Repression and The Senegambia Highway Man

This may not be perfect .. or everyone's cup of tea ..

Repression and The Senegambia Highway Man

 

     I once met a gentleman twice who purely

by some chance,

   

I only recall bumping into the first time ..

It was just off from

   the brand new, Senegambia highway ..

I never did manage

   to learn his Mandinka name though ..

He was tall and so

very thin however, my dear lord, it was

easy to see that he

   was quite literally, starving back then ..

And so, I gave him

a handful of rice, Adana the house girl

   had previously given me ..

Plus a small piece of something, I took

to be meat, from

the back of my very old host, Hanna’s

very temperamental,

antique refrigerator and then, at least

for one moment or

   

two, he did seem, reasonably contented ..

But when I met with

him again, the very next day, we both

kind of knew by then,

   that he was very much in dying mode ..

He had a hole in one

of his legs you see, so big you could

poke a big stick

right through it and see clearly from one

   side to the other ..

But his eyes were by then sadly already

dead in his head

   

And the truth was, he was totally blinded ..

So I gave him the one

hundred and twenty five dalasi which

was all that I had on me

and told him to go grab a bush cab to

the Banjul infirmary a.s.a.p.

That same evening, one of the cooks

at Old Uncle Noah’s

Fish Restaurant, came and told me that

the guy with no name,

   they called Happy never quite made it ..

And all the scraps he had

saved in his carrier bag, were promptly

divided between,

a young orphaned albino, riddled with

skin cancer and his four

   three month old abandoned puppy dogs ..

Oh’ and since I happened

to be passing, would I care to make a

small donation to some

other lost causes .. I said, sorry but no,

   I’ve got a plane to catch ..

And while you may think it strange that

I have hardly ever even

thought about that guy, or that day again,

   until a moment ago, that is ..

Now on reflection, I guess that’s what we

   in the trade, used to call repression ..

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

but it is nevertheless, entirely true .. 🤍

Reviews

[Archishman Rick]

This experience that you recount had likely been quite the graphic and visceral, and you had long repressed it, I hope that expressing it through writing has brought you a good amount of solace. How long ago did this occur roughly? And out of greater curiosity, was this somewhere nearby the old Baobab tree you had spoke of once under which you would seek shade on your way to and from Tanka Tanka, and was this also around the same time?
Cheers literary friend.

[Neville]

Cor blimey Guvnor .. what a memory you have .. Yes, to each of your questions .. I am presently in the process of trying to prepare for my third stint there .. which may be responsible for the re-surfacing of certain recollections .. Thank you for calling on this one my friend .. Neville

[Archishman Rick]

I see! Thanks for confirming. And I hear you. All the best for your next stint and hopefully this time things will look brighter and cheerful, although you would be prepared regardless. :-)

[Neville]

Thank you again .. Neville

[Dylan Macadham]

Reading thru this I couldn't help but think you did your best at the time, more than most. Well-meaning people are so often driven to judge themselves more harshly than they would judge another, hence repression and eventual haunting memories. ... And I bet in the writing and the posting of this you've found some calm.

[Thomas W Case]

Powerful writing. You bring this to life.

[Neville]

Cheers Thomas .. that's most gratifying .. Neville

[Poetic Beauty]

When we see and go through traumatic events, often our brain buries it so deep that it doesn’t resurface until we are equipped to handle it, mentally, physically and spiritually.

[Neville]

................... correct .. cheers .. Neville