The Man With No Legs

We stopped in a restaurant in Butare to go to the bathroom. A little man was crawling toward our car. He had no legs. I could not tell how old he was. His hair was half gray. His black eyes were silvered around the edges with cataracts. He wore a suit jacket. Our eyes locked. I took out a five thousand franc note and folded it into a tiny ball. From the shadows of the restaurant I gave him the quiet sign (a finger to my lips). I had been cautioned about giving money this way. I walked to him and bent over and clasped his hand. I left him the tiny ball of money. He looked into me, Heidi. I know you understand what I mean. He looked into me. He mouthed the words God Bless You. Barely a whisper. I felt blessed.