Run, Moksa, Run

On one of my weekly running routes, I have become the celebrity of the corner shopkeeper with the bullhorn. During a run last fall, it was hot. So, I stopped to buy a bottle of water and we got to chatting in Konglish. He asked and I told him, so now he calls me “Moksa” (Pastor). Anyway, he often stands out in front of the store on the sidewalk and “hawks his wares” with a bullhorn. Because the store is close to the bus stop, there is always a crowd of people around. I turn the corner and there he is, bullhorn in hand. He yells into it, “Run, Moksa, Run.” And then, he goes into this mantra of konglish with the crowd. The only thing I understand as I keep going, waving my hand, is “Run, like the devil, run towards heaven, run, moksa, run.” This last trip, he must have seen me a block before, because he had the crowd wound up. There they were, all chanting and waving as I waddled by. There are moments…