Four years ago, he was a successful businessman at the peak of his career. Then the financial crisis. Then the fall from grace to a pauper. Incompetent management of his finances brought him here, he says. Things he
had once taken for granted now he pray to be given.
I wouldn’t have found him had I not gone for a nighttime stroll by the lake. Two burly guy decided to mug me since I looked vulnerable. Indeed, I had to fight tooth and nail to get out of the mess, and yet that wasn’t enough. Until he came to my rescue.
Mr. Alan, his name was. A shame to his ancestors, he says, not revealing his family name.
Paradoxical, it was. To live in an elite residential compound with a poor, homeless man a mere 100 metres away.
I looked at my diary and found this entry:
It was a night when the full moon was beginning to take shape. The birthday of an up-and-rising doctor; how fitting. All friends from each part of the country converged to celebrate the day of his birth.
Excellently done so. Pails were filled with eggs and detergent and all kinds of syrup. Just the kind of stuff you’d pick up in the mart and wouldn’t even bother about the price, you see. Definitely fun pouring it on a person.