THE STORY AS IT IS

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These hairy and brown skinned hands are never the same. It is not about fingers being equal, it’s a lot more. They all look alike, one fat thumb alongside four well partitioned fingers. But would you say your hands are like mine just because they move alike, and do things that mine would?  We can flip through every part of our body, every substituent that is fused together. Everything is similar, if it isn’t then you’re tagged abnormal. So even from the genesis of things, we were meant to be the same. But the truth is that characteristics are a constant, it is probably the only thing that is mutually shared between the elitist and savages. It’s a birthright. It is very easy to blend into the crowd, to spend every day thinking that two hands, a head and two legs are all you need to keep going.  You readily buy into that notion, after all almost everyone thinks the same.  That’s a lie that’s big enough to cripple your very worth.

I will not deviate today; I will not let the budding ideas in my head lead me away.  We would never be the same, because something stronger defines us. I can stand on a hill; I can watch the sun rise from its slumber. I can be in awe of nature and look on till the skies go dark. Yet I can never be like the man next to me. The both of us are savoring the moment together, we scream in unison as the lions roar from the dry lands just below us, he holds my hand as we climb the steep hill. I feel like I had met him somewhere before.

“Are you from Kigali. “I ask at last.

He looks at me for the first time; I see the scar below his eyes. I see that he has no teeth in his mouth.

“I am from Kibungo.”  His voice is hoarse, his mouth doesn’t move an inch, but I hear the words.

We are devoured by nature itself, the perfection of every edge and spot. I know he is also excited, even though he doesn’t say much. I do all the talking. I tell him about Mary, the prostitute from Gisenyi I had fallen in love with. I tell him about my inn at Byumba, I keep talking.  The smell of fresh leaves is so pleasant. I want to call him brother all of a sudden. I want to know much about him, but he barely says a word.

“What do you do in Kibungo?”

“I do nothing exactly.”

“Don’t you have a family?”

“Everyone has a family.” He sounds irritated now.

“How many children do you have?”

He sits on the ground. He draws his legs on the sand, and then he looks up at me. I see tears in his eyes now. His words are muffled up.

“The soldiers raped Sarah, they raped her while I watched .I could do nothing, I was helpless. I…I…saw it all. They slit my little girls’ throat…Oh…Oh…. They tied me up and set the house on fire. I was left to die.”

He stands up, he is still in tears. He doesn’t look back at me. I felt the tears run down my face. This man who had travelled several miles to have a feel of nature was not like me. We bonded so well, but then he had been through so much. He was stronger, he was tougher.

“You are not my brother.” I say.

He doesn’t hear me.

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DOGS IN HEAVEN

Majority of us believe in being good and even see it as a pathway to our success, from our early days in the church or mosque, we were told that God expected us to be good, and evil was a sure trait of the devil. So the awareness that we are expected to be good by God and man has always been imprinted in our hearts, I’ve always argued that the reason why people try to be good is not entirely because of the law, rather we stay good because of the first lessons we were thought, the scriptures that were read to us from the Quran or Bible ;so we strive to live peacefully like the sheep. Secondly we try to be good because of the promise of paradise, a life after this, where we won’t have to suffer. So when life sweeps in with the pain, tears and grief we remember the promise of paradise, I have had this topic in my head for a while now and only recently decided to write about it. Yes, I also believe heaven is reserved for the sheep-like folks who live a life so good that the angels probably get jealous, but from another angle I think that’s where people get it wrong, people use righteousness as an excuse for hard work. They assume they weren’t placed on earth to be rich, so they cling to their holy books and dilute every bit of ambition with their self made theories or teachings from their “sects” yes!, I used the word intentionally, because religion is now segregated as ever. Your “spiritual leader” drives the latest cars and owns the best houses (probably owns a jet) and you sit down and listen to teachings that encourage poverty! Is that the kind of sheep you want to be? You stink of poverty from head to toe, and you say it’s only because you want to be in paradise………….dumb ass sheep!, I know I’m getting some people upset with this piece but I’m sure scales will fall from the eyes of many. If I have to be a sheep then I’m gonna be a sheep with teeth, a sheep conscious of God but at the same time living a life with purpose, a sheep ready to challenge the lion( poverty is one hell of a lion), and when we depart the earth we’ll hope God accepts us as his sheep and doesn’t mistake us for dogs!!

So often religion has been made unattractive, almost like a ticket to poverty, but I know my Bible ( a bit of the Quran as well) and I know that almost half of the scripture talks about kings, the quest for power and a fight to overcome oppression, so what’s different now? These days religion comes with a certain degree of isolation, don’t mingle with the “world” they say and so you find friends that are just like you, with Lilliputian dreams. Religion should be a propelling factor rather than a barrier to your dreams

Oh no!, you can’t act sister Jane, you can’t be seen kissing on stage.. That’s immoral..”

“You can’t be a dancer….. Those steps are from the devil”

“Never! I won’t let you marry Carlos, he doesn’t attend our church

These are common phrases, a thousand and one reasons why you can’t be happy, how meek can a sheep be! Well I belong to the few that have refused to limit themselves, that haven’t forgotten their God, but also hunger for success, the group of people that are pursuing their dreams with every inch of strength in them……………. Am I still a sheep……… or are the ambitious folks now dogs? If that be the case why not be a dog then, why not persevere till you achieve all of your dreams, why not bark woof,woof! Till you scare poverty away, why not get tired of running whenever the lion turns up! Don’t live a life void of excitement, with the love of God in your heart build your paradise here on earth so that when you get to heaven you’ll be accustomed to royalty……. Who knows we might just be the DOGS IN HEAVEN

Copyright

© Ceeflod.com . Unauthorized use and/or duplication of any material on this blog and website without express and written permission from this blog’s author and owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to ©ceeflod.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. e-mail: Dumebiphil@gmail.com

BOUNDLESS DREAM

You lay in bed with your eyes wide open, everyone had gone to sleep but you couldn’t close your eyes. Your eyes were open yet dreams flooded your head, you knew what you wanted out of life, you were so little but with giant dreams. You didn’t tell anybody about the thoughts that ran through you head whenever you watched your favourite pop star on TV; once in a while tears dropped from your eyes as you sang along with her. The bathroom became your world class studio; you loved how different your voice sounded when you sang there. Your mother always told you that you sure knew how to sing, she even got you your first guitar, she encouraged you to do your best at your piano lessons, even when your brother teased you and told you music wasn’t for you, you never gave up. Then your dad got the pink slip and you couldn’t go on with piano lessons and money became an issue at home. You always dreamed of the day you’ll make a world hit and go on world tours, your wish was to become successful to take care of your mother, you felt really hurt whenever you saw tears in her eyes as she counted the money she was saving for you and your brother’s tuition, all you could do was hug her tight and some occasions you even cried with her. Then when you were sixteen your mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, you watched your dad become an alcoholic, you watched your mother wither gradually. You remember the cold morning she passed away, your dad cried so hard, your brother became quite distant, you knew you had to take charge, there had to be an anchor or you were going to lose your family. So you became a mother, you put your dad to bed whenever he came home drunk, you encouraged Tom to do great at school, you took charge of the home so well, but you almost forgot about your singing. The first sign that God had big plans for your life came during aunt Nana’s funeral, you asked if you could render a piece and surprisingly they let you. So you sang “amazing grace” and it was so beautiful, your voice seemed to calm the tears and soothe the hearts of everyone. You realised that God was reminding you of his perfect gift to you, so you never stopped singing , you touched the lives of so many with your voice, despite the hard times you never stopped singing, regardless of the pain that lurked in your heart you never stopped being a blessing.

Soon you graduated from high school, you saw your dad in the crowd that gathered, it was nice to see him happy for once. You had no plans of going to college, you decided to work instead and assist dad, you felt Tom should be the one to go to college, that was you; always willing to make sacrifices, you never put yourself first. You worked in the coffee shop down the street for many years, you made just enough money to pay the bills and support your dad with Tom’s tuition. Once in a while when you got into bed at night, you remembered all the promises you made to your mother, you promised never to give up on your dreams but you were already failing her and it made you cry, but nobody knew how you felt. Then one day you saw a commercial on TV, there was going to be a music talent hunt, you felt you should go for the auditions but you didn’t tell anyone. You drove several miles to the big city for the audition, you never knew you were going to make it, you were almost suffering from the defeatist syndrome, but that phone call came and that was how the journey started. Your family, church and friends supported you all the way. You always wore your mother’s bracelet to remind you that you had a promise to fulfil, when you sang it was flawless, so often you made the judges cry, your voice had wings!, every week you got several letters from people telling you how much they loved to hear you sing and how they were praying for you. Just like a miracle, you made it to the finals. Your dad and Tom came backstage to wish you all the best and it brought tears to your eyes for the first time you saw Tom cry “I’m very proud of you” he said. As usual your performance was great and when it got to that moment, you wondered why you weren’t scared, you saw the host hold the result slip up, you watched as the audience became quiet, just then you saw something! You saw your mother smiling at you and you shut your eyes, then you heard him call out the winner, you couldn’t believe it, it was your name! you had just won the talent hunt! The confetti showered on you, the judges and the audience gave you a standing ovation, the other contestants came out to congratulate you, this was your moment! .Tears of joy flowed from your eyes, your dreams had come true. That was the moment that changed your life for good, heaven had smiled on you.

From me
Wrote this piece hoping it inspires and motivates you to pick up your dreams from the rubble, you can be whatever you want to be, you just have to believe!

Copyright

© Ceeflod.wordpress.com . Unauthorized use and/or duplication of any material on this blog and website without express and written permission from this blog’s author and owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to ceeflod.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. e-mail: Dumebiphil@gmail.com