A Blind Man Helped Me See, the Beautiful World
It was late afternoon when the chairman of our company gave me an assignment: I would leave the next day to accompany an important American businessman to tourist sites in northern Thailand. Silently angry, I stared at my desk. The piles of paper bore witness to a huge amount of work waiting to be done, even though I had been working seven days a week. How will I ever catch up? I wondered.
After a one-hour flight the next morning, we spent the day visiting attractions along with hundreds of other tourists, most of them loaded with cameras and small gifts. I remember feeling annoyed at this dense collection of people.
That evening my American companion and I climbed into a crowded van to go to dinner and a show, one which I had attended many times before. While he chatted with other tourists, I exchanged polite conversation in the dark with a man seated in front of me —Hans, a German who spoke fluent English. I wondered why he held his head motionless at an odd angle when listening. Suddenly the truth struck me. He was blind. “Could I sit beside you at the dinner?” he asked. “I’d love it if you’d describe a little of what you see.” “I’d be happy to,” I replied.
Seated at a table close to the stage, Hans asked, “What do other tourists look like?” “All nationalities, colors, shapes and sizes, a gallery of human faces,” I whispered. “Very close to us is an elderly Japanese woman,” I said. “Just beyond her a yellow-haired white boy of about five is leaning forward. They’re quiet, waiting for the performance to start. It’s the perfect living portrait of childhood and old age, of Europe and Asia.” Hans nodded and said, “The music seems out of tune to our Western ears, but it has charm.”
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Then he asked me to describe the musicians to him.
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