Jozini man.

We passed him on the way from Jozini to Durban. It was only a glimpse but, it had a profound effect on me. As we approached the lone figure slowly grew from a dark smudge in the distance into a long slender stick and finally into a man. He held a large hessian bag over his shoulder and a brightness in his eyes that lanced the sun bleached heat. As I watched him I noticed his crooked arm in the air palm down flopping at the road in an attempt to acquire a ride. His face portrayed his life and betrayed his purpose. The long and short arms of time had not been soft with his battered face. And as he became clearer I felt him admit that his journey was unknown, his transport a mystery, only the sun the sand and his sandals certainties in this voyage, possibly his last.

Finally, as we passed and flashed, smudging his image on the passenger glass I saw he was smiling through ivory teeth, the gaps of age and gold glinting in the sun. This smile utterly confounded me and trapped my thought for most of the trip back. The complete unknown he was facing, his petty belongings and advanced age were of little consequence to him. In this world of complete pretence, monetary gain and possession, here was a man, a man with great wealth. His smile was testament to my ignorance. I wanted to stop and ask him his secret, perhaps learn a mantra but, I knew he had none.

His was the sand, the sunlight, the sandals and the patience that few people can grasp. I turned and faced the oncoming concrete, thinking on the man, as the sun glanced behind a cloud shrouding us in coolness for a moment.