I wrote a story a while back, it was of a watchman drunk,
Drunk as hell, was the story of he, but nonetheless, just a story it seemed to be,
But a lot of truth is told in jest, so now compelled I feel, compelled to tell the story behind the story,
The tale if you must, of the watchman who now I fear has ceased to see,
Ceased to see life as we know it be
Really, there’s no way to tell a tale, without some background,
A narrative of a life past, a sort of origin
If you know what I mean,
His name doesn’t matter,
The odds that you’ll meet him,
The possibility that you’ll feel obliged to greet him,
Are nil, null, zilch or nada…
In all fairness, I don`t think I`m treating this with the level of seriousness it deserves, so I suppose I should take this from the top…
So this guy, we called him L’il Jim. Sure he was kinda lanky and skinny, but the reason we called him L’il Jim was cause we thought it was a nice spin to Kagimu, for that was his name. Any way, Lil Jim has worked for the family in varying capacities for as long as I can remember. During the course of his tenure, (and I use the word tenure ever so liberally) he was a go-for guy… you know, go for this, go for that. I suppose it was as good a way to earn his keep as any. He certainly helped me treat a couple of hangovers with a packet of OJ (orange Juice)… the thing is, human nature is flawed. . . Lil Jim manifested that in a series of ways, countless are the times he was asked to go to the market to pick up food required for the lunch time meal only to show up close to supper time.
What was particularly interesting is the fact that he could not understand why he was being yelled at, why people were pissed off with him. You may call it being care-free, that is possible…but there was the alcohol.
Lil Jim loved his alcohol, and the worst bit is that it came really cheap. 200 shillings was more than enough to get him higher than a kite…
Lord knows the number of times he was fired… greater still are the number of times he came walking through the gate with no recollection that he had had his employment terminated earlier. I had a dream once where I came home, found him waiting for me and then got stabbed in the gut by him. Suffice to say, I avoided him a lot more.
The story goes that recently some guys were moving around with some public address system thing, reading out the names of some people who were thieves, threatening to come down upon them and throw them in jail.
Lil Jim was on that list.
I would be telling a lie if I said that he did not deserve to be there, I lost a couple of shirts to him, but the reasons cited for his appearance on the list were asinine to say the least. Word going around has it that he was definitely a thief because he could afford to buy Newspapers every day. It is worth mentioning that one of the things he did for the house was buy the paper for the day. So efficient was he, the neighbours had also enlisted his services.
The other proof, if ever such a word was so unjustly used, was the fact that he could afford liquor… add to that the fact that he was well dressed all the time and you have yourself a case against an innocent albeit, occasionally inebriated soul.
It’s amazing what it takes to rip the strands that come together to form the fabric of sanity, the list achieved what the alcohol and other substances had failed. It put him down.
Such was its effect, Lil Jim decided the only way around this was by leaving the house and going far far away.., for good!
For the first time, he was not making sense without the assistance of a toxic substance swimming through his veins. He was off his rocker…gone.
GUEST STARRING YOURS TRULY
When I got back home the other night, ( I reckon it does not matter when exactly), I was informed that the madness of Lil Jim had taken a new direction with him saying that I had paid him to leave. The accusation went thus; I said he was a thief, paid him and said i did not want to see him when i got back. I have not seen him in about a week, so this is clearly, untrue.
Yesterday, he donned his best clothes, said goodbye saying he was going to meet up with someone who would pay his fare for the journey back home, and be on his way. Said person did not see him until this morning when he turned up at theirs and said he could not come home to his room, because someone at ours had asked him to leave.
He was not wearing his shoes.
Some of the people at home saw him off this morning, wishing him a safe journey. I could not bring myself to face him. The nasty case of food poisoning I seem to have picked up not being the cause. It felt pretty depressing to see someone who had once been carefree, reduced to this. Paranoid and convinced he was alone.
There you have it, the story of a man,
A man who carried himself without a plan,
Without a care in the world,
A man whose life in moments few,
Has come undone,
This is the other story,
Of the drunken watchman.