“These are my Bruce Lee shoes”
I think he had seen me looking at them. They were funny little black material things, almost like socks with a thin rubber sole.
“I’m stronger than my whole family put together….including my grandma!…”
“…Once I punched a window without making my hand bleed!”
“Far out!” I said, “Did you get in trouble?”
“Nar…Dad just told me not to do it again”
Dafi was 10 years old, “half Assyrian and half Samoan”
When he told me this, he showed me his muscles.
He did look very strong for a little kid. I noticed his hands in particular.
These were the hands of a Karate Kid- breaking boards and windows without even getting a scratch.
“I can do a backwards flip kick” he bragged.
“…Once i broke my leg doing a flip…”
Apart from his Bruce Lee shoes, Dafi wore dark blue track pants and a stretched out grey t-shirt. It was starting to get dark and a little bit cooler and he kept his arms inside the torso of the t-shirt.
He had a closely shaven head and big, intense, dark eyes.
He was happy karate kicking his way down the street.
I never got to witness a ‘flip kick’.
“Once, when my dad was carrying a bucket of water, he broke his back…He’s got a scar”
“…Another time in Syria, my dad was leaving the house and the front of it fell down!….He was very lucky…”
As we reached the shops, me walking like a typical adult, and Dafi running back and forth kicking the air and telling me stories about all his injuries and Karate and strength accomplishments, he said…
“…That’s my dad up there…” He pointed to the man walking a few meters in front of us.
“…and thats my grandma back there…” He turned and pointed to an old woman hobbling along bent over.
At the seat on the corner outside the op-shop, his dad sat down. When we caught up to him, i said “see ya Dafi” and we gave each other a high five.