A three-minute conversation on a rainy sidewalk may bring a solution to a family’s housing problem. Maybe not. At least, the opportunity for an appeal showed up. The person asked me to send a follow-up email.
Other personal highlights from last night’s information session on local responses to the refugee crisis:
– some fifty people turning up for such, on the first Saturday in a school holiday period
– a local someone of consistent awkwardness landing his foot on my damaged toe. Full force. So was the howl that followed. The toe whimpers this morning; I would too, if I was a toe.
– the remarkable show of self-confidence of the two who had the most to lose in appearing at the event and for whom the words Etat de Droit (Rule of Law) serve as a mantra, even when a lawyer provides clear instances of systematic disregard for said Rule of Law.
– the presence of five young men directly concerned by said disregard. They cooked up a meal of mafé on rice, mingled, and asked to pose with their two lawyers. One of them asked if all the photos could be worked into an album. Should be possible, one way or another. Whatever comes next in their lives, their stay in this town is now part of their personal Hero’s Journey.
-Last – and crucial to all that precedes: the way one of the young men’s smile cracks me up. He’s so sure he’s hoodwinked the universe, chances are the universe just might agree. *Million-to-one odd?*