MAGICAL MONDAYS WITH 'KREATE'
WELCOME TO CHAPTER
SEVEN
PLEASE FOLLOW THE LINKS TO READ THE PROLOGUE, FIRST, SECOND, THIRD, FORTH, FIFTH AND SIXTH CHAPTERS.
There had been no thank yous or any other sign of appreciation for that matter from Susie. She had only taken the food off Baron and begun wolfing it down like some stranger was going to knock it off her hand in another few minutes. Odd was definitely her middle name. Now Baron and I were in the Public library located on the first floor of the renowned city centre’s shopping mall. He wasn’t saying anything at the moment, allowing me to take in the view. It was my first time there. At that very hour it was moderately filled with people from different origins. As far as I was concerned it was modern and rather colorful. The chairs and sofas of different sizes and designs revolved around cornflower blue, purple, pink and red. A network of online computers, presumably for research, lined the right side of the room. Three computer devices were spread around for what appeared to be signing and signing out books and videos. Semi-long shelves of homogeneous height classified the novels into genres in corresponding alphabetical orders. At the far back of where Baron and I sat, there was a Children’s Section which had all colors of a rainbow and walls with paintings of illustrations from children’s books. At our far front was an escalator that led up to a more academic, quieter zone and an adjoining staircase. It was a beautiful place. And as an added bonus, it was pleasantly warm.
‘Right,’ Baron said. ‘Baron’s sure you’ve soaked in your environment. Let’s get down to business, shall we?’
‘Sure.’ I directed my attention to him.
He cleared his throat like a public speaker who was about to rollout some important information. I supposed it was vital. ‘The art of soliciting,’ he winked at me like we shared some secret, ‘has two classifications. Class 1,’ he raised his index finger, ‘is what Baron calls visibility. Some people can afford to get seen, some can’t. The Public figures and the Ghosts. If you don’t know, soliciting is a criminal offense. So it has to be executed with skill. So the public figures stay under the guise of street artistes, playing their instruments in a manner that invokes pity and generosity from the public. They are not great performers, obviously. Some possess average skills like One Tune. Others are just crap and only get coinage because of pity or the props they employ. A classic example is Susie and her almost malnourished German shepherd.’ Baron leaned slightly closer. ‘Do you have any instrument, sing, have some generosity triggering talent or prop?’
In fact, I had a decent voice and had belonged to the church choir at some point. But if I had to do this thing, as I definitely had to, inconspicuous was the only option I was prepared to take. ‘Tell me about the ghosts.’
‘Yeah,’ he said, relaxing into the backrest of his purple sofa. ‘Ghosts are mostly mobile. As you must have figured, Baron belongs to that category. There are no hard or fast rules for soliciting under this category. There are, however, some salient points if you intend to make it in this trade. Whatever technique you choose to use has to be direct and clear, not intimidating, not confrontational. You have to utilize appealing traits: your humor, your intelligence, your good looks, et cetera. These distract them from your objective. Choose an area that gets a large dose of pedestrians. Like the city center or the train station –Are you following me?’
‘Yeah. Every bit.’
‘Awesome. Stay away from the wealthy folks. They tend to say no a lot. Sometimes they would go as far as calling the police on you. Hmm,’ Baron said, ‘Ah yes, sometimes you get regulars. Remember their names. After a point, you don’t have to beg them. If they’ve got cash to spare, they’ll give you without you asking. Also panhandling is like rolling a dice. There are days you get money exchanging hands from almost every dude or lass that you ask for assistance. And there are times when fate deals you shitty hands. Never take days like that personally. After all, they are the one doing you favors and not the other way round. Beggars take what they get. We have no choices.’
At the start of the conversation, he had said there were no hard or fast rules to this thing I would soon be engaging in. It didn’t seem that way. ‘You relay your points, expertly.’ I replied.
His head bobbed as he grinned sheepishly. ‘And of course you have to be as discreet as possible.’ He was looking at my luggage now. ‘Sorry mate, but you’ll have to get rid of that. You don’t want to draw unwanted attention from a couple of Sherlock Holmes from Scotland Yard. By Scotland Yard, I mean the police dudes. And trust me, it’s bound to happen. If not immediately, eventually. I know this for a fact.’
I knew this wasn’t supposed to be the first issue on my mind, but I couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t refer to himself in the third person. Honestly, I was thankful for that. It was getting too repetitive and almost unbearable. Now the important question… ‘What happens to my stuff?’
‘Is there anything you can trade for cash in there?’
‘None,’ I shook my head.
‘Well, I know this dude who runs a shop. From the decent condition of your suitcase, I’m pretty certain he would take your suitcase and exchange it with a small, sleek and subtle knapsack.’
‘How small are we talking about? As I have three changes of clothes in there.’
‘You’ll need only one. The rest goes.’
I wasn’t too pleased with this development but it made sense. ‘Ok.’
‘In fact, we’ll donate what you don’t need to charity. It’s only fair since they would be providing us with wares sometime in the future.’
‘That’s rather generous.’
‘Actually we would be taking them.’ He smiled.
I was about to be a beggar but theft was one branch I’d never dabble in. ‘Stealing is not an option, Baron.’
‘Hey, easy now’ He said. ‘Some Japanese dude once said that the pride of a beggar is that he does not steal. So give us some credit, will you? People leave clothes they no longer need in plastic bags meant for charity on the assigned collection date. We would only take a pair of what we need and leave the rest. So no, we will not be stealing.’
Unconventional as his reply was, there was some sense to it. ‘Ok.’
‘Now before Baron was sidetracked,’ Baron continued. ‘Follow your instincts. Sometimes the best actions might contradict all he has said.’ He pulled back the sleeve of his hoody, revealing a wristwatch with cracked leather straps. ‘Let’s get go drop some of your stuff at the charity shop around the corner, and then we’ll proceed to do a trade by barter on your suitcase. By the time we are done, the time should be just right to get a nice warm, thorough bath.’
I yawned. We stood up, even though I was reluctant to. It was warm in here and I felt the urge to take a quick nap. There was absolutely nothing endearing about the prospect of going out into the cold, harsh weather. As we reached the exit of the library, it dawned that there was a second part to the discussion. ‘And Class 2?’
‘What – Oh yeah,’ Baron said. ‘Time duration: this is rather straightforward. Some people are into panhandling for the long run. To be honest, they have no intention of moving on. Some reasons are legitimate; others are just being lazy. But for a few others, it’s a means to an end. I reckon you belong to the latter.’
I had noticed the slight pause when he said legitimate. But I chose not to pry.
In another hour or so, we had crossed two off our to-do list. I must say that it felt good to be rid of the weight of hauling that suitcase around like an annoying Siamese twin. Baron and I had gone into the shop to exchange a suitcase, but I had left with a one strapped knapsack, a cheap handset, and two twenty pound notes and a ten-pound note. Baron’s guy had convinced me to sell my expensive mobile phone. Baron figured I didn’t need an expensive phone and that it was a good deal.
Now, we were on our way to meet Troy, Baron’s contact at a gym. Baron had been tremendously helpful today and I believed a show of gratitude was in order. In my culture, a show of gratitude today, meant a reoccurrence of favor tomorrow. ‘Here,’ I said, handing him a ten-pound note.
‘No, Two Pounds,’ he said. His face was edged with surprise. ‘You’ll need every bit of that cash soon enough. It’s not going to be easy transitioning into your new role. So thanks, but no thanks.’
‘I guess I’ll have to learn quickly. So I insist.’ I didn’t feel as confident as I sounded. ‘You don’t want me taking offense now, do you?’
He collected the money. “You’re a stand up, guy. Baron will repay the favor.’
The moment he said that, I remembered the first time we met. ‘You said something like on our first encounter. How did you know I’d need your help at some point? Or do you say to every Good Samaritan that hands you cash?’
‘One word, Two Pounds,’ he said. ‘Instinct.’
The Gym was located in the Swimming pool building that overlooked the large park. It was the same building the university had utilized for their Freshers’ Day event. It was also the day I had met Amina. The memory seemed unreal now, but that didn’t suppress the pang of sadness I felt at the thought. We went through the reception manned by a middle-aged, smiley blonde lady. ‘Happy Xmas, lads,’ she greeted as her hands organized contents of her desk. I figured she was getting ready to leave.
‘Merry Xmas, Shirley’ Baron said and I said: ‘Merry Christmas.’
We pushed through the door, ascended two flight of stairs (with walls lined with posters of yoga, boxing and swimming), and came to another reception. The guy behind the stand looked like he would rather be elsewhere, maybe in a pub with a handy jug of beer, but he lit up when he noticed Baron.
‘Merry Christmas Mate!’ He stood up, went around his stand and gave Baron a bear hug. He was tall and huge, and Baron looked like his tiny younger brother in comparison. His upper back was curved into a hump, not huge enough to be classed as Quasimodo the hunchback of Notre Dame, but prominent enough to depict a history of weightlifting sessions that were not executed properly. Now that I thought of it, his voice was surprisingly mellow for someone his size.
‘Let go of me, you Incredible Hulk,’ Baron grunted cheerfully under the pressure of his hug.
The big fellow let go of Baron. ‘Been a while mate. Hard to believe we reside in the same city.’
‘Yeah,’ Baron said, smoothing his ginger hair even though the guy hadn’t touched it. ‘Been busy. This is Two Pounds, my new mate.’ He turned to me. ‘Two Pounds meet Gentle Gee with two e.’
I could tell from the amused, yet knowing smile from Gentle Gee that Baron was the brain behind the nickname. Gentle Gee extended a handshake with a cheerful smile. ‘Pleased to meet you, mate.’
‘The pleasure is mine too.’
‘Right,’ Baron said. ‘You should return to your corner and look professional. Baron needs a favor.’
‘Sure thing boss,’ Gentle Gee said with mock respect. As he walked back to the counter, it appeared he was making a conscious effort not to slouch. He turned to the tall column of wooden boxes behind him, pulled one out and produced two electronic swipe cards. ‘Here you go,’ he handed them to Baron. ‘Take as much time as possible. It’s dead in there. People having Christmas turkey stuffing and what’s not. I’ve got mine here too. You’re welcomed to have some.’
‘Thanks mate, but Baron’s stuffed. Clarissa made sure of that. Got leftovers too,’ Baron said.
‘Angel, that Clarissa,’ Gentle Gee said.
‘We’ll see you in a bit,’ Baron said and turned in the direction of a translucent glass door I only just noticed. ‘Let’s go Two Pounds.’
‘See you soon, and thanks.’ I said to Gentle Gee before following Baron.
‘No worries. Enjoy,’ I heard him reply.
Although I came from an almost affluent background, I had never been to the Gym. It just wasn’t on my scale of preference. Working out for me consisted of jogging, sessions of table tennis, and the odd knock about soccer stints. So it was a pleasant, almost fascinating feeling I had when we entered the Gym and the lights automatically turned on. There were treadmills, free weights and other fitness equipment with names that I was pretty certain I’d never come across. Two doors at the far right were marked respectively with male and female signs. I presumed they led to shower rooms and toilets.
‘What do you say to a few workout hours before a deserving shower?’ Baron said, laying the plastic bags against the wall. He stripped to a pair of boxers and white sleeveless shirt. ‘Burn out some calories.’
With that we fell into a mixed session of running on the treadmills, pushing free weights, and utilizing other equipment. It turned out Baron had a competitive streak and I responded with equal fervency. Honestly, for some moments there, it didn’t feel like I was homeless. It seemed like I was with a friend, having a splendid time.
In another hour, we were done. The feel of warm water jetting against my lathered sore muscles was refreshing. I didn’t want to leave, but I did eventually. Baron was still in there; I could tell from the muffled sound of his singing in the shower. I moisturized my skin thoroughly with the lotion, courtesy of Clarissa’s largesse, changed into a different set of wares and headed back to the reception.
‘Awesome time?’ Gentle Gee asked as I emanated from the Gym door.
‘Splendid,’ I grinned. ‘You can’t begin to imagine how much I needed that.’
‘I bet I do,’ he replied, cheerfully, scrunching up his nose against the top of his lips.
‘You nutter,’ I laughed. I had picked up that word in my time in Cambridge. The moment it came out, I hoped it didn’t offend Gentle Gee. It didn’t. He laughed heartily. ‘Baron is still in there,’ I informed.
‘Yeah. He’ll be there for another twenty minutes or so. He takes his time when he comes around. And that’s not often.’
My legs were weary from the extensive treadmill session so I casually leaned against his counter. ‘So how do you guys know each other?’
‘Ah, I used to be their go-to handyman. His mum, bless her soul, was a great tipper. Infact, a very generous tipper, indeed. Then again, you’d need to be one to have a gargantuan house like theirs taken care of appropriately. ’
Two things struck almost simultaneously: Baron had lost his mother and the odds that she had been considerably affluent were very high. It begged a perfectly logical question: ‘But-’ I couldn’t quite put the rest of the sentence together.
‘But why is he panhandling?’ Gentle Gee finished the sentence. ‘Well-’ I detected a precautionary hesitation like he had given too much information. Then he shrugged, like what he was about to say was public knowledge. His voice took on a sad tone. ‘Four years ago, his parents and his big sister died from a freak accident that happened during their trip in the Safari. Talk about a trip with an epic disaster, hey? A few weeks after their burial, Baron flipped out. Went weird, just like that. Stopped attending university, stopped hanging out with his rich friends.’ Gentle Gee scratched his nose. ‘The second bit was a good decision, if you ask me. Spoilt, snubby brats, the lot of them. Word has it that he even shut out extended family. Sometime along that period, he started all these third person mode of communication affair. Gotta be some psychological coping mechanism, I think. I’ve been to see him a couple of times. Not sure why, but I think I’m the only one he allows around. Anyways, he now lives in the shed by the big house. I figure someone’s paying the taxes and bills to keep the house on its feet. Perhaps they hope he’ll pull through and regain control of his life. But the house looks like a ghost, since no one is occupying it. Poor Baron’s avoiding the big house like it’s cancer.’
If anyone understood that, it was me. Suddenly, my situation wasn’t so bad. I retraced my steps to a chair and sat down. I guessed I now understood Baron’s slight hesitation when he said some people had legitimate reasons for being in the business of panhandling.
‘You know Clarissa used to be his mother’s best friend. She is his godmother still. Baron used to be very close to her before that unfortunate incident. Now, the only generosity he accepts from her is limited to Christmas. She has no child of her own, you see? So it breaks the heart of the poor lady. I go to fix her house pipes sometimes and I can tell from the look in her whenever she asks after him. Probably why she buries herself in that charity of hers. Goes all over the world, that lady. But never mind.’
I wondered how he knew so much about Baron’s life when he was only a handyman. But I figured a question into that lane was of no consequence. Not now, at least. We didn’t say anything till Baron proceeded from the door. He seemed to have noticed the gloomy atmosphere. ‘Hey lads, why does this place, at this very hour, remind Baron of a graveyard?’ He chimed.
Gentle Gee saved the day. ‘He is all sore,’ he said looking in my direction.
‘Right.’ Baron’s voice had an edge of disbelief but he didn’t press further. ‘Do those microwaves still work?’
‘Tiptop condition, mate,’ Gentle Gee responded, then added as an afterthought: ‘Well, as much as you’d expect from the old machines.’
He is a banker and lives in Surulere.
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