Dodo Dudes

January 20, 2013

Severe burn scars from stark white to deep pink cover what skin is visible. I was fortunate to catch a glimpse of Mama’s face through the slanted kitchen window as he stepped into the yard from the vine-covered gate to heartedly embrace Joao hello. It gave me time to brace myself for the proverbial kiss on his wrinkled, puckered, hideously disfigured cheek and grasp his withered hand in mine. A shadow from his baseball cap constantly embraces his damaged face, half of which seems to melt into itself. As a child, the majority of his body was consumed in flames and I work at studying him with calm set eyes while he interjects in the conversation or turns to me when I speak or enter a room. His feet appear unmarred and as the eye travels up his blemished body to his shocking bulging walleyed eyes that stare in different directions to the stark black full head of unkempt hair I marvel what his life must be like.  

I understand he does not want my sympathy or empathy. When he insists he will “break the camera” when I press him to join his nephew and Joao in a photo at the beach I simply laugh and softly push him towards them. As you can see in the photo on my Facebook page, he is hiding in the shadow of another disappearing into his own clothing. One of Mama’s arms is bent and unusable, back hunched like an old man yet I suspect he is younger than I. His mouth overflowing with straight white teeth and often breaks wide open into a smile or barking laugh. He slopes sharply when he walks as though there is a deep wind on the left side and yet he chivalrously would not take no for an answer when offering me assistance down the misshaped irregular wooden steps to the wild beach this afternoon. Everyone else trudged ahead without hesitation.

Joao Henrique proudly told me about his relationship with his uncle a few weeks ago on the long drive home from the southern beach. They are exceedingly close, he declared proudly, rely on one another for consistent moral support and deep devoted friendship. Mama (his nickname that has an accent over the last “a” but I cannot for the life of me figure out how to insert it!) works full-time, has his own apartment and refuses any financial government assistance. They talk of future plans and Joao tells me how often his uncle declares his love for him (which is kind of embarrassing, admits Joao Henrique.) I am so honored to meet this man who has obviously struggled with his health, independence and life without inscrutability and anonymity.

Everyone in the family that has spoken of Mama has projected profound pride in him and been inspired by both his open personality and immeasurable fortitudinous. I have encountered numerous people in the past, The Courage Center residents come to mind, that have been as daringly courageous and persistently resilient.    

It makes me laugh uncharacteristically when Mama whispers his interest in the women on the beach, nudging the other guys while hoots and hollers at those on tv shows, just like any other dodo.