A little Japanese boy, about two perhaps, stands with Ping Pong bat in hand and cries for someone to pitch the ball. A Japanese man, about twenty-four perhaps, steps to the mound, stomps and prances just like a pitcher and much to the delight of the would be Hall of Famer. There’s a lengthy, flailing, gyrating wind-up and then at last the ball is delivered.
A sorta swing and a sorta hit, sends the ball under some tables to mingle with rows of assorted legs. The tourists are eager as they scramble to retrieve, all of which draws forth (to me)unintelligible shouts of glee that only a two year old boy can emit.
Papanui the Storyteller
Aaron T Watene
Sat Nov 7, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment