Mike and Carol Pearson are an elderly couple in my church. They are very much a part of the church and enjoy its fellowship. Mike is into cricket and Carol can't understand why. They have two dogs. They both participate actively in the Sunday service - Carol often prays out loud during worship. But they're different from the rest of the congregation in one way - both Mike and Carol are completely blind.
Their two dogs are their respective guide dogs. They can only read the song lyrics during worship because they have a digital device that converts it into Braille.
Mike and Carol could choose easier options or wallow in self-pity - instead, they choose to try to lead as normal lives as possible. In doing this, I think they teach us one simple but profound lesson. They teach us that often, things needn't be as bad as they seem to be. They teach us that often, when one decides to make the best of an unfortunate situation, that one can mange better than one would have thought possible.And they teach us that by the clever use of technology, that one can overcome limitations and enjoy activities in a very nearly normal way. Mike and Carol - courageous, God-fearing, tech-savvy and also blind :)
Saturday 23 October 2010
Bovas
When I was about 6 or 7 years old, I had a hero. His name was Bovas. He was good at everything that a 6 year old boy thinks important. He played cricket like a dream - when he bowled, he would run from the end of the road and hurl the ball ferociously at the batsman as I watched open-mouthed. When, he batted, he dealt in sixers. He was also the best at football, his team always won.
But the reason I worshipped him is that he was a leader. Before he moved to our neighbourhood, we were a group of small boys of 6 or 7 years and another group of boys around 12 or 13 years old. After his arrival, he soon became influential. He then organised us into a team and challenged the team from the next neighbourhood to a tournament. Thus began a series of intensely contested cricket matches which make up some of my most vivid childhood memories. He then decided that we should start playing 'real cricket' with a leather cricket ball rather than a rubber ball. So, amidst protests from our parents, he introduced a Fund that each of us were to pay 5 rupees to every month. In 6 months, we had collected enough to buy a set of pads, a brand new cricket ball, a few cricket balls, stumps and a 'ball guard'. At the peak of his popularity, he inspired fierce loyalty from all of us - we looked to him for direction and wondered where he would take us next. Then, after his 12th standard, he didn't come to play anymore.
He was intelligent, flamboyant, confident but he was also poor. His father was a taxi driver and didn't have enough money to send him to college after 12th standard. So, he had to find work. When he used to play with us, I did sense that he had a vision for himself - that he badly wanted to break free of his circumstances. He seemed intent on making something of himself, of becoming famous. But ultimately, the poverty swallowed him. The last I heard of him, he had also become a taxi driver. A case of shattered dreams, suppressed initiative and wasted talent...but I hope it is some consolation to him that, in organising and leading those 6 and 7 year old boys, he also taught them dream boldly and work to achieve their dreams, especially when their circumstances allowed them to do so.
But the reason I worshipped him is that he was a leader. Before he moved to our neighbourhood, we were a group of small boys of 6 or 7 years and another group of boys around 12 or 13 years old. After his arrival, he soon became influential. He then organised us into a team and challenged the team from the next neighbourhood to a tournament. Thus began a series of intensely contested cricket matches which make up some of my most vivid childhood memories. He then decided that we should start playing 'real cricket' with a leather cricket ball rather than a rubber ball. So, amidst protests from our parents, he introduced a Fund that each of us were to pay 5 rupees to every month. In 6 months, we had collected enough to buy a set of pads, a brand new cricket ball, a few cricket balls, stumps and a 'ball guard'. At the peak of his popularity, he inspired fierce loyalty from all of us - we looked to him for direction and wondered where he would take us next. Then, after his 12th standard, he didn't come to play anymore.
He was intelligent, flamboyant, confident but he was also poor. His father was a taxi driver and didn't have enough money to send him to college after 12th standard. So, he had to find work. When he used to play with us, I did sense that he had a vision for himself - that he badly wanted to break free of his circumstances. He seemed intent on making something of himself, of becoming famous. But ultimately, the poverty swallowed him. The last I heard of him, he had also become a taxi driver. A case of shattered dreams, suppressed initiative and wasted talent...but I hope it is some consolation to him that, in organising and leading those 6 and 7 year old boys, he also taught them dream boldly and work to achieve their dreams, especially when their circumstances allowed them to do so.
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