Along a path in the valley below, Nunez saw three men. The men walked slowly in line, one next to the other. Their clothes were made of llama wool. On their heads, they wore black hats; and in their hands, they had pails. Nunez was happy to see the men. He stood on a rock and shouted. His voice echoed around the valley.
The three men stopped and looked around. They looked left and right. ‘Up here!’ Nunez shouted and waved, but the men did not see him. The men walked this way and that, but they still did not see Nunez. `The fools must be blind,’ Nunez said angrily. ‘What’s the matter with them?’
Finally, Nunez decided to go to the three men. He climbed down and came towards the small group.
The three men stood side by side; their ears directed at him, not looking at him, listening to his steps. They looked a little afraid. Nunez could not see their eyes; they were closed and sunk deep in their heads.
‘There is a man,’ one of the men said. ‘It is a man, and he is coming down from the mountain.’
Nunez walked towards them confidently. Now he understood: the men were blind. Nunez remembered all the old stories about The Country of the Blind, and he thought about an old proverb from long ago.
`In the Country of the Blind – the one-eyed man is king.’
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