He.

Was a belgian soldier, 15 years in, a member of their Special Forces, the Red Berets.

He did gruelling U.N. peace-keeping work in Rwanda, the Congo and Somalia. During the worst of it.

He saw and endured shit no one should ever even glimpse in several lifetimes.

He spent a year decompressing in a military psychiatric hospital.

He's 35 years old.

The last few years he and his wife have volunteered for helping in countries to help deal with HIV and AIDS, teaching health and sanitation for Humana People Helping People in Botswana and Central America.

He showed me his passport.

He smokes like a chimney.

He offered me a bean and cheese burrito for lunch.

I.

Met him at Kinko's as he and others used Kinko's as an adhoc office to organise their fundraising and program activities.

I didnt like the stench of cigarettes on him as he went outside regularly for his smokes.

I wasnt open to being friendly to him at first.

I wasnt even liking his accent.

I got to talking to him and realized the dude is ok.

I talked to him a fair bit. (Saw his military ID. Amazing what a military crewcut and a dont-fuck-with-me look can do..)

I was.. in awe. That someone would throw their lives into helping others especially after seeing that kind of gruesome brutality and meanness. That he could still be generous in spirit.

I realized that I definitely need to do more with my life.

I accepted the burrito.