Azuka Jebose Molokwu wrote:
This is a homeless man from Kenya. His street cred name is AFRIKA. Africa is a confessed alcoholic. I call him Mmzeh which in Swahili, means elder. I do not speak Swahili but I am familiar with East African beautiful Swahili language. AFRIKA spends his days in the streets and at nights, he retires to the Bush behind my Mobile Food Restaurant. The Bush is a camping station for the homeless. By the time we open our place at 10.45 am, a few of the homeless people are lying on the pavements of the mighty BP Gas Station where we are located. Some days, they gather for morning booze sessions and charge their phones at the street light with adaptor outlets.
So, Last week, I asked Mzeh to meet me at 6.45 pm so he could help me with a few labor work. He promised to show up. Well, this morning as I pulled up to my Mobile restaurant, Mzeh was sitting at the Picnic table waiting to apologize. He was five days late.
“Am sorry men. Am sorry Mzeh. I forgot to come the other day. I was drunk, Mzeh. I was fucked up”.
At least at 8 am today, he was sincere. I came early. I needed a few works done. He was lucky. I quickly engaged his street energy powered by cans of booze. After an hour, he asked just for $6 to get beer. I offered him breakfast. He refused. “Beer is breakfast, Mzeh”, he explained smiling.
So I threw this sentence at him: “Mzeh, you don’t have any worries in life. You are always happy and drunk. No bills, no worries in life. I really want to be like you, wake up without responsibilities of each day”
He stopped, smiled at me, the bright morning sun streaking his dark face and gap tooth as he said thusly:” Mzeh, don’t be like me. I get drunk all the time.”
It appeared my statement pinched his nerves, so he decided to tell me his story.
“Mzeh, I moved to North Carolina about six months ago from New York. I have lived in the United States for about 20 years. I had a home in New York and a decent job. I worked so hard everyday and sent money home to my family who were in Kenya then.
About ten years ago, I brought my wife and two children from Kenya to join me. I was taking care of all of them those years. A few years ago my wife got a great job in the city. She started making her money. But I was still paying the bills and taking care of my family. One month, I asked my wife to assist in paying just one bill, she got angry and withdrew from me. I was shocked. I thought it was just a normal husband and wife shenanigans. But I was wrong. About two months after that episode, I came home one day from work to find my home near empty. She packed her stuff, took our children and left. I was devastated. I asked her why she just left, she wouldn’t say. That week after my call, begging her to return home with our children, she changed her phone number. I couldn’t reach her and my children anymore, Mzeh.
That was devastating. My life began to collapse. And then, the shock triggered depression. I didn’t want to stay in New York any longer. So one day, I took the Greyhound bus to Raleigh. I didn’t know where to go. I just rode down here and got off at the Salvation Army. Now I find myself, Mzeh, a drunk homeless brother living in the Streets of Raleigh, cold, snow, rain or sunshine, I take shelter at bus stops or at the veranda of the stores. I keep relapsing from free rehab the county offers. Pray for me Mzeh…”
Hmmmmmm. I handed him $6 as I told him I had to run to home depot stores. Two hours after my runnings, I found $5 on the parking lot near me. I recognized the $5 note. I had given that to Mzeh with a dollar, this morning. Oh, Shit!!!! I hope your Monday beats mine.
