STOLL/Proposal for What is the nature of freedom ©2006. smkstoll@yahoo.com
4
"We can eat it," I suggest.
We mount our bicycles, and as we pedal away, I think, "Lamb noodle soup. Lamb
steamed dumplings. Fried lamb chops." Meanwhile Edwin is wondering what to name her,
"The Dalai Lamb-a or Bo Peep, the bicycling sheep." He struggles to hold the lamb in one
arm and navigate his bicycle over the dirt road. The lamb bleats pathetically and one hundred
meters down the road, near the edge of the flock, she wins Edwin's heart and we stop.
The shepherd stares at us with a twinge of curiosity but shows no concern for his lamb.
Perhaps, the shepherd has called Edwin's bluff.
"Dang," Edwin pouts, "That was my last customized pen."
"We can still eat it. Jabu and Dongteng [our Tibetan guide and driver] will know how to
cook it."
"Maybe we could just keep her in the truck," he moves from one arm to the other, away
from me. Edwin is a vegetarian and I don't think he can bear to be responsible for anyone
eating his lamb.
"Someone has to eat it."
Edwin puts the lamb down and begins herding her towards her mother. She bolts
underneath the legs of the nearest sheep. Edwin chases the lamb. The lamb scrambles from
sheep to sheep and Edwin scrambles after the lamb, zigzagging through the flock until,
suddenly, he's face to face with the shepherd. "Just give me my pen. You see, there's your
lamb."
While Edwin was causing a stampede, the shepherd has gotten his sling out and loaded it
with a rock. He swings it around several times and sends the stone soaring over his flock.
Edwin doesn't seem to notice. He keeps talking to the shepherd in his soothing voice. The
shepherd reloads and releases the stone with a crack and it buzzes through the air, causing me
to cringe, and it shatters against a boulder. Undeterred, Edwin advances, "Just give me the
pen." He points to the hidden pen and then himself. "Hello. Pen?"
"They've both gone crazy," I think. I lay my bicycle down and prepare to rescue Edwin.
The Shepherd sees me approach and grabs his dagger out of the ground and begins waggling
it at Edwin, then me, then Edwin, while yelling. "Stay back or your friend gets it," I imagine
he says.
I freeze, but Edwin encroaches on the shepherd's territory holding his hand, "Hello. Pen?
Give Pen!"
