The lizard, the drunk men and love..

Two beady eyes are staring at me as I eat the dessert. There is some new thing going on with the lizards, that as soon as I have a small bowl and spoon , I see the eyes looking at me, without moving. One, sometimes two.

How the hell do they know? The lizard dung is on my papers, on the phone, on the computer sometimes.

I am about to get up to take the bowl into the kitchen and I see the graceful brown head turn. What the hell.. let me put down the bowl and watch the lizard come and lick the remains.

I am not unselfishly loving  because I have a secret desire that that the Universe will reward me with the flexibility of the lizard as I feed it and clean the dung from all over the possessions.

Selfish love is also a motivation too as I am grateful for the opportunity to do some good work with the medical outreach team. I know there is no  making up for the bad things but the secret desire is there that things will balance out somehow.

There is a rule that drunk people, people under the influence of alcohol cannot be treated because it makes no sense especially if they do not understand the medications and so. Some could be disruptive. There is also a hope that in the many coolie villages where alcohol makes money, that there could be one place which people could respect as alcohol free.

The rain poured the morning of the outreach.

The man was balding, dirty green shirt, short greyish green pants, white boots. Slumped in the chair, head and eyes down. I asked his name and the blast of the fumes nearly knocked me out.

I felt the anger boiling up. I did not listen to the name.

'You drunk, you aint need no other medicine'

A blast of fumes which make me feel sick. 
'I would not lie to you, I drink this morning'

'But you cannot get treatment if you have liquor in your system'

'I know, but I have this problem on my foot'

I ask the other guys. They tell him,  you know you can't drink and come to the doctor.

At some point we decide, okay.. he here already. It would be an ointment, not internal medication if anything. The doctor would decide.

The anger is there,  but thanks to years of masking , I wrote as he spelled his name. A Muslim name. He smiles as he spells the whole name. The dead yellow eyes light up a bit.

"My father was Muslim and my mother was Hindu'  .

The fumes come out.  I wonder if there are other diseases here. I could mask the rage, but I decided not to mask my face.

I wanted to cuss him as others might have done even though there is a futility in cussing drunk people, to ask what the hell would they think about you now.

'Is Ramadan, why you drinking den?"

The voice is soft. The words are well formed. Educated sounding (as we use language to decide who is educated and who is not)

"I am not a Muslim." Smile gets up more. "I like Muslim women though"

He gets up and moves off. We talk about alcohol, and drunk people. The man is looking at me.. reading my lips as I talk about him. There is a kind of despair on the face which seems beyond alcohol. The man looks ashamed and hurt.

Something happens, and I can't feel rage any more. I feel bad for cussing him up.

The second man comes. Shirt , short pants, rubber slippers. Grey hair, grey beard. Eyes glassy. Head up though and smiling. The blast comes again as he gives his name.

'You drink this morning... '

'Yeah, I aint gun lie to yuy.. I tek two shots..'

'Well you know, you cant get treatment if you drunk'

'Man, please. I got this back pain and bun stomach and this cold'

"But like you dun tek yuh medicine, rum does help dem ting?"

I record his age. 45, same as me.
I tell him 'Wait, wait you and me is same age' .. shock at the difference.

He laughs, 'what month are you.. I am May 1971' . The fumes again.

I say.. man, you younger than me.

I want to say go home and sober up and go and see the doctor next day.

One of the guys comes over.. we make the joke.. you know you can't mix gramazone wid white rum.

The man laughs and says nah.

He collects the registration. He leaves , and he comes back to me.

The blast of fumes again as he leans over. 'Man, I think I got piles'

I say , tell the doctor everything. Don't shame.  but you know rum don't help that either.

He look at me.

After he collects the medication , he comes back to say, everything arite. He smiling and happy. My belly feeling the fumes. I don't tell him anything about the drinking.


The man has a serious face. Cap. Short pants, rubber slippers, oversized shirt. There is a style , something similar about these guys. Face is set.

He has to sit next to me to do the registration. The whiff comes out.

I ask 'when did you drink'.. a woman passing hears me asking and says 'all de time'..

The man has perfect teeth. He is not smiling though. No conversation. I take his name and so.

I find myself putting my arm on the back of his chair, like if I want to embrace him. 'You know if you drink , it aint gun mek sense' 

He doesn't say anything. Face is set.

I give him the registration form.




The last drunk man says he is 35 years.
"When did you drink?"

He looks straight at me "I am under the influence of alcohol'.

He looks like he would hit me if I say anything about it.



"Dis malaria like it got a hold pun me'

I say.. well man, malaria medication don't wuk wid rum...

He looks at me like he doesn't give a damn what I think and takes the registration form and goes.

I cuss up a man I know about the alcohol and coolie people and Hindus. The man says.. what can we do? There is nothing we can do... you have to shut down Banks DIH and DDL first.


The Central Housing and Planning Authority wants to restrict the number of places selling liquor.(Stabroek News June 26 2016)   The Minster of Social Protection has told them there is no data to correlate alcohol consumption with social issues, and told them to get research done.


Nothing can be done perhaps except loving the drunk men, the liquor industry, CH&PA, the Minister who don't think alcohol is a problem.

Or maybe just love the lizard.