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The meeting ended on a note of warm inspiration. I had shaken the hand of two bishops, the chief rabbi, representatives of the Muslim and Hindu communities, and been advised that two Archbishops were to be patrons of our cause. |
The lawyers, businessmen, politicians and the other sinners present were as impressed as I was. Talk about having the Big Guns on your side!
Well, as a matter of fact, it was
guns we had been talking about. We were the founding members of the
"Gun-Free South Africa Campaign", and we were about to give the bullet
to bad guys with revolvers - not to speak of worse guys with AK-47s and
things. We were going to mobilise community funds - and buy back
licensed and unlicensed weapons from the careless, even reckless, folk
who owned them. We were about to bring peace to the nation - to the
whole sub-continent (with the help of the Big Guns, of course). As I
departed the meeting and walked out onto the deserted city street, I
was filled with inspirational thoughts.
It was irritating therefore, to be confronted in the dark by a beggar. These people! Always after hand-outs and begging for bread when they ought to be thinking higher thoughts. I explained this to the pitiful wretch, shivering on the pavement in front of me.
"I'm not begging," he said. "I'm telling you. . ."
"And I'm telling you, my good man. . ."
It was only then that I noticed the gun pointing at my stomach. It was difficult to ignore because he had just poked me with it.
I don't know how many times you have been shot at, but you need to know that it's much nicer being under badly aimed automatic gunfire than having a pistol put in the pit of your trembling gut.
"Where did you get that thing! You know you shouldn't be playing with that - even if it is a toy..?"
I'd hoped to trap him into involuntary confession, but he simply shoved the gun in my gut again.
"You're absolutely right...whatever you say. Take my moth-eaten wallet; have my worn shoes - but I can show you lots of rich guys who will be stepping coming out of that doorway in a moment." (This tactic stems from one of the first Noble Principles of Survival - get the gun pointed at some-one else...but it didn't seem to be working. I tried another). "My that's a fine-looking gun you've got there. How much did you pay for it?"
He stared at me strangely.
"Well," I pressed on, "can I have a look at it for a moment?'
Ignoring my proffered hand, he jerked the firearm from my stomach and waved its barrel under my nose. I hastily re-located my nostrils and changed tactics again.
"Well, that certainly is a good gun I know how valuable to you it must seem for your security, but. . ."
He stuck it against my chin and snarled, "This beauty's not for my security - it's for my livelihood."
Chin up, and standing very very still, I managed to keep up my side of the conversation in a rising falsetto.
"I can make you an offer you can't refuse. There's a good price for getting that gun off the street. Sell it to me, and you'll have enough money to get some more - and you can sell those to me as well. You could become a respectable gun-runner, rich and proud
At last, he took his gun-sight out of my cheek. I could see he was interested.
"First give me the money," he said, holding out his other hand.
"No. I can't pay for it,' I told him vehemently. "But I know an archbishop who his dying to get his hands on guns like yours."
"An archbishop?'
"Yes. Give me the gun - and you'll get a receipt from the archbishop, and payment as soon as possible."
"Crazy! You think I'd trust you?"
"But an archbishop?"
The gunman looked puzzled.
"Maybe. Some other time. Will he buy home-made guns?"
"If he does, you could start a factory!"
"Well let's start with your wallet and your watch. . ."
"Wait! Here come the guys you can trust. A bishop. A padre. A rabbi. A priest.
A mullah. A Hindu holy man."
The gun-man was instantly convinced - though possibly more by the numbers bearing down on him than by the power of the spirit.
"Take it," he hissed, pushing the gun into my hand.
Turning to the bishop he asked; "How many rands will you pay for a revolver?"
"Rands?" said the bishop. "But we're planning to give food coupons."
My new partner, (I call him Smith in honour of his trade as a gun-producer) recounts this experience to prove his point that "there ain't nobody on Earth - or above - you can trust." |
