McDonnels Road

Too often when we live in a small space, and we suffer our pains alone, we believe that no-one else has felt our pain.

I was recently on one of the Isles of Aran, off the West Coast of Ireland, yesterday - with my beautiful wife, Arthie. We were taken on a tour of the island by a man, on his horse and carriage... His name was McDonnel and a very talkative man was he.

As we went along the beautiful, rock-walled roads, he began to discuss every aspect of the road, and how "they" could make it better.As each vehicle, bicycle, person entered into his 5 mile "domain", he complained. They should not be on his road, they should move over...etc.

When a mini-bus needed to pass, he told us, "They shouldn't be here. It's not right. They are too big for the road." He almost shouted under his wind-burnt lips.

As he went he commiserated with Jimmie, his horse. And if Jimmie could talk, he would complain about the stopping, too. His head bounced high, after each stop - he too was on Jimmie's (McDonnels's) road.

Now I understood McDonnel, I could see how this was his whole world was wrapped into those short and beautiful 5 miles of road. I could understand why he repeated himself to me - because surely, I would never understand - I was not from McDonnel's road, or the Isles of Aran. McDonnel earns about 50 Euro per day (+-R600), for the one trip that he and Jimmie will make.Poor McDonnel.

Alone, in his perception, saddened by his circumstance, because all of his life was based in his little road। Alone by choice, and looking for somewhere or somebody to blame. Poor McDonnel.