More Thoughts About The Bleeding Man
[Raw notes transcript]
It wasn’t like that. I saw the man first. The man looked as if he’d slathered bright red paint all over his leg. He sat there, staring at it, and so was I. Why would he do such a thing?
The blood came later. I mentioned it first by dramatic licence and perhaps because it left such a lasting impression. There wasn’t much of it at first. Smeared footprints on the pavement which made me think that perhaps he was bleeding. That wasn’t paint on his leg. Then there was that puddle of glistening coagulated mess that looked nothing like blood. Nothing like the pools of red satin you see in the movies. It looked like somebody had spilled their guts onto the street.
What? Another?
No,it couldn’t be.
Was there a butcher’s shop nearby? Not that they’d just toss out their offal here.
All these thoughts were racing through my head as realisation dawned of what had actually happened and how serious it was.
I didn’tturn back. Not my place, not my place, I kept thinking as I hurried on
I once found a puppy in the street, with its guts spilling out. I left it, and what was worse, told its owner that I hadn’t seen it when he asked.
In hindsight, I can envisage exactly what I should have done, complete with a concise summary for the emergency services. Just like the movies. But how many untrained people act like that in real life?
There were no flaps of skin hanging from the man’s calf, no deep cuts, no bone. The wound was clean. It looked as if someone had taken a scalpel to him.
Come to think of it, that is probably what happened.
The clear margins told me an awful more than I wanted to know. Somebody did this and then put him out on the street for all to see. A warning. They skinned him alive—just his calf—and let him live to repay whatever debt or favour he owed.
You can’t blame me for not walking around alone at night in Port of Spain.
Tags: Americas, Port of Spain, Trinidad, Violence, Tag Index
Denni