A Random Act of Kindness Missed
My silence that day haunts me still.
Random acts of kindness have been the hallmark of my life for as long as I can recall.
When I was six years old, Miss Ivy plucked me from the streets of Kingston, fed me, clothed me, and sent me to school for nearly two years — all because I looked like her only son, who had died in a road accident.
At a carnival in Salvador, Brazil, a White English man in the crowd lent me £500 after my back pocket was slashed and all my cash and travellers’ checks stolen. He scribbled an address in Brixton, where I could return the loan when I was ready. How surprised he was to see me standing outside his front door 10 days later, cash in hand and a big grin on my face.
Random acts of kindness from total strangers have always served to remind me of my humanity beyond the usual limiting classifications of race, gender, colour, religion, age, and sexuality. They remind us that when it comes down to it, we’re all just merely human.
So, I was shocked recently on an extended vacation in Ghana when a post office worker spoke to a very respectful young man. I’m not afraid to admit to you that the tears welled up in my eyes. You might think me a softhearted simpleton who cries at the slightest sign of injustice in the world. But deep in my heart, I…
