Mixed with my social and practical ineptness, there were qualities ranging from the fearless and heroic to the foolish and foolhardy, depending upon the observer’s point of view. However, I generally got the benefit of the doubt. There was never a hint of mutiny, except on my first trip, when the female of the two long-suffering passengers was finally driven to exasperation and vented her feelings. It was my inability to define precisely our schedule that pushed her over the edge and led her to an outburst of forgivable vituperation, which even the vigorous attempt of her companion to place his hand over her mouth could not prevent.

By this time, I had developed a degree of inner strength and fortitude that enabled me to survive even the most humiliating circumstances. Of course, practicing self-abnegation in nonsensical circumstances of your own making is likely to exasperate anybody. Still, I had necessity on my side and the conviction that there was more involved than the arbitrary choice of an occupation. I needed the work to survive and extend my spiritual quest. I would have died in the office or on the farm.

The line between bravery and foolhardiness may be fine, and often the result of an action is the only arbiter. The question is, if circumstances demand courage, will you have the courage to meet them? Do you respond with courage and resourcefulness or with the hesitation of a lost soul?

Heading north in Afghanistan on an eastbound trip, one such demand was made of me. A few hundred feet ahead, a group of men, it appeared, were rolling heavy stones onto the otherwise deserted road. It was not a time for hesitation, or even for taking a calculated risk, if we were to escape the imminent danger. Without any dramatic display, my foot went to the boards as the scurrying men continued their activity. Possibly, the villains who were witnessing our approach were confused about our identity, since the bus was unlike Afghan buses. Indeed, they must have realized that the fast-advancing blue object would not stop. Whatever was the cause of their momentary paralysis, it left a gap on the wrong side of the road toward which I steered with unwavering determination. Caring not to have any eye contact with the ruffians and suspecting at any moment that the bus would be physically attacked or fired upon, we brushed past the closest remonstrating villains and passed through without harm. To my relief, it was all over in less than half a minute, and we continued on to Kabul without any word being spoken to confirm that any of the passengers had been aware of the potential danger.

In this case, the result was the arbiter. Whether my fear had been well-founded or not, or whether there had been a real risk or not, cannot now be known. However, the result of my decision was our unimpeded progress. In contrast, the result of hesitation may have ended in who knows what. Undoubtedly, there are risks involved in crossing a road, but with discretion, they may be made negligible. However, this is not always possible when an immediate response is required, and the outcome is uncertain.

Will you then prevaricate and cry
Or act with bravery and maybe die.
Will you then be found in need?
Short in courage and in deed
To discover only that into your pants you have peed

                                                  Not guilty.

Actually, I had no problem hobnobbing with locals once we had left Western Europe, and I generally enjoyed getting about and exploring without any impediments due to ethnic or cultural differences. It was with my kith and kin and countrymen that I suffered an acute discord and lack of harmony. I took no nonsense from locals in Asia. I was indomitable and forceful, short of physical violence, in achieving what was necessary to get us through, sometimes in relatively lawless situations. My quixotic fearlessness, if it was that, evoked favorable responses from protagonists and antagonists alike. I sometimes felt that my confident, assured presence was enough to quell any potential threats without requiring me to speak. I was Mr. Cool. There were times, no doubt, when I felt supremely confident without having to pander in any quarter.

I must say that none of this bravado or whatever it could be called would have been possible without the assurance provided by my fledgling faith, without which most likely I would never have gotten much farther than the first steep hill. Perhaps this state of affairs was implied by Mr. Jones when he fired at me the rhetorical question, “You have Baraka, don’t you?”