The following is a short story written by Joshua Spencer. It should not be reproduced, copied or transcribed in any way but by the written consent of Joshua Spencer. Thanks.

This story is fictitious and was written in January of 1983. Though it may depict a typical situation in a poor, rural setting in Jamaica, it should not be used to  generalize or confuse the standard of living in Jamaica on a whole . In fact, the standard of living is very high and compared with, even surpasses those of the so-called first world nations by a significant numbers of the minority. 

 

                                The Lost Fortune.

                                                By Joshua Spencer.

It was Saturday morning. The sun had just begun to rise and its colourful rays had been slowly edging their way through the clouds as they became thinner and thinner and seemed to disappear leaving a pure and clear blue sky. They fell upon two structures which turned out to be an old house and kitchen. As the sky became less cloudy and the sun brighter, the old weathered shingles with patches of zinc throughout various parts of its length , could clearly be seen. The verandah was shaky in looks and the pile of stones that connected the entrance of the verandah to the outside of the house, seemed to have been done by the hands of slaves many, many centuries ago.

 

The smoke that was springing from the kitchen seemed to have been produced from real pimento wood or perhaps guava, but it could have been nothing less. As the smoke came through the thatched kitchen roof, it immediately disappeared amongst the many trees which fenced both house and kitchen, forming an arc.

 

On the verandah sat an old lady, on an old wooden bench, the only piece of furniture that the verandah possessed. She was combing her grey hair, the numerous wrinkles that covered her dark, round face depicted vengeance.

 

In the kitchen, preparing the first meal of the day was her fourteen year old grandson. “Ricky, a think you spending too much time in the kitchen! You know dat de sun is high up in de sky an’ you have fe go sell t’ings at de market.” The old lady was firm despite the squeakiness in her voice.

 

A moment later the boy appeared on the verandah with a calabash containing coffee and half of a roasted breadfruit with salt. “Here, grandma,” Ricky said as he handed his grandma’s breakfast to her.

 

He then rushed around the back of the old broken down structure and returned with a basket on his head. It had yam, pumpkin and other ground provisions. Ricky always goes to the market on a Saturday to sell food stuff to acquire some money for the maintenance of his grandma and himself. Although he had never complained, he did not enjoy doing such casual tasks and always wanted to move out of his humble state.

 

“Bye, grandma,” Ricky said as he started to leave for the market.

 

“Ricky, look at those feet! Go and wash them. You are too blasted nasty!” Her voice did not sound very squeaky now but more like that of an officer in the army.

 

The young man took the basket from his head without talking back or reacting rudely to his grandma and went  to get his feet washed. He soon returned and lifted the basket to his head. He did not say goodbye this time. Perhaps because he had already done so, or probably he was ashamed. He held his head somewhat in an inclined position as he left the yard. He might have hung his head lower than he did but the load prevented him from doing so.

 

The journey from his home to the market was approximately five miles. Today the sun was very hot and so he stopped several times to rest. After resting for a few times he decided that he would make a final stop as the market was only about half a mile away now. As Ricky was about to stop to rest something strange happened. There was something in the road, right there before him, that was very blinding. He did not know what it was at first but one thing he was certain of was that it was capable of reflecting light. He hurriedly took the load from his head and curiously went toward the reflecting object. Upon seeing the object, Ricky could hardly believe his eyes. He blinked them about a thousand times and then grabbed up the piece of expensive metal. He had actually found a piece of expensive gold. He was overjoyed. In a flash of a second all sorts of things began to pass through his mind. He was sure that his grandma and himself were going to be wealthy permanently. He lifted the basket to his head and allowed it to resume its previous position.

 

On the rest of the way to the market, he thought of all he would attain from his piece of precious metal. First of all, after returning home from the market, he would sell the metal to a jeweller in a nearby township. Having received this sum, he would go into cattle rearing. In a few months’ time of course, he would be able to build his grandma and himself a decent house. The house they were living in would be abandoned!

 

Ricky reached the market in high spirit. As he sold the many customers he was celebrating as this would be his last day in such casual and humble engagements. He held the piece of gold in his left hand as he used his right hand to sell, receive money and make change. He finally decided to poke it into his pocket.

 

Everything seemed to have been in his favour that day, apart from the insult his grandma had previously handed him. Normally, it would have taken him a very long time to sell all he had or he would even have to take back home some of the stuff. Today was different. In less than two hours miracle had been created on earth once again and Ricky had sold off everything and probably had he got two more baskets he would have sold them just the same.

 

He picked up his empty basket and made for home- to inform his grandma of his fortune. This time he took all the possible “short cuts” that he could have found. Ricky was to be disappointed. As he reached his yard, though very exhausted, he shuffled in his pocket to produce the gold to show his grandma. The gold was not there. He pulled the pocket inside out to make sure but the only thing he found there was a hole large enough for a piece of precious metal to pass through. His grandma had seen him searching the pocket. She had also seen the disappointment and paleness on his face.

 

"What is it Ricky?" she queried. The question had come too late. There was no reply. Ricky had fainted.