On Curiosity

I ran into my neighbors today. I was walking home, and the residues of a long hot day were smeared across the sky.

"Kite!" the little three-year-old screamed, pointing with his chubby finger. I had to squint my near-sighted eyes to see the little speck of red that he had discovered among the clouds.

"Oh! Big kite, baba! Look!", his mother and grandmother chimed in, trying hard to sound like toddlers themselves.

The child began trying to peddle his mini-bicycle again. It was covered with stickers and had the learning wheels still attached to the sides. He had not yet figured out that riding a bicycle involves pushing the peddles in a whole circle. Instead he pressed down on them with all his might, as his mother gave the jerking bike a gentle push. He is a considerate driver though, ringing the bell to make sure that I don't run into him. I politely crossed over to the other side of the lane. His grandmother tried to stuff a biscuit into his mouth, and when he refused, she began munching on it. She offered me one too, and social norms forced me to accept it. I mumbled a thank you and nibbled at the salty cracker hoping no one will notice my face contort in pain at every bite. (More on that later.)

As the adults exchange pleasantries, he tried to get his bike off the concrete road and onto the grassy dirt track that leads to their house. But it got stuck in between, in a little ditch of sharp pieces of rock aggregate the builders had lazily left behind to cover the imperfections of our little lane.

Suddenly, distracted by the black crystals, he left his bike and began poking the ground with his fingers.

"Cheee.... Poo!", his mother and grandmother began chiding in unison. "Dog poo!" The little one reluctantly threw away the rock he was holding with his dainty fingers.

He tried pushing his bike again. "Ah! Stop! You'll fall!" 

More adult blah-blah.

"If you don't eat, we are going to put you in the garbage dump and lock you!"

Still more adult blah-blah.

"Let him be", I wanted to say. "Just fuck off and let him be."

Of course I didn't say that. I continued nibbling my biscuit, talking bits of weather and politics before proceeding to make a polite exit. I even said I'll try to talk to them again before I leave. I won't.

~~~~~

This exchange, as brief and mundane as it was, made me realize something. I was a lucky kid.

I grew up playing with sand and mud and snow and grass. My mother let us pet any animal we saw.

(She can be a bit extreme sometimes. When I was about seven, she made me almost hug a camel for a photo. It was huge, and we later found out it bites. I almost lost my face that day. That was shortly before we got spat at by a llama. Long story.)

I'm a 90's kid. Yes, I wanted a Game Boy and never got one. I got a Tamagotchi though. We had a huge collection of hand-me-down audio cassettes and Disney movies copied on to VHS tapes. We still have those, covered in mold. We also still have boxes full of Lego. In my free time, I read books to teddies. On TV, I watched Sesame Street, but within a few short years, moved onto The Simpsons. In 1997, I spent my life's savings on a Sailor Moon audio CD.

Every other memory I have of my childhood is scattered about in the great outdoors. By the sea, in the gardens and parks, the streets, and every dirty and dusty corner. My grandmother's cat and dog were some of our first friends.

We climbed trees and fed cows, frolicked in the fields and rolled around in rabbit poop. My mother never stopped us. I was a happy child.

I've also learned many things the hard way:

• Pressing the front brakes of a bike while rushing down a steep hill at extreme speeds creates a psychological time-warp. You reach an ecstatic free-fall that probably lasts a fraction of a second, but feels like forever. And then you hit the ground.
• Wandering into a forest unattended by adults can lead to trouble. Bending twigs to mark the way back is a good idea in movies. In real life, your parents, armed with your friends' parents, start combing the forest, screaming your names. Later they scold you and say they almost called the firefighters.
• Not telling an adult about the thorn you got stuck in your finger is also a bad idea. It gets infested and hurts and hurts until you chop it out with a pin.
• Fire is an ethereal substance that leaps and spreads its flicking tongue much faster than you can ever imagine.

If I ever have children, I'll set them free. I'll nag and whine and chide and scream, but I will also let them see with their own eyes, and touch and feel with their own hearts. If there ever was a gift you could give a child, it is curiosity. My mother gave me that, and that is probably the best thing that ever happened to me.