JOURNEY - on Mastering Ukemi by Daniel Linden (classic books for 12 year olds .TXT) 📕

but here I actually enjoyed the first real coke I had drunk in nearly ten years.

After lunch I again bought the driver and Bim another cigarette, actually sprang for four this time, and they took them outside and smoked them leaning on the good side of the beat up van.

Christian had been quiet since the previous day. Actually he had not said much since the night we arrived and I was hoping it was only nerves and not illness or worse. When we started to move toward the van to resume our journey I stopped the guys.

“Let’s change places for a bit, if you don’t mind. Curtis, do you think you could change places with Christian?”

We shuffled our gear around and then were heading up the highway past enormous fields of marigolds of every imaginable size and hue. They were utterly beautiful and sent my imagination soaring until Christian said something to me.

“Excuse me?” I said.

“Oh, nothing,” he said.

“Christian, what’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said.

This could go on a long time. I chose to end it and looked back out the window at all the golden flowers.

“When you were here before, did you go down by the river? There are a bunch of temples and shrines everywhere?” He asked.

“Sure,” I said.

“God, did you see all the people pouring blood all over their cars and stuff?” He swiveled around to look at me and the dam broke. “I was walking through all these people and the next thing I saw was this guy trying to cut the head off of a bull with this Khukuri sword that was about three feet long. He had to hit it over and over and it was terrible. The bull was fighting and screaming and blood was flying everywhere. God, it was the sickest thing I’ve ever seen. The streets were running with blood, really, literally running with it. I didn’t realize I was walking in it. I had it all over my shoes.

“The streets were running with blood. I’ve heard that expression for years, but it’s true. I got so freaked out I couldn’t find the bar where Curtis and Chris were. I just stumbled around and each time I would touch something I was afraid my hands would come away bloody. I couldn’t figure out how to get away from all these people. No one spoke English and I tried to get someone to show me how to get back or find a taxi or just get out of the bloody crowd with all the chanting and… ” He shivered and I was struck by how young he still was.

“Are you all right?”

“No. No, I’m not all right. I don’t think I’ll ever be all right again. I’ll never be able to forget that horror show.”

So young.

Both Curtis and Chris are old enough to be his father and I am much older than they. I had forgotten to take care of him and felt ashamed of myself. No, that was not true. I had wanted him to see the old world without my being there. I had wanted him to stumble unaided and to see something exactly like he had, but I had expected him to be excited by it; I had expected him to thrill to the exotic and be swept up in the differences, not be appalled by the horror of the festival of Dasain.

Each year they slaughter thousands of animals in bloody sacrifice to the Hindu gods and the streets do run with blood. Most of the slaughter is confined to certain temples that allow only Hindus to enter, but there is so much of it and it spreads out everywhere by the last couple days of the festival that you need to avoid the entire district and be careful of any temple to manage to avoid it completely. I had hoped they would get to see some of the festivities, but did not realize that the older men would be so weary and uninspired that all they would be willing to do is sit and drink beer and let Christian go out and explore on his own. No wonder he had been so quiet the last couple days. We had gone nowhere near the Dasain festival and it had never crossed my mind that while I was with Mr. Pasang, Christian had wandered off so far and alone. I looked at Curtis and asked if he had known about this. He shook his head. Chris was asleep with the effects of a few beers and a high carb lunch, or I might have glared at him as well, but the final truth is that it was my responsibility, not theirs. I looked up to the front and decided that I couldn’t very well blame Celine or Esra, they spent all their time shopping.

Christian looked back out the window and I reached over and grabbed his wrist with my strong left hand. He didn’t hesitate or pause at all, just turned his hand over and extended his elbow slightly and I had to let go or suffer the pain of a hyper- extended wrist. I did it again. Then I reached over and took the same wrist with my right hand. He looked slightly annoyed and did the same thing only the difference in my grip, right to left, had changed the dynamics, so that now he could not get away.

“What did I just do?” I asked.

“You grabbed me,” he said. “I really don’t feel like a lesson right now.”

“Then what?” I asked.

“You grabbed me again.” He looked down, resigned.

“Christian, what did I just do?”

“I don’t know, Sensei.” He looked miserable. “But I do know I ‘m not having a good time and really don’t want to be here. So please let go of me.” He tried to break my grip.

“What I did was to encounter an obstacle and then changed my