Skeletons In The Closet

He was supposed to be my uncle, but I met him only recently. He was the black sheep of the family, so no one spoke about him in the Old Man’s . my grandfather’s – presence. To do so would be to risk death. Grandpa was sure to lose his temper. So imagine the scene when uncle walked in, after spending twenty years as a monk- or so he said. This was hard to believe,because I have never seen a person looking less monk then my uncle Morgan.

Grandpa spoke his mind in one sentence, “Get out of my sight and don’t ever let your shadow fall in my house again.” So uncle left and took up lodgings just a hundred metres away. From there he sneaked back every now and then under all types of pretexts. Dad stepped in. He made an agreement with his brother.Uncle Morgan was not to visit us, so as not to upset the Patriarch. We would visit Uncle Morgan. If he needed anything, he should telephone. As Dad was his eldest brother, Uncle Morgan agreed at once – and actually kept the agreement.

It turned out that being the youngest of the monk’s nephew, I had the honour of being the go-between. So I got to see a lot of the monk. Mom was against it,saying that Uncle Morgan was a bad influence on me,but Dad overruled her . as he usually did.

I realised that there was much more to Uncle than met the eye. First of all, he was a vegetarian. That upset my lifestyle a little, because when we went out together,we had to stick to eating leaves, stems, nuts and tubers.He enjoyed it all with relish but it all tasted like cardboard to me. What really impressed me about him was the immense knowledge he seemed to have stored inside his head. He seemed to know everything; a veritable waling encyclopedia. He thought fast and had ready answers to all my questions. He tutored me in mathematics until Mr. Chan stopped shaking his head whenever he saw me.

Does Uncle have any weaknesses? That was the most unusual thing of all. I discovered it by accident.Ilooked out my window one night and saw him standing in the middle of the road outside our house. The time was near mid-night and I had just finished studying.Naturally I was concerned, since I knew that Uncle was an early sleeper. I got myself down as fast as I could,thinking that perhaps he needed something. Then I got the biggest shock of my life; the man was fast asleep!Obviously he had sleepwalked to our house. There was nothing to do except lead him back.

Next day, I told him about it, and he brushed it off with a shrug. “Nobody’s perfect,” he said. Now what could I say to that?

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