If you've been following my blog, you'll remember this little guy from a few days ago. This picture was taken at the same time I took the photos for my last post.
I also had a little time on my hands to do some magic with Photoshop. If I had enough time, I would spruce up my photos on every post. But I don't have enough time, so you're stuck looking at "normal" photos again (not at the expense of boredom, though -- keep reading).
In order to protect the identity of this boy, let's call him Phillip.
Actually, I have no idea who he is. I didn't ask him.
Apparently, Phillip found a fun-looking brick on the ground. Children here play a little more roughly than those in the U.S.
Suddenly, something (other than a tall, strange-looking white man squatting down awkwardly across the street while pointing a big machine at him) grabbed his attention.
At this point in the story, I'm not sure what happened. Here are my theories:
- Phillip saw something really interesting, and he wanted to go see it. But his brick was too fun to leave behind, so he tried to pick it up and take it with him, not realizing that the brick weighed more than him.
- There was a big puddle of oil under the brick from the street vendor selling deep-fried scorpions who sets up shop in that place every day (he happened to be sick this day and didn't come to work). The brick wasn't fun anymore, so Phillip tried to push off of the brick to get up, causing the brick to slide backward on the oil, making Phillip lose his balance.
- A massive gust of wind blindsided him, knocking him to the ground.
At this point I entered into news photographer mode. News photographers are trained not to get involved in what's happening -- no matter how serious -- but only to keep taking pictures. To my credit, I knew the mom was right beside him.
I also started saying things like "Oh no!" and "Poor guy!" and "Oh, that looks bad!" all while I kept clicking my camera. I felt like a jerk. That's pretty bad that my instinct was to keep taking pictures. Journalism has corrupted me.
The moment he lifted his head I saw the trail of blood run down.
About three seconds after he fell, a woman who I am guessing is his mother picked him up. At first she didn't notice the blood.
As soon as she saw the blood, she grabbed a tissue and held it on his head.
She ran Phillip across the street and ran into a buliding.
Upon reading the sign, I was stunned. It was a pharmacy.
Lesson learned: If you're going to let your child play with bricks, do it in front of a pharmacy.
I saw the child a couple of days later, and he looked good. He didn't even have a bandage on his forehead. It must have looked a lot more serious than it was.
Or maybe they superglued it shut.
Oh, and this morning I went for a stroll and came across the other child from last week's post. He was playing...
...with a hammer.
He was trying to break apart a wooden chair with the back of it.
When I passed by again about 30 minutes later, his mother was holding him, and he was crying.
The pharmacy was also just across the street.
Looks like they learned their lesson.