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An Unfortunate Encounter
—27 March 2025
A ragamuffin mob surrounded me
whilst on an errand, walking in the street.
They pressed in close, they vied to shake my hand,
distracting me—the foreigner. Then one
covertly lit a firecracker and
he dropped it in a pocket of the bag
upon my back. They jeered, they squealed with joy
on hearing the explosion’s loud report.
Away they ran—yet I had work to do.
The damage, sometime later, I perused:
a shop receipt seared black, a sulphurous smell,
a powder-speckled phone, but, oh, that stink—
it spurred me on to track the beggars down.
Still playing in the sandy roads, they laughed
to see me, till they recognised my ire.
I trailed them to the hovels when they fled,
rude wooden cabins where their mums and dads
eked out a life of poverty, now made
the poorer for my revelations of
their sons’ misdeeds; and once I’d left came sounds
of smacks and yelps. I wondered if my act
of reckoning had served a greater good.
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Paul A. Freeman is the author of Rumours of Ophir, a crime novel which was taught in Zimbabwean high schools and has been translated into German. In addition to having two novels, a children’s book and an 18,000-word narrative poem (Robin Hood and Friar Tuck: Zombie Killers!) commercially published, Paul is the author of hundreds of published short stories, poems and articles.
The “board of education” did wonders for our learning experiences way back when. There is more than one way to get retribution as your poem suggests, and it was done without your own direct physical actions. There is wisdom to be learned here.
Mauritanians are still much affected by the perception of them by their neighbours, no matter how poor they may be. It’s a great governing factor in their lives that makes the country virtually crime free.
Good poem, Paul. The narrator did the right thing. Surprised and glad there wasn’t more damage.
The smell in my bag has virtually gone. The sulfurous smell can linger.
Occasionally, a kid will shout ‘boom, boom’ from afar, but the incident basically cemented my place as part of the neighbourhood rather than me being a distant foreigner.
I like the nuance at the end – your realization that showing up at those homes may not have done any real good; rather, just highlighted the poverty the parents were already aware of.
At the time it did seem to be a bit pointless, but in the long run my human reaction humanised me and made me part of the neighbourhood. Mauritania is relatively isolated, so the general population rarely comes into contact with anyone outside of West Africa.
Paul, you give a clear description of the rude incident, but the emotion of the whole lies in the perceptive observation that childish misdeeds make the parents’ life of poverty the poorer. The parents in this case, however, realized they could afford an effort to give their sons moral compass. Stronger parents are richer when they take up responsibility, and the wealth may even be passed down to corrected children. That’s the greater good that could have been served–and thus it’s certainly a better response for the victim of the firecracker attack. He gave the parents an opportunity to make use of the authority they owned, which is doubly better than any little act of vengeance against the juveniles.
It’s been a month since the fire-cracker incident, and now I can laugh about it. I think part of my reaction was that of being an outside and perhaps appearing to be a valid target by kids because of it.
Great poem. There is hope for these ragamuffins (great word BTW). They have moms and dads who seem to take their kids’ behavior seriously. A painful lesson for the kids, but one that should keep bearing fruit.
I think I was a bit shocked because corporal punishment is no longer part of our DNA in the West.
Hi Paul~If you ever taught on the southside of Chicago, you would learn quite quickly that being corporeal IS indeed part of the DNA of the US. Teachers in ghetto schools practice it openly. It was horrific to witness! . But they even said that is the “only “way you can control a student.And these were teachers of color, not white teachers. I remember reading , “The Little Match Girl”to a class of second graders. One little girl shouted with joy…she really was touched by the story. Her teacher came in, got a yard stick and promptly beat her legs and her rear end. Like you, I was almost set on fire totally, by some boys that were 11 years of age ,passing me on the street, They passed by and I breathed a sigh of relief! Till I heard the sound of them being lit, add the smell of sulfur,, Unlike, you, had no way to contact parents,I don’t know if there is discipline anymore. Our value for human life has worsened worldwide! When children are born to mass kill with a bomb in their jacket.? I don’t know what the world is coming to..
Patricia
Touch wood, my kids all have a strong moral compass, which I give thanks for. Here in West Africa, where I live (the picture accompanying this piece may be a bit misleading), the incident I’m recalling is a great rarity, which is probably why it affected me so much. I do know from my brother, however, who taught in an inner London school for a very short time, how stressful and soul-destroying it can be teaching in deprived areas.
Thanks for reading and commenting.