The Talented Mr Thomas

I am not exactly sure why I am reminiscing about so many childhood friends. Maybe because I am all alone out here in the deserts of the Inland Empire. Or maybe because I never made any other friends since I grew up. Or maybe because I was a lot happier in my younger days. Maybe its all of the above. I hesitate to search for the answer in case I do not like what I find.

Thomas' story is a tragedy. A tragedy as defined by the perception of a society shaped by conformity and material success. To trivialize Thomas' existence would be to label him as a "god damned good for nothing bi-sexual alcoholic". I didn't see Thomas under that light. It annoyed me at times when my peers often judged him that way. There are human beings that come into this world well equipped for life. Some are inadequate from the start. Thomas was the former.

As young boys in our early to late teens Thomas stood out. Most of us were of average ability. He was always a little better than everyone else in whatever we did. Thomas was also a creative being I now realize, but nobody really thought much of it. He was always making little trinkets. Arts and crafts was in his blood. He was a handsome Samoan boy blessed with a mythological polynesian physique. Very talented in physical activity and very talented in creative activity. Thomas also had effeminate qualities. A quality which in some weird way was present in a lot of boys from his family.

Thomas' father was an alcoholic. An artistic man who had a business selling clothing with island prints. He was an imposing figure and a strict disciplinarian. But he had a weakness and it was the drink. He was a tall slim man with a protruding stomach from years of alcohol consumption. It finally led to his death after being diagnosed with diabetes.

Thomas was equally artistic. If not more. Whatever it is that required skill and attention to detail, Thomas would excel at it. He made beautiful jewelry, sculptures, clothing, etc. He was also an excellent dancer and entertainer. He can basically take anything, fool around with it and made it better. We would be sitting under a tree and he would be looking around then suddenly furnish a necklace from shit lying around. Or pick up a piece of driftwood on the beach and make something nice out of it. One day I needed a haircut and he just took a comb and a pair of scissors and did it. He was my hairdresser from that day on.

Years had passed and adulthood started to set in. I realized he stopped going to school and he never really held down a consistent paying job. He just did not fit that mold. He was not one of those people that got up in the morning, went to work, and at the end of the day came home. Its like he started to spend his life wandering around. Then came the alcohol addiction. Everything started to spiral out of control from there.

Thomas got involved in the party scene. He would congregate with all the other wanderers and drink beer or home brew. He socialized with whores, prostitutes and fafafine. Basically anywhere he could find the next drink. He started to display addict tendencies. He didn't mind being the whipping boy of any party as long as he got to drink. There was also something different about Thomas. It was rumored that he dabbled in homosexual acts.

One day out of the blue I heard Thomas was moving to Australia. He met some guy whom I assume was gay, and decided to take Thomas back with him. I am not sure what the nature of the relationship was but it was enough for Thomas to pack up and leave. He was gone for the most part of two years until he returned. I never really asked him what he did in Australia. He mentioned it one day while were sitting under a big tree infront of my house shooting the breeze. He was telling me how he was sent back to Samoa by this man that took him because he found out about him and a girl. I wondered if maybe he had found love. He told of a few other indiscretions as he sipped his beer and gazing into the distance. I didn't want to hear it.

I had been gone from home for over six years. On my visit back I went to look for him. I knocked at his door and a little kid said he was at the house next door. I walked over and called out his name. He turned around and when he saw me he smiled. He was drunk. It was only the middle of the day. He was very frail and had some facial scarring. I am not very sure he fully comprehended the situation. Either he was too inebriated or a recent beating he got while on one of his binges was starting to affect his sanity. I was deeply saddened by his appearance. He had well and truly assumed the reputation of the village drunk. And in true addict sense he was more interested in whether I had any cash. I had bought him some nice American cargo pants and t-shirts. Somehow I feel he may have bartered them off.

Thomas can not be saved. He is now a full fledged alcoholic and addict. Has been for many years. Its his escape. When you find that place of comfort in your head you're not so inclined to easily give it up. In some ways he is a big disappointment to me. My father once told me that talent and clever alone is not a guarantee to success. Its also putting in the work. I would also like to add "choices" to that mix. Thomas made all the wrong choices a man could make. But given his surroundings I am not sure he had any other than to succumb to the inevitable. Regardless of how the world sees him now, to me he will always be the Talented Mr Thomas.

Mad Mike

Mike's real name was Ueligitone. Mike was an American name he acquired while working for the tuna canneries in American Samoa. When he returned back to Western Samoa everybody started calling him by his American name Mike. I once asked him why the fuck he got the name Mike and he said, "Well if I ever happen to get into trouble and people say it was Mike. I would say I don't know who Mike is. My name is Ueiligitone". Smart and twisted I guess.

Mike was an interesting character to say the least. He lived in the portion of our village referred to as LA. I lived in the area referred to as the Jungle. LA begun off a dusty turnoff near the main road opposite a Mormon church. There was nothing glitzy about this LA. Miles from Hollywood some might say. It looked more like the shanty towns of Kingston Jamaica. Whenever a car took the LA turn off, hoards of children and dogs would run out onto the dusty road and follow the vehicle. Most of the children were half naked and covered with open sores. Many also had blackened teeth. Just off that dusty road was Mike's family home. A big tin roofed modern fale in the front, two smaller living fales behind it, and a umukuka (kitchen). Mike's shack was a small box looking addition attached to the umukuka. Mike's shack was lined with Bob Marley posters, drawings of marijuana leaves and semi nude photos of women cut from magazines. There were also car speaker wires run in all directions in his room all leading to an old tape recorder unit where Mike would queue his music. Not a shabby pad by LA standards. Mike was an old village buddy of mine.

Mike is not your typical Samoan well-disciplined christian teenager. He absolutely loved to drink and party. He smoked cigarettes and marijuana like a chimney. Ironically, he still looked athletic and loved to play sports. He was gifted with genes that could have made him a professional athlete. Instead he loved to drink and had a penchant for oral sex from fafafine. He absolutely loved fafafine palagi men from overseas that would come to Samoa and act as sugar daddy's. Anywhere Mike could get the next beer he would follow. Apart from the company he kept, I never sensed any homosexual tendencies from him. All of us around him would joke that he's gay but other than the fact he likes to be blown, he behaved like a regular guy. Hard to put a label on that one.

I thought about Mike because he came up in a topic of conversation with an old friend not too long ago. Since we had all grown up and moved on, Mike migrated to Auckland NZ and was working odd jobs here and there. Apparently old Mike was still up to his old vices. Then tragedy struck. Mike was involved in a murder case. He was involved in a beating where a man was killed outside a church social and as it turns out, Mike was convicted and sentenced to life in prison. The rumors were that it was his older brother from Samoa who committed the murder and Mike carried the blame. The brother was only visiting and had a family back in Samoa. Mike was, well still Mike.

Years had passed. Here and there I spared a thought for Mike. Prison is no place to spend any part of your life and I had hoped he would cope okay. Then recently an old friend told me that Mike has been released on parole. For some reason that was the best news I heard that day. Whether he committed those acts or not I don't know for sure. But what I do know is that at one point he was someone I considered a friend and was there when I needed a favor. I will not judge him for his sins. I will just root for his redemption.