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I drank my coconut water. I was in a hurry to get back for an interview with Juan Arias, from the Spanish newspaper El País. On the way, I saw the man was still there, in the sunshine – and everyone who passed acted in exactly the same way as I had: they looked, and walked on.
The fact is – not that I was aware of this – my soul was tired of seeing the same scene, over and over again. When I passed that man again, some great force made me kneel down and try to help him up. He didn’t react. I turned his head, and there was blood near his temple. Now what? Was it a serious wound? I cleaned his face with my shirt: it didn’t look serious.
Just then, the man started mumbling something which sounded like: “tell them to stop beating me.” Well, at least he was alive; now all I had to do was get him out of the sun and call the police. I stopped the first man passing and asked him to help me drag him to the shade between the promenade and the beach. He was wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase and parcels, but he put them down and came to help me – his soul must also have been tired of seeing that scene.
Having got the man into the shade, I walked towards my building, knowing there was a police post on the way, where I could get help. But before getting there, I passed two policemen. – A man has been hurt over there opposite number such-and-such, I said. I put him on the sand. You should send for an ambulance. The policemen said they’d make arrangements. Right, now I’d done my duty. A good scout, “Be Prepared”. Do a good turn daily! The problem was in the hands of others now, they were responsible. And the Spanish journalist would be arriving at my place in a few minutes.
I hadn’t gone ten paces when a foreign man stopped me. He spoke in broken Portuguese: – I had already told the police about the man on the sidewalk. They said that as long as he wasn’t a thief, it was none of their business. I didn’t let the man finish. I walked back to the policemen, certain that they knew who I was, someone who wrote in the newspapers and appeared on television. I returned with the false impression that success can, at times, help to resolve many things. – Do you belong to some official authority? – one of them asked, noticing that I’d asked for help more urgently this time. They had no idea who I was. – No. But let’s solve this problem right now.
I was badly dressed, my shirt stained with the man’s blood, my shorts were made from an old pair of jeans I had torn up, and I was sweating. I was an ordinary, anonymous man, without any authority beyond that of having grown tired of seeing people lying on the ground, for dozens of years, without ever having done a single thing about it. And that changed everything. There’s a moment when you go beyond any mental block or fear. A moment when your eyes look different, and people know you’re being serious. The policemen went with me and called an ambulance.
On the way home, I reflected on the three lessons from my walk:
a] everyone can stop an action and wash his/her hands, if he/she thinks that moving forward will cause some trouble.
b] but there’s always someone there to say: “now you’ve started, go all the way.”
And, finally:
c] everyone is an authority, when he is quite convinced of what he is doing.”
2012-10-20 02:43:30
Source: http://coyoteprime-runningcauseicantfly.blogspot.com/2012/10/paulo-coelho-man-lying-on-ground.html