Little feet

The beat beckons to the little boy, and of their own accord his little feet begin to stomp the earth. The rhythm is basic, and the urge to dance, instinctive. He does not know yet to be self-conscious. He does not care that his clothes are tattered, and has not yet begun to compare what he has with what others do. He is content and he is joyful. This moment is about the beat, and it takes over his body, resonates in his innocent soul.

In this moment, he is healthy. His skin gleams in the Ugandan sun, and his little belly is gently round in a way that spells content. His young mother looks on, and she is far from content. Not so long ago, she was just as carefree. But as she grew, so did the consciousness of her place in the world, and how limited the possibilities seemed. She is reconciled with her own life of working enough to just get by. It's been a little difficult since she had the little one, but nothing she can't manage. She works in the homes of people better off than her - their rooms filled with things she doesn't quite want - definitely doesn't need - but things that are, all the same, constant reminders of what she can never have even she wants to. Some of the things that they toss around with complete disregard are worth a month of her pay, at the very least.

She looks on at her jubilant, carefree son. Will he be as content as she? She does not think so. She has seen the hunger in the older children of others. Hunger and envy, and a deepening dissatisfaction. She knows merely trying to instil the basic values in her son will not be enough. How can she possibly explain to him how there will always be people who possess more? As she looks on at her son, as he revels in a simple, uncomplicated pleasure, she dreads the day that will come all too soon - the day when what he DOES NOT have will be more important to him than what he DOES... the day when the beat will not be enough, but the quality and possession of the instrument creating the beat will determine his joy.

And somehow this scenario is preferable to another, very likely, one. What if there comes a time when even his most basic needs will not be met? When the beat rings true, but there is no strength of spirit or body to dance to it?