Sometimes good guys deserve a break..... (Short Story)

There was a huge crowd on the street of Ponle that afternoon. I could see my house around the corner but I could not reach it. Its faded green walls and sagging roof had never looked so welcoming, yet every time I moved a few feet forward, the crowd seemed to move me back again.

“What is going on?” I asked, murmuring under my breath. I just wanted to get home and know that another horrible day was over. I didn’t really care about the crowd or the new sensation that brought them to Ponle. This was a dead end street where nothing of importance happens, but once in a while, some washed out musician would hold a road show and the crowd would gather.

“Ponle’s illustrious son has being brought home”

It took a second for me to realise that someone was actually responding to my rhetoric question.
I turned and saw an old man standing at the edge of the crowd just like I was. He smiled at me in a genial way but I didn’t respond. I was tired of being nice to strangers. Why couldn’t I just get away from everyone, sip from a cold bottle of water, put my feet up and pretend that the world made sense?

“Look over there” the old man pointed to a certain spot over the heads of the crowd “That’s his picture”
I am short sighted and can’t see very far. I pretended to look and nodded in a vague way. What did I care about some wannabe politician? I inched away from the old man.

“You know he wasn’t always this popular. He wasn’t always rich with properties all over the world” the old man said musingly “He grew up a pauper. There were the days he had nothing to eat and women did not want him”

I thought of my empty second-hand fridge with its cold water and no food, thought of the flat mattress whose springs would occasionally jut out and cause havoc to my body and I thought about my permanent single status.

“His life was miserable. No money, no family, and no friends” the old man shook his head “Life is so interesting” he said and kept quiet.

I looked at the old man. I wondered if he had known Ponle’s illustrious son when he was younger and if Ponle’s illustrious son would recognise or acknowledge the relationship now. The old man peered into a satchel he carried and brought out a half eaten kola. He smiled with pleasure as he bit into it.

I was tired of waiting for him to resume the story so I said “So what happened to change his life? How did he become rich?”

The old man looked at me and shook his head. “No no it’s not about the money” He said and continued chewing his kola. He swallowed audibly. I wondered if I had seen the old man in Ponle before. I would probably not have noticed him. He looked like the many other old men who live in Ponle. Only, there was something almost carefree about him. Like he didn’t have any worries. And Ponle has many worried people-both young and old.

“It’s the character that matters” the old man said

“Character” I said bitterly “There’s no gain in good character these days”

The old man gave me a knowing look. “Then why do you help that old woman down the road carry her goods to her shop every morning”

“How do you know that?” I asked shocked. It was a small thing I did under the cover of early morning darkness

“I know things and besides Ponle is a small place” he said, he turned back towards the crowd and pointed at the drummers. It was then that I observed that Ponle’s illustrious son was coming home in a coffin. The coffin bearers were dancing wildly and throwing their load in the air “but it is character that has made the man famous”

I was glad we had gone back to Ponle’s illustrious son and passed over my own activities. “In his poverty, he never stole, never cheated and he worked hard” he added impishly “He helped old women across the road”

I smiled with irony “a good man” I said

“You could say that” the old man said “It was who he was. Who he chose to be” He gave me another knowing look but I ignored him

“Then one day, he helped this old woman cross the road and she gave him a bag as a gift” he continued “It changed his fortunes”

I frowned at the old man “I was taking you seriously” I said annoyed “but your reference to old women is no longer amusing”

“The bag changed his fortunes” the old man continued as though I had not spoken, a very thoughtful look on his face “You see, sometimes good guys going nowhere deserve a break”

There was a sudden commotion. We both looked at the wild dancers and realised in horror that Ponle’s illustrious son’s coffin was soaring dangerously in the air. If it landed at the speed that had sent it up, there was likely to be a disaster

“Hold this!” the old man flung his satchel at me and darted with surprising agility into the crowd. I caught the satchel, but ran after him. What could this old man hope to achieve without getting hurt?

The crowd parted with surprising ease but I lost sight of the old man. A cry of excitement as I neared the dancers made me realise the coffin had landed safely. I breathed easily, foolish old man, now where was he?

He was nowhere near the dancers, coffin or drummers. I craned my neck in different directions but didn’t see him. I prepared to wait at the spot till all the crowd had dispersed because no doubt I would see the old man and return his satchel.

The processions continued with their antics but they held no interest to me. I thought of the old man – I had taken a liking to him- and I thought of his weird story. I looked with sudden curiosity at the portrait of Ponle’s illustrious son which was now a few feet from me, and suddenly the world slowed down.

Tremors began in my hands and my jaws hit the ground. Was this a joke? I moved closer to the portrait – it really couldn’t be.

But it was, because every other picture, calendar or obituary notice I have seen since then showed the picture of the old man. How could that old man be the same man who was in the coffin?

It was almost like a dream but for the satchel. I looked inside the satchel for some clue- and for the second time- my world slowed. Where I had expected to find more Kola nuts, I found tiny little gems, precious stones.

The old man’s words floated around me with sudden clarity

“The bag changed his fortunes”

‘Was it possible?’ I thought rooted to the spot ‘Was it possible?’

And then I understood why he had done it

At least I thought I understood, a man like him knew. He had to know.

“Sometimes good guys going nowhere deserve a break”