Thursday, February 24, 2011

The Lion and the Snake


Picture by W. Ruocco

In 1993 my wife, then fiance and I moved from South Florida to Atlanta, we were still in our twenties and both worked for national companies. We lived in Atlanta for 6 years before moving back to Florida, the sun and surf much too alluring to ignore. The following incident is true, names have been changed for obvious reasons.

The company I worked for had hired foreign students from Africa and parts of the Middle East as part of a work experience program, there were about 10-12 mostly men ranging in age from 21 to 35 and most of them spoke enough English to get by, one of them made the hairs on the back of my neck stick up.
His name was Dekri, he was roughly my age although when spoken to he refused to offer any information about himself, only telling his name and where he was born. Dekri was cold, dark and creepy.
This was the first time I had any contact with Muslims and I had no preconceived notions of them, remember this is Atlanta, Georgia in 1993. Their manners and demeanor were pleasant and I quickly was welcomed with open arms into their small world. Their home away from home, one foreigner to another-bar one.

Being foreign In America is not easy, being foreign in the south is a pain in the ass at times and having the power to destruct verbal bullshit stops many a street fight. If I had a buck for every time some hillbilly told me "You talk funny" I could retire right now, having tough skin sometimes is not enough, sometimes blood boils slowly.

Dekri was obviously the leader of this small group, he was the behind the scenes organizer and taskmaster. He often berated some of them in Arabic and none of them ever talked back to him. Some of  the American workers had decided to go on a verbal rampage about foreigners, the same old tired lines of foreigners taking "Their" jobs and "How come and American did not get hired but this foreign student did" And let's not forget this classic "How come they get a break to pray five times a day?" Same old shit different day. The fact of the matter was the students were on extremely low wages and spent most of their time studying and yes praying as their culture demanded. Ever heard of live and let live?

One particular afternoon the tension between the domestics and the foreigners was so tense that knives would dull at the attempt to cut it. I was in the middle - American fiance, American schooling, and no desire to subdue anyone's culture. I always though that America was the world's melting pot and myself as just another ingredient, no better than anyone else. Dekri and an American named Will started arguing about foreign policy and this and that and how America is being ruined by foreigners. Will turned to me and said "Not you, you are a good foreigner." My response  "Hooray for me, can't wait to run home and tell my dad that I made the good foreigner team, you asshole"

This exchange was taking place on the loading docks, isolated from the public and management. The argument quickly exploded and I was in the middle now being accused by Dekri as a traitor to my country and how it was a mistake to be friends with Americans. Few words will draw me into battle but at age 25 -
traitor to my country was on the list.


Dekri's new mouthpiece was named Abet, he was fueled with Dekri's rage and hate and I was now his target. As a boy growing up in Scotland in the 70's fighting was expected almost mandatory and I had both taken and given my share of beatings. Most men know about fight or flight, judging ones opponent in a flash determines the outcome of hands being thrown and blood spilled. I gave Abet a final warning about the words he chose to qualify my existence and he spat in my face.

The tale of the tape said that I had him beat, I had 3 inches and 20 pounds on him. To me he looked like a broomstick wearing clothes, skinny little bastard was about to get the beating of his life.

He hurdled back almost comically after my first punch, but bounced back to face me again. My left hook to his jaw created a smack and a cry from Abet and he stayed on his feet just in time for another straight punch to the face. Blood spilled from his nose, his right eye blackened from my fists, Abet lunged at me and I threw him off,  he landed on a pile of wooden pallets in the corner. My blood boiled with rage, I jumped on top of him and with my knee pressed into his chest leaving him unable to move, I pounded his face over and over until I was pulled from his motionless body. Abet looked like a rag doll thrown about by a rabid dog, he cried like a child and was attended to by his fellows except Dekri. I was escorted from the building and sent home for the day.

Abet never returned to the job, no one knew what happened to him. I asked Dekri if he was alright and he said nothing. I look back at that moment in my life and what I see is Dekri standing on the docks manipulating Abet to fight me. Was this a test for Abet from Dekri? did Abet have to do this as an initiation to something bigger? I look back and only wish to apologise to Abet, he had no fight in him, I hope he survived Dekri's command and is safe where ever he is.

Since that day I have not laid my hands on another man,  I have not been challenged to the point of hands being thrown again, luckily the previous incident did not involve time behind bars. Lucky.
A few nights back I woke in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, I had dreamt of Dekri and Abet and the beating. 18 years after the incident something still haunts me,  how Dekri the master manipulator provoked the American and drew in Scotsman who provided the beating. Out of all of them I was the one in the hot seat. I remember Dekri standing alone while I was being escorted out, his boney fingers running through his greasy thin beard, the smugness on his face as if his plan had come to fruition.

I thought of Dekri the entire night and into the next day, the image of his face angered me, violent thoughts took over my soul and I wished he was standing before me now. I decided to write this because all those years after the beating I felt remorse and sadness for Abet, he was a tool, the type of tool that may have ended up in some shithole holding and AK-47 because people like Dekri told him to.

To Dekri,
I doubt that our paths will ever cross and I know if our eyes were forced to meet you would remember me. I am the Scotsman who beat your countryman, but you are the one responsible for his pain. My fists pounded his face but your hatred damaged his soul. Abet was your puppet and you his puppet master. I hope he broke the stronghold you had on him as well as the others you commanded, you are a pathetic excuse for a man, you stood in the corner as your friend was thrashed; any man would assist his friend in that situation but you stood idly bye. Fair warning to you Dekri, fair warning that if we ever meet again it will be you and you alone that will take a well deserved beating. Keep your fucking head on a swivel.
The Scotsman from 1993.
Nemo Me Impune Lacessit - Wha Daur Meddle Wi' Me






23 comments:

  1. you captured on an individual scale the great games of chess that are played with human lives by politicians, dictators, presidents, and prime ministers... sadly, i think at some level, we're all tools.

    a tale well told, mr. fingers....

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  2. Ghosts from the past. With all the upheaval in the world today, it's no wonder this surfaced and woke you in the night. And you are very right to place the blame on Dekri, little dictator that he was then. I hope this post brings you some closure on this issue, my friend. You're a good man with a conscience and your heart's in the right place. xoxo

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  3. Cool sculpture, by the way. I like. :-)

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  4. Ponita - There is a certain person on the "Most wanted" list that is the spitting image of Dekri.
    I like your line - Ghosts from the past.
    I would have made a great title.
    Cheers, Sausage...
    and sunshine cuz I know you need some, eh.

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  5. That's some post, Sausage. And many thanks for the mouse mat - it arrived today. It's braw!

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  6. Mike - YES it made it through customs...
    Now I am famous in Edinburgh
    Cheers, Sausage...

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  7. Well, as I mentioned previously, this is one of the most compelling things I've read in a long time. It makes me wish I had stood my ground more when I was younger. All too often, I surrendered and turned my back when I should have walked straight ahead.

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  8. an incredibly poignant post, mister fingers! incredibly powerful, as well - yes, we are all puppets at some time or other i think - with politicians, educators, "the system" [whichever one it may be] - puppets - but strings, by their nature, can and must be broken - your conscience speaking to you so many years later witness to that -

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  9. Brilliant post Baj. Miss you brother!

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  10. UB - thanks again. I also turned away many times with regret, this time I did not.

    Gypsy - The puppet masters pulling the strings of their puppets. Brains over brawn.

    G. Lenny - I am the leader of the Daddy Commandos.
    Heres tae us.....
    miss you too brother, keep the homeland safe while we are away.

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  11. One of the best posts I've read in a long time mate. Unfortunately there are guys like Dekri in every level of society from the scumbags hiding in Afghani caves sending their brainwashed followers to do their dirty work, right through to the bully at school who makes so many young lives unbearable.

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  12. Ryan, thanks for the comment. The story is true and I did think of Abet and whatever happened tae the lad, I do hope he made it out alive.
    Cheers, Sausage...

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  13. Well, as they say, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. The guilt of our actions seems to follow us around, doesn't it? Whether we at the time felt in the right or not, reflection chains the guilt to the event in our hearts. But I'll cheer you on when you ever meet Dekri again.

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  14. Fragrant - thanks for the comment.
    If I see him again, I will be blogging from jail.

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  15. Ah! What a story, SF!

    And now you've got me wondering: what happened to Abet? Perhaps more importantly, however: Where the hell is Dekri?

    Pearl

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  16. Pearl - Hopefully Abet is somewhere safe raising his bairns, as for Dekri - six feet under!!
    Cheers, Sausage...

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  17. Hats off to you that you have never beaten anyone since and I hope that if you ever saw that scheming Dekri again you would rise above it and not sully your hands with so despicable a creature.

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  18. Pat - A true test that would be since my entire being has thought of his face smashed under the weight of the sausage fingers and fists. In 2011 one would most likely be jailed for such violence, but would it be worth it? - Aye it would
    cheers, Sausage...

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  19. You can take the man out of Scotland.....

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  20. Jimmy - aye it's true once in the blood, forever in the blood.
    Cheers...

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  21. This gave me chills for some reason!

    (Okay, I admit it--I love a good fight.) This really makes me sound like I advocate violence...just going to leave now on the note that this post was really powerful!

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  22. Boobies (Best name ever)
    Thanks, I guess after all these years I hoped that Abet is alright and not six feet under
    Cheers, Sausage...

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  23. That happened a long time ago. Had it happened today, you probably wouldn't have gone unpunished. Sometimes a beating is the only thing certain people deserve. It sounds like maybe the recipient should have been Dekri but you made your point.

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