Viktória Botka
A child, aged around eight or nine, was sitting on a bench waiting for a bus. He was not alone; beside him, his father was sitting, reading the daily paper. There was a silence: the kid ate a ham sandwich while his father frowned and shifted his eyes from word to word on the sheet of paper . The silence was broken when the boy asked his father:
“Why do you always read these grey ugly papers? They look so boring, there are only words, all my story books have drawings on every page. Your paper only has five drawings.”
The father set the papers aside; clearly, he was a bit annoyed that his reading had been interrupted.
“Jason, dear. This is the newspaper, it tells the news, things that are happening, they are real. Many things happen, near us, and far away. I’m currently reading about the forest fires in Australia. Animals cannot survive, people are dying, it is all written in this paper I’m holding.”
He went on to continue his reading, but Jason wanted to continue the conversation.
“Why do you read about people dying? Doesn’t it make you sad? Why don’t you read happy stories? I can tell you a story about Mowgli, a boy who lives in a jungle, or about Franklin the turtle. What do you want to hear?” H e asked a gazillion questions.
“Well, I read the newspaper because it tells me the truth, or most of them do. It tells people information that they should know, whether it makes them happy or sad. I want to keep updated with what’s going around me, to make me cautious about what people are up to. I want to be aware of what people less fortunate than us are going through, like the starving and thirsty children in Africa, we are lucky that we have clean water and –“
Jason cut him off mid sentence. “Why can’t we give them food? We have unlimited water from our tap, mummy can make them the most yummiest and super-duper deliciousest dinner ever in the whole entire world and universe!”
His father chuckled . Another sudden topic change. He put his papers in his suitcase. He loved his son so much.
“Boy, I agree with you, mummy’s cooking is fire. What you need to understand that there are a lot of starving people, millions, hundreds of them, we don’t need to go to Africa to help them. There are thousands in this city, too. We cannot help them all, we can still try our best to make their lives better though, donate to charities and the homeless shelter, treat them with kindness and love. We also have to be thankful and grateful for what we have, food, money, love, which we can also share with those in need of them .”
The boy couldn’t keep up with the speech. He scratched his head, baffled at the weird way his father’s thinking worked .
“I don’t understand, pops.”
“What I mean is that there are less lucky people out there, not just in Africa. Some of them are very poor, while some could live through the help of others. Our duty is to help them as much as we can, by giving them money, food, but even an act of love can make their day a little better. A hug, or even a smile.”
“Wow, I will do everything to make people less sad, when I grow up, I will help people, and I won’t let anyone in this world be sad. I want to be like you.”
The father picked up little Jason, and put him on his shoulders
“Well you got to study a lot then, there’s our bus, let’s take you to school, where you’ll work hard and make popsy and mummy proud.”
Jason laughed and tickled his father’s neck.
“Since when did you change your name to popsy? HAHAHAHAHAHAHHH!!”
They got on the bus, and left to continue their day.