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A ROAD, A SHARED JOY
The mountain road he built years ago is lying in waste. Still, Ng Wing-keung cannot forget the joy he felt when he made it possible for a blind old man to walk in dignity.
Ng Wing-keung, age 43 Story by Sin Lai-ting
Volunteer worker, St. James' Settlement
¡@¡@About seven years ago, there lived a blind old man of over 70 years in a 50-year-old yellow stone hut in the Poloche Valley of Sai Kung. There was no one else nearby, only his fruit trees and vegetable patches.
¡@¡@The old hut was well worn by time. Wind and rain entered freely through the broken window panes. I was asked by a social worker to repair the windows for the old man. I drove along the mountain road to Taiping Village built by an American church, and found the old man¡¦s stone hut was right across the valley from the village. I walked down one mountain ridge to the bottom of the valley, then up the other ridge to reach his front door.
¡@¡@My initial knocks on the door went unanswered. So I walked around the hut, pounding on the walls and windows, yelling, ¡§Old Uncle, I¡¦m a volunteer from St. James¡¦ Settlement. I¡¦m here to fix your windows!¡¨
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¡@¡@The door opened. The old man in front of me looked to be in good shape despite his blindness. My thoughts as I changed the window panes were that the rain would not trouble him again. Just then he announced that he had to go to the village to buy something. How does a blind old man get from this mountain ridge to the next? I wondered.
¡@¡@Before my eyes he slowly bent down his old body, felt the ground with his trembling hands, and advanced slowly along the steep mountain path. Sometimes he seemed to be moving in a circle, sometimes he seemed to be crawling. When he detected a rock he would skirt around it or step over it. I watched him go down one slope and up the other, slopes that were the height of several stories in a building! How great the distance, how difficult, and how dangerous!
¡@¡@My heart ached. As it did, I decided to build a road for the old man, a road with handrails. A few days later, I brought in cement, broken stones and iron piping. As I toiled and sweated in the scorching summer sun, I could hear praises from villagers passing by, ¡§You really have a good heart,¡¨ and I could see the old man seated in front of his hut, waiting, with a smile on his face. A road. The joy in our hearts brought happiness to both of us.
¡@¡@The valley road extended from one mountain ridge down to the bottom of the valley, then up the other ridge, reaching the old man¡¦s doorstep. He need never stoop again in order to ¡§walk.¡¨ He straightened his back, feeling the handrails with his hands, and took firm steps along the cement road. His face covered by a smile of gratitude, he seized my hands and shoved into them several star fruits freshly picked from his trees, ¡§Take them and eat them!¡¨ I couldn¡¦t suppress a smile as I ate the sour start fruit. That year, I sent the old man some grapes for the Mid-Autumn Festival, and a heater in the winter.
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¡@¡@Tied down by work, I did not visit the old man for quite some time. Recently I went back there, only to find his ¡§private road¡¨ buried by overgrowth. Brushing aside some dry leaves, I saw a corner of the fruit of my hard labour, and felt very lost. I had expected the old man to live comfortably here for a long time. Where is he?
¡@¡@Through the tree branches I could see a patch of the yellow wall of the old stone hut. That summer five years ago was a truly meaningful page of my life.
Story by Sin Lai-ting
Photo by Tsang Hin-wah
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