The Arrival Of The Stranger
`teflon`, 11 июля 2013 г., 3:56

It was late in the afternoon on a public holiday in the city of Accra and country Ghana. I had little work to do at home so I decided therefore to visit my bestfriend, Edmund. When I got to his house, he was watching television, so I joined him. No sooner had l settled down than the door to the living room was suddenly flung open and a weird-looking man was standing excitedly between us and the television set.

The stranger was very tall, dark in complexion and robust with a bushy moustache. He had a long big cigar between his fingers and seemed to be bubbling with energy. Yes bubbling with energy. Again, he was expensively dressed.

My friend and I were stuck in awe when in a thunderous voice, this stranger asked for Edmund's father, Mr. Thompson. His arrival had attracted  Edmund's mother's attention and she was in the room just in time to save the situation. Edmund's mum told the stranger that her husband was at his office and would be informed by phone about his arrival. What impressed me was that Edmund's mum was calm and seemed unperturbed by the stranger's presence. She offered him a seat, served coffee and left to continue her cooking in the kitchen.

The stranger drank his coffee, looked restless and kept pacing at the floor, looking closely at anything that caught his attention that is, from hanging portraits to pieces of artifacts. Meanwhile, he whistled oddly in a rather uncomprehensive manner. Then he began moving from room to room as if he owned the house or was part of the household. Occasionally, he would remark that things had surely changed within this short time, all of which was meaningless to me. The stress under which I found myself while this was going on could only be imagined.

It was a great relief when we heard Mr. Thompson's car approaching home. It seemed like we had been waiting for ages for him to come throw this monster out of the house. When Mr. Thompson entered the living room, he stared blankly at the stranger for a few minutes then his eyes suddenly brightened up as he recognised the stranger. They both shouted excitedly, shaking hands vigorously, embraced affectionately and danced around the big living room with great joy. I looked on with utter amazement and bewilderment while this drama was unfolding.

The two men disappeared into Mr. Thompson's study and returned about thirty minutes time. The stranger was identified as Mr. Thompson's younger brother, Wilson, who had gone to Britain twenty years earlier in search for greener pastures. During those years, there had been no correspondence or good interpersonal relationship between them and moreover he had returned unexpectedly.

After a few days of  interaction with the stranger, I found how cheerful, loving and jovial my friend's uncle was. My evil thoughts of the stranger warded off since I got to know who he really was.

Author: Me

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