Coco

Yesterday evening, I was walking to campus after having bought a new djembe at a local African drums & crafts store. As this store was located near the Kensington Market, I had decided I would walk through the market to get to Woodsworth College at UofT, just north and slightly east of Kensington.

As I walking up Augusta, I heard crying and at the same time, saw a young woman seated on a bench with her open purse lying beside her. She was wailing uncontrollably and although it was nighttime, there were still a few passersby walking on the sidewalk, completely ignoring this clearly distraught woman.

I'll admit, the first thought that popped into my head was: "I should probably just keep walking". But that thought lasted only for a split second as I felt the need to at least go talk to her and reassure her and maybe see what was going on.

I sat down beside the young woman and asked her what was wrong. I'm not sure if she answered (or even attempted to), but her crying subsided somewhat and I asked her if she wanted a hug. Still no words escaped her mouth until I had wrapped my arms around her (and her arms around me) and I heard her say, very softly: "T-thank you".

I asked again what was wrong, and she either didn't seem to want to talk about it or did not understand, so I questioned her no further. I told her, in somewhat jumbled words: "Whatever is going on right now in your life... don't worry, it's all going to be okay". She stopped crying and smiled and thanked me again. She then asked me where I was from, if I was from Canada. I told her I was from here, from Toronto, and that I had lived here all my life.

It was at that moment that I realized that she was not from here. I needlessly asked her if she was from Canada, to which she replied: "No. Japan."
Being very fond of Japan and its culture (despite how little I know of it), I smiled and said: "Really? Awesome! Where in Japan?"

She did not seem to understand what I said (I might have been mumbling), but I asked her if she was from Tokyo. She was! So I asked her what she was up to in Canada, and she told me: "I work at Ali Baba's".
"Oh, the shawarma place! Yum!"
She laughed a bit and seemed much happier.
I asked her what her name was, and she told me "Coco".

I wrote down my e-mail for her and told her to write if she needed anything, and that my name was Gabriel. I did not want to pressure her into telling her life story to a total stranger, so I thought that was the best course of action.

As I got up to walk away, I thought I heard her say: "Wow. What a funny bag!"
She was referring to my djembe carrying case that I was wearing as a very large backpack. I realized how strange it might have looked to her eyes. But since our goodbyes had already been said, I continued to walk toward my destination and did not look back.

-

In retrospect, I wondered many things. Maybe I should have stuck around longer. Maybe she needed someone to talk to, despite the language barrier. Maybe she had been kicked out and needed a warm place to stay. Had I said enough to comfort her?

But in the back of my mind, that constant societal reminder not to be "creepy" lurked and stopped me from doing anything more. Still, this fleeting moment I shared with Coco made me feel alive; human; and reminds me that I am not a mindless drone devoid of compassion. No, I am Gabriel and I care about the world and its inhabitants.

Signed,
Kaleidoughscope