In the imagination of onlookers, a Buddhist Monk sits in silence at his temple. Both palms clasped. In his hand-made, orange-coloured robes or the kasaya, he meditates for the good of his flocks. And the world, if the occasion calls for it, for peace to prevail among nations squeezing the life out of one another.
In the other imagination, the Christian Priest might be in the office, attending to administrative work or speaking to God for and on behalf of a troubled flock.
On his part, the Fisherman ought to be perched inside the canoe on a high sea, trying to wrestle a shark entangled inside a net. The possibility of all sharing a table at an ice cream parlour maybe odd. But the universe conspired for it to happen.
In one of the alleys in the city centre of Trier, Germany, lined with shops selling everything from music instruments to mobile phones, a monk and his friend sat opposite each other in front of an ice cream parlour, waiting to be served. Shielded from the blazing sun by an umbrella, the two turned their attention onto a street pianist, who was performing covers from Ed Sheeran, Coldplay and other artists. Like the others enjoying the tunes, they both tapped their feet to EverGlow, one of the band’s popular but sorrowful tunes.
I entered the parlour and walked out with a small cup of ice cream. It offered me the opportunity to sit and soak in the pianist’s tunes. I kept a close look at the monk. He kept a calm disposition. He caught the eyes of passers-by who struggled to take their eyes off him. I was not sure what exactly their thoughts were; whether the fact that he was sitting there, or that he was tapping his feet to the songs. Or they expected him to be at the temple, praying. But like everyone else, a monk must have a life outside of his service, I said to myself.
I thought of moving to their table to have a chat. I thought of provoking a conversation that might interest him. I dismissed the thought. I wanted another ice cream but then I chickened out. I dipped my hand in the front pocket of my backpack, grabbed a book and began to read. I rested the book after a page. The mind did not feel like reading. I looked in the direction of the pianist. He had switched to another song. My eye caught that of the monk.
He smiled and I smiled back. I quietly switched my eyes onto his friend, who had resumed the feet tapping to the next song. I looked at his feet and was intrigued by what I saw: A sandal made from car tyre. I am familiar with the type of sandal he had on. I had one. It was my travel companion to Europe or the United States. I always wore one to lectures during my time at Columbia University, New York.
We call it ‘Afro Moses’. It was a footwear associated with the late and early 1970s/80s politics of Ghana. A symbol of the revolution, the intellectuals who joined the Jerry Rawlings regime wore it to show the economic chokehold being felt by the ‘masses’.
Unlike what I had, the finishing for his was top-notch. I was intrigued by that. I got out of my chair and headed to them. I approached their table and used the sandal as a decoy. “Sorry if I may interrupt,” I said. “Don’t worry,” they both said. I told them I have been admiring the sandal and wanted to know where he bought them. I said it was popular back home in Ghana, and I had one.
He said he got them from Kenya, where he had lived and preached the word of God. He also said he had visited Ghana a few times to attend religious programmes. We briefly spoke about Ghana. I grabbed a seat. A proper introduction was done. I told them about seeing them tap their feet to one of the songs the street pianist played. “Oh Everglow, it is a good tune”, the monk said.
“It offers perspective about the concept of life, death and the afterlife,” he said. I told them I am a Coldplay addict, and that song is one of my favourites. I offered a bit into what that song means to me. Our conversation lasted for about an hour, and I enjoyed every bit of it. They broke the song down into three parts: birth, growth and death. I found each of their position on the issue intriguing.
I went to the pianist and asked him if he was fine bringing back ‘Everglow’. He obliged and after playing Ed Sheeran’s Perfect, he dropped the song. We all sat in silence and soaked the song. I went back to drop a note in appreciation. Almost everyone around applauded in excitement. “The truth is, irrespective of our faith or whatever we may believe in, we just have to try to be kind to people,” the monk added.
