Night in Tunisia

Sublime

The word can creep in at the most unusual of times.

They were three men and a woman. Your typical rag-tag troupe of what I first took for either unemployed types or university students. The lurched into the train with soft laughter and not-at-all a-typical physicality. This is a touch culture within its traditional trappings of the Muslim faith, so this wasn't a particular surprise. As I stood there in the swealter as the train snapped closed, a snacks and tissues vendor "Mouchoirs! Ch'wing Gum!" with an unusually bright display and a flower behind his ear made his way through the human mass.

He got to the four, with a gentle "A-saalema." One of them grinned made as though lurching forward, steadied himself on the salesman, stole the flower. He gave it an appreciative sniff and as the other reached for it, slipped it behind his own ear. He grinned again and struck a pose. The others in his group snickered. But he smiled. No malice. Returned the flower with a flourish and offered a high-five in truce.

The salesman smiled at his disarming accostor, slapped in his assent to the jest and continued on down the train.

I was a little surprised. There is so much cruelty here. At my work and in my classes I see and hear jokes and interjections designed to cut off the other and build up by breaking down. An impossibility. Here was an example of pure delight in a moment, of an aknowledgement of whom was taken advantage of and an apology for any injury thereby. It was open, exposed, confident and warming.

The three men were also anomolous for being in good physical shape - strong bodies, and quick to laughter. The woman was in fits of slightly odd giggles. But no boastful posturing, nor insecure demanding of attention.

And then with a flourish of hands from one to the other it struck me. They were all deaf. Deaf to the criticisms, deaf to the cynicisms, deaf to the patriotic carnage. And in a country that doesn't exactly pander to the disabled, they were joyful in an entirely sublime moment that streatched until I exited to work.

posted by Loren @ 4:28 p.m.