“To improve the golden moment of opportunity, and catch the good that is within our reach, is the great art of life.” – William Samuel Johnson
It was a scene that was replayed so many times a week that frequent passersby, and even the odd visitor, no longer appeared to notice, or simply could not be bothered to toss a glance in that direction. Gathered in the leafy shade cast by one of the sprawling Samaan trees lining the avenue which bisects the dual carriageway of Main Street in the capital, on one of the four blocks annexed by Church Street and Lamaha Street, would be a gaggle of foreign visitors (invariably Caucasian) encircling a local man of average height.
In passing, one would have observed a shabbily clad man of mixed descent holding forth in a foreign tongue whilst gesticulating as if providing directions. Inevitably, within a minute or two, the strangers would set off in the wake of their newly adopted city guide as he continued to prattle in the undecipherable foreign language. Witnessing this occurrence for the first time, would only leave one dumbstruck and with a slew of unanswered questions. Who was this man? What language was he spewing so fluently? Where did he pick up this language? This was the world of Sam, Street Linguist extraordinaire who is no longer with us, having passed away last Tuesday.
So, who was Sam? Sam’s life story is cloaked in a cloud of secrecy and piecing together the minutiae of his past can be likened to attempting to assemble a jigsaw puzzle with the box cover photograph and several pieces missing. His full name was William Samuel Bremner and he was born on Boxing Day, 1955. One of several children – how many and where they are now is unknown – Sam might have been named after William Samuel Johnson, one of the Founding Fathers of the United States of America. Johnson, a Yale educated lawyer from Connecticut, was elected to represent his state at the Constitutional Convention which met in Philadelphia in the summer of 1787, where he participated in the debating, drafting and signing of the Constitution of the United States. Sam might not have been blessed as his namesake to have received a tertiary education, but as a graduate of the School of Hard Knocks, his contribution to society is worthy of note.
One of his two known daughters – Sam might have fathered other children – Jennifer, related that Sam ran away from home at the age of 12 after an altercation with his stepfather. His mother had migrated to Canada. Having departed from his middle-class home, Sam found himself roaming with a band of street urchins. Initially based close to the environs of Stabroek Market, the streets of Georgetown provided for Sam’s education and upkeep. Street hustlers are the ultimate survivors whose keen sense of awareness of opportunity and danger are simultaneously heightened to maximum levels.
In those days of the late 60s, Port Georgetown received many vessels from around the world. The sailors supplied stories of foreign lands and opportunities, a lure from which Sam could never escape.
Here, it becomes difficult to piece together Sam’s life story; separating truth from myth is next to impossible. There are gaps which cannot be filled or accounted for. After a failed attempt as a stowaway to England, Sam was deported from Trinidad, where he had spent some time. Next, Sam was reported to have visited Brazil, where the Shakespearean tragedy of his life would begin to unfold. It was in Brazil that the gift with which he had been blessed – an aptitude for languages and the curse cast upon him – an addiction to hard drugs – collided head on. Inseparable, the evil and the blessing, would haunt him for the rest of his life, one providing the means to sustain the other.
According to his daughter, Sam then spent several years working on ships in various capacities, including as a cook. During this epoch of traversing the world, Sam’s penchant for quickly absorbing foreign languages was maximised. Sam became conversationally fluent in six foreign languages: Spanish, Portuguese, French, Italian, Dutch and Greek, while reportedly having a basic understanding of German and Mandarin.
To witness Sam effortlessly rattling away in a foreign tongue to a gaggle of tourists who could not communicate in English, was a sight to behold. Here was a man, bereft of any formal training in Latin, the root of the Romance languages, functioning at the level of an international translator. Those fortunate to have engaged Sam over a cup of coffee and a pastry, would have been privileged to hear a discourse on the nuances within the Spanish language as one shifted from Venezuela to Colombia to Peru to Cuba. At times, Sam could be seen assisting school children with their Spanish homework.
As far as could be ascertained, Sam was based in the downtrodden area of Tiger Bay – a quarter bordered by Holmes, Water, Hope and Main streets – from the early 90s, but more often than not, could be found within his business domain of the Main Street avenue between Church and Middle streets plying his trade of street linguist and temporary security guard for parked cars, the latter role, much to the annoyance of his fellow street hustlers, especially the ‘trunkers’ with their false master keys, and their lookouts.
Sam made a concerted effort to present himself in a clean and tidy manner, despite constantly battling the seemingly hopeless ravages of the demon of addiction. He sought to separate himself from the pack by being honest and helpful wherever he could. A sharp observer of his surroundings, it was Sam who raised the alarm in the wee hours of the morning in early 1995, that a fire had broken out on the first floor of the landmark Humphrey Building (since demolished) at the north west corner of Holmes and Main streets, and saved it from a fiery end.
Now that Sam has entered the Hall of Fame of Georgetown’s most famous characters, joining the likes of Daddy Ben, Bertie Vaughn, Fogarty Bun Down, Law and Order, Memory Man Gonsalves, and PZ, Sam’s Office, the benches in the avenue opposite the Sacred Heart Church, will never longer be the same. Perhaps one of the area’s sculptors will be moved to create a likeness of Sam, sitting on a bench speaking to a foreign tourist.
Rest in Peace, Sam the Street Linguist.
