Guest Of Dishonour
There will be a wedding at the house next door tomorrow and the guest of honour has just arrived.
He is reluctant to get out of his carriage, he is scared and uncertain.
They shout at him and urge him on.
He falls over on his exit and is humiliated.
There are tears in his eyes.
The old men laugh at him and the little boys throw stones at him and call him names.
He watches his carriage leave and feels so lonely among all these strangers.
How hard it must be to leave your family behind you.
I stand aside and watch as they bind his knees, and there are tears in my eyes too.
I shall never eat camel again.
This website was invented many years ago, when the author kept coming across interesting things in pockets whilst doing laundry. Like small, terrified reptiles. Blogging about raising children in the rainforest, moving them to the UK and watching them leave home one by one to have their own adventures has gradually been replaced by a return to grownup life for their mother, Nan Sheppard, who is an anthropologist, writer and public international law consultant.
1 comment:
How very sad.
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