Beat the kid? What then.

Aside from the daily political protests, my daily street side snack, and nightly blackouts, not much is happening in Nepal. I got back from another tourist trap called Pokhara. And with the tourist season dwindling, the merchants and restaurants were starting to lower prices, which is nice. In and around the area are quiet hillsides, villages, and pollutant-free lakes (for the most part, it’s all about the fishing).

I took another long walk around the older part of Kathmandu called Patan. I was looking for a special handicraft store that supports women and social inclusion plus the prices show the store’s support for fair trade. It’s about a 45 minutes walk through old, new and rich streets. I even pass the Zoo! I have a hard enough time with the stray puppies so there is no way I am stepping foot into the Zoo.

I suppose, by western standards, I got lost but by Asian traveling standards, I was simply wondering. Regardless, I called Raby so that I could be set back on track and on my way to the store. I was close. I walked out of the café and headed south. As I walked past the communist party demonstration, I thought how cool it would be if a riot broke out. Just kidding – maybe another day. Then I saw the kids, again. Earlier, and the reason why I got myself off track, I scrambled to escape the little boys (ages 3, 5, and 10). The youngest one had jumped onto my legs, not to attack but as a desperate means to get my attention. He wanted money or food or something. As he wrapped his tiny little arms around my legs and held on like it was his last day alive, a rush of emotion and visions hit my heart and mind.

I saw him being pushed to the side by a tourist like the kid I saw getting shoved into the sand by a young man while traveling in Laos.
I saw the middle aged foreigner take money out and give it to the Nepal boy as a plea to escape humility or embarrassment – mostly hers and not the boy’s.
Then, I saw me, squatting down to meet his eyes. It’s not that the boy did not understand ‘No’. He pushed because he had heard it enough and was now fighting for a ‘yes’. I wanted to give him a big hug and tell him that he’d be okay but I knew how selfish it was to think and that I would be lying.

A store owner broke our gaze, said something in Nepalese, and the kids were gone. I said, “thank you,” but the words felt so disillusioned. Now walking in the right direction, I see the boys again. My first reaction was to dart across the street and fix my eyes straight ahead. Instead, I headed for the boys. This time, the boy was with mom and wanted nothing to do with me. Of course, why would he need me? I certainly do not have any right to expect the boy to want to talk to me because I exist only when he needs me to exist. So I had to agree with the boy - screw you, world.