Dawn

One Passenger, One Hat, and the Heat of Other People's Scorn

The morning sun pierced the tops of the mangroves like a spear, with a glowing iron point. It seared across the boat deck, penetrating the passengers no matter where they stood.

One passenger alone covered himself with a wide-brimmed hat, wrapping his neck and head in a light scarf.

The other passengers sneered at him.

“You look like a clown,” a wrinkled old man said, as they baked in the scorching sun, their skin sizzling like fried eggs on an iron skillet.

The sole passenger smiled, taking in the heat of their glares and harsh words, his heart cooled by his hat and scarf.

He said nothing, just let their scornful words wash over him like the rays over the deck.

The passengers took in the heat of the dawn.

One way or another, they all baked.

A story by Pemba Umoja