I saw the Rabbi everyone talked about. They had said that when I see him I will see it.
It was a Sunday afternoon and I was walking with my sweetheart, we were laughing at how the houses on our street have stayed the same over the years. The sun was about to bid farewell to the day and we were chasing the sunset, our favourite ritual.
Once I knew that I was a man, I had never doubted it. I woke up one morning and a beard was starting to grow on my chin, my father said that is a telling sign. But when I saw the Rabbi walking towards us, I felt like a boy.
The silent birds of our streets started to sing, more beautiful than the highest paid orchestra, my sweethearts grip loosened on my hand, the houses assumed a new beauty, even the long tree at the corner house started to swing, as though it was dancing to the song of the birds, also welcoming the Rabbi into our street. Excitement threatened to overwhelm me and I knew what they were talking about. I too saw it. The Rabbi was the kind of man to bless you with a curse and in the same breath curse you with a blessing.
Photo: Hazel Fasaha Tobo