Whoa!
While waiting for the bus yesterday, I saw an elderly African-American man performing some strange ritual on the corner across the street. Entranced, all dressed in white, he bent over and intently and repeatedly swished a branch over a wide swath of the sidewalk. When he was done, he spent some time locating other items to enact the same ritual: scraps of paper, a cup, a piece of cloth, and part of a bicycle tire. What was his purpose? Some sort of purification, an exorcism, a blessing, a curse, a sacred stay against confusion? Or perhaps nothing more than a demented theatrical display? I could only speculate. But there was no doubt that this man (or shaman) was ardently devoted to his task, whatever its meaning.
A few people walking past him did a double take. One of them sneered; another one gaped; but the man, oblivious to their reactions, continued his all-consuming ritual. When I got on the bus, I noticed that the man had moved into a park filled with homeless guys who befriended him. Ah, humanity!
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