28/10/2019
In the past 5 weeks that I've been in Lusaka, this small boy has yet to utter a single word. Of all the kids he is the most reserved and detached, often to one side uncertain how to assert himself within the group. My uncle - who happens to be a speech pathologist - I considered consulting his opinion on the matter, perhaps the boy had some form of condition or trauma.
I had noticed his growing intrigue in my yoga practice. The allure of certain postures and the way he would remain to watch my sequence while the others would eventually get bored and run off to play.
Running over some movement and mobility drills this afternoon, the neighbourhood kids kicking and screaming from across the yard, I noticed this small figure from the corner of my eye. I lightly gestured for him to join me; by now I had come to accept that words were lost on him. I began a slow sequence of classic surya namaskar. I felt him mirror my every movement. I could even hear his little efforts to employ the ujjayi breath technique during the flow; ironically the most audible the boy had been. My mother came out to the yard and began snapping photos. Herself surprised by the unlikely interaction.
Somehow, through the yoga we had found a bridge of communication. There were no words nor instructions. But in these moments the boy and I were perfectly in sync. He understood me and I felt I understood him.
About an hour ago, walking my mother back from the supermarket we passed the small boy, cradled in the arms of the big sister. "...Hi." a soft voice appeared from nowhere. We turned to find the boy waving emphatically. This time it was us lost for words.
I am eternally grateful to be on a path that continues to reveal itself as a passage for deeper connection. Not just with myself but with those unlikely spirits that may be in search of it.
