What Price?
Sitting on the ground at the edge of the car park, just outside the doors into the shopping centre, he blows the deep notes of his digeridoo. Its sound is resonant — as they all are, connecting to the earth — yet more mellow than some I’ve heard. It’s not an easy instrument to master.
I remember busking. I don’t think it’s big earnings in a small country town like this. I don’t see how it could be.
And I know, too, the need to get your art out there, to share and communicate. This expert player has something to give.
It might be his only job, I think. (Where are the orchestra spots for didgeridoo players?) Even as an Age Pensioner, I can spare $5. When I come back down from the shops, he is just laying down his didge for a break, stretching out his legs in front of him and leaning back against the wall. I stop and fish in my wallet, then drop $5 in coins on his mat.
He looks up, and I see that he’s young, maybe twenty. He gives me the most beautiful, light-filled smile.
‘Thank you, my sister,’ he says.
‘Thank YOU,’ I say, meaning it.
I walk away thinking how gracious he is, and gentle.
I thanked him for his music. I might have thanked him for a great deal more. His people were here first. Much was taken from them. Some think we whitefellas ought to be paying rent. Suddenly, $5 seems very little.
Written in response to Weekly Scribblings #41: What's the Price? at Poets and Storytellers United. (252 words.)
What a skilful take on the prompt..and your ending gives much food for thought
ReplyDeleteBeautiful souls come in all colours and are hard to find. Enjoyed this.
ReplyDelete$5 isn’t much for some music and a smile, considering the cost of land and freedom, and the struggle to cling on to native culture while remaining gracious and gentle.
ReplyDeleteI love where this went, R, and especially where it ended. Great response to prompt. Awesome work.
ReplyDeleteWhen I was working in Adelaide I always managed to find some change for the digeridoo players and aboriginal street artists.
ReplyDeletesomehow, your lovely story almost brings tears to my eyes.
ReplyDelete* " Suddenly, $5 seems very little."
I appreciated the bukering "buskering" mention. It was akways so very nice to hear them in the subway, The Tube, croridors in London. There they must reseeve and pay for rental of their spaces.
ReplyDelete..
The street artistes many tip them without considering their worth. Your contemplation shows a profound humanity. Nice one
ReplyDeleteHappy Wednesday
Much💛love
This is a heartwarming tale of an encounter that benefited both parties. Thanks for making me smile, Rosemary.
ReplyDeleteI usually get to hear street performers only when I visit a city, but I remember one time there was a violin player in my small town with a sign saying he had kids to feed. I heard one of the shop owners saying he thought it was a scam, but even if it was I enjoyed the music enough to not begrudge the money I left in his case.
ReplyDeleteI admire your skill at taking a casual scene and "fleshing it out" with words that bring us along. ... and carry a message as well. Applause from my corner, my friend!
ReplyDeleteYes, I admire that too and enjoyed this piece.
DeleteRespect and decency ... makes for a happy person - on the giving and receiving end. Lovingly written!
ReplyDeleteI love how you told a beautiful story in relatively few words ... I cannot estimate how many street and subway musicians I have complimented / left contributions in their baskets or instrument cases .... I am a musician, I have been privileged to sing with a few in the subways of NYC.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your wonderful, thought provoking story.
ReplyDeleteStopped by again...Still awestruck by this human/humane/ awesome work. Well Done, R.
ReplyDeleteA thoughtful subject to write about for this prompt. I used to see many street musicians when I worked in Manhattan, and always tried to give something.
ReplyDelete