A bitter-sweet story about gold

Sep 19, 2014 Letters

Dear Editor,
Just for a moment dear reader lay aside some of the everyday nonsense and allow me to share with you a bitter-sweet, wonderful and poignant story. Some days gone on the American Hero Channel (AHC) there was a documentary on the “California Gold Rush” which gave me quite a classic insight on how the cruel fate of one can literally become a golden opportunity for another- a sudden twist of fate in the darkest moment changing the course of destiny catapulting one to plane beyond his/her wildest dream.
The discovery of gold in California was a big shout which caused quite a stir, thus galvanising well over 300,000 men on a hunt for this coveted yellow mineral in a quest for financial freedom, but as fate would have it, this mission was not a bed of roses-the price was tragic. As was explained by the narrator the dream of approximately one-third of the gold hunters was ephemeral, thwarted, came nowhere-not even remotely to sensing as much as a grain of gold; having lost their lives long before to treacherous and dreadful conditions and rigorous labour.
Many were murdered, while the majority of those remaining were consumed by the heavy usage of the deadly toxic agent mercury (quicksilver) which polluted not only the environment/water but also gnawed at and took toll on the human body itself: wrecking nerves, causing blindness, loss of hair, teeth, insanity and finally death. Indeed, all that glitters is not gold, and half the stories have never been told. As viewers were informed, the wonderful colourful stories about this yellow metal; the triumph of a handful who by a stroke of luck or providence made it were amplified, glorified and publicised while the tragic account on the other side of the coin: the grief, despair, hunger, frustration, hopelessness, the broken in spirit causing many to commit suicide; the overwhelming majority who lost their lives were not told, remained dead and buried like them.
But here’s the take- the gist of the story. Among those 300,000 plus prospectors were two friends equally woebegone and consumed by despair all alone and sitting together munching on scraps of whatever was left of their ration, contemplating their future, their next move when one with an unmistakable nasty and heartbroken expression stamped on his face got up and said “I’m going for a walk”, within a minute a gunshot was heard, his friend in fright jumped to his feet and saw him lying on the ground-shot himself dead, he had given up on life, surrendered. There was no light at the end of the tunnel for him, he pinned all his hopes and dreams on a mineral that eluded him, hence life for him was hopeless. In grief he held on to him shedding bitter tears, unable to control his emotion, he is now left all alone in an abandoned terrain with no one in sight-nothing! As a parting gesture, in honour and respect for his dear buddy friend he decided to bury him. While half way into digging his grave he raised his pix-axe high but suddenly stopped it dead still, suspended above his head and starred wide-eyed and with a mixture of astonishment and anxiety bent down and focus intently; not wanting to be mistaken he began scratching nervously and hysterically and couldn’t believe his eyes-bingo! He was dumb struck and made a funny sound you couldn’t tell if he was crying or laughing, but boy oh boy it was what it was.
Oliver Morton had literally struck gold, he continued scratching then picked up a handful of the soil and again examined it meticulously, convinced beyond a doubt that indeed it was gold he began digging around the solid rock, lo and behold it was the largest gold rock ever found: 150lbs of gold! I can’t remember if it was in the history of gold mining or just California, a value then worth some three million dollars in the early 1800s.
In the darkest hour, in a moment of lost hope, despair and deep sorrow Oliver Morton experienced a dream come through in a way he had never, not even remotely envisaged, a financial glory and superstardom beyond his wildest dream. Had his good buddy friend not shot himself there would have been no need for digging that grave holding that 150lbs gold rock, and though it was by happenstance he picked a spot to bury him, one cannot dismissed the fact that the dead man played a key role in him realising his luck/fortune. The death of his friend was bitter sweet, because of it he, Oliver Morton was reborn, a whole new life, it would not be stretching it too far in saying he died for him. How and in what form could he ever thank him.
Frank Fyffe

Latest News

A bitter-sweet story about gold

Related

Similar Articles

The Glenn Lall Show | December, 2nd, 2024

Follow on Tik Tok @Glennlall

THE BLUNT OF THE DAY

Sports

Tonight: Sparta Boss goes up against Bent Street ‘A’ for K&S...

Botafgo pummel Milerock, 11-7, to become new UDFA...

BCB player transfer window opens for 2025

Archery Guyana National 2-Day Indoor Senior...

Grandmaster Jose Luis Montes to lead Self-Defense...

Keevin Allicock – the next torchbearer for...

Features/Columnists

GUYSUCO’s problems are political not managerial

Breaking the Chains of Poverty: A need for political will

Exxon Awards

Publisher’s Note

Weekend Cartoon

Bridge Watch

Demerara Harbour Bridge

> Berbice Bridge […]

A bitter-sweet story about gold

Share this:

Related

Similar Articles

The Glenn Lall Show | December, 2nd, 2024

Follow on Tik Tok @Glennlall

THE BLUNT OF THE DAY

Sports

Features/Columnists

Publisher’s Note

Weekend Cartoon

Bridge Watch

Demerara Harbour Bridge

> Berbice Bridge […]