My OperaMy Sovereign and Unlimited Self
Wednesday, December 30, 2009 9:10:26 AM
It all happened on a Sunday. It was a hot day and it was windy at times. A man and his wife were holding onto there breath, hearts beating like sledge hammers. There was no audible voices talking, only eyes flooded with tears, of joy and of fear. It was a mixture of happiness and fear, fear of the unknown and happiness for the obvious. A couple of months ad passed by and these two people were optimistic and overwhelmed with what they believed the world was to become to them on this Sunday So this bright September day, the 12th, they were in a state of well-being that was characterized by emotions ranging from contentment to intense joy, punctuated with untamed fear, perched at greater heights of fantasy yet afraid of falling. The air was laden with strange sounds, filled with glitz and equal measures of sorrow. They day was going by, and at another silhouettes could be seen as the few back to roost. The sun was going down, sitting, perhaps, on the mountain top, and daffodils were beginning to raise their heads and smiling to the cool night, for that heat of that day was ravaging. Stars were beginning to dance to some celestial symphonies and the wind was calming down and getting cooler. Still the two were not sure as to cry or laugh. It seemed to them like an eternity, for it was almost six hours gone yet they had not even the single thread of thought of what lied ahead. A millennium of seconds had passed and a decade of teardrops had been wiped out, still there was not even the slightest thought of what to befall them. It started with a reflection of what the holly man of God had preached that morning and it went on to what dinner could be made of and such issues. At one time a familiar face would pass and just wish them all but the best, and at another time a couple in a similar situation would just pass by, giving an unfaithful greeting. No dinner or supper of anything edible but prodigious insights rich hope and sweet affection, all spiced with fear and fright. Time was so hideous and number yet life was only a drag. It was fast approaching midnight when the man was awakened from a deep slumber of sweet dreams. The dream was a flick, colloquially. It seemed to take off from where he left his minds when he dosed off. Yes, are often like that, as they say, a mixture of fact and fiction, of light of reality and the shadow of imagination. He was told to “come with me” and there he was. He could not believe it, or even himself. I saw him, I think. He fell short of words. I was mesmerised, transfixed and absolutely hypnotised. I failed to say a word, too, and I screamed my lungs out and my voice disappeared. It was a dozen minutes before midnight, and there he was, the first man I ever met in my life. He looked like me. I was in the arms of this woman who was holding me passionately like a fragile glass close to her breast; her eyes permanently fixed on poor me. I was shocked I failed to say a word for next one and a half year from Sunday 12 September when I started to stutter. That was in 1982. The Toddler Who was to be... ME I was the first born to my mom and dad. Three years and seven years later my younger sister and brother were born respectively. We were a happy big five , the three of us then mom and dad and life was a merry go-round, at least to some time. My parents were not really well off but there is not a single day we missed dinner .All we wanted they got. The ends were afar apart , things were not easy. Our survival was a matter of struggling to bring together the loose ends to meet. Life was not a bed of rose ,it never was to be ,but we got what it made us to be who we are today. Events turned on the Wednesday. It was on the 14th of December 1994,when mom left without goodbye.MAY HER SOUL REST IN PEACE. I wish if I could have loved this woman more .I cried my lungs out, I called her back but she answered not, she did not came back. Though tears of that day have since dried up, but memories live on. Things could have been better, but they could not be the same again. She left a gap they could not bridge. Dad tried to be protective to us. He was there for us , but mom was gone I was in grade six ,only twelve years. I hated that day until now when I can embrace life with a different perspective. At least I now know that a person born of a man cannot live forever, for his days are countable. If there is anything I leant the hard way is life, without mom .All the burden was casted on me, to be a mother to my sister and brother, Remina and Frank. I was inexperienced and young. Our dad was supportive though he was unable to play both roles at once .That woman was one in a million yet to me she was lifeline .We shouldered on and life was not a bed of rose indeed. My life was ups and down, ins and outs, on and off, but God was faithful. It wasn’t long when another Wednesday became fateful. Oh, not again! That was on September 30, 1998, five years after mom had gone dad started a mission to search his angel .I hated him that day, that he could leave three souls to search for one. May his soul rest in peace .All hell broke lose. The ends are used to tie together here they just last each other .I hate Wednesdays up to now. So at sixteen I was a mother, a brother and a dad to my siblings. I do not know how I made it, but I know it was not easy. I was in form three and my dreams shattered .When I look back I see that boy not as someone I have actually been ,but as of someone left behind on the road of life. I was starved of love and never experienced what love is. It is now that I am searching for its meaning. The man Now gone are those mourning days. I have taught myself that a hero is someone who knows no defeat from the blows of life but someone who survived in the bloodshed. I am one such person. In life , I was hit countless times and fell several times but I woke up to the same fight equally the same number of times as I fell, bushed off the dust, patted myself on the back and told myself that ‘I CAN’ If I couldn’t, I couldn’t as well have been here. My brother and my sister became my mom and dad and I was their mom and dad. It was funny, how these little souls looked upon someone who was equally helpless. But I am a hero to them, and to myself. Today we are two men and a woman, and they thank me for picking them up from where mom and dad had left. I had no one to pick me u
