Man in White

MAN IN WHITE

I slept.
I dreamt.

And I woke up in my dreams. Or perhaps I woke up from my dreams; I cannot be sure. At the foot of my bed stood a man in white. I do not know what his face looked like, only that he was tall and robed in white.

"Come." he commanded with irrefutable authority. I reached out and touched the sleeve of his robe. When I touched him, I was no longer in my room. I felt the unbearably hot breeze of an African summer touch my skin. Looking around me, I stood at one end of an small village. Black-skinned children played in the dirt street and laughed dangerously close to the open cesspool. I feared for them, but they seemed oblivious to my presence.

"Come." said the one in white. And again I obeyed. I followed him down the path to a thatched hut in one corner of the village. Outside collected men and women wearing sad, fearful expressions. Passing through their midst, we entered the hut, leaving the sunlit afternoon behind us. It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the darkness inside, but after a moment, I realized that enough light seeped through the cracks of the hut to see by. I saw, clearly enough, an old White man kneeing as if in prayer, before a mat. On the mat lay an African boy of ten. Upon looking at him, my throat tightened so that I could not swallow. He was covered in the sweat of a fever. His face was gaunt, and his body showed the signs of starvation and the bloating of malnutrition. The White man spoke quietly:

"Lord,You of all know the kind of life he has had here.When I came, things were better. But now, with the lack of rain and the wars, all this boy has known is starvation and death and poverty. It grates me to know that the supplies that would heal him and the food that would strengthen him are only a few days travel away. But since the rebels have closed the roads, the supplies will not get through. When I devoted my life to You, Lord, it was to bring the gospel to these people, not to watch them suffer so. Surely, there must be purpose, but I confess I cannot find any. Oh, Lord heal him. Ease his pain. Save his soul."

I watched the child again, and my heart contracted within me. He was so pitiable that he was repulsive. I looked away.

When I did so I felt the gaze of the One In White upon me. I turned and looked up to him. He spoke:

"It has been given to me to inform you that you have been granted the opportunity to exchange lives with the boy. If you choose, you may become him and live here and he will become you and live in your place. And except for you, none on earth shall ever know of the change. But know this: whatever you choose, he will suffer longer from this fever, then he will recover to live the rest of his life in starvation and sickness. If you take his place, this will become your fate. Else, it will be his and nothing will deliver him from it."

I thought, then, how it must be for the boy. I thought how it must feel to have starvation twisting at the pit of my stomach. I thought of the weakness. I thought of the poverty. I thought of the open cesspool.

And I thought how it was for me. I thought of the plenitude of food and of the bloating of my belly caused by too much food rather than too little. I thought of my home and my possessions and of the comforts they represented. I thought of all the opportunities that still lay untouched in my life.

Then, I bowed my head, for I had reached my decision and I was ashamed
.
"Come," the voice spoke.

I looked up to find that we were no longer in a hut in Africa, but in a small apartment, equally dark and almost as dirty. Before me, a young woman put an infant into its crib. She wore the clothes of a prostitute, with the tight mini-skirt and the low-cut top. She wore too much make-up. I was excited and repulsed at the same time.

The phone rang, and she quickly sprinted to the grab the receiver before it could ring again.

"'Ello ?" she began in a thick British accent, her eyes checking on the infant.

"Oh, 'ello. 'Ow are you ?" she asked the telephone. "Oh, I'm fine, you know....Yes, 'e's fine too. The joy of my life, that little one....No, no one's 'eard from 'im yet. I doubt I ever will....No, the courts say that there's not much chance of ever making 'im pay any support. They say it's not likely 'e'll ever be found and they can't very well spare the men to go out looking for 'im....No, I'm doing fine. I've got a job....Yes as...um...a sort of secretary....Well, it's a small place, really. But it means I'll have to be working some nights.... What's that? .... Well, you see, they want me to go in at nights to do extra work that they can't get done in the day....Yes, it is....Ooops, there's' the door. Must be the sitter. Got to run. Talk to you soon...Yes, good-bye."

As she hung up the phone, I could see the beginnings of tears swell up her eyes at the lie she had told and the truth she did not. I could not bear to watch her cry and I looked away.

When I did so, I felt the gaze of the One In White upon me again. I turned and looked up to him. He spoke:

"It has been given to me to inform you that you have been granted the opportunity to exchange lives with the girl. If you choose, you may become her and live here, and she will become you and live in your place. And except for you, none on earth shall ever know of the change. But know this: whatever you choose, the girl will not be allowed to keep the child past its second birthday. If you take her place, it will become your fate. Else it will be hers and nothing will deliver her from it."

I thought, then, how it must be for her. I thought of the shame of selling her body night after night to provide for the child. I thought of the degradation of the old men pawing at her like an object and raping her for money. I thought of the lies she tells friends and family in order to preserve her dignity. And I thought of her loosing the child after so many sacrifices to keep it.

And I thought how it was for me. I thought of the job that I had convinced myself I hated. I thought of the opportunities that awaited me in my career. I thought of the money. I thought of the success and the respect I had gained from my peers. I thought of loving my own children and having them with me always.

Then I bowed my head, for I had reached my decision and was ashamed.

"Come," the voice spoke.

I looked up to find that we were no longer in an apartment. Rather we stood under a sky that looked as if it were about to storm, but no rain came. Black clouds, the darkest I had ever seen, blocked the sun's light. And the breeze held the taste of evil.

Standing before me, a small group of men and women formed a loose semicircle. It was alive with the sounds of ridicule and scorn and mockery. And tears. In the center of this curve hung a man on a cross. I say he was a man. In truth, it was difficult for me to tell. Never had I seen a man look so close to death and yet breathe. As I studied his body, I found no patch of skin preserved. From head to toe, his form was covered with welts and bruises, blood and spittle. I was fascinated and repulsed at the same moment. I wondered how he could still live. Yet he forced each breath, although he shivered in pain to do it.

But his eyes were clear. He was not the half-crazed man that he should have been. He was conscious of every word spoken and even the ones left unspoken. This made me pity him all the more. I thought how at least the boy I had first seen had the delirium of his fever to ease his pain. This man had nothing.

I could not hear the words of his mockers, but I could tell their meaning by the tone of their voices. "Here was a man," the tone said, "here was a man who could have had everything. Now he has nothing. Now he will die a criminal, alone and forgotten. And all his words will pass away."

For this, I pitied him. I thought how at least the girl I had seen had her life yet to live. For her, any failure, no matter how great, could pass into the folds of time. This man had no longer to live.

Again, I studied his eyes. He was looking at me. I had become used to the anonymity and invisibility of my dream, but he knew I was there. And his eyes were clear.

I felt the gaze of the One In White upon me again. I had to force myself to break the gaze of the man on the cross, but I did so and looked at my companion.

He spoke:

"It has been given to me to inform you that you have been granted the opportunity to exchange lives with this man. If you choose, you may become him and live here, and he will become you and live in your place. And except for you, none on earth shall ever know of the change. But know this: whatever you choose, the man will live the rest of the day, then die. His agony shall be unequaled since the beginning of time. After death, he must descend to the pits of the abyss itself to free those bound there. Only then will he return. If you take his place, it will be your fate. Else it will be his and nothing in heaven or on earth will deliver him from it."

I thought, then, how it must be for him. I tried to anticipate the victory ahead and the accomplishment of a great feat. I tried to share the love that I saw in his eyes. But I could only see the pain. And the ridicule. And the separation from all he had loved. And the rejection. How he had lived this long was beyond me. And to know that he/I would have to live the rest of the day and then descend to hell itself. This thought I could not bear. I could not bear the pain. Given his power --and there was power in those eyes -- I would not choose to die this way. No matter what the consequences, I would choose failure. No punishment given to me for my failure could be as great as the one given him for his success.

Then I bowed my head, for I had reached my decision and was ashamed.

"Learn," the voice said.

I looked up to find that I was back in my room, alone.

And I wept because I knew that I was not the man I thought myself to be.

And I learned.