V. Tariq

Arrival to the Favela

Tariq caught Abia’s eye on her first day in Merolas.

He sat alone along the edge of a dusty path that joined the edge of the favela to the cita dirt track. A quieter corner of the neighborhood, that Abia had only found from wandering off too far. With a slender finger, he drew shapes and silhouettes in the ashen sand.

Although he didn’t look very strong, he was around her age, Abia thought, with bright eyes and a kind face. Unlike the other favela boys, he seemed the most approachable to ask for help.

Even with all the independence Merolas would allow a young woman, she knew construction would not be an easy task to attempt alone.

“Uno real for a peak” Tariq said.
Abia was suprised he knew she was there. She was behind him, hidden in a blind spot.

“If you didn’t want me to know that you were spying on me, you should make less noise.”
But as he turned his head, Abia saw that his eyes glinted in humor.
“You are new here, I saw you and your family arrive this morning”

“Yes, my name is Abia.” she said shyly. “I hoped that you could help me”

“And I am Tariq, but for what could you need my help”

“I have watched you. You sit in silence before you start a new etching. I imagine you see it in your mind before you draw. This means you can practice many times without lifting a finger, and with practice comes arte (craft) and mastery”

A puzzled look consumed Tariq’s face.

“That is more skill than I have seen through the whole neighborhood. I hoped that you could help me build my shack” Abia exhaled, and awaited Tariq’s response.

© elenaxtina.com, 2015 in Skies over A Shanty Town

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