The only three-point shooter in Belize,

Kaldo trashed opponents' zones and

reconfigured blackboards in the jungle.

The finesse of his ambidextrous wrists

was celebrated as colonial treasure.

His feats from half-court at the buzzer

echoed through the backyard hinterlands.

Townfolk called him "Twash Mon,"

"Twash Ballito" for aspirants decades after.

The arc of his aerial defined their horizon.

Kaldo was remarkable in other ways.

Launching radar rockets from the sidelines,

he had to be coaxed to try for the team.

Although he ripped the nets in practice

he craved a sign from me to let go in games.

From Panama to Mexico, he didn't disappoint

bombing the goliaths with aplomb.

He made his statements on the court

rarely in the classroom, but I felt

his wounded eyes always in my throat.

When I broke the news of his probation

his lips limped how uneven orphans ripen.


*Jouvert 5(2) (March 2001).