early 90’s news from the
rest of the world was often hard to come by.
A couple times a week flights would come in from France and on those
flights would be copies of the International Herald Tribune in English, that
would make their way to the paper boys in the area of Antananareina.
These
guys would hawk papers and magazines to all the tourists and ex-pats who passed
by that area of town each day. Over time
I got to know many of them, some of them very well. One of them, Fidelis, would also hold a copy
of the Tribune for me as they came in. Some days I would drive through that
area and couldn’t even stop and he would just throw the paper in my car and I
would pay him later.
Whenever
I could I would just stop and talk with them, and became know to them as
Monsieur Sport. Often I would walk to
Antananareina, and I as I did someone would recognize me and the word would
spread up the street to the post office area and by the time I reach there, all
the guys would be waiting for me.
These
guys also became my protectors in some ways.
When I would bring my car to the area they would stay with it to keep it
from being robbed. They would help me
find parking places. When I walked down
the street they would walk with me to keep the pickpockets and other thieves at
bay. They let it be known that I was
okay, and in return I simply talked to them as children of God deserved to be
talked to.
Before
I left the country in 1995 I had a chance to take many of them to a basketball
game at the national stadium with the Malagasy national team. I think I bought
tickets for 20-25 of them. As I left I
tried to give them all things to say goodbye.
I gave my friend Fidelis clothes, t-shirts, warm-ups and many things.
A few
years later in 1999 I returned to the country, and I remember walking down that
street and hearing the voices “Tonga David”, “David is coming” and the moments
of reunion and joy as I talked with this guys who were surviving on their few
dollars a day, but who always treated me with honesty, friendship, respect and
care. That day I had a box of 90 copies
of the book of poetry I had published a couple years earlier, and I gave it to
them as something they could sell and make some money from.
Today,
fourteen years later, I drove through the streets as we sought to go to a local
hotel to enjoy their incredible
bakery. As we circled the area a guy
approached the car to sell me a paper or magazine and I looked, and it was my
friend Fidelis. He was much older (though
still young in age, maybe in his mid-30’s) and life had not been easy to him it
was plain to see. Twenty years after I
first met him he was in the same place, doing the same thing, for a few dollars
a day to survive until the next.
I
called him by name, and in that instant he recognized me. The smile on his face
was huge, and covered the missing teeth.
In a moment he was running around the area trying to find a place for us
to park. Finally we did and as we got out
of the car I introduced him to my wife and my children. We talked for a moment and told him we were
going to make a tour of the area to do some things.
He
stayed right there with the car, watching and protecting as always. We returned about an hour later. There was another guy with him, who also
remembered me and as I looked at his face, beaten by the years, I recognized
his smile. We talked quickly. He told Jenny how he still had the clothes I
had given him all those years before and that they were worn and beaten, but he
had never forgotten what I had done for him.
He
then told me about the others I had known then.
Guys who twenty years ago were
between the ages of 15 and 30 and who I had the honor to know and walk among,
and he told me that some of them had died over the years and were no longer
there. Others, gone to who knows
where.
As I
type these words I sit in the dark in a house in Madagascar, because the power
is gone, while a huge storm rages outside, but in my eyes I still see the
smiles of my friends. Today, I cried for
those who are gone. Almost unknown to
the world in which they walked, they made a huge difference for me. In this darkness I see the smile of my friend
Fidelis. As I left him today I stuck
20,000 Malagasy ariary in his hand, not even, ten dollars. Odds are I may never see him again. I am so grateful I could today.
I
understand and am reminded again that the people Jesus most liked to hang out
with were the rejected of the earth, the tax collector, the prostitute, the
horrible fishermen, the leper, the marginalized. Today, for just a moment, I was reminded that
every life matters, and I am grateful for my friend Fidelis.
