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Home African Caribbean Aligzander Writes: The man with the limp
Aligzander

Aligzander

Caribbean storytelling. I saw him this morning on my walk through the park. This was not a normal thing for me. I was more or less provoked into action. My youngest son insisted that I should go for these daily walks so that I would not resemble ‘Jah-stone’. I obeyed and here I was walking ‘nine knots an hour’ as my grandmother would say.

I love the rhythm and the pace with which I could drag my lazy leg. It was my left leg. I sustained injury to it but that was for another of my stories. Today, it was enough for me to just – walk. I sucked in the early morning’s crisp, cold air and I bounced as if I was twenty years old. I could feel it coming back! I mean, I could feel life, even in my leg. I saw out of the corner of my left eye that someone else was dragging a leg and I wondered at the co-incidence. He was limping on his right leg. Did I say mine was the left one? Put us together and I guess you could say, ‘there goes those rascals.’

Sorry, I don’t think I know the man but I know me. I heard his growl at me and for once I did not flinch. People were everywhere. I remove my glove and punched the iciness from both of my ears. Maybe it was the low whistle of the wind. Maybe it was my imagination but, there it was again. I heard the man hissed at me. I replaced my gloves and slowed my pace. I came face to face with him, breathless. He was not!

“You boy for Ringo!”

Photo courtesy wwwibtimescouk

Photo courtesy www.ibtimes.co.uk

My God, Ringo was my father. He died many years ago and this creature with the limp that stood before me, somehow from somewhere, knew him. I stood motionless and my aching leg reminded me that even if I wanted to run, I could not. An hour’s walk was all it took. I calmed myself and peered into the cloud that came from his lips. He and I stood facing each other as if about to tear each other apart.

I had to break the silence but spat on the ground. I was ready. He did the same and that was a familiar trait from my boyhood days. Maybe, just maybe he knew me and I , him. “Yeah, you come to England and pretend you don’t know me.” Truth be told, whoever he was I did not have the faintest idea.

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