Soundtrack of my Life – Mr. Wendal

Soundtrack of my LifeThis is one of a regular series of articles highlighting some of the music that has played a part in my life.

You’ll find a range of songs from old to new. You’ll probably find music that has been part of the soundtrack of your life too.

You can also check out some of the other songs that make up the soundtrack of my life.

Mr. Wendal – Arrested Development

Arrested Development released Mr. Wendal in 1992. It’s a song about the homeless but instead of just talking about their plight, it asks us to consider what we can learn from those who are homeless and to see the person beyond the homelessness label.

It charted reasonably well at the time, reaching number 6 in the U.S., 7 in Australia and number 4 on the U.K. charts.

Mr. Wendal is part of the soundtrack of my life because I enjoy it musically and love the message behind it. I wonder how many of those who bought the single and the album it came from,  3 Years, 5 Months & 2 Days in the Life Of…  actually thought about what the song is saying.

Here, have a dollar,
in fact no brotherman here, have two
Two dollars means a snack for me,
but it means a big deal to you
Be strong, serve God only,
know that if you do, beautiful heaven awaits
That’s the poem I wrote for the first time
I saw a man with no clothes, no money, no plate
Mr.Wendal, that’s his name,
no one ever knew his name cause he’s a no-one
Never thought twice about spending on a ol’ bum,
until I had the chance to really get to know one
Now that I know him, to give him money isn’t charity
He gives me some knowledge, I buy him some shoes
And to think blacks spend all that money on big colleges,
still most of y’all come out confused

[CHORUS:] Go ahead, Mr.Wendal (2x)

Mr.Wendal has freedom,
a free that you and I think is dumb
Free to be without the worries of a quick to diss society
for Mr.Wendal’s a bum
His only worries are sickness
and an occasional harassment by the police and their chase
Uncivilized we call him,
but I just saw him eat off the food we waste
Civilization, are we really civilized, yes or no ?
Who are we to judge ?
When thousands of innocent men could be brutally enslaved
and killed over a racist grudge
Mr.Wendal has tried to warn us about our ways
but we don’t hear him talk
Is it his fault when we’ve gone too far,
and we got too far, cause on him we walk
Mr.Wendal, a man, a human in flesh,
but not by law
I feed you dignity to stand with pride,
realize that all in all you stand tall

Mr.Wendal, yeah yeah yeah, Lord, Mr.Wendal


I’d encourage you to get involved too. Let me know about some of the songs that are etched in your mind. What are the tunes that bring back a flood of memories every time their opening notes start cranking out on your stereo? Are there songs you love for their music and others that speak deeply through their lyrics?



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Meeting Solomon

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It was only around 8 o’clock on a Saturday morning but the overwhelming smell of alcohol was unmistakable. I don’t know if he hard started early or perhaps had over done it on Friday night. Perhaps it was both.

We were staking our claim on a good position to watch The Giants, part of the Perth Festival. Solomon came wandering along pulling a suitcase behind him. I assumed that his case held all his earthly belongings but assumptions can often be wrong.

He was a short, cheerful man. When he laughed, as he did often, he revealed his few remaining teeth. My guess is that the streets of Perth are is home. He approached me ready for a chat. He held out his hand and I shook it as he greeted me. It was the first of many times we’d shake hands during our conversation. His speech was at times garbled and almost unintelligible but at other times I’d catch bits and pieces of his story.

Solomon came to Australia quite some years ago. He’s from Ghana. He told me as much several times. He originally settled in Adelaide and studied for a Masters in Agriculture at Adelaide University. I tried to find out if he ever used his studies but I couldn’t understand his response.

He has three boys. Judging by Solomon’s age I imagine they’re grown now. I wonder if they know where their dad is. I wonder if he knows where they are. I asked how old they would be and he started telling me his eldest son is named Solomon Junior. His boys were born to a German woman in Adelaide.

Within a few minutes we had unpacked a fair bit of his story but I’m sure there was much, much more to tell.

Why did he leave Ghana? Why did he come to Australia? How long has called the streets home?

Then there are the deeper questions. What happened in his life to bring him to this point? Was there a traumatic life event that caused him to turn to drinking or was it his drinking that led to him to this point in life?

I wonder what lies in Solomon’s future. I wonder how deep the wounds are that lie beneath his cheerfulness. How is it that in such a rich country there are people living on the streets.

I also wonder how much more likely we’d be to provide help if we knew and understood some of the stories behind the homeless in our cities.

Meeting Solomon was a good reminder that we shouldn’t be too quick to make judgements and that there is much to be learned from hearing the stories that lie just under the surface of everyone we meet.



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