AQUILA and BHARTI go to Rehab

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“Hello, my name is Ann and I am your counselor”, I heard a voice say.

My mind was in my mind, I had no time for real time. Literally, I did, but I had compelled myself to believe that all the occurrences of last month were simply a Facade.  Had the voice carried no effort to be distinctively sweet, I would have peacefully wanted to continue peering through the window to the green sight it presented.

“Come on now, let’s all sing it out”, Ann said.

She seemed to have had quite the effect on the rest of the people that sat in our circumference of chairs, because they instantly broke into chants of “I won’t go back, I threw it all in the dump sack“, “ain’t no party, like a rehab party”

“I am so pleased to have a new handsome young man in our family. please introduce yourself and feel free to share your story”.

She had suddenly looked in my direction, right into my eyes. She had a very pretty face whose beauty percentage accelerated whenever she smiled while exposing white glittering teeth. I guess all I needed was this motivation to return  to real time.

“Hello, my name is Aquila and I am…. I am an alcoholic” ,I said in pain and frustration.

When they all said hello back, I cursed them all out.

“Shut the fuck up, you boring bunch of shitty looking scumbags”. My mind said
The place was weighing me out already. My friends had brought me in last night. I was so agitated, bored and most of all broken. This is no good combination of emotions if you ask me . I was beginning to creep back into the  mind in my mind.

Everything was perfect the previous months until the last one. I had drunk more liquid than an elephant. I was an addict, I was alcoholic. The CEO of ANI Organisation  was an alcoholic. I had never believed in change this quick.
Throughout my life, I was a complete teetotaller. I could never take a sip of vodka when my friends could say let’s celebrate. 2015 African Entrepreneur of the year award came with access to countless glasses of Bourbon, but I turned that part of the offer, down. It was so Ironical that I had turned out this way, well unless you knew my story.

It was Amanda, wasn’t it? Yes it was her. That filth of a woman. I was spending thousands of pounds on her economics course at Cambridge university. In her mind, I had ceased to be her fiancé, but a benefactor because she had found herself a Nigerian boyfriend.

In the mind in my mind, I was thinking I would have handled it better if I had not taken that flight to England just to prove the stories for myself. I was in Manchester for a few days to her ignorance. I had caught her ,while her new boyfriend murdered her womanly parts in cold blood with his pleasure weapon and bare hands. I couldn’t continue hiding in that closet seeing my fiancé responding submisively to this alien. I was so flustered and developed instant massive indignation, that I was soon out kicking the man in his balls.
I was held in a cell for a few hours before the Zambian ambassador came for me. She told me Amanda was badly injured though she and her boyfriend pressed no charges.

“Mr Stresemann you need to put yourself together, the president knows about this” ,the ambassador told me in a serious tone, with a serious face.

“I’m very sorry Aquila” she said, kindly this time..

The few weeks that followed saw me in LivingStone. My room service came from an outside kid who brought me all the bottles I thought could do the cure or atleast hide the pain. I was soon about to begin the powder, but Mwamba found me and the rest of my friends decided it was time to get better.

I was the chairman of  Curb Teenage Drinking Zambia last year and even as  I looked at Ann and the rest of these people, I knew I was broken, not because I had lost all my Jobs, not because the president was disappointed in me, but because I had lost myself, because my mother didn’t raise me this way, because I wasn’t the good uncle Aquila to my nephews.

As I sat in the circle, I knew it was going to be a long ride.

THE  STORY OF JAY  by Bharti

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“Hello my is Jay and I am a coccain addict,I have been clean for a day now ”

It was in the dawn of a friday morning I had too much paper work to do,I wanted to clear my head.I called John he told me to go over to his house he was hosting a party.

It was nothing like I have see before,so many beautiful faces,good music,nice food and I said to myself it is going to be a good night.

Stuck in moment John pulled me over to his table he told me he had something that will lift my mood and spirit,
Watching him about to sniff,he asked me”Want to give it a goal?”

Without hesitation,I did then
BOOOOOMMMMMMM!!!!
Next thing I am opening my eyes in the morning on my bed at home.
Slight headache,I am in my boxers,pale face,no shirt,I don’t remember drinking but I see bottles around.

Trying so hard to remember what happened last night,
All I can see in my head is a flashing light,
Re collecting my memory,
No clear picture but I am sure it will be quite a story,
Fast forward,unknowingly it became a diary thing,
Whenever I felt lost in this world,I would sink my self to that routine,
You never admit its an addiction,
But only a moment of weakness that has you sinking.
My family became the enemy,
Everyone around me was over suddenly afraid of me.
At first I thought  it was something wrong with them,
but with time I got tired of this blame game,
I admitted I was the one who needed help and I was being unfair,
This is my Drug Addiction Story,it is all I had to share.

NB: Bharti and I finally did a collaboration and we just wanted to address the issues of alcohol and drug addiction. I am always willing to work with any Zambian blogger or anyone from around the world. ☺Please visit Bharti Here .From the piece, you can tell he is a poet.
Hope you enjoyed. ☺

THE FACEBOOK LOVE STORY: NEW BEGININGS

In retrospect, not only did that catastrophe leave her devastated, it had also produced a strong woman in Jennifer. She was only 22, but her résumé left her over qualified for a sufferer. Five years ago is as fresh as a wound inflicted by the canine of a lion. Maxwell may have died, but she sees him each time she looks at her little boy. She can then afford a smile.

So many things have happened ever since the unfortunate incident. Oceans had poured out of her eyes. It was never healthy for an expectant woman. The worst months of her life she may have called them. She could talk to herself. The strange part was she had seen no one from Max’s family show up. Not even his parents.

“Maxwell, Oh my dear Maxwell. Why did you have to leave me? You promised me of a future together. You swore never to leave me. I wish our son could take a look at you. Who will ever teach him to be a real man like you were?” She could lament endlessly.

Her hallucinations were her refuge. If only RIP meant return if possible.

As soon as she had conceived, she had embarked on a mission to complete school. Her friends were talking university now, some could mock her. She never imagined completing school a year later. She imagined how different things would have been if she had never signed up for Facebook. Yet again, she could not have met Max; in that way it was worth it. However, complete school she did and now in university pursuing Public Administration. She is really a tough cookie. Most people never get up to their feet.

Her therapist had suggested that the best way to heal was to share her story, specifically through writing. She knew this could be easy as her journal could easily be her first draft.

She had decided to tell her story and plan to her philosophy lecturer who had seemed both touched and supportive. His name was Mr Zulu, but insisted Jenifer call him Paul. Paul was a young man in his early thirties. He was nice, understanding and kind ever since she moved into campus. She was confident he would help her out. He had agreed to help her publish her book and also for her to ask him if she needed anything just during her stay in campus.

Paul and Jennifer grew so close at times it was impossible to hide this during lectures. Her mates could tease her about how she liked Paul. Paul was not married at all. Jennifer could see Paul was so attracted to her. She thought she was blessed for always meeting good men. Actually, her little boy’s 5th birthday party was actually all on him. She did like Paul, but not enough to be with him. She always thought she would betray Max had she gone out with another dude. Even after 5 years, she was not over her first love.

Fast forward: Two years later

Now in their final year, Mary her friend had noticed this relationship had never progressed. Jenny was clearly lucky to have a guy like Paul around her. Why would she not give him a chance? Mary always wondered.

“So I know it’s none of my beeswax, but I can’t help but notice you kinda are avoiding Paul in some way. Listen Jenny, you should consider yourself a very lucky girl. After all that has occurred in your life, you are still blessed enough to have a good guy pursuing you. Why not give him a chance?” Mary asked.

Jennifer remained silent for a while.
“I appreciate your concerns Mary, but you don’t understand it is not that easy” Jenny said

“I know you still think about Max, but you have to move on. Max will never come back. Remember you are growing older. Before you know it, no more men will pursue you. I’m sure Max would be happy to know you found true love” Mary said softly

She stormed off to the bathroom.

“Max will never come back”. Those words from Mary’s speech hurt her so much. She still thought he would come back. In the bathroom, she shed rivers. “Max would be happy to know you found true love”. She kept thinking about Mary’s words. She eventually realised her friend was right, but she wasn’t totally convinced.

The next day, Paul informed her that the book was being printed in the US by his friend who had agreed to market her book globally because it was a huge story. She felt so elated. She couldn’t conceal her excitement. She hugged Max tightly and thanked him for everything he had done for her.

“Anytime” was all Paul said to her.
Paul had convinced her to re-activate her Facebook account as these were NEW BEGINNINGS. Everyone was glad to comment welcome back when she made her first post. She felt so happy after a long time. She knew she owe her happiness to Paul, he had been through it all with her. Maybe it was time to give him a chance.

She was to graduate in two months and the pressure from her peers coercing her to date Paul was increasing by the day.

“You know what, just give Paul to me if you do not want him. There is no way you can overlook such a handsome, educated and wealthy man after you”, another of her friends joked around.

All her friends laughed, including Jennifer.

Maybe it was time. Maybe she could ask him out herself because the only reason she thought he never did (officially) was because he was shy. Anyway, lucky for him, his actions had spoken myriads for him.

So she invited him for dinner the next week. Good thing her roommate had gone home for the weekend and so she had the room to herself. They talked for a long time and later watched a movie. It was so romantic; she had never imagined any of this to happen to her after losing Max. She hoped she hadn’t betrayed him, she hoped he could understand.

Later on, he thanked her for the nicely cooked dinner and the time well spent and was about to leave. They embraced, but never to both let go. She kissed him on his lips and he responded quite well. Her chest against his, this thing was leading to another. She started to help him shed off his jacket. She had only done it once her whole life, but she was in such control. She realised this part of her being had been left unattended to for a long time and all her feelings and cravings came rushing back at her. They began to overpower her.

Like a flash of lightening or maybe suddenly, Paul pulled away quickly and held back his jacket to restore it to its previous position.

“I’m so sorry, I can’t do this. I have to leave. Please have a goodnight” He said awkwardly with no eye contact.

Jennifer was left in shock. How and why could he resist her? Had she began getting old like Mary once said? No she was still perfect. She had a banging body. No one could have ever guessed she was a mother. Why did Paul act that way? Was he gay? She was in complete perturbation.

The next day when she saw him, never had she imagined having an awkward moment with Paul. He said “hi” frantically and walked away. She wanted to apologise for instigating that act the previous night. Their relationship took a very crazy shift until two months later on her graduation day. She could never have guessed this even if she had hope.

She was glad to have graduated with a merit, and was asked to give a speech to inspire everyone that whatever they went through, they could still stand on their feet and be stable again. Her speech was so touching and everyone wanted to shake her hand after.

She couldn’t believe what she saw next. She beheld a familiar face. She had imagined this, but she had never really believed it. Was this day playing tricks on her mind? Her mother held her firmly and told her to be strong.
She saw a man she had known a while back and who in his hands held her son. Was her hallucination back? She saw Paul standing next to him. He smiled at her. She stood frozen like a statue.

“Maxwell Hernandez is that you? She asked in a soft voice.

She had a very huge expression of shock on her face.

“In the flesh”, he smiled her.

She was so overcome by shock, she passed out. When she awakened, she was in Maxwell’s arms.

“I know you think I died, but I have a lot to tell you” he said.

So Maxwell on the day of the car crush had dropped into a comma. His mother was quickly alerted of the situation and had found a way to instruct the doctor that her son had died in the eyes of the girl and her family. The following week, Max was moved to the UK were he could receive treatment. Max’s mum was a snob. She never wanted Max to marry low and when she had heard (from her spies) that her son was seeing a girl of not quite her ideal class, she was in such indignation.

The car crush was a plus to her. She had to ‘save’ her son from what she thought was a curse of bonding with people that lacked a social status. Apparently, she had suggested he marry the governor’s daughter, but clearly he went against her plans.
Paul was smart enough to solve this puzzle. After Maxwell had helped him complete his education, he had always believed to have owe Max one. When he realised Jennifer fitted the description of Max’s girl he had vowed to take care of her until such a time he could help the two reunite. The time was finally here. He had told Max about this and they both agreed the best day for the reunion was her graduation day.

Jennifer was so overwhelmed she couldn’t believe this, but was overjoyed to look Max in his eyes again. Her son’s father was back.It was like the demised love of her life had heard her cries and decided to resurrect. She now understood why Paul had always acted the way he did. He definitely was their son’s god father and the best man on their wedding the following month. Her book was a best seller. Could things be any better?

Let’s just say they lived happily ever after.

THE FACEBOOK LOVE STORY

Facebook helps you connect….. Why could she?… finish reading that welcome message? She was finally here; she simply wanted to be a part of the most popular topic in class. She just wanted to sign up for Facebook. What she never pictured was she didn’t actually sign up for Facebook, she had signed up for an escapade she would never ever live to forget, but that was 5 years ago.

Upload a profile picture. She was so ready for this step for she had already taken a photo we now call a selfie-thanks to her 3.2 mega pixels Nokia 8900. So that’s how Facebook added a new user, Jennifer ‘Cute Girl’ Phiri.

At least 5 friend requests daily every week make her feel so excited, the excitement is unbearable. Yes, Guys are always after her in real time, but this online attention is so special, it is so tempting. She feels like the only girl sought after in the world. “Hello Beautiful”, “Hi my love”, “Hey I just wanted to say you have a beautiful profile photo” and then came the freaks, “Hey sexy, I want to……hmm the comments and likes on her photos. At first most of the guys could get replies to their messages, but now there are just too many to reply to and oh freaks got no replies by the way.

After two months, Maxwell Hernandez was the only guy that came close to her expectations. Ever since he acquired her line, he had incessantly called her ‘appropriately’. She viewed him as a sweet guy, he only knew how he really viewed her. According to Max, he had just graduated from university and was working for a construction firm as a managing supervisor. In her last grade, Jennifer had scored a hat trick.

Now all that left was their official meeting and the D-day did come. Max was working in her town for the weekend and as a ‘gentleman’ could afford some time off with her. She shyly agreed, but remained overpowered by arousal and anxiety. She thought about the steamy episodes they had on phone, the texting. What if he was a murderer? Well then, he must be a special one, one who sparks her emotions to life, her longings, cravings and desires (of every kind-all at once) into existence. Would she be willing to do it for the first time if all got out of hand? What if this, what if that? These questions were literally rhetorical in her mind’s play-field and she was well aware of that, but like Katy Perry, it’s no big deal, it’s no big deal, Max was finally here. It’s like she had known him forever.

Max did no discredit to Jennifer at all, he actually looked better and attractive than the man he was in the photos they shared. She concealed her excitement, well at least for now. She didn’t want to get sold out, because Max on the other hand seemed ready to buy, and buy heavily he would. He was quite the gentleman though. Usually, in a maintained status quo, the first thing most guys want to do is embrace the girl, but Max, Max on the other hand, kissed her hand softly like he had met a princess.

“I’m Max, it is an honour to finally meet such a beauty”, he said slowly in such a composed and most romantic matter while stretching from the bow.
He was so tall and well built. She now hoped he could hug her next, but this was Max,a guy whose actions spoke for his being different from every other guy. Jennifer just couldn’t believe how lucky she was. She felt lucky before he even asked her out. <— That is such a statement to draw a concrete inference from, on its own.

Max made her day simple, but so outstanding in so many ways. They conversed endlessly and he asked so many questions about her. You could see he wanted to know so much more about this girl. He was into her. After 4 hours, there was no difference between a minute and an hour. It was soon time to part and Jennifer was astonished to note there was no kiss planted on her lips, but her forehead. Later that night on the phone, he told her he respected her so much and would like to kiss her at the very right time. According to him, she was so honourable. At this point, Jennifer knew that he was the one, but she had still met him on Facebook. What did it matter anyway? Thanks Mark Zuckerberg?

Jennifer was always happy. She couldn’t let her friends know yet. She had no time for judgements, but she could take envy, admiration and jealousy anytime without giving half a damn. No one, but Max knew the answer to why her grades had improved. His appeal and charm wasn’t the only influence he had on her, he made it clear that her education and not he should be first at that point.

We could call them three months of acquaintanceship, Jennifer would call it three months in utopia. Last month on her birthday, Max could have had bought her any gift in the world, but because theirs was a clandestine relationship, a small gift was appropriate. On that day, she had also given to him her womanly prized possession. After giving it such a deep thought, she decided it was best she let Max deflower her.

Another meeting was scheduled during her second term holiday, less than a month after her birthday. She told her mum she was going out with her friends for a picnic and would be back later in the afternoon, but God knew Max had arranged to take her out of town. She found him waiting at their spot standing with his back against his BMW (i don’t know what version it was, but it was fancy) , one hand in the pocket, flowers in the other. If her dreams had never come true, her favourite romantic movie had.

“Ready for the road trip?” he asked with a smile.

“Always ready for any road trip that you’re the driver”, she smiled back to expose firstly her nice white teeth and the two neat holes God placed on both her cheeks.

“Come on then, let’s roll, let me drive you crazy”

Both laughed.

They sang along to speeding as Max did 200KMs per hour. Every other road user looked amazed as two lively souls sang on top of their voices like they were from a world outside. All was going well, all was as smooth as it could be. No one saw it coming, how would they, they were embedded in the moment. A truck was headed in their direction. It gradually approached them innocently as they did, but both at their best speed. No one could have imagined this, but a few meters away from them, this Volvo truck lost control. It left its lane and was about to hit the BMW, but Max quickly swerved away. At this point he was a hero, but he just avoided one obstacle only to hit into another on the other side. He hit right into the truck’s trailer which also seemed to hit into them.

Hours later, Jennifer woke up with blurred sight. She couldn’t recall what happened. With immense effort, she realised she was in a hospital. Her mother was looking over her. What in her world was happening? Shocked or confused couldn’t describe how she felt. She was about to switch off realty when she remembered Max.

“Max, Max, Maxwell” she screamed. The doctor on the other hand was familiar with this episode and came over to give her a sedative. After 3 weeks she came to swallow the hard truth that Max had died in the car crush. She couldn’t believe it. She felt so weak and nauseated and puke she did. How would something so beautiful suddenly turn into a nightmare? She could keep passing out, but denial is what kept her on. She never imagined this to be happening. In her mind, Max was immortal, he was there to complete her life,he was her partner. He was the love of her life. It isn’t how long you have been with someone that makes it real, it is the moments and the actions of love they extend to you. Max was one person who had showed her what love was in such a short time. He had never manipulated her as his position often demands in most men. He was older and more experienced than her, but never used this to his advantage. He was her brother, her best friend, her guide, her mentor, her boyfriend, but Max was now gone, He was dead. 😦 You don’t know what pain is.

Her parents couldn’t find the time to be mad at her, when they learnt that her non terminating puking was because she was almost two months pregnant. Jenifer’s father to her child had died. She couldn’t go back to school. She had so much to handle. She forgot a thing like Facebook ever existed. It was no longer her daily routine. Her mind always read, Maxwell and ‘their’ unborn baby. Who would take care of her unborn baby? How would she explain to her parents how she met Max? How would her friends ever believe her? She would one day have to explain to her child were the Father was. Would she have the strength? All these questions would have to be answered one day.

TO BE CONTINUED, WELL MAYBE 😦

“REST IN PEACE KING COBRA”: The ‘Royal’ Family mourns.

president sata aquilaspeaks.wordpress,com

Will a Good Samaritan kindly embrace Bana Zambia? Only last week did she present a face embedded in elation only to become a weary figure a few days later. Any premonition of this was never in her imagination because after 50 years, optimism was her comforter. Clearly she was never ready for this, clearly she never envisaged this catastrophe. She was always optimistic, but the irony that fate presents you with is now chewing her limbs.

“Were is the hood that covered me these few years, were is my Cobra?” The frantic wails cannot be overlooked. “Who will take care of my children like my King ever did?” Will a Good Samaritan embrace mother Zambia? The tears I see will keep the Victoria Falls running for a while.

Zambian president Michael Sata dies at age 77. Is there no better headlines to wake up to? Why do we lack the power to alter some truths? You can never fathom fully the moment when the sad truth hits you in the face. To tell you that the father who has always been there is no more. No one meets pain and embraces it. It is ever thorny. Bana Zambia is bitter, but tell me, who will not sympathise with a woman widowed twice?

I do not see why Mama Zambia won’t get sentimental about this one. Here is a loss of a man who demonstrated patience and determination in a manner so peaceful. When most easily throw in the towel, the King fought hard for his turn and the most distressing part is he only lived a few years to accomplish his first task. It is important to note that in these few years, a legacy worth celebrating for years to come lies vividly in our vicinity. Who shall not, but praise this King Cobra? His peaceful act in pursuing power remains a global lesson. Whereas power ‘hungry’ filled opposition leaders sought violence to get to their destination, Michael Sata exhibited politics of maturity in his seat of opposition.While in power, he took nonsense from no one. Work or get fired. He is a sempiternal blueprint, an afflatus to every leader.

Thousands of miners’ threatened jobs saved, road networks upgraded, infrastructure developed and upgraded. Ushitasha mwana wandoshi (He who doesn’t appreciate is a wizard’s offspring). If at all the works of MC become apparent to you only after his demise, it is much better than being unappreciative at all. Pragmatically, no one is perfect. This nation can only be changed overtime and MC has contributed immensely to the change that paves way for development. The imagination of what more works our father could have carried out had he completed his terms of office really drives the ‘royal’ family into mourning, because of a fear of being deprived of a great vision he carried.

A melancholic tune engrosses the ears of Bana Zambia. However, it is time for her to salute a real soldier. He that fought a good fight deserved the recognition, the praise the respect. We reflect on the death of our president. A man who was humble enough to attend ordinary people’s funerals. Today, it is the turn of both the ordinary and the ‘eminent’ to give a standing ovation to the King Cobra. Today we sing an anthem of love and appreciation. Today and forever do we remember King Cobra.

This cloud is too dark, but in everything we hope to see the illumination at the end of the tunnel believing the spirit of our departed leader watches over us. We thank God for the life of MC and for the leadership He allowed him: as all leadership comes from God.

We pray that the vision of our late president be continued and ask for no room for wrangles. We pray that whoever succeeds MC puts a smile on the resting soul of our president and also on us. The bar, however, has been raised too high because MC was really a workaholic. Even in times of illness, he worked for us all, he never gave up- he never resigned. It is very sad for Zambia to lose a president for the second time. Sata is someone we all have loved. The one president whose election into office resulted into an overwhelming episode of a boisterous Zambia. MC was a man the majority Zambians wanted, and to us God gave and from us He has taken. It is painful to imagine, but we are here. Baba, we shall miss your voice that was easily mimicked (“corruption, I am sorry”) and your sense of humour during your campaign sessions.

It is now time for the King Cobra to rest after a faithful fight and all we can say is “REST IN PEACE MICHAEL CHILUFYA SC”, we will forever miss and love you.

SHADES OF DEATH

Every day I feel death is smiling. Mocking humanity because it is more ‘productive’ than any of us. Every day I feel death looks at humanity like a flower quickly fading.

With all the great men it took away, the pride in his eyes the blind see.
How R.I.P has become more of a word than an abbreviation.
Saying “RIP I will miss you” like we are so sure for a long time we’ll be in this generation.

We cry for others but not for ourselves. When those we buried will never cry for us.
Are we afraid we may get on the same bus? Or is humanity finally generous? To be sorry for one that just found peace?
Or we see him say I am coming for you next in his hiss?

He seems distant at times until we see him on the news bragging of how he swallowed hundreds.
He must be really contaminated because he swallows any kind.

Maybe death lives in our hearts? How when the commander said “fire”, death fed on thousands.
You will see me on the balcony of the earth weeping. Yes! I just cried for the thousands.
I am like an ant on an Indian street. Yes.

The old man says “son have no pride for even the proud sleep in a soiled duvet today”.

Is death ashamed when one’s not afraid of him? Or is he impressed with the depressed man that called on him? All we know is he still took him away. They say he who never talks about death is a coward, but death kissed both the coward and the supposedly hero anyway.

For what separates a killer by sword and a killer by word?
For we die and kill every day
What if you were told you were to die a day after your birthday? Imagine the emotion that would foster?
Think of the cancer patient living on the words of his doctor. “Get your affairs in order. You have approximately 3 to 6 months before your heart lays still”. How did Steve Jobs feel?

I think we should make peace with death, because it is just a reminder that we have one lifetime. A lifetime to pursue the most important goals, live the cherished moments with our loved ones, smile and laugh hard, make peace not war, create and not hate, clothe and not loathe so that when time comes to shake hands with death, it was money well spent
.
Never forget that whenever you walk through the shades of death, He who death fears watches over you. Just watch everything you do.

The Cry

who among us is deaf not to hear the cry
of the unborn baby whose dream was shattered
that because he couldn’t see the sun
He knew his life no longer mattered

Who can understand the cry
of the man who at the airport awaited his wife to return
that because not even in her casket would he say good bye
He wails like thunder while his cheeks burn

The shepherd listens not to the cry of the sheep
but beckons them to sleep while he consumes their pasture
too much to sow and never to reap
the sheep know their master and never of rapture

I will cry by the night
but I smile when I see the sun
to have my tears wiped off by the light
that when the darkness mocks me, I know I am not done

YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT PAIN IS

What do you know about pain when you never saw little lacy who on a fateful day arrived home from school, into her uncle’s arms-because she loved him. Naive and innocent she had no idea that people are the predators to fear; well the same went for close ones you loved. She had never suspected good turned to evil, but she of all kids had to witness the proverbial reality at a tender age, fully unprepared, not that she had to be. She was only 9, but the uncle she loved raped her. She learnt of the reality of this world the hardest and disheartening way any human being could undergo. Little Lacy was someone’s daughter, sister, grandchild or friend. She was paid pain for her love and trust. Today is her 21st birthday those tears never leave, you don’t know what pain is.

Bad food has an upper hand than pain; at least you can puke it out. Alex had been intelligent all his academic life. He never came across failure nor had an idea what it tasted like. As things were, he was simply a stranger to it and apparently, they would never meet. Many parents wished Alex was theirs; he was an inspiration to his siblings, the envy of his peers and the pride of his parents. Alex was sponsored to university by a big company which promised him a big job upon the completion of his study. On the contrary, Alex struggled Just in in his first year. He was in a completely different world. His friends became strange, his lecturers alien. Even the people that were beneath him during high school caught up with him on his way down as they went up. Alex and failure finally met, they held hands. He lost his scholarship and his big job. No one was patient enough to fathom what happened because the world was busy expecting too much from him. He was only 19, but Alex died of depression, you certainly don’t know what pain is.

Think about the old lady whose eldest son went studying to Scotland, but unlike Alex came back successful. No sooner had he even put his acquired credentials to use than he passed in two weeks after graduating. The ‘pain-well’ had not dried up just yet. Her two married daughters died and left behind grandchildren-orphans.  As if it wasn’t enough, another of her sons died of marital depression. She only has two children left before she is left all by herself, for her husband is gone too. Yes, we don’t know what pain is.

Mary has more hope than the old lady, she is optimistic even after 4 different men cheated on her many a time on different occasions. Would you handle your lover leaving you for your best friend? That is betrayal at its zenith. A couple of years later, Mary meets Malik who seems to fit in her dreams. Finally, her optimism is paying off as it is her wedding day. Most weddings survive the part where the priest asks anyone in the audience to speak or forever be silent, even the much guilty weddings do, but not Mary’s. Malik actually has a baby mama, a wife and a girlfriend. Today Mary won’t cry, she will just faint. Love birds, you don’t know what pain is.

Rick is finally doing fine in life. He has landed himself a job as a driver for a certain manufacturing company. He earns himself extra money by picking up passengers during his deliveries. At the police check point, marijuana is discovered hidden beneath the driver’s seat. Rick has been set up. He gets 5 years imprisonment with hard labour, while the culprit passenger goes away free. You don’t know what pain is.

Pain moves with us, tempts us, teases us, uses us, but we still don’t know what pain is completely because it hits us all differently. We can’t appease pain. For no one is too corrupt for pain,you can never bribe it. Endure it knowing that one day it will all be over, because we don’t really need to know what pain is. Live every happy moment. Allow it to sink in deeply. Never be too coy for happiness, you don’t want to know what pain is.