Not because he couldn't think, but because he believed in order. He believed in a place for everyone and anyone in their place.
You did what was right.
He had found that out the hard way.
--------------------------------
He is eleven when the stealing begins. It isn't anything important at first - a tool, a piece of children's clothing, that sort of thing. One by one, they disappear, not all at once, but gradually. He thinks nothing of it, but his father and uncles take it seriously. Theft is an unpardonable offense in the world of his childhood. Too much has already been taken away to allow the taking of anything more. There is bitterness and resentment at that loss, a rage at the inexplicable madness of it. Blame is easy to assess and difficult to fix. But the sense of deprivation is raw and festering, and theft is a reminder of how easily you can be dispossessed.
His father believes it is one of his children, perhaps going through a phase. He questions them all. Rigorously. His brother, perhaps frightened at the intensity of the accusation, points to him. For reasons that he will never be able to fathom, his father believes his brother. He is convicted without a trial. None of the missing items is found. No one steps forward to say that they have actually seen him stealing. But he is different than they are, aloof and circumspect, his motives not entirely clear, and that is enough. He is not punished, but he is consigned to a back corner of their lives and watched closely.
He accepts this, just as he accepts everything else - stoically, resignedly, with a quiet understanding of how it will always be for him. But he thinks, too, that he should solve this puzzle. He doesn't like being thought of as a thief. Someone else is doing the stealing, and he will find out who it is. Perhaps that will convince the others their behavior towards him has been wrong.
He waits for the theft to happen again. It does, although not right away. But it is a theft nevertheless, and his father is quick to act on it. He searches his space in the house first and questions him anew. He has been too visible, too much in the family eye, to commit these offenses, yet neither his father nor his siblings seem to notice. Even his mother, who still loves him as mothers will their disappointing children, does not stand up for him. It is as if their perception of his character has been determined and cannot be altered. Stung by this injustice, he feels the distance between himself and his family widen.
But three nights later, he catches the thief. He has taken to patrolling at night, keeping watch in his slow, patient way, determined to prove to them he is innocent. The thief is trying to steal a box of old tools when he comes on him unexpectedly and throws him to the ground. It is a boy, not much older but much smaller than him. The boy is dirty and ragged, a wild thing. He admits that he is the thief and he stole to help his family, a small group of vagrants who have taken up residence not far away. He pleads with him not to give him up, but he has made his decision.
He takes the boy to his father. Here is the real thief, he announces. He waits for his father to apologize. He cares nothing for the boy who stole from them beyond redeeming himself. He has not given any thought to the boy's fate beyond that. It is his belief that the boy will be whipped and released. He is neither angry nor vengeful. He does not think that way.
His father does. Thieves are not to be tolerated. The boy begs and cries, but no one listens. His father and his uncles take the boy out into the small stand of woods at one end of their property and do not bring him back. At first, he thinks they have released him with a warning. But small comments and looks tell him otherwise. They have killed the boy to provide an object lesson to his family and others of what happens to thieves.
He is stunned. He cannot believe his father has done this. The other members of his family support the decision - even his mother. It does not seem to matter to any of them that this was only a boy. When he tries to put his thinking into words, he is brushed aside. He does not understand the nature of their existence, he is told. He does not appreciate what is necessary if they are to survive. He finds them alien and unfamiliar. They are his family, but they are strangers, too. He sees them now through different eyes, and he does not like it. If they can kill a small boy, what else are they capable of? He waits for understanding to come to him, but it does not.
Then, one night, without thinking about it, without knowing it is what he intends until he does it, he leaves. He walks west without knowing where he is going, intending to follow the sun until he reaches the coast. He has no idea what he is going towards, only what he is leaving behind. He has misgivings and doubts and fears, but mostly he feels sadness.
He was twelve years old.
You did what was right.
He had found that out the hard way.
--------------------------------
He is eleven when the stealing begins. It isn't anything important at first - a tool, a piece of children's clothing, that sort of thing. One by one, they disappear, not all at once, but gradually. He thinks nothing of it, but his father and uncles take it seriously. Theft is an unpardonable offense in the world of his childhood. Too much has already been taken away to allow the taking of anything more. There is bitterness and resentment at that loss, a rage at the inexplicable madness of it. Blame is easy to assess and difficult to fix. But the sense of deprivation is raw and festering, and theft is a reminder of how easily you can be dispossessed.
His father believes it is one of his children, perhaps going through a phase. He questions them all. Rigorously. His brother, perhaps frightened at the intensity of the accusation, points to him. For reasons that he will never be able to fathom, his father believes his brother. He is convicted without a trial. None of the missing items is found. No one steps forward to say that they have actually seen him stealing. But he is different than they are, aloof and circumspect, his motives not entirely clear, and that is enough. He is not punished, but he is consigned to a back corner of their lives and watched closely.
He accepts this, just as he accepts everything else - stoically, resignedly, with a quiet understanding of how it will always be for him. But he thinks, too, that he should solve this puzzle. He doesn't like being thought of as a thief. Someone else is doing the stealing, and he will find out who it is. Perhaps that will convince the others their behavior towards him has been wrong.
He waits for the theft to happen again. It does, although not right away. But it is a theft nevertheless, and his father is quick to act on it. He searches his space in the house first and questions him anew. He has been too visible, too much in the family eye, to commit these offenses, yet neither his father nor his siblings seem to notice. Even his mother, who still loves him as mothers will their disappointing children, does not stand up for him. It is as if their perception of his character has been determined and cannot be altered. Stung by this injustice, he feels the distance between himself and his family widen.
But three nights later, he catches the thief. He has taken to patrolling at night, keeping watch in his slow, patient way, determined to prove to them he is innocent. The thief is trying to steal a box of old tools when he comes on him unexpectedly and throws him to the ground. It is a boy, not much older but much smaller than him. The boy is dirty and ragged, a wild thing. He admits that he is the thief and he stole to help his family, a small group of vagrants who have taken up residence not far away. He pleads with him not to give him up, but he has made his decision.
He takes the boy to his father. Here is the real thief, he announces. He waits for his father to apologize. He cares nothing for the boy who stole from them beyond redeeming himself. He has not given any thought to the boy's fate beyond that. It is his belief that the boy will be whipped and released. He is neither angry nor vengeful. He does not think that way.
His father does. Thieves are not to be tolerated. The boy begs and cries, but no one listens. His father and his uncles take the boy out into the small stand of woods at one end of their property and do not bring him back. At first, he thinks they have released him with a warning. But small comments and looks tell him otherwise. They have killed the boy to provide an object lesson to his family and others of what happens to thieves.
He is stunned. He cannot believe his father has done this. The other members of his family support the decision - even his mother. It does not seem to matter to any of them that this was only a boy. When he tries to put his thinking into words, he is brushed aside. He does not understand the nature of their existence, he is told. He does not appreciate what is necessary if they are to survive. He finds them alien and unfamiliar. They are his family, but they are strangers, too. He sees them now through different eyes, and he does not like it. If they can kill a small boy, what else are they capable of? He waits for understanding to come to him, but it does not.
Then, one night, without thinking about it, without knowing it is what he intends until he does it, he leaves. He walks west without knowing where he is going, intending to follow the sun until he reaches the coast. He has no idea what he is going towards, only what he is leaving behind. He has misgivings and doubts and fears, but mostly he feels sadness.
He was twelve years old.
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