The Sadhu of Nairobi

By Karim Ajania

When I Was a young boy growing up in Kenya, I was taking a bus ride with my grandfather. He was holding on to the metal pole near the exit door. It was a bumpy ride on this crowded bus. Just as we slowed down for a bus stop, a man shoving his way to the exit swiftly snatched my grandfather's wristwatch from the hand clenching the pole.

The thief jumped off the bus, slid artfully into the stream of people on the busy street, and disappeared out of sight. Within moments, the entire busload of people erupted in helpless anger at the thief who had slipped away. I, too, was angry that someone had stolen my grandfather's possession.

In the midst of this stormy atmosphere, however, I felt my grandfather's calm. He turned to me quietly and said: "Imagine what it must have taken for that young man to steal my watch. He must have been really desperate. Perhaps he was hungry. How terrible for him."

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