Cougar's Gold: Marcus' Story

By Eleane Lorman

Cougar’s Gold tells the story of a young man named Marcus and his struggles to overcome poverty. He later fights to gain independence from an imbalanced, manipulative relationship with his sponsor, a woman who was as old as his mother.
Marcus is ambitious and highly motivated in his desires to become a lawyer. Unfortunately, the magnitude of poverty around him made his dreams seem like fairytales. But fairytales create hope for dreamers.
So, Marcus was not deterred by obstacles. He also planned to get his relatives out of their disadvantaged position as he worried about their safety in the ‘Government forsaken inner-city community’. But he needs cooperation, and everyone does not share ‘his dreams’.
The idea of ‘ask and it will be given’ made it appear that the Universe was paying keen attention to Marcus’ wishes as through minimal efforts, he got an opportunity to exit his community. He took the opportunity with hope of making his life of poverty a forgotten reality.
There were many lessons to be learned as Marcus worked towards independence. He did not know that the road to success, would be fraught with adversities.
Marcus became disillusioned as he learned the sad truth that one can indeed exit the realms of poverty, but the price tag is always attached, and the cost varies.
For Lexi has invested heavily in him and intends to get much more than her moneys’ worth. Will Marcus be able to fill her insatiable appetite for sex, money and blood?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9781664129375

Eleane Lorman

Eleane Lorman is from Jamaica, W. I. She holds an Oxford Distinction in Early Childhood and Community Intervention, BSC in social work from University of the West Indies and Master’s in Early Childhood and Special Education from Touro College, U.S.A, among other achievements. In Jamaica, she worked as Early Childhood Center administrator, teacher, and probation officer. She was an elementary school teacher in New York City, for sixteen years. Although her careers have been ‘fulfilling’, her greatest joy is writing songs and books which ‘keep her mind young and free.’ The author lives with her family in Bronx, N.Y. U.S.A.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Marcus, Marcus, Marcus! My heart boils as I tried to solve the fifth Math problem. I wondered if I’d be able to do the other five and the research on Sustainable Environments, that my Science teacher requested. I wished I had found somewhere comfortable to complete my work instead of bringing it home.

Marcus! Marcus! My mother kept hollering. I know you hear me! She went on. I need some water from the CWC, or you won’t be eating any dinner tonight. That boy seems to think that only schoolwork matters. She continued.

The CWC stood for the Community Water Catchment. It was the reservoir where water was stored for use in times of drought or for families like mine who could not afford to build a private tank which is usually made from large stones and concrete or molded concrete blocks.

Every evening a part of my chore was to use a large plastic bucket to transport water on my head from the CWC to two large metal drums at the back of the three-bedroom board house perched on the hillside about eighty meters from the road below. It was not an easy task as sometimes I slipped and fell and had to start all over again.

Not to mention every now and then a mischievous boy would catch me by surprise as he throws stones at me and in dodging them I would sometimes lose the water and then be forced to decide whether to chase the boy or refill the bucket. My wisdom, born from experience, always told me to do the latter as the CWC had a closing time and I could look for the boy later, to take my revenge.

I was always good at analyzing situations and making good decisions back then. That, along with my ambitions to become a lawyer and to take my mother out of the ‘government forsaken,rocky, inner-city hillside community,’ were what drove me to achieve success on the Common Entrance Examination that qualified students on the island to attend high school.

Well, that hurdle had already been jumped as I had gotten a full scholarship to the most prestigious high school in the city of Montego Bay, Jamaica. The entrance into the school was clearly the path to my dream of becoming a lawyer. I was a determined young man and I had no intention of being prevented from achieving my goals.

Everyone in the community respected me as my passing of the examination gave many around me hope and might have somewhat improved the community’s morale. My success was like everyone’s success and in commending me many of the older folks would say, Them always say that nothing good don’t come from the inner-city, but you prove them wrong Marcus, we might be poor in pocket but not in brains. Just don’t make anything or anyone stop you, son.

I always said thanks for the encouragement and knew within my heart and soul that if I didn’t make it, I would have been killing many hopes and dreams. So, I took my schoolwork seriously. After all I was not just studying for myself but for the whole community.

As the oldest of four children, I was happy in knowing that I was setting good standards for my siblings to follow. However, sometimes we would fight verbally and even get physical when I felt that words were not enough to get through their thick skulls that education was more important than playing games and dressing up to sneak out of the house to visit friends.

My two fourteen-year-old fraternal twin sisters often did both far too often, while leaving homework assignments for later or not doing them at all. Of course, they regularly voiced their opinion of me and labeled me as a pain in the ass.

Later, I came to realize that sometimes living in the inner-city was accepted as a fixed status for many who did, as the chances of mobility were often so unlikely that it was normal for one to accept one’s position and enjoy life as it came. But not me, every day when I passed by the affluent communities, I told myself that one day I would be living in one of the big houses with their nicely manicured lawns, flower gardens and car ports. Oh, I often wished to see into one of the houses! I imagined that the occupants ate steak, mutton and real chicken every day. Not like us in the inner-city who ate mostly chicken back, chicken feet, chicken neck, turkey neck and sprat, a small fish.

How I hated those damn little fish, that were mostly filled with bones that often lodged themselves in the back of the throat. To make matters worse, the only way to get them out was to either try your luck in coughing them out or by swallowing white flour dumplings that were notorious culprits of constipation. I told myself that when I really made it, I would only be eating boneless fish and I’d never touch another white flour dumpling.

My other reason for hating those white flour dumplings was that after eating them, without much vegetables, which was hardly available, one often had to spend endless times straining the bowels in a near-futile attempt to pass it out. Those were some of the most miserable days as there was one bathroom in the house, and with so many people constantly in demand, there’s always someone banging the door at the worst possible moment when number two is about to be expelled, causing it to retreat; back into the intestines. And sometimes, although you didn’t even pass gas yet, they would be outside accusing you of trying pass out your gut, and demand that you leave the bathroom.

Problems like those helped to keep me focus on my goals. I often listened to many of my classmates talking about taking long showers and bubble baths. I didn’t fully understand what a bubble bath was, and I wouldn’t ask as I could not reveal my ignorance. I also never mentioned that I lived in the inner-city as most of my classmates lived in the suburbs or in more affluent communities.

Anyone in my school who knew that I lived in the inner-city was in a similar position as me or close to mine and would not disclose our origin. Most of the students from my background appeared to be thinking like me and our high achievements were mainly driven by our ambitions to elevate our status and exit our disadvantaged community. We were also aware of the damage that could be done to our self-esteem if an ignorant meanspirited peer wanted to marginalize us because of our lower-class category.

I would listen to others talking about spending their weekends in hotels or travelling to the North or South Coasts of the island and even visiting other countries. I was not jealous but quite curious and would listen attentively, trying to be in the know in order not to be embarrassed if at some other time I’m forced to contribute to similar conversations. I also tried to avoid engaging with the elites in social interactions unrelated to schoolwork.

I often thought of how shameful it was that we could view many of the hotels in Montego Bay but had never had the opportunity to see inside one of them. I often thought that maybe if more unfortunate people, especially students, were able to tour or spend time in the hotels, they would be more motivated to study harder in school in order to work in one or even own one!

Maybe they would view tourism as an asset for the country and such would motivate them to prepare themselves better to benefit more from the tourism industry. By assuming higher level jobs crime could be reduced in the town and the industry could prosper greater for the benefit of the surrounding communities and for the country. Even the world could benefit from feelings of happiness experienced from visiting what I considered to be the most beautiful place on earth.

I remember once when mom was trying to secure a job as a chambermaid in one of the hotels. I often think back on how excited we all were. That excitement was soon crushed as when she returned from the interview the look on her face made us know immediately that she was not successful. She said the interview went well, and I believed it, as although mom did not have tertiary level education, she was much smarter than some who did. She said that the woman who interviewed her seemed pleased until she asked about where she lived.

After telling her address she said she noticed that the woman’s countenance changed, and she then told her that several ladies were being interviewed for the position and when she finished the interviews, she would write to let her know if she was chosen. Well, mom knew she would not be called. After all, hardly anyone from the inner-city gained employment