First life lessons

Although it was a sad memory, it was the first life lesson I learned about how to treat others. A truly valuable lesson. Without needing parents or teachers, my childhood absorbed this lesson from a very unusual "teacher." You might find it hard to believe, but my "teacher" was... a little monkey.

The monkey belonged to an old, frail, and probably blind beggar. He sat by the market gate with the monkey perched on his shoulder. It wore a leather collar with an iron chain attached to it. The end of the chain was looped around the old man's wrist. This way, he could hold it, and it could lead him.

Two human-monkey lives were bound together by a chain. But that's my memory as an adult. Back then, I was a child. Children don't think seriously about anything; they're only interested in strange things. A monkey coming from the forest to the market was strange enough. A monkey tied to a human was even stranger. And that strangeness piqued my and the other kids in the neighborhood's interest. Not content with just staring, pointing, and teasing, we even "researched" more mischievous tricks to play with.

Every morning, the monkey would trot along, leading the old man to the market gate. The old man would sit on the ground, a dented aluminum basin placed in front of him, waiting for the compassion of passersby. The monkey, however, was smarter than we imagined. Whenever it saw someone passing by, it would "assist" the old man by making a rattling sound and extending its paw. This mischievous, endearing behavior meant that on many days the monkey even begged for more than its owner.

However, the monkey only ate what it could eat immediately, throwing the rest into the basin for the old man. Its favorite foods were bananas and candy. When given candy, it grinned happily, peeling each piece and stuffing them all into its mouth. The "pouch" on its cheek dangled out, full of candy, looking quite funny.

It was a cold, rainy winter day. The market was sparsely populated, everyone hurrying about, and no one paid any attention to the old man and his shivering monkey huddled under the market stall. It was almost noon, but the old man's aluminum basin remained empty; he hadn't begged for anything. Only we, a few idle kids, surrounded the poor beggar. One of us, the ringleader, suddenly came up with an idea. He called us together to discuss it, giggling with obvious delight. We all dispersed, and fifteen minutes later, we regrouped. Each of us had hands full of bananas and candy, which we thrust at the monkey's nose.

Having eaten nothing all morning, the starving monkey's eyes lit up at the sight of bananas and candy, and it excitedly held out its hand. Taking the banana, it made a gurgling sound, nodded repeatedly as if to thank them, and frantically peeled it to eat. But beneath the seemingly real banana peel, inside was nothing but… clay. Throwing away the “clay banana,” the monkey continued to hold out its hand for candy, but inside those green and red plastic wrappers were only dirt, rocks, and broken bricks…

We burst into laughter, oblivious to the poor monkey's red-eyed, pitiful whimpering, almost in tears. Still not satisfied, I offered it another handful of fake candy. This time, after being tricked, the monkey's gentle demeanor vanished. It lunged forward ferociously. Everyone else ran away, but I was the only one left, bitten and scratched at by the monkey, which refused to let go…

More than half a century has passed, and now my hair is gray, but the memory of the beggar and the little monkey is as vivid as if it happened yesterday. It was my first lesson, costing me a scar on my hand, but it also helped me awaken the conscience that was missing in the child I once was. And that first life lesson taught me how to become a kind person every day.

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