Caryl Phillips - A Distant Shore

“Do you have anywhere to stay? Anybody that you’re supposed to meet?”

I felt momentarily ashamed, so I simply shook my head.

“Well, we’ll soon be near my lodgings. I can probably get you a bed for a day or so, then after that you can think about getting yourself sorted.”

I thanked him, and then I tried to imagine what he must be thinking of me. I was a grown man without a roof to cover my head, and I was travelling aimlessly and without a clear destination in my mind. This was shameful, for I was not a man who was used to being dependent upon other people. This pitiful situation made me feel quite miserable.

Mike stopped his lorry outside the final house on a quiet street that was lined with tall trees. The day was just beginning and I observed neatly dressed English children making their way to school. I was worried, for there was no reason why Mike’s comrades should accept this stranger into their lives. Mike knew nothing about me, and it appeared to me incorrect that he should be working so hard for this African. I followed him out of the lorry and down the short path of broken stones towards the large house. He did not reach into his pocket for a key, or knock on the door, he simply opened it. And then he shouted out, “Hello!” and he bent down to unlace his boots. I too began to unlace my useless shoes, but I was ashamed at their odorous condition. The necessary habit of decency was a part of my father’s teachings, and before England I was accustomed to many purifications and washings. To enter another man’s house in my unwashed state was to present myself as a poor ambassador for my people.

“Anybody at home?” Mike bellowed his question and it hurt my ears.

I walked with him down the carpeted corridor and into a kitchen where an elderly man was seated at a wooden table reading a newspaper. Before him there was a half-finished bowl of cereal. Standing by the sink, both hands fully submerged in soapy water, there was a small woman.

“I’ve brought a friend. He seems a bit down on his luck and I thought we might help him. Mum, Dad, this is Solomon.”

They both looked at me, and the woman smiled. The man pointed with his head towards a seat at the table.

“Well, sit down. We’ll get you some breakfast, then find you somewhere to put your stuff.” The man returned to reading his newspaper. It was a very large newspaper, and I noticed that he seemed to be experiencing some difficulty folding the paper into a proper shape. Curiously enough, this problem was occupying him more than the strangeness of a foreign person having crossed his threshold.

I sat down and looked around, and then almost immediately the woman placed a bowl of cereal before me and encouraged me to eat. My stomach received the cereal with joy, and as I ate Mike also took more food. And then the man put down his newspaper and climbed to his feet and announced that he must leave for work. Soon after this man’s sudden departure, Mike yawned and announced that he was in need of slumber. He squeezed my shoulder, then disappeared, leaving just the woman and myself in the kitchen. As the woman continued to wash dishes, she posed many questions about me, and where I was from, and what I desired to do with myself now that I was in England. Although my natural instinct was to trust nobody, there was something about this small elderly woman that made me feel safe. And so I told her about the pain of leaving my country, and the uncomfortable journey to England, and the difficulties of travelling on the boat. I told her that my greatest problem with England was that sometimes the weather was very cool, but now that I was in England I possessed a great desire to learn. To be educated. I told her that at home things are very, very bad. That the war has left people afraid, and they have nothing, and nobody wishes to remain there, but in England there is peace. In my country there is no peace, and the many griefs of the people do not appear to be wearing away. I told her nothing of Felix, or Amma, or my Uncle Joshua, or Bright; I told her nothing of how my heart bled at these partings; I told her nothing of the temptation of the poor girl, who was one of the most abandoned of her species, and who presented the opportunity to debase myself and simply gratify a passion of nature; I told her nothing of Said, or prison, where I was never condemned to make recompense, for I was innocent of any crime; I told her nothing of Katherine, who had helped me to overcome some of the fear that arose from my ignorance of the ways of English people. I told her nothing of Hawk. I told her nothing of Gabriel. I told her my name was Solomon and that I needed to acquire papers so that I could work and remain in England. I told her that I had no other country. The woman wiped her hands on a towel, and then she prepared a pot of tea. She sat down next to me, and for some moments she lost herself in contemplation. When she returned to my company she poured two cups of tea.

“You’ll have to be processed, Solomon, and it will have to be done properly. Dad and I have never done this, but we know people who can help. In the meantime you can stay here. I think you’re eligible for vouchers.”

I told her that I had no money, but she laughed and told me that the vouchers were a form of money. She informed me that there was a method whereby a person might exchange them for food or other supplies. Incredibly enough, this did not mark the conclusion of her glad tidings. She told me that a local council would pay for my board and lodgings, and that it was possible that her husband might assist me, should I decide to search for some manner of unofficial work. I looked at the woman and attempted to fathom her motives. Would she and her husband receive some special reward? If so, then I would not begrudge them their bounty, for my sole desire was to be safe in England. If these were bad people, then I would undoubtedly discover my fate at some later stage, but at this moment I was too overcome with fatigue to think any further, and the woman could see this. She stood up.

“There’s a spare room next to Mike’s. It’s not very big, but you can take it.”

The room was small, but very comfortable. However, I could not sleep without suffering bad dreams in which my own mother and father appeared before me with stern faces, warning me of unfortunate events that were sure to blight my life should I choose to remain among these people. I begged my parents to share with me their knowledge of these ill tidings, but whenever they appeared to be about to bless me with an answer, I would wake from my slumber shaking with consternation. I would look around the strange room and once more have to make the attempt to understand where I was, and remember by what means I had arrived there, and only after I calmed down was I able to re-embrace sleep. But sadly, I would once again find myself tossing and turning, for it appeared that my dreams were permanently cursed with the accusatory faces of my parents, who were clearly racked with anxiety over the plight of their “lost” Gabriel. When the woman came into the room and took my arm, I quickly sprang to my defence. However, I was immediately sorry for I could see that I had alarmed her. She held a cup in her hand, which she set down on the bedside table.

“I’ve brought you this cup of strong coffee.” She paused and turned to look at me. “And it’ll soon be time for your dinner. Dad’ll be home any minute, and Mike’s already awake.” She pointed to a towel that was neatly folded and draped over the armchair near the door. “I’ve put a towel over there for you, and the bathroom’s out the door to the right. Take your time, no rush.”

I watched her leave the room. Somewhere, in the distance, I could hear music, and then it was replaced by the sound of bells, and then I heard a man’s voice reading the news. It was all very confusing. I reached over and enjoyed a mouthful of the strong coffee.