Son, I don’t know when I will be giving you my next story, life has been hard for me, it is not that I am scared of what is eating me up, but I am trying to learn not to give up. Take a seat son, light the fire, we will count the stars today. Don’t worry about the mosquito,have you not heard? They say malaria doesn’t kill faster that the new flu. Am told if I don’t cover my mouth, I may suffocate to the land of the unknown, I would be happy if it be so. Have I not trained you to be a man? (Chuckle) Don’t be scared,I am still here to blow more birthday candles. I have minimised my outings, my throat has been itching for some water, but my health has been termed as frail to visit a tavern. Will you get me something to drink today? Ahà, I know that look but our little secret should be kept within us, promise?
The new moon has shown its’ beauty on us today. Maybe today, I will have a better way of telling you about her. She that was all I had before it all vanished. I dreamt, slept cuddled with hope, clutched to the pillowcase, two, mine and hers, her that I would close my eyes thinking about her.
The old adage, an idle mind is a devil’s workshop could have better been an idle mind is an ingredient to the best sleep ever and for the perfectionist in us, we could sleep making better dreams for our eyes had turned away from reality. Reality sickened! That you see Son, instict of view is so complicated, maybe better said as lost. Not a touch of the real world. How would life been without imperfections? I wouldn’t speak of it, I better chose to speak of the known.
Has the rivers dried yet? She tried my ways, she wanted to make it right. I don’t know how but she was there each time I opened my eyes. There is this amazing thing I learnt though, the imperfections perfection, the urge to make things right. Living couldn’t have been better without what she taught me, in her tender touch and warmth, she taught me about life.
Life needed one to be phobic, phobic of heights, board not a plane, feed your stomach full and you will dream you are the pilot. Fear water, there is a reason you were not made a fish but fish men, we are all commanded to be fishers of men. Most importantly, be phobic to poverty. We never chose to be born poor, but if you die poor, it would be the worst choice you made. Son, this to mean, you need to eat and work to be a man. They is the perfectionist rule number one, create your own self proclaimed esteem and nobody was not will never be allowed to take that away from you.
Fallen were many, scattered in the fields, each beginning from a scratch to get a life. Screwed, mocked and others got their faces knocked by closed doors. People feared the learned, we all wanted to be like them, those who had a suit and a shinny black shoe. We walked miles, with big books. I needed not to diarrhea words unknowingly but in me, I was happy the knowledge I yearned for was at the grasp of the whites man books. I need to get in touch with their language, did it scare me? At first not, but deeper into it, I understood why they were all fallen, hidden in their tails, mocked abd sneered at. Men, men of my caliber would be seen hidden and talking in hushes. Life had taught us lessons and gave us understanding of the things I thought we could change. Sadly, it broke me more.
Listen to my words, an argument I had with a friend a few months ago kept ringing in my mind, what if she was right? What if all along my perfectionist instict had been my biggest downfall. Then I thought it wise, had I not worked on my self esteem? Was I not shaking the hands of men in blue today? The same same people I had feared? I had dreaded it all.
Perfection? That is life, living it best to your taste. The gold abode dreamt about in my full stomach, is that not what I wanted? I stalked the few who had made it, I was told that was bad for business and growth, but I needed to be a king, soon. Be a crook? My Christian instict told me I kept my holy thought holier, as long as I take back the tithes to the church, the offerings would make me holly again! After the cleansing ceremony marred with holy water. I wouldn’t speak ill of divinities, but I will question the messages if divinities, it seems they were all paid to act the same gospel of tithing and offering. For salvation, it would have been better said as it was a self urge.
And in this life, there was nothing like togetherness. People were sneered with lies coated with disguise of love. They all his in sheep’s clothing. Do you know what they will do in your absence? Some were heard celebrating because your business collapsed, laughed because of your jilted relationship. Nobody was real, no one wanted your success. It seemed it was better off to be a one man’s success story and many more downfalls!
We couldn’t complain, better still we had hope. The understanding that we couldn’t change anything consoled our broken hearts. The understanding that the society was one man’s struggle made others strong and others pulled through amazingly.
I had seen the sun set, but none was painful as hers. None hurts todate like hers. For better or worse, it couldn’t be explained. Warmth each night by my tears proved that hearts too were manly!
I feel my body numb. Don’t add more of the firewood, it is time. Deep into the night, you have tried son. Find your mat, and lay down. Let the sleep be your comfort. At least that is the only sweet thing that has never been different for long. Sleep you happiness and sorrow. Sleep your anger off and when the sun rises, Son, you will be more happier than today.
`~~~`
For words couldn’t explain our hope
For actions couldn’t explain our life
We only had ourselves to blame
For our success
And our downfall.
K’chumba arap appreciates for the read.
Thee Spicer 