Part 1 "Would you like some ice-cream?"

A new series

Over the years I’ve learned to not ask silly questions.

The Sunday School classes I attended in church were amazing. The teachers there tell me a lot of stories. Some was about how a big fish swallowed this angry little man called Jonah, and there was this fascinating story about how Moses held up his 'stick' – which my teacher quickly corrected me by saying ‘staff’ – and parted a ‘very very big sea’, and many more.

One of it was about how Jesus healed a blind man. “He took some mud, rubbed them on his eyes and told the blind man to wash in a nearby pool,” the teacher said, voice full of expression and excitement. “And do you know what happened next?”

“He could see again!” all my other friends yelled beside me. They were laughing, I think they were probably smiling too. The teacher was full of praises for my friends, and everyone was excited except me. I was, in most accurate description, puzzled.

“Teacher,” I finally asked after the laughter subsided. “What’s wrong with being blind?”

It was the silence that scared me. Not even my friends made a sound, and for a while I thought they have all left the room. “Mike,” came the teacher’s voice, “Would you like some sweets?”

So back home later the evening, not happy with the fact that I couldn’t get an answer from my teacher, I felt my way to the kitchen. I heard my mom cutting some veggies. I remember how ‘green veggies’ feel like, and the sound of the stalk snapping over the chopping board and under the knife. The loud, crunching, stick-snapping sound.

“Mummy, what’s wrong with being blind?” the snapping sound stopped immediately. Her firm and damp palms were secured over my shoulders. She was right in front of me, could hear the sound of her breaths, now heavy, deep and slow. “Why would you say so?”

This morning in Sunday School the teacher told us about Jesus healing a blind man. No response. Her grip over my shoulder relaxed. Should I continue?

And when I asked the teacher what’s wrong with being blind, she told me to eat sweets. Mummy laughed. She ruffled my hair and gave me a peck on the forehead. The stick-snapping sound resumed.

Mummy, why can’t Jesus make me see again? Again, the stick-snapping sound ceased.

“Mike, would you like some ice-cream?” the rubber door opened and closed, and I heard the big metal spoon digging into the cold ice cream tub. Alternating between the digging sounds of the ice-cream was the very muffled, soft, but distinct sniffling sound, something like the sound I make when I get a runny nose.

That day, while shoving the ice cream all over my face and into my mouth, I learned 2 things then; firstly, silly questions will make mummy cry; secondly, that sweets and ice-creams are given to me when the adults cry, or when they have no answers to my questions.