When we got back to Sherwood from the States last winter Cumbo was wandering around town “mad.” My friend who is a psychologist had asked me a few questions about him and said he is probably bi-polar. Another Jamaican friend told me that there are plenty of “mad” people in Portland. It is something genetic and you see it a lot in the Maroons.

Whatever the cause, poor Cumbo was wandering around like a lost soul. Bobo called him into the house and tried to bring him down a bit. He gave him some T-shirts and shorts he had brought, and a pair of shoes. He gave him 500 Jamaican and asked him to go fetch some cigarettes, too. Cumbo took everything and disappeared and didn’t come back for days. When we were in the States we would get phone messages from him with pictures of clothing burning in a tree and another of a girl’s rear end. Not sure what happened to the clothes.

But in a week or two, he was back to normal and came to work. He painted the whole house beautifully and so fast. He carried sand and mixed cement. He was a constant in the kitchen cooking lunch for whoever was around. Bobo paid him daily and he would immediately go off and lose it all in one of the local gambling establishments. “They wait pon him outta road,” for the sole purpose of relieving him of his money, I was told.

I was astounded to learn that Cumbo had been on track to become an electrical engineer. I thought I had been looking at a real country boy, 100% Patois. Turns out his mother had been paying for his education until she died in the States. Going mad periodically doesn’t help, but I guess he gave up on education.

I got used to seeing him around all the time. He was in and out of the kitchen. He cooked, he ate, he asked permission to make sandwiches. He was not an angel or a saint, but he really was so sweet. Manners are important in Jamaica. There is even a greeting, “Manners!” and Cumbo had good manners.

When Bobo told him we were leaving again and his last week was coming up, he took it very hard. He started to go off the rails again. “I feel so bad about Cumbo,” I told Natural, “He looks so sad.” “We all do,” he replied, “Yes, he looks like his heart is breaking.”

So, Combo went back to wandering around like a lost soul. Once he was passing the gate and I called out to him. “I’m fighting evil,” he told me as he sped by. Another time he came to the gate and asked for money. I had 200 dollars, so I gave him that. He asked me if I could make it five. Bobo tried to get him to come in the yard one evening but he showed a knife, so Bobo left it at that. I think he blamed Bobo for leaving.

I read about a similar person in Kingston who would wander away from home and in the time of Covid the police stopped him and beat him up and almost killed him. His family had to lock him in his room. Fortunately, Cumbo is in Sherwood where everybody knows him. He has family and a house. I know they look out for him as best they can. I hope he will be all right until we get back.