Miguel Street by V. S. Naipaul

married, thank God.’
    The Americans were crawling all over Port of Spain in those days, making the city really hot. Children didn’t take long to find out that they were easy people, always ready to give with both hands. Hat began working a small racket. He had five of us going all over the district begging for chewing gum and chocolate. For every packet of chewing gum we gave him we got a cent. Sometimes I made as much as twelve cents in a day. Some boy told me later that Hat was selling the chewing gum for six cents a packet, but I didn’t believe it.
    One afternoon, standing on the pavement outside my house, I saw an American soldier down the street, coming towards me. It was about two o’clock in the afternoon, very hot, and the street was practically empty.
    The American behaved in a very surprising way when I sprinted down to ask, ‘Got any gum, Joe?’
    He mumbled something about begging kids and I think he was going to slap me or cuff me. He wasn’t very big, but I was afraid. I think he was drunk.
    He set his mouth.
    A gruff voice said, ‘Look, leave the boy alone, you hear.’
    It was Big Foot.
    Not another word was said. The American, suddenly humble, walked away, making a great pretence of not being in a hurry.
    Big Foot didn’t even look at me.
    I never said again, ‘Got any gum, Joe?’
    Yet this did not make me like Big Foot. I was, I believe, a little more afraid of him.
    I told Hat about the American and Big Foot.
    Hat said, ‘All the Americans not like that. You can’t throw away twelve cents a day like that.’
    But I refused to beg any more.
    I said, ‘If it wasn’t for Big Foot, the man woulda kill me.’
    Hat said, ‘You know, is a good thing Big Foot father dead before Big Foot really get big.’
    I said, ‘What happen to Big Foot father, then?’
    Hat said, ‘You ain’t hear? It was a famous thing. A crowd of black people beat him up and kill him in 1937 when they was having the riots in the oilfields. Big Foot father was playing hero, just like Big Foot playing hero now.’
    I said, ‘Hat, why you don’t like Big Foot?’
    Hat said, ‘I ain’t have anything against him.’
    I said, ‘Why you fraid him so, then? ’
    Hat said, ‘Ain’t you fraid him too?’
    I nodded. ‘But I feel you do him something and you worried.’
    Hat said, ‘Nothing really. It just funny. The rest of we boys use to give Big Foot hell too. He was thin thin when he was small, you know, and we use to have a helluva time chasing him all over the place. He couldn’t run at all.’
    I felt sorry for Big Foot.
    I said, ‘How that funny?’
    Hat said, ‘You go hear. You know the upshot? Big Foot come the best runner out of all of we. In the school sports he run the hundred yards in ten point four seconds. That is what they say, but you know how Trinidad people can’t count time. Anyway, then we all want to come friendly with him. But he don’t want we at all at all.’
    And I wondered then why Big Foot held himself back from beating Hat and the rest of the people who had bullied him when he was a boy.
    But still I didn’t like him.
    Big Foot became a carpenter for a while, and actually built two or three enormous wardrobes, rough, ugly things. But he sold them. And then he became a mason. There is no stupid pride among Trinidad craftsmen. No one is a specialist.
    He came to our yard one day to do a job.
    I stood by and watched him. I didn’t speak to him, and he didn’t speak to me. I noticed that he used his feet as a trowel. He mumbled, ‘Is hard work, bending down all the time.’
    He did the job well enough. His feet were not big for nothing.
    About four o’clock he knocked off, and spoke to me.
    He said, ‘Boy, let we go for a walk. I hot and I want to cool off.’
    I didn’t want to go, but I felt I had to.
    We went to the sea-wall at Docksite and watched the sea. Soon it began to grow dark. The lights came on in the harbour. The world seemed very big, dark, and silent. We stood up without