Anecdotes of Father Santan Pinto, SOLT

The Courage to Dance!

The concentration camps were filled and people were shipped to this location in large numbers. The authorities did not know where to put them. As a hurried measure they piled them into this large stadium. Terror was written on the face of every prisoner. One slight move and the prisoner could be shot; worse still the torture. None returned to tell the tale, they saw to it. The prisoners were ordered to crawl in the dust. Nobody could stand or talk. If they tried to do anything… There was no need to say the rest. Everyone knew what it meant.

Yet in that crowd was a little boy. He was barely four feet tall and had completed his tenth birthday. He had golden brown hair and a dark brown complexion. He stood up and began to sing one of their favorite folk songs. He sang through the night. Nobody got up and none dared join him. A few began to clap their hands. Soon the soldiers came and took the boy. There was silence in the stadium. Only the night owl was allowed to screech and the wind howled.

Next morning the gates opened and the boy was thrown into the stadium. Nobody said anything because they saw that blood was flowing through his mouth. Then the people knew that the torturers had pulled his tongue out. The boy wiped his mouth on the cloth a woman passed him.

Then that day he slept till it was dark. The moon came out and lit the stadium. It was cool now and everyone was relaxed after the hot summer day. The boy stood up and went to the center of the stadium. He started clapping his hands. After some time the people recognized that the boy was clapping the tune he sang earlier. This time many joined but nobody stood up. For immediately the soldiers came and took the boy out. There was a whisper around, “He is dead!”

The following morning the stadium gate opened and the boy was thrown into the stadium. He took much longer to stand up this time. The people realized the reason, he was beaten very badly. There was something missing and to their utter shock and disgust they realized what the torturers had done. They had cut off his hands.

The boy lay on the floor that day, the night and the next day. Nobody expected him to live because he seemed so weak and frail. That second night he walked to the center of the stadium. The entire stadium was shocked. “What was he going to do now?” the people questioned in their minds. The boy moved a little bit. The people watched. Yes! Someone stood up and shouted. He is dancing to our tune. He started to sing and soon the entire stadium stood and sang for the boy.

The soldiers came and took the boy out. And he never returned. The war was over and in that stadium is the statue of the boy that never gave up. Every year the people would gather and the old would tell the story of the young lad who had to courage to never give in to fear. His courage inspired these people to withstand oppression of every kind. The people remembered that in midst of fear, darkness and despair there was one light that shone. It was his light that gave all of them hope that a new day would dawn and there would be freedom and peace. Nonetheless, no power could rob that freedom from the lad who had the courage to dance!

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