by Adam Hu Gesher (trans. F.M)
Listen. One day, after leaving a talk about Jean Genet, I bought a bag, the kind that I could put a couple of books or a sketchpad into, the kind I could put over my shoulder and keep my hands free when I was going to wherever it was that I was going to. It’s important to have your hands free out there. In another shop I stopped to buy some food for later in the day when I would feed my child.
I put down the bag containing my new bag and I got a few things with which to make a simple meal, bread, salad vegetables, hummus, and when I had paid for it a guy in the shop came to me and asked if the bag by the counter had been mine. I told him that it had.
He said that it had been stolen and he took me to the door and pointed out to me in the distance a group of people who were just about to turn a corner. They took it, he said. I asked which ones and he said he wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t sure if they were all together.
I went after them. Like many of those people who have, however temporarily, given up doing bad things, I detest those deficient characteristics I had previously exhibited. I dislike the folk in whom I can see those characteristics are still present. I particularly loathe muggers and burglars and knifers and I hate them, I’m told, because I am hating the things I have been and which I no longer am but which I feel I could easily return to.
I am still quick to anger. I haven’t been able to change that. I am quick to it in the face of any hint of sociopathy. I am quick to it to the point of psychosis.
By the time I got to the distant corner that the shop-keeper had pointed out there were only two women in sight. They may or may not have been with the group. One was carrying a large bag.
I have retained my ability to appear calm until the second before I unleash extreme violence. To them I would have appeared to be casually crossing the road towards them. As they swung diagonally away over a patch of grassland I kept pace with them and I could sense that they could see that our paths would cross. People who are at it, in the business (as it were), even the most incompetent, have antennae to tell them that a situation may be developing and I disarmed that suspicion in them with a smile that people tell me is quite charming in its friendliness and terrifying in its aftermath. I called out a cheery “Hi girls.”
At about the time I called that greeting to them I felt into my pocket for my knife and I rehearsed in my mind the scenario that would ensue if these two gave me the slightest bit of further inconvenience. I looked into the women’s faces. I knew then that the younger of the two had my bag. I wasn’t going to spend too much time on this. They would get a chance, and if they fucked up I had identified an alleyway just ahead of us into which I would shepherd them and punish them.
They called a cheery hi there back to me. By now I was beside them, matching them pace for pace. In a pleasant tone, as if I was discussing their shopping, I said “You took my bag” and of course, as seasoned as they were at insolence, they denied it.
I repeated the assertion again, just as pleasantly, and posed a question “Would you like me to slit your fucking throats?”
I knew of course, despite my ability to deliver my lines calmly and without a hint of malice, that I was embracing old patterns and that if these two continued to show the lack of respect that had begun with their taking of my property that at least one of them and probably both would be seriously injured in the following few minutes. At that point a police car possibly saved them. It came around the far corner and the women must have thought that either I or the guy in the shop had summoned it. Ok, said the older women. Look, we didn’t know it was yours, it was just lying there. No need to hurt us. I didn’t care for her tone of voice. It was as if she was attempting to make out that I might be about to be unreasonable about this situation that they had brought upon themselves.
About then the police car drew level with us. I told the younger one to give me what was mine. There was no hesitation on her part and not even any hint of disappointment when the police car swept past us and kept going. I felt good that I had practised charity and mercy. They weren’t going to die today, or at least not at my hands.
Do you know how lucky you are? I asked. They didn’t ask in which way. They were living the life. They knew what I was asking them.
Yes, they said. Thanks.
I said to the older of the two “It’s wrong to lead the youth astray.”
"Yes" she said, eager to be away from me.
I doubt their lives changed much that day.
Listen. One day, after leaving a talk about Jean Genet, I bought a bag, the kind that I could put a couple of books or a sketchpad into, the kind I could put over my shoulder and keep my hands free when I was going to wherever it was that I was going to. It’s important to have your hands free out there. In another shop I stopped to buy some food for later in the day when I would feed my child.
I put down the bag containing my new bag and I got a few things with which to make a simple meal, bread, salad vegetables, hummus, and when I had paid for it a guy in the shop came to me and asked if the bag by the counter had been mine. I told him that it had.
He said that it had been stolen and he took me to the door and pointed out to me in the distance a group of people who were just about to turn a corner. They took it, he said. I asked which ones and he said he wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t sure if they were all together.
I went after them. Like many of those people who have, however temporarily, given up doing bad things, I detest those deficient characteristics I had previously exhibited. I dislike the folk in whom I can see those characteristics are still present. I particularly loathe muggers and burglars and knifers and I hate them, I’m told, because I am hating the things I have been and which I no longer am but which I feel I could easily return to.
I am still quick to anger. I haven’t been able to change that. I am quick to it in the face of any hint of sociopathy. I am quick to it to the point of psychosis.
By the time I got to the distant corner that the shop-keeper had pointed out there were only two women in sight. They may or may not have been with the group. One was carrying a large bag.
I have retained my ability to appear calm until the second before I unleash extreme violence. To them I would have appeared to be casually crossing the road towards them. As they swung diagonally away over a patch of grassland I kept pace with them and I could sense that they could see that our paths would cross. People who are at it, in the business (as it were), even the most incompetent, have antennae to tell them that a situation may be developing and I disarmed that suspicion in them with a smile that people tell me is quite charming in its friendliness and terrifying in its aftermath. I called out a cheery “Hi girls.”
At about the time I called that greeting to them I felt into my pocket for my knife and I rehearsed in my mind the scenario that would ensue if these two gave me the slightest bit of further inconvenience. I looked into the women’s faces. I knew then that the younger of the two had my bag. I wasn’t going to spend too much time on this. They would get a chance, and if they fucked up I had identified an alleyway just ahead of us into which I would shepherd them and punish them.
They called a cheery hi there back to me. By now I was beside them, matching them pace for pace. In a pleasant tone, as if I was discussing their shopping, I said “You took my bag” and of course, as seasoned as they were at insolence, they denied it.
I repeated the assertion again, just as pleasantly, and posed a question “Would you like me to slit your fucking throats?”
I knew of course, despite my ability to deliver my lines calmly and without a hint of malice, that I was embracing old patterns and that if these two continued to show the lack of respect that had begun with their taking of my property that at least one of them and probably both would be seriously injured in the following few minutes. At that point a police car possibly saved them. It came around the far corner and the women must have thought that either I or the guy in the shop had summoned it. Ok, said the older women. Look, we didn’t know it was yours, it was just lying there. No need to hurt us. I didn’t care for her tone of voice. It was as if she was attempting to make out that I might be about to be unreasonable about this situation that they had brought upon themselves.
About then the police car drew level with us. I told the younger one to give me what was mine. There was no hesitation on her part and not even any hint of disappointment when the police car swept past us and kept going. I felt good that I had practised charity and mercy. They weren’t going to die today, or at least not at my hands.
Do you know how lucky you are? I asked. They didn’t ask in which way. They were living the life. They knew what I was asking them.
Yes, they said. Thanks.
I said to the older of the two “It’s wrong to lead the youth astray.”
"Yes" she said, eager to be away from me.
I doubt their lives changed much that day.
