Last night, against the duty of handing in paper by midnight, I opened a digital book I had downloaded; Tintin in Tibet, and its first page was put on my reddish screen. It was a short story but completed; There was a plane crash around Nepal, and Tintin read on the newspaper that his Chinese friend was on the very plane. Tintin dreamed of him, then believed that his friend was still alive, so became trying to find his trait to find him even though all other people, including those who were sent to search the crash spot, believed that the guy was already dead. Tintin discovered some clues of his survival, and confronting Yeti, the mysterious creature living in the mountain, he rescued his Chinese friend at last.
What became interesting for me was that when Tintin found a clue of the survival of the Chinese friend, I could read the name curved on a stone inside a cave. Maybe it was just a normal and common Chinese name, as his surname was Chang(張) which belongs to almost 7% of whole Chinese population, but its meaning was significant for me. His full name, 張冲仁, can be literally translated to ‘broadening towards fraternity’. Perhaps his name wasn’t as I remember, still I decided to believe such to give an interpretation to this work of art. In this sense, Tintin metaphorically didn’t give up for the fraternity, or to say, love for humanity, and kept searching for it in his very hard days, just because he dreamed of it, as if it were still alive when all others were saying such love already was dead from the human world.
Today in the morning I was walking on the street of Palermo and Recoleta, penetrated by the new rising sun, spooning the moon that left all the coldness of last night. This song sang inside of my both ears, explaining the similar story that Tintin had read me last night. Well, in this story the love limits to one of the lovers not of the humanity, but it became a seek and hide game. We all became a part of this game, one being the seeker and the other being the hider. We somehow dream that love exists, and try to find the clue of its survival.
Maybe it’s the madness that drives to take a pill to endure the reality, as this song cries out. Maybe it’s a madness that all others called Tintin for his mental illness.
Tintin in Tibet, is a simple and a great work, as any decent literature develops its story line from the beginning to climax then to enclose. Most importantly, there was no distraction for the main story but to support it. Easily read, considerately written. Maybe love, or fraternity that we are in search of, isn’t located far. We just need to believe and take an action, as Tintin hopped on a flight to go to Nepal, and to cruse the climbers to search the crash spot. Bravery crowned, as almost none of us isn’t even willing to go to the crashed spot to ensure the love, at least a friendship, is alive or not, but just assumes.