About the Martian and Tarzan

Two scenes from a society that can't handle it anymore and a boy with a banana who reminds us that there's still hope

The line at the self-service counter wasn't long, and the girl working the shift seemed diligent and quick. There was only one customer in front of me and a few behind. A woman, a little younger than me, approached me as if she didn't notice anything.

-              May I come in front of you?

I looked at him in surprise.

-              If you don't feel like going in without a queue...

-              Here, I don't feel like it. Thank you!

He entered indiscriminately, ignoring the illocutionary act of my communication, followed by the murmurs of the people behind, where the most audible expression was: Take it easy!

In all this wave of reactions, I was not surprised. Ever since I first went to wait in line for milk in the late seventies at the “Zhitopromet” store in Lakrishtja, when I must have been about five years old, queues have been common and expected in my life. Waiting at the airport: because I’m in a hurry, waiting for documents: because I’m short, waiting for a burek: sister, can you do it faster, waiting at the doctor’s: can you do it because I’m dirty. And what am I? Do you see that we all went to the doctor? You know, we don’t go to the doctor when we’re sick! But while you’re thinking about all this, he/she entered without a queue.

One of the examples seemed particularly poignant to me, as it has remained in my memory for many years.

My daughter was about four years old and we had established a morning routine. We would go to the nearest supermarket that was no longer “Zhitopromet” or in Lakrishte. I would give her 10 cents, she would go inside, go to the first shelf, get a lollipop and then approach the cashier to pay. Alone. She seemed to be the biggest person. She waited in line with patience and discipline, while I watched her from the entrance, usually with a smile mixed with pride and love. One day, a man, older than me, jumped in line behind her. He asked her if she was alone. This, wanting to show that she was already big, said convincingly: Yes. He didn’t say anything, just pushed her and came out in front of her. All that ass. Over 180 cm, with a child the size of a pig.

-              "Where are you going, Tarzan?" I said, as I approached him with alacrity.

-              O you, on the day that your child! Forgive us, O Allah!

He made a face with a smile drawn on his face, almost stepping on my foot by accident, came out after my daughter and was already standing like a soldier in a platoon. No way.

It has nothing to do with the fact that he pushed a four-year-old child to steal his turn, but the fact that the child's father is there makes it necessary for him to be disciplined. From now on. What human ugliness!

What I keep thinking is that this man from the other side who steals a child's turn, instead of helping him, and that woman who said she doesn't feel like going in without a turn, are, probably, parents who educate children and educate them this way. This somehow makes illiteracy contagious like chickenpox, or like Covid.

How did we grow up as a generation remembering that waiting in line is not an institution, but rather an obstacle and a waste of your personal time? How did we pass this practice on to our children? How did evil and ugliness become so contagious, like viruses, in our society?

I can guess the answer, but instead I will offer a third example that overwhelms the expected answers.

A few days ago, I was walking into a fruit and vegetable shop. In front of the shop, a woman was feeding her child who appeared to have a disability. As I entered the shop, a young man in a fluorescent vest who was selling matches came in and bought a banana. He came out and gave it to the woman who was feeding the child. The shopkeeper was touched by this gesture and came out and gave the money back to the man selling matches. Two women in line ahead of me tipped the shopkeeper, and another went out and bought some matches for the man who bought the banana.  

-              "Thank you. I'll take all (the money) home," said the boy.

This type of behavior was just as contagious. Perhaps more contagious than the lack of empathy and the meanness. A series of chain acts of kindness unfolded within minutes. All we need in our society is a good example. We need someone to set us free.

In other words: Does banana leave a kilo, oh my!