Zen Master

A Man, a Mangrove, and the Grace of Small Rituals

Ricardo took down the mosquito net, delicately removing it from the rusty hooks.

He placed it gingerly in his arms and rolled it slowly and carefully, as a Zen master would pour ocha during a tea ceremony.

His mustache glistened as the morning sun rose above the mangrove.

Palm fronds grew as large as trees in Borneo fanning the skiffs that nestled by their shores.

Ricardo loved to wade in the mangrove.

His friends worried about him.

There were many crocodiles there.

When Ricardo lost his leg to one, he did so gracefully like a Zen master not making a sound.

He still wades through the mangrove with only one leg and he still collects his mosquito net like a Zen master pouring ocha.

A story by Pemba Umoja