The Myth and the Motorcycle

I suppose, in Blockbuster's eyes, I am not kind. I abuse their policies like a diplomat in a rental car. Tonight I watched the Motorcycle Diaries. I rented it a few days ago, initially drawn to the film because it features South America and I want to be taken back there. It has been three years. However accurate the film is in accordance with History I haven't a clue. It's really not the point.

All political opinions, all instances where any of you may utter commie under your breath aside--the film awakened some things that have gone dormant in me, some memories and ideals. Memories of the Inca beating out their laundry on the rocks near the stream; families guiding their llamas loaded with twenty-pound sacks of rice up and down mountain roads; a shepherd sitting on a bluff in the Andes, watching his sheep; children like Rosa, professional beggars, unable to attend school for lack of money; the projects in Lima; the church that only needed twenty American dollars to pay rent and utilities for an entire month.

Ernesto (Ché) and Alberto reach their destination, one they don't plan for, when they arrive at the leper colony. The colony is divided by the river: doctors and nurses, the North side, and lepers in the South (the director used real lepers, too), a symbol of injustice to Ernesto. It struck me that Ernesto treats the lepers like Jesus treated lepers. He treats the lepers like I should treat lepers, or you should treat lepers. He plays soccer and music with them. He helps them build houses. He shakes their hands and touches their faces.

I know we don't see leprosy much anymore, but I'm using it as an analogy for the people I turn away from because of fear, indwelling prejudice or cynicism. Ernesto isn't afraid of people, and I don't only mean that in the war-hero bravado sense. He isn't afraid to reach people, to hear their stories and share in their lives, or to fight for them. He isnt't afraid to do something with the evidence of his journey.

And what about the evidence of my journey?



*I don't mean to suggest beating clothing out on the rocks has to be a bad thing, or that walking with llamas isn't somehow desirable. These are only fragments of a greater whole that can't be separated out.

**Also, I feel there is much more I could write about the movie, and perhaps I will, but for now I've been naughty enough staying up so late. If Annabelle hadn't gone to India, I'd be hearing it at the moment and rightfully so.

posted by Cameron Lawrence at 00:36