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:
Neville (
Offline) - Published: February 3rd, 2025 14:34
- Comment from author about the poem: This may not be perfect .. but it is in its entirety, 100% true 🤍
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Poetic Licence, Cheeky Missy, Cassie58
Offline)
Comments5
True or not it's a great metaphor just the same. Repression, denial, projection, displacement, regression, sublimation all seem to have a part in this story. Love the little lines fit such as the back of the old refigerator.. Several carefully chosen words helped the whole process such as totally blinded. Hardly thought about the guy again. Poetry is a wonderful sublimation I use it all the time. A great story Neville
Tis all true, but you can't beat a bit of reaction formation tho' can ya Squire .. thanks a zillion brother s .. Neville 😎👍
A fantastic piece of work with cleverly chosen and crafted words, clearly giving imagery to all feelings and emotions, and to top it off it is true and so very sad. I loved the Neville, great read
I am well and truly honoured Tobani .. many thanks indeed .. Neville
You are very welcome
A distinct moment that comes back just as randomly as it happens, I’ve begun having those and must remember to document them as you have here. It’s a beautiful anecdotal piece. 👍🏻🕊🙏🏻
I find it serves not only as an aid memoire but can after a while be positively cathartic too .. ta muchly arqios .. Neville
Yes! one of the most prominent literary products: catharsis! 🙏🏻🕊️
Helping others can have its advantages and disadvantages Neville . Fine words.
Andy
.................... Cheers GF60 .. N 🙂
Good write N. I've a book with two pictures side by side - but sickening. Some Colonel-type and his wife with a dead tiger they shot as a trophy in one picture; and some starving people in India in the other picture.
Yes sickening .. sadly, it's still like that in many parts .. I'm currently trying to gear myself up for my third stint in West Africa & the infamous Tanka Tanka psych hospital .. if I can pull it off, it will definitely be my last one .. Neville
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