This is one such story, of memories engraved…

Unless they have endured it through deeper darkness and survived to inhale the accustomed clean air once more, it is difficult to say, “I know.” One must experience it to understand. Here’s the true tale of a youth who sought sanctuary with welcoming close relatives. His name was Godfrey. His parents’ separation led to two things: welcoming kin and godparents. They were okay, the only other folk this child had known, and he never regretted it. Godfrey, like many, fell into unemployment when international woes cut funding to the training programme he was in in 1974. So, he was invited into the home of this great-aunt until things corrected themselves. He avoided returning to his own broken home, knowing that he was a mere support item and hardly a soul.

His first wake-up came one Friday afternoon when he came home, and his aunt requested his payslip. Of the $22 he had earned, he was commanded to surrender $15… With the rest, he had to pay for transportation and eat on the waterfront. It was a long week if he attempted to catch some overtime. When he needed to talk to someone, he spoke to a slightly older cousin, the daughter of the same aunt, who was sympathetic and kind but helpless. She only came there to visit and then returned to where she and her husband lived. She pulled him into a corner and told him earnestly, “Cuz, yuh got fuh mek yuh heights. All Mammy is deh pon is the cheese…” Then she was gone.

A friend told him about work on New Market Street. So, he tried to get a fixed job on the waterfront. Godfrey went there and was questioned foolishly. They asked him if he could push a truck, with reference to a hand truck. They asked what religion he was. He lied and was told to go to the priest, who would give him a recommendation and the job. He departed, well aware that there was no priest to see; thus, there was no job. He felt his perspiration and tried to hold back his tears of hopelessness when a familiar voice cut in: “Wha happen, youth?”

This was an area brethren, an old-time “bad man”. He couldn’t lie to the brother, who leaned on his P50, as he told his hopeless story…

He was knowingly questioned: “Yuh try fuh get a job, and deh kind ah insult yuh?”

Godfrey shook his head in confirmation.

“Come pun this bike at the back. Yuh balance?”

“Yeah, bro.”

“Now listen to meh carefully. Yuh gon get pay today.”

And he followed. He stole and earned enough to pay down the rent and fuh buy one ah dem English stoves fuh cook a quick meal or hot up something fuh humble the worms. Godfrey never planned it, even as he was torn between regret and a feeling of satisfaction, between his conscience and a strange meaninglessness…