By Abdool A. Aziz

EVERY Sunday, the workers sail out in their `balahoo’ to mind-steam in the creek. They anchor and plunge over-board almost naked. Their dangerous mission: to locate and retrieve sunken logs belonging to the local sawmill.

On this day, the sawmiller’s nine-year-old son was on board. He stayed ‘top-side’ as the brave men disappeared in the brown murky waters. He spent the time watching the riverine waders and crabs on parade on the mud flat. Then their heads would pop-up and the scramble to the boat. All wet, they sprawled on deck basking in the sun and drinking from a large bottle called ‘XM rum’.

They gulped down the substance, sighed, beat their chests and licked their lips. They nodded for a while, stretched a bit and drank again from the bottle then they slipped overboard.

The little boy eyed the bottle of rum. What is rum? It had to taste good. They loved it. Perhaps he would enjoy too. Prompted by the devil, he reached for the bottle. He poured some in the bottle cap and instead of tasting it, he poured all down his gullet – big mistake! His stomach blazed. His throat locked off. His mouth became bitter and dry.

He was on fire. He got scared. He panicked. He hollered for help. No one could hear him.
He yearned for water. Water was all around but nasty and salty. He knew it was not fit to drink but he was forced to lean over the gunwale and ‘lap up’ mouthfuls. Salt water is proved dangerous to health. We should never drink this ‘brine’. Now his trachea almost seized up. He panted for air. He cried out for help. He looked constantly over-board to see if the divers would surface. All he saw was the dead leaves drifting with the tide. Then his tummy began to gripe. Diarrhoea took command. He hung over the stern.

He suffered a great deal from intestinal upheaval and when the men surfaced they saw his condition. There was no ‘playing around’ with the boss’s son. They weighed anchor and took him ashore and to the closest medical centre. He admitted to drinking salt water but not the rum. He was saved in the nick of time. He became a teetotaller (abstinence from alcohol). He still wonders how people can drink that ‘peppered’ stuff called ‘rum’ and feel so good.

He met a gang of teenagers ‘pumping’ cigarettes. How manly! They were inhaling the smoke and piping it out the nostrils. He admired them. Could he do that? That is an unanswered question to this day. He was never so curious again. Let the smokers do their ‘ting’. Not him. Curiosity nearly killed him. He learned the hard way. He’ll never forget, the rum, water and the diarrhoea. His message: ‘Let sleeping dog, lie’. The secret is now out after years.