over and over again

When we were kids there was a few things you absolutely knew about my dad after talking to him for 5 minutes (or growing up in his house for 12 years). He doesn't play games. He doesn't say things twice. He goes from 0 to 100 quick. He cares about everything he owns. And on top of that list of things he owns that he cares about is his car. I remember spending weekends watching him clean the little AC vents with a toothbrush because just wiping the doors and hood with river water was for average people.

And then this one Sunday they come to wake me up talking about I need to go wash the car. I'm still in a stupor coz I was up watching that midnight movie last night against intructions. And in my lucid dream I could feel the rain falling. Sounds like water to me, so I told the people to leave me alone - the rain has already cleaned the car. Fast forward 17 minutes, all of us are heading to church, and then my father starts with me.

"Colin, you are actually in this car?" I'm on some of course I am I have earned the right to be a member of this family by being obedient and giving up all my freedom and getting good grades at school and all the things people that don't have their own children think they're doing their parents a favor by doing. "You know I heard you being woken up to come and clean the car and I heard your response." Shucks! "Colin. I am very disappointed in you. Next time something like that happens, you will never step into this car."

He wasn't yelling, or hyperventilating or banging his fists against the wheel like he usually would be when he's livid. He was just cool, changing gears and indicating left and right between pronouncing curses on my life. Every rebellious bone in my body was screaming who does he think he is and let me out right now it's not like we've had a car all my life and I was living just fine. But in the real world, silence. I wasn't even waiting for the other shoe to drop, coz usually admonitions like that would quickly be followed by a couple of slaps. But I knew they weren't coming. Everything he wanted to say had already been said.

I was almost never beaten as a child. They spoke to me like that. And somewhere deep down inside they always struck a chord. I listened because I was scared to death of not having my parents around, and I felt like they might leave or send me away. As I got older obviously our relationship changed and we all started talking to each other instead of them speaking and me listening. But never on the same level with my dad. He was made differently - only one person can be in charge. And that person can't not be him. And everyone around must know. It used to kill me having to shut up and listen all the time.

Now it kills me not being able to listen at all. There's not a lot of times that I talked back, but there are. And I think of all those times and ask myself when I stopped being afraid my parents would go away. Because he finally did. It wasn't because I stopped listening, but it still broke my heart all the same. I always thought those days that the worst thing that would happen to us was we wouldn't be able to get food to eat when my dad left. I have food now, but it turns out that's not all I needed him for.

I needed him to take care of all the things that I couldn't. I needed him to be strong when I couldn't be. I needed him to be the bridge between today and tomorrow every time I thought the world was ending. I've spent two years not knowing where to turn, and I've learned to numb the pain. But every so often something happens and that night in October comes crashing back into my mind. 

Today, it was a song.

END

i don't feel it anymore

“The end of a melody is not its goal: but nonetheless, had the melody not reached its end it would not have reached its goal either."

Love is a funny thing. Like a melody.

You meet someone you didn't know, you talk to them for a minute, and then your heart decides that person is the one, and suddenly you don't remember how you used to spend all your free time before you met them. And you can't imagine life without them. And being together with that person literally makes your blood boil. And you want to never go to sleep because time spent with that person is better than a dream. And when you look at anyone else, you you feel nothing. Because you don't have the void anymore. You have everything a person could ever ask for, and you just can't see it getting any better.

And then you disagree on religionsomething, and then you have a fight that becomes a hundred fights, and then you feel trapped. Unable to move forward. Unable to break free. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. And you can't see the forever you saw in their eyes anymore. And then all of a sudden, it's all gone. For a short while you can't stand the sight of that person. You can't bear to think of them. You wish you'd never met them. You can't see all the joy they brought you anymore, just the pain and hurt. You want to go back and erase every moment you spent together. And then, with time, even that fades. They become like somebody that you used to know.

Time makes it so the vitriol gets replaced with indifference. All the time you spent burning them in effigy now seems stupid. You still can't see any of the good times, but you definitely don't wish a plague of locusts upon them. You're not strangers, but you're not friends. You're not enemies. You're not even nemesis. You're just....nothing.

If the heart is really a muscle, it must be made of the same stuff Wolverine is made of. I'm convinced if any other organ in our bodies went through the crap our hearts went through, none of us would make it.

Because after that entire cycle, just when you're comfortable being in your house playing Arkham Knight, you meet someone else. And you can't remember what color the sky used to be.

END

one man can change the world

It's said that the hardest thing a man will ever have to face is what might have been. 

But I don't agree. It's one of two things: either the man's still very young and then he has time to change and create a new future; or he's at the end of his prime, and then there's a lot behind him he has already accomplished and can look back at and take pride in. It's really all a matter of perspective. That never-quitting attitude that recognises even when everything seems to be at an impasse that it could always get worse. And that we still have a lot to be thankful for if we only look.

It's been two years since that difficult month. That month when the hero of our household almost went out without a light. When my father finally after so many days started showing signs of improvement, I remember thinking wow, prayer really can come through against all odds. His body went back to normal, he started getting strong enough to do exercises and walk around, he started eating the same things we were eating at the same times we were eating. He started sometimes sleeping without that breathing tube. With other people it gradually stopped being the first question on the agenda. It was good times all around with the levites.

And then the rain fell. He got a mild strain of pneumonia, or the common flu or whatever. But all that progress got erased. He went back on the machine full time. We were taken back to almost the drawing board. Since then, it's never looked as up as it did those months so long ago. There have been mild ups and downs, keyword being mild. Other keyword downs. What you would expect is that if you try for something and you pray for it for two years and seemingly nothing changes, a lesser person would give up.

Not him.

I got a convicting message from him recently. That made me realise probably I'd given up to some extent. It was such a sobering moment. What right did I have to give up when the person who was actually going through the tribulation still held hope? When he still got up every morning and made plans for the future, who was I to abandon the fight and start moving on? And he's been such an amazing person through all this - all he's asking for is support. The feeling that whatever miles he has to run, we'll be there running them with him. As he keeps fighting that battle, swimming uphill at things we can all do in our sleep, things he used to be able to do in his sleep, we shall carry him when he can't walk. In exchange he's promising that when we can't walk, he'll carry us wherever he can. He still sees himself as our rock, even though really it's he who needs a rock.  Even though his own life was usurped and turned upside down and thrown out with the bath water, he still has time to be concerned about how ours are going. 

That's what a father does. He's there for his people, whether he can be or not. I realised a long time ago in hindsight that I'm very often watching and learning when things happen to me or around me. Without even realising. I hope through all this that I'm still watching and learning. One of these days I'll be that man, and then we'll find out.

END

do you believe in magic

You know, I do believe in magic. I was born and raised in a magic time, in a magic town, among magicians. Oh, most everybody else didn't realise we lived in that web of magic, connected by silver filaments of chance and circumstance. But I knew it all along. When I was twelve years old, the world was my magic lantern, and by its green spirit glow I saw the past, the present and into the future. You probably did too; you just don't recall it. See, this is my opinion: we all start out knowing magic. We are born with whirlwinds, forest fires, and comets inside us. We are born able to sing to birds and read clouds and see our destiny in grains of sand. But then we get the magic educated right out of our souls. We get it churched out, spanked out, washed out, and combed out. We get put on the straight and narrow and told to be responsible. Told to ac tour age. Told to grow up for God's sake.

That used to be me when I was a child. I used to be able to see magic in everything. I used to appreciate the sound of birds singing when I got up. I'd walk over the grass after it had rained and run my hands through the hedge, immersing myself in the coldness that was my environment. I'd smell the earth as rainwater fell on it, look out the window at heavy drops from our sloping roof fall and form puddles on the ground. I kept a bird once. It flew in through the window and broke a wing or whatever - anyway, it couldn't fly out, so I put it in a box and fed it for three days. It died.

And then high school came. And I went to the one school that prides itself on turning boys into men. And they did a number on me. So now I have to every day find new ways to act my age. It used to be that I could sit and wait to be told things. Now I have to take initiative. It used to be that my biggest worry was how I would explain the ink stain on my shirt after I was explicitly told not to carry my pen in there. Now I have a new employee whose career is totally in my hands to be concerned about. It used to be that whenever I went over to one of my friends' house, we'd just sit and play games. Or talk. Now, it's couple things and weddings and game nights and baby christenings. It used to be that when I read a comic (and I read a lot) and there was a new super hero in there, I would in the real world try to emulate their power. I made goggles like Cyclops once, but obviously the laser beam didn't quite work out. Now when I'm watching the movies based on those comics I enjoy them, but I know it's because of the comic relief that allows me to escape from reality, if only for two hours.

When life happened I did what everyone else does. I went to school, and then I went to uni, and then I got a job, and then I got my own house. I remember when I was a kid wondering why the hell my parents came home and said they were tired. I mean all they did was sit at a desk all day long. From where I sat, at least we played games, and practised agriculture by practising it, and learned woodwork by making things out of wood. Plus we were little. Now I have days when I come back home, close my eyes, and wake up a day and a half later. Growing up is tough, because now you're going through everything you thought was ridiculous when you saw the adults in your time go through it. And because you seemingly can't enjoy christmas anymore.

So now I'm about to the next thing everyone does. I need to settle down and start a family. All these cousins making my aunts grand parents every other day aren't helping matters at all. It's like the new rat race now - who has the next generation happening. For the days when my plans included things like recording TRL on MTV.

The truth of life is that every year we get farther away from the essence that is born within us. We get shouldered with burdens, some of them good, some of them not so good. Things happen to us. Loved ones die. Life itself does its best to take the memory of that magic away from us. And after you go so far away from it, you can't ever really get it back. You can have seconds of it. When a song stirs a memory, when motes of dust turning in a shaft of light takes our attention from the world, when you listen to a bus passing at night in the distance and wonder where it might be going, you step beyond who are and where you are. For the briefest of instants, you have stepped into the magic realm.

The memories of who I was and where I lived are important to me. They make up a large part of who I'm going to be when my journey winds down. Maybe later when I have my own children, I'll try a little to make sure they hold on to that magic longer than I did. Maybe they'll be able to use that green lantern to work up an amazing future for themselves.

END

the day before the day

The story goes: this guy's walking down the road when he falls into a hole. The walls are so steep he can't get out. A doctor passes by and the guy shouts, "Hey you, can you help me out?" The doctor writes a prescription and throws it down the hole and moves on. Then a priest comes along and the guy shouts out, "Father I'm down in this hole, can you help me out?" The priest writes out a prayer, throws it down and moves on. Then a friend walks by. "Hey Joe, it's me. Can you help me out?" The friend jumps into the hole. The guy says, "You fool. Are you stupid?? Now we're both stuck here." And the friend says, "Ah, but I've been here before. I know the way out."

It's been about 5 months since I came to the realization that I was not as I had seen myself in my dreams. It quite literally happened, as everything cliched, during a sleepless night. I sat up all night that night, driven by an irrevocable compulsion to re-examine my life. And when I couldn't hold it in any longer, I began to seek forgiveness. And then later I began seeking for the strength to become different. Better.

So I have been practising something new. I've been trying to listen. I've been trying to put others before me, or at least at the same level in my mind as myself. I've been empathising before responding; listening to understand; walking a mile in other people's shoes. And for one thing, I have found walking to be pretty good for the heart. 

It's not easy for someone like me to defer to someone else. Habits only take 21 days to form, and I've had 21 years. So the other thing I've learned to do over the past so many weeks has been to depend on the experiences of others. As I've started to listen more keenly, I've discovered that there are a lot of people out there who havebeen when I am. They've already weathered this storm and have paid the price for personal improvement. I've been learning from them little by little. Simple things like shutting up and not saying that last word. Or accepting an apology even when it wasn't delivered in the language I wanted it in. Or being the first to back down and say the winning in the long run is more important than winning right now. Or, just being a whole lot more generous with the myriad of blessings the Lord has bestowed upon me.

This weekend was Yom Kippur. That's the Jewish holiday where you go to God and seek atonement for the sins you have committed. It's like the Sabbath of Sabbaths. I found out though that the day before Yom Kippur is called Erev Yom Kippur. On that day, you go before men and you seek their forgiveness for all the wrongs you have committed against them. You cannot seek to set yourself straight with God unless you're straight with man is the principle I think.

Anyway, I've learned that friends can have an amazing impact on your life if you let them. And if you have the right ones. So that must mean I have some great friends. Little by little I'm getting straight with all of them. One of these days I shall be able to go to God with a pure heart and a clean slate.

END

nobody's perfect

It must be really hard being a woman. Like cosmic hard. Knowing you're the weaker sex not because you're really weaker but because of how strength has come to be defined. Knowing that for the rest of your life you'll always have to work that much harder just to get what others get in their sleep - because they're the ones handing out the awards. Having to grow up in a world that's basically an old boys' club with no old girls' club to take you in. Spending your whole life replacing every reference you can find of 'weaker' in 'weaker sex' with 'fairer', but knowing in your heart that it's really just a euphemism. Living in a world that considers exceeding mankind's former abilities extraordinary for men; but merely matching man the glass ceiling for you, the woman. Listening to everything around you, including other women, tell you where your place is, and how it wasn't kosher to try and rise above it. First having to defend your right to even be present before you can start agitating to be heard.

Having a personality that you take pride in, but that you have to watch recede; sometimes for the rest of your life. Having to watch it recede just so you can enable the dreams of another. Having to have your validation come from his. Going back home everyday to a man that agrees with society on how much success is too much for you; wanting you behind him always, to say yes to his whims and I'm sorry to his disappointments. Having to make yourself smaller so that he may shine. Submitting in every way he needs you to, and in so doing killing who you were and becoming a component of the man. The man you gave your heart to. Literally.

When I was growing up, I always saw myself as the kind of man that would pay mind to this plight. I always thought I would realise how equal we were, in that our different strengths were meant to be complementary to each other. I thought that when presented with the chance, I would cede control to the both of us rather than wield it as I had seen others before me. I was proud of the image of me I had in my mind. My idea of power then was always one of balance. Passing it on to those who may be able to apply it better than yourself. Doing so with nothing compelling you to other than it is the right thing to do.

That image has been shattered. I've been walking down memory recently. Thinking about how I've treated the women in my life. I have received some valuable insight as to what it must take to commit crime. All you have to do is believe in your heart that it isn't wrong. I was mean to them. I belittled them. I berated their intelligence. I uttered, and not once, phrases like, "You will learn your place." I did do some good things for them, but as it turns out, they weren't enough for the cost, which was their self worth. I treated them like they should be beholden to me for just being with them. I treated them like the world treats women - second rate. Only deserving of second place. To be seen and not heard. The one thing I thought I had actively avoided (by reading and re-reading copies of Lean In et al), I had become. It's interesting, isn't it, how you can be one thing to yourself and the complete opposite in reality and not even know it. Bad people must really believe they're changing the world. They must not know they're breaking it. Otherwise why would they?

The first step towards recovery is admitting there's a problem.

So, "Hi. My name is Colin, and I'm a male chauvinist."

END

band aid covers the bullet hole

Betrayal isn't ridiculous. It's the reason empires fall.

I remember the day my world came crushing down like it was yesterday. It wasn't, but I'm quite certain I will carry that burden for the rest of my life. That day, someone I thought I trusted with my very life let me down. A person I had elevated on the highest pedestal you can possibly elevate another proved themselves a mere mortal. They erred, and in so doing they made me think them less deserving of my reverence. It's been a long climb back up, but in that time I have seen in my life the veracity of time's healing nature. It hasn't ever gotten easier, and the burden hasn't gotten lighter, but I have gotten used to living with it.

I don't know if we ever really forgive people. I think one of the unique things about human beings is we were made able to spot patterns in the things around us. And that traits in behaviour are as strong a pattern as any. Let's say someone took your heart and stomped on it, broke it into a thousand pieces. And then came and picked them all up and put it back together. You might forgive them, and you might even let them back in, but is it ever the same again? Is it ever as pure as it was the first time? Are they ever the god they were before they betrayed your trust? The body recovers. Physical fractures and cuts heal. But does the heart? I don't know that the first cut is really the deepest. I think it's just the deepest till the next one. You never get used to it. Every time you get cut, it hurts just as bad as the other times.

So anyway, what to do when that person strikes again and sinks even lower?

The first time I felt like I was the one violated. I felt like I was forced to make a sacrifice that someone in my station shouldn't be made to make. I did it for what I thought was a noble reason, so I don't regret that, but I resented the fact that I was cornered. And now I just got through listening to how the same person devoured another's spirit. It's not really unique to us this occurrence. It's not an original story; it just hasn't ever been close to me before. Like how we all know death exists but don't feel it until it touches us personally. I'm scared to be alone because of the things I think about. I don't want to fall into that trap of dissociating everything amazing someone has done for you because of that one bad thing they did that hurt you - no matter how bad it was. Even when they do it again, that's still just two times, right?

I'm watching a show called Betrayal. I know, everyone says it's only TV, but I think that's rhetoric people say because they have subconsciously been conditioned to say it by pop culture; like making fun of that Kardashian show or extolling the purity of Android because of its openness. To me, it has always been uncanny how much TV can cut across to real life. How you can see in the cast things you are going through or have been through. They say on that show that if you spend time wishing for someone to go through fire for what they did to your heart, then you're allowing them to hurt you a second time in your mind.

I need time to come quickly and cover this hole that I'm falling into. I need to stop here and move on to happier thoughts.

END

we change, we wait

"There is neither happiness nor misery in the world, there is only the comparison of one state with another by the mind. He who has felt the deepest grief is able to experience supreme happiness. We must have felt what it is to die, Morrel, that we may appreciate the enjoyments of life."

Contrast is a powerful thing. If you run into one of these kinds of philosophers, they'll probably tell you only half the world was created - the other half exists as a contrast to something. I was watching a feature on TV about will.i.am and how he came up, and he said, "You don't know you're poor when you're growing up, coz everyone else around you is poor. No. You find that out later." You only know you're happy when you know what it is to be despondent. You only know empathy when you've been angry before. You only know you're naked when you see someone clothed. You only know you're poor when you come around people who aren't. We learn from our parents. We learn from our teachers. We learn from the world. But we also learn from our experiences. From our hearts.

In the recent past, there have been some dark days. The kinds of things no one ever prepares you for. And for more than almost anyone else my mum. Every single person knows this to not be true, and yet we continue to believe it, that good people don't deserve bad things. But they happened anyway. The doctors did a thousand tests before they finally found out what was wrong, so one could argue: did the other 900 need to happen? And even after all that, after you'd think she had gone through everything a person can go through, he was still misdiagnosed. Anyway. It appears the worst is behind us now. 

My dad left the hospital and has now begun the long journey of recuperation in more familiar environment. From everything they tell us it'll take a while, so we just have to exercise patience. And to thank God for everyday as it comes and to ask him for grace for the next one. There was a point back there when we really didn't seem to be able to catch any breaks. And it wasn't two or three days. It was a long time. So if there's a lesson somewhere in there, it needs to include the amount of time from A to B. Or maybe there's not a spiritual explanation for all this, and it was all just so we can appreciate life more. They say you never miss the water till the well runs dry. Maybe our well just almost ran dry so we can appreciate the water without having lost it. I don't know. Let's see what time reveals.

"Live, then, and be happy, beloved children of my heart, and never forget, that until the day God will deign to reveal the future to man, all human wisdom is contained in these two words: 'Wait and Hope.'"

END

breathing

"It's the oldest story in the world. One day you're 17 planning for someday, and then quietly, without you ever noticing, someday is today. And then someday is yesterday. And this is your life."

So my dad started getting better. Or as better as someone can be when they need to breathe through a mask. I was looking at him this weekend and thinking the rockiest days are behind us. But maybe not. Because once he's out of hospital, the journey begins of making sure there's always oxygen available outside the controlled setting of a hospital. Yes the environment is more inviting, but the variables are more complex. And the availability of quick response options is less, I think. I don't know. Or he could leave the hospital the wholesome person he was through some miracle (that we are still believing God for).

I think as people in our endless quest for adventure and titillation we under-estimate the peace that comes with living an uneventful life. I've seen a little bit how bad the lack of that peace can be. When nothing is happening, nothing can go wrong. When everything stays the same, nothing can usurp your life and turn it upside down. Yes sometimes it's good things that do this, but sometimes it's not. And when a bad thing happens, you realise how good you had it in the first place. It's in our un-appreciative nature as human beings that these passive things like peace of mind go unnoticed. There's this story some environmentalist was peddling: "Imagine if trees gave off free wifi. We would all plant trees everywhere and the world would become a better place. Hmmm. Too bad they only give off oxygen." Imagine that - you don't know how badly you need to breathe until you can't.

I think it's better to yearn for an uneventful life, because the other kind could go either way. Then it becomes a question of perspective. You could choose to attach meaning to all those small things that tend to go unnoticed, and thus turn a negative situation into a winner. But at least that choice will be yours. When you bet big you could win big, but if you lose big you can never justify that cost to yourself of having taken that chance. Now, my dad didn't even bet, so that just makes it even more painful that he's losing so big. He should at least have been given the choice. 

If only he'd had an uneventful life... If you know me by now, you can probably guess what song I've been listening to.

Coz I am hanging on every word you say
Even if you don't wanna sleep tonight,
that's alright, alright with me
Coz I want nothing more than
Sit outside heaven's door and
Listen to you breathing
It's where I wanna be, yeah

END

between raising hell and amazing grace

It's been exactly one year - to the day - since I was last here. The year has been ... eventful to say the least. Anyway.

The story of Job is a very interesting one. Here is a man whom God Himself holds up as a paragon of integrity. And the devil is like, but you've given him so much. Of course he worships you, what else would he do. "Ok, then. Let's see," says God to the devil. So the devil starts taking everything away from Job one by one, until he has nothing left. And Job reacts, "The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be His name." Obviously the devil is not happy, so he goes after Job's own health. Job gets condemned so publicly that even his three closest friends who were standing by him start to admonish him. They assume he must have done something really bad to deserve what was happening to him. "Is not your wickedness great? Are not your sins endless?" They ask him.

In his human nature, Job does not understand why all this is happening to someone who was faithful to God all his life. He cries out to the Lord and calls him to account. "If I have sinned, what have I done to you, oh watcher of men? Why have you made me your target?" he challenges God. But the Lord stays hidden from him. Job gives up. "My spirit is broken. My days are cut short," he laments.

And then God finally does come back to him. But not to answer his questions. He walks Job through a wilderness appreciation tour, highlighting all the majesties and splendour of nature. His point: until you know what it takes to run a physical universe, don't tell me how to run a moral one. However, in all their interactions, God never accuses Job of sinning against Him. He admonishes him for calling His fairness into account, but never for sinning. 

In the end, Job himself does come round to repenting, but again, not for railing against God. "Surely I spoke of things I did not understand. Things too wonderful for me to know." This is what he repents for.

There's a lot of stories you can take out of the book of Job. But two I find most compelling right now: 1) you will go through suffering and you won't know why until God reveals it to you; and 2) while you're suffering you can tell all that to God. Throw at him your anger, your disappointment, your grief and your doubt. God is bigger than we are - he can take it all.

So the last time I did this, I was reminded of a story my dad told me. He said, "I know that I went out of my way to serve the Lord, and it has been well with me."

Given his condition now, and the things that have been happening, I'm thinking, has it? Job had a lot of grace, and he sounds like he was a very strong person. He waited a lifetime for God to reveal Himself. I don't know if I'm built that way. I don't know how long I can hold out for.

They say God doesn't let you go through anything He hasn't already equipped you to handle. Ok, then, let's see.

END

things a momma don't know

So I was at an event some time last month where the guy challenged us to, for the next 30 days, pick a thing each day and be grateful for it. To prove to ourselves how much we did indeed have to be grateful for so that we'd stop being so grumpy and getting in the way of our own success. I've been doing that, but obviously I had a bit of a rough patch given the things that have been happening lately. I'm back now, and given these two months (February and March) are both my parents' birthdays, I thought it might be a good time to reflect on exactly why they're still the biggest things that have ever happened to me.

Obviously being as deep as I am, this cannot be the first time in my life I'm thanking God for my parents, I've done this before. Once or twice. It's the reasons why that change. This time I'm taking time to contemplate what kind of impact spiritually my parents have had on me.

I remember when I was growing up I'd look around and see some of my friends' parents just let them run helter skelter and I'd be like "Why can't my parents be like that?" Because let's be clear - my house was ruled with an iron fist. A real one. You did what you were told no questions asked. Like I've still never watched the first Bad Boys, because when it came out it was banned at my house coz of language, and by the time I was old enough to watch it I wasn't interested anymore. But it has not escaped my notice that I don't swear. It just doesn't ever occur to me to do it, even though it happens everywhere around me. Children don't realise how much the environment around them affects who they are until they see it in other people. 

There was a time I was home on holiday and I'd taken a week to just do nothing but sit at home. Then my parents went on a road trip and left me the car but told me not to go anywhere with it. Then this one afternoon two of my friends show up with their car telling me to ride out with them for thrills. I knew how to drive already by then, and no one would have known, coz we were just going around the hood and everyone was at work, but I didn't even think twice before I said no. My instructions had been to not go anywhere unnecessary. This didn't seem necessary. So I politely declined.

We had a very christian upbringing. So through my life I've never had any big moral conundrums to deal with. Somehow for as long as I can remember deep down inside I've always known or had a sense of what the right thing to do was. And it hasn't been very difficult for me to do it. So while I've seen people go through pit falls and fall apart at the seams, I've remained largely unscathed. I attribute all of this to my parents. They have been bastions of stability through my life and have always been a reference point whenever I was faced with a tough choice. The older I became the more I wanted to succeed for myself, but there has always been a part of my drive that's been about living up to my potential in their eyes. My dad always made me believe the best gift I could give him was to make a good living for myself, so that's what I try to do.

When I was little, I still remember those early Sunday mornings when we'd get up at the crack of dawn so our father could drop us off in church before the service started (he had a bicycle and if memory serves had to make two trips coz obviously we can't all fit on a bike), because he needed to be there to set up for the service. And it was like this for most of my childhood. We'd be the kids licking sugary dough because my dad was out all Saturday sticking up posters all over town telling people about a crusade next month. Sometimes we'd need to sit in silence as the choir practised, because he was also in charge of music at church. He was the interpreter as well. He told me a story recently - there was a time he was sick, like, dying sick, and Sunday came and there was no one to set up at church. They actually came and got him on stilts and took him there so he could show them what to do and how, and then put him in the pastor's car because he was too weak to attend the service.

At the time I used to just look, and I used to enjoy the fame that comes with being a church leader's child, but turns out I was learning. Because later on in life it was the easiest thing for me to join church ministry once I found a church I felt I could settle in. It seemed like a natural progression and I did it for the three years I went there with nothing but joy. I remember at one point being a sort of go-to guy, and whenever I could help it, I never ever said no to my ministry leaders. My dad summed up his story for me, "When I hear people complaining about the Lord's work is difficult bla bla bla I don't know what they're talking about. They haven't seen what I've seen. I know that I went out of my way to serve the Lord, and it has been well for me."

My mum was the most generous person I knew. Our door was never closed - it literally stayed open the whole day. She'd do everything for everyone and would never even hesitate. We'd be the guys hosting everyone during the holidays. We'd be the guys supplying our neighbours with vegetables. I'd be the guy who hated being around when there were visitors because the chores multiplied exponentially - even people who came by to just drop the mail would end up staying for dinner. I hated it at the time. It didn't seem to me like there was enough to go around like this. Turns out there was. And I've become progressively more and more generous. I'm not yet at her standard - I still require quid pro quo, but I see her in the way that I treat the people that are close to me. People that will roll over for me I'll die for (well I won't DIE for them, I'll probly get them ice cream...)

My parents have been married now for +30 years. And there have been ups and downs, some downs very, very down, but they're still standing strong. They still look at each other like that. They're still those people to each other. I know enough now to know that it doesn't automatically happen that way. That it takes effort and commitment. I'm rock solid as a person because they were rock solid. If I can fly it's because they've been the wind beneath my wings. From the moment I was born there has never been anything I needed that I didn't have. There hasn't been a sacrifice that was too big to make for me. I've met enough people now that I realise not everyone can say that. I've seen enough to know that I can't take my parents for granted, ever.

END

something i can never have

It's happening again. I can't believe how often this happens to me now. Want to know what I think? I think when the person you're with picks a normal, calm, not-in-a-fight moment to tell you that you treat them like sh!t, you're screwed either way. There's no way that scenario ends well for you. I think sometimes there's just a basic problem of incompatibility. Two people gel, and then they don't anymore. When you try your best and it's not good enough, I think it's time to walk away. Time to try something different. You can't be someone else, you can only be yourself. I think for the right person, that's really all you're ever going to have to be.

You know those lists people have, that describe their perfect mate? It might not be a written list or whatever but we all talk about it with our friends so we've all got it in our minds, I destroyed mine. From what I've seen over the last two years, I don't think those things serve any purpose. When you find what you're looking for, I believe you'll know it. And when it's not right for you, you'll also know it, as I'm learning now. And my head is strangely serene about this. I keep waiting for that rush of tears, that torrent of emotion, that hotness in my face, to get overwhelmed as people are wont to do at times like these, but it doesn't come. Maybe the feeling's not sunk in completely yet. But I'm wondering what it says that I'm not currently going through my albums and deleting all the photos we have together like I know I've done before.

When I was a teenager I went to one of those bible camps where the main subject was waiting, and this guy's philosophy on how to know you've met your person was "Does the Jesus in you see the Jesus in her?" I think the Jesus in me needs to start speaking a little louder. Seriously.

Now comes the hard part - friendship. To be, or not to be, that is the question.

Ironically, this is the one they call the month of love. And while on satellite (DSTv) they're playing all those What's-Love-Got-To-Do-With-It type chic flicks where everyone ends up living happily ever after, out here in the real world hearts are breaking all over. So I'm listening to Savage Garden.

END

drowning on dry land

Sometime I cry. It's becoming clear to me when. I cry when I feel I have no control. I cry when I feel like the choice isn't mine. Like everything is in someone else's hands and I'm just an unwilling participant. Like I know what I want but I also know I'm not going to get it no matter what I do. I cry when I'm angry. I cry when I sense oppression from forces I can't control. But even more than that, I cry when I feel like I am a good man stuck in an adverse situation. I cry when I feel like I don't deserve what's happening to me.

I have always been able to lash out and express myself whenever I was dissatisfied with anything. I have always taken comfort in the thought that no matter what, at least my thoughts were always my own. Not anyone else's. But not lately. It's taken me a minute to get here, these are things I cannot so easily talk about. I've recently been through one of those moments, when you wish you were never born, or were born under different circumstances. In that moment, I felt like there was more on my shoulders than they were wont to bear.

The classic defintion of selfishness to me came from one Oscar Wilde. Selfishness is not living as one wishes. It is asking others to live is one wishes. There was an argument when I was at home. It was bad. And I have had nightmares about it ever since it happened. It started as something small but when it was over my life was completely changed by it. I still don't know if I can talk about it, but I know two nights don't go by when I don't think about it. This is the second time now in my life that I have wished I could tell the future. So that I would look and see what the consquences of my current actions would be before I committed them. And not just consequences on me, but on the people around me.

Maybe one day I will be able to talk about these things openly. Maybe one day I won't have those nightmares. And maybe when it's my turn and I have my own sacrifices to make, I'll do what I think was the right thing to do. I hope I won't be selfish. I hope I won't be supremacist. And I hope I will have the wherewithall to listen. But for now, for now I must continue to block that weekend. It's a sad day when someone like me can't say what they really want to say. Because that day, I'm not myself. The person that I am doesn't exist anymore. Something happened that weekend that I can't ever take back. And I can't talk about it. So I cry. And it's not the good kind.

END

champagne for my real friends, real pain for my sham friends

So when I was about 10 I was at a friend's place when I heard his mom ask him "Will you please do me that favor?", and I didn't know what a favor was so I asked. His mom wanted him to heat water for her, he knew that from before I got there, so he explained to me that a favor was when someone asks you to heat water for them, and I believed it. Turns out that was not entirely correct. Anyway, I started asking for favors whenever I wanted hot water to shower. But more importantly, thus started what was going to be a long culture of me learning things from my friends without knowing I was learning them.

That was a while back, and today, it's a while plus one more year. If I'm a significantly smarter person now than I was back then, and I am, it's because of all the amazing people I've met in my journey. People who've had an effect on me without even knowing that they were having it.

I had a friend in high school who we later ended up going to university with that I think is one of the most brilliant minds we have in our country right now. Remember that time I said I wanted to be able to say when I'm 90 that yes I made some mistakes but I was never afraid to take a risk? This guy has been living that mantra all his life. He's the guy that started an online business with part of his uni loan when we were still in school. He registered about 4 companies by the time we were in the 3rd year. When those fell under, he picked up his pieces and started one of our very first investment clubs, complete with investor proposals. When we cleared school and went our separate ways he started trading fish, because he saw a need and he figured out how to get supply to fill it out. He's been involved in countless ventures, and any lesser person would by now have given up, but not this guy. He just keeps learning and keeps on getting up the next day to try something else. I've learned from him that it's never so bad it won't be better tomorrow.

There's another friend of mine I grew up with. He's younger than me, so by the time he was starting high school, I was on my way out. But because our families were friends and stuff I've kept tabs with what's happening in his life. He's the guy that came second in the entire province in the final exam. And this despite having participated in all the extra curricular activities that count at the same time he was studying. Actuarial science is one of the harder courses to get into - he did. And he aced it. And halfway through, thought he wanted to be a pilot instead, and went and did those tests, and aced them. He's now a pilot with a degree in actuarial science. I don't know a single thing he's ever tried that he didn't succeed at. And yet you wouldn't be able to tell it relating with him. A lot of times I have to blow his trumpet because I know he won't do it himself and his story is too inspiring not to tell. I've learned from him that no one is ever too great to be humble.

There's another friend from university who I used to think had self esteem issues. I used to think she was the kind of person that would crumble and self destruct were she to be afflicted with adversity. Well, adversity did afflict her. Being a goody-two-shoes, things happened and she ended up pregnant. Something that's frowned upon in certain circles. And the baby daddy refused by implication to claim ownership. So she stepped up. He wanted her but didn't want the baby. I didn't think she had it in her, but she made the tough call. She let him go. She decided it was better to be alone and be happy than be hitched and be sad. And she's thriving now, generally winning at life. I've learned that from her. No one is ever too important to be dispensed with if they get in the way of your happiness.

Which brings me to my current friend. My best, friend. The person I've spent more time with than with anyone else since I was old enough to know things. I'm a difficult person to be with. I'm headstrong. I'm extremely loud and opinionated, and well spoken to complete the cycle. I think I know everything, and most times I actually do. I don't care about clothes or fashion or how I look. I value creature comforts over savings. I have a very quick temper - I snap quickly, but then I also calm down almost immediately. Because of how I grew up, I've become and expert at hurting people using words. I don't care for things that won't physically touch my life, including, but not limited to, my country and its leaders. She's my complete opposite. And yet she stays. She takes it all. Takes ME all. She has the biggest heart I know outside of my mother. And from her, I've learnt compromise.

These people are all a part of me. They are part of my past, my present, and my future. I embody within me the things I have learnt from them. Every day I get up in the morning I live the impact they have had on my life. And today, more than any other day, I am grateful I met these people, and many others (against whom I had the chance to sharpen now razor-sharp wit). They say children learn what they live. They are right. I learned what I lived. And I'm a better person for having known every one of the people I know. So as I celebrate my birthday, they are on my mind. And I can only hope that I get a chance to have as profound an impact on other people around me as they have had on me.

END

weeks go by like days

So I've realized that I only blog when I have something to complain about. When everything is not going as it should be. Then somewhere in there sneak in some of the good things as side notes. And from talking to a friend of a friend's who wants to write a book, I find I am not alone in this. Writer's block tends more often than not to be a period of prosperity and happiness. Coincidence? Anyway, that really doesn't sound right. The Bible says in everything to give thanks, for this is the will of Lord concerning you. So I wanna change that this year. Hopefully I'll be able to get back to my glory days of three years ago. This is my version of a new year's resolution.

I've decided this year to get real hobbies. It's really easy when you live in a foreign country where you don't know anyone and they're not necessarily falling over themselves to get close to you, to fall into a pattern where you just sit and watch TV and go to gym and go to the mall. And realize six months later that all you've done is watch six months go by. And that you stopped going to gym at month 2. I don't want any of that anymore. I don't want to just hang around. I started already towards the end of last year with photography, I wanna get better at that. The other thing I'm thinking of getting into is music. I've always loved listening to it, why not do something with that? Why not learn what DJs do when they do their thing? So I'd like to start on that as well.

Speaking of music, I used to play piano when I was in high school. Those days I used to be able to teach myself things quite effectively. I wonder what changed - whether I got less smart or got more impatient. Because I've tried with guitar and I haven't made much progress. Shem! But I wanna start again. For the second time, and hopefully there won't be a third. I was walking through a music store last week and came across these really cool piano replacements that are electronic but have 88 keys which are weighted so it really feels exactly like a normal piano, and I started getting ideas. Maybe I could buy one. Then I'd be able to start playing piano again. But I've already got a guitar. And Napoleon says to start with the tools we have at hand. So I think that's what I'm gonna do.

I'm still on the fence with swimming lessons. I know they've got it at the gym and probably all I'd have to do would be to buy a swimming costume, but I just can't seem to get over something in my mind. Same goes for dancing, which is starting to become less and less of a issue the older I get. So I'm gonna let those be a little bit.

I told myself late last year that I was gonna try and build meaningful relationships around me, but that seems much easier said than done. And there's too many other factors at play there, I think. So I'm staying off that. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn't, I'll find a way to get over it.

The biggest lesson I think people learn as they get older, Steve certainly did, is that time's gonna pass by, whether you do something or not. So if I were to summarize everything I'd like to do this year in one sentence, it's that I'd like to do something with this time I have been given. I see myself getting closer to my partner. I see myself getting better at guitar, and photography, and music. I see myself reading all the books in my 700-strong iBooks library. I see myself watching the entire West Wing all over again. I see myself exceeding further at work. I see myself buying a house, or at least getting significantly closer to it. I see myself blogging more frequently. And travelling. Ya, I definitely see myself travelling.

END

the desperate kingdom of love

Has there ever been one thing you thought you loved with all your heart? Something you thought you couldn't live without? Something you thought you'd do absolutely anything it took to keep? Did you keep it? Did it cost you everything to keep it? Was it a person? Did they feel the same way about you? Was it worth it?

My story's not over yet, it's still being written, but I once thought I did. Not too long ago. I thought I had someone in my life that defined me. That made me who I was. I don't know if I still do. And the limbo is eating me up inside. I know that because I'm up at 4AM writing this on a weeknight. And, because my heart aches. Physically, it aches. And the worst thing is, I don't know that I did everything I could to keep them. Maybe I didn't try hard enough. Or I gave up for a reason that's unjustifiable.

I've been reliving those moments over and over again. There's a lot of stuff I could have said. A lot of things I could have done differently. Had I tried, I think this could have gone a completely different way. I think I wouldn't be here right now. But I think it wouldn't have been real. It wouldn't have been complete. I think I would have ended up always wondering - what if I hadn't tried? Would we still be together? Would it still be as natural? I know relationships are supposed to be work, but exactly how much work is too much work? Anyway, like they say: when you go away for a short time, and you come back, and your person tells you they suddenly stopped missing you, that something's definitely changed, I think you're screwed either way.

I'm getting promoted at work tomorrow. Within the minimum time, just like we planned it, my boss and me. It's just further confirmation that this freight train that is my life is headed in the right direction. Just one more in a long string of fortunate events that means I'm totally blest. Ordinarily I'd be at the beach celebrating this. But for some reason, the human in me can't stop thinking about what I'm missing. What I'm likely going to be missing for a while. There's a lot of things that are right with my life, but I think the one thing that's wrong with it, biggest thing that's wrong with it, is that my life is not a movie. And that I don't write the scripts. And it doesn't have a soundtrack. I often find music cures a lot of situations. Or it just helps me escape. I've been listening to a lot of Dido lately. 

And, everyone's not perfect. Not even close. Me included.

I guess you really can't have it all, all the time. We all have a dark cloud hanging over our heads. I know it serves a purpose. I know a certain darkness is needed to see the stars. But then I also know those stars are not bright enough to overcome it. This girl in my all time favorite show was having a rough time with everything around her at some point. She was an artist for fun, so that's how she expressed herself. So she got up one weekend and painted her entire house white. Said she thought she'd "...paint the shadows away." How cool would it be if it were that easy to wipe pain away? They say our biggest regrets are not for the things we did, but the things we didn't do. Not for the things we said, but the things we didn't say. Does this darkness have a name?

So this guy used to play basketball. And he was the best. Then he got shot in the ribs or stabbed or something. He survived, but had to go through therapy for a while. And he sort of started losing his game. But before everyone knew it, he started playing again. He forced himself. And he trained harder than everyone to get his form back. One day he's hard at it and he's bleeding from his injury when a teammate walks up to him and asks him what his secret is. Where does he get the strength to endure the pain? And he says he doesn't really have one. It's just resolve. "One day, you just start shooting and deal with the pain later." If only that's all it took.

END

you're a runner, and i am my father's son

Jacob had 12 sons. Joseph was his youngest, and was his favorite.One night Joseph had a dream. They were all out harvesting corn, and the other 11 brothers' sheafs bowed down to his. He told them about it, and they laughed at him. Then the next night he went and had another dream: this time the sun, the moon and eleven stars all bowed down to him. His father called it an abomination. But God was making him a promise. One day, all these people you see around you will bow down before you.

The next thing that happened was, as we all know, Joseph's brothers, being exceedingly human, sold him off into slavery and told his father that he was dead. Just like that. One night, you dream you're going to be king, the next night, the people you will supposedly reign over sell you off into slavery, never to be seen or heard from again.

I think this tells us one very fundamental thing about God's promises to us, something we don't always remember - he promises us a happy end. He does not promise us a  smooth ride there. On the contrary, we know we shall get tested. And that it will be very difficult to hold onto the dream. This is what the guy at church last week was speaking about. It was one of very few sermons that will stay with me for the rest of my life.

It's been a rough two months. And I have found myself questioning this promise of prosperity. Both about myself and about my parents. I've always known this in principle, but now I think I know it for a fact - the government is the most thankless employer. You have to be cut out of a special cloth to have a successful career with those people. 

On this random day about two years ago, I woke up to continuing soft sobs from their room. It was my mother sobbing. I immediately thought the worst. I've written here before that you don't want to hear your mother crying, I meant it, coz I've been there. So I quickly rushed over to see what was going on. It turns out, it was something that had been building up over time, and had just come to a head that weekend. My dad had thrown himself into his work coz they gave him a school to run that basically wasn't a school, so he had to build it from the ground up with his own hands literally sometimes. In the process of giving his all to his employer, he dropped the ball a little on the home front. Or a lot. So my mum had been feeling neglected. She felt he didn't care that much about her and she wasn't number one anymore. And a lot of things had happened in between also to drive this impression further in her mind.

Anyway, he didn't get four stars and a big bonus in appreciation of the stunning results he delivered. Because it cost him part of his marriage, but he did deliver. No gold crown for him or anything. He instead got shipped off to the back of beyond to start all over again. With even more trials and tribulations. And he loves challenges so I guess maybe that in itself was reward to him. So of course he went. And from what I'm hearing he's taken the troubles as his own children. Like he always does. And he's my icon so I'm partly on his side, so I said to my mum what Khalil Gibran would have said, "Let him be. He's being the change he wants to see in the world." And then she asked, "But while he's out there changing the world where am I?" I didn't really have an answer.

It took a very long time, and in the interim he had to go to jail even, but Joseph finally got elevated by Pharaoh above everyone else in the kingdom but him. And when the rest of the world didn't have any food for 7 years, Egypt prospered under Joseph's watch. And so it came to pass that his father and eleven brothers did end up bowing before him. Just as he'd dreamt a hundred years ago. Just like God had promised him. God does not promise us a smooth life. But he does promise that the plans he has for us are plans to prosper. Plans for good and not for evil. And that everything will work together for good for them that love Him.

I don't know if a lot of people know this, but Rick Warren's wife suffered breast cancer and had to have a double mastectomy. During the ordeal, he came out and said, "I used to think life alternates. I used to think it was a series of valleys and hills. That after every period of suffering will come a period of comic relief. I don't anymore. I now believe it's like a railway track. There's good, and there's evil. And they run together in parallel. Which you focus on is entirely up to you." I'm trying to find the good in everything that happens to me.

END

i taught myself how to grow old

The story goes: two newborn babies are lying side by side in a hospital and they glance at each other. 90 years later, through remarkable coincidence, they find themselves lying across from each other on their deathbeds, and they glance at each other again. "So what did you think?" asks one to the other.

Everything remaining constant, it's going to be a very long time before any of us has to answer that question. But I think life is made up of milestones, and I think the way it works is certain milestones come quicker than others. Past a certain age, everything happens at lightning speed. And I think we've passed that age now. Time shifts into overdrive and from here on out everything's gonna fly past in the blink of an eye. So if you had to answer that question today, what would you say?

I learned from my father at a very young age that in life you will only ever get entrusted with as much as you show yourself capable of handling. The way I understood it at the time is that there were going to be standard tests sort of every so often, and if you pass one then you'd have earned the right to move on to the next (bigger) stage. School was definitely like that, and I blew past that. But as far as the rest of life goes, I've been thinking about it, and I think maybe there's certain stages I may have missed out on.

When I was in primary school there used to be occasional scandals where a boy would look at a girl, fall in love with them, and of course, being 13, would go and write that girl a little love letter telling her how his heart quavers like the West African  tom tom drums every time she walks by. And the girl would read it and hide in her desk so she could read it again and giggle silently, then like clockwork she'd do it during class and the teacher would see her, ask for it, and call them both forward and call them little devils and unfocused and failures and everything you can think of in primary school that means you're not going to amount to much in life. Then proceed to cane them to high heavens. See I was a winner in primary school, so I never did any of that. That was for those other mere mortals. I actually remember getting special mention for being the only guy who hasn't yet fallen prey to this evil that is attraction to girls. [not in those exact words] I was proud then. I'm not so sure now. I think that attitude that I developed then set me back some.

I have a friend now who used to be someone completely different when he was in high school. He's the guy that never went to any class on time. He was huge. He had a afro. Played rugby. Snuck out of school and went to clubs. Watched racy movies on the school library TV at midnight. He's the one every girl would gravitate towards during functions because he had such interesting stories to tell. He was the cool guy. He was the bane of everyone-in-authority's existence, but he was the idol of every other person (namely the rest of the students). So he had some tough times. Got suspended. Went to jail a little bit. Clashed with his parents. But still made it through high school in one piece. And then later on got serious about life and became like me. Became the person I've always been. I listen to him speaking now and he's been through so much that I think he's got a much stronger composition than I have. He sounds like he's a hundred years old and he's only my age. I sound like that too sometimes, but it's coz I watch TV and read. He's been there. He's literally seen it all. And he's still standing. So I'm wondering if the bubble I lived in left me weak. I seem strong. I seem like I'm doing well. But truth is I've never really had to stand against any adversity. How would I fare? He'd definitely eat it all up and get up the next morning for more. Would I?

How many moments do you have in your life that you can look back on and say "That's when it all changed." Do you even have any? I'm not sure I do. I think when I was 12, you could look at me and predict where I'd be when I was 22, and you'd more likely than not be right. Now don't get me wrong, I'm grateful. My life's trajectory has probably been constant because it's never had to change. God's been good to me all my life. I'm not sure I'd want it any other way. But Bill Gates says success is a lousy teacher; it seduces smart people into thinking they can't lose. "I failed at some subjects in college. My friend got everything right. He's now an engineer at Microsoft." So I can't help but wonder, if I hadn't been so successful the first time round; if I had been the cool guy instead of the smart guy, would I be a different person right now? Have I missed out on any larger purpose?

END

deterioration of the fight or flight response

How do birds do it? Fly thousands of miles halfway across the world and still find their mark? And come back again in spring when it's nice and warm. Wildebeest? How do penguins do it? They live in the snowy mountains. Everything's white and looks like everything else. How do they figure out where home is? How can they tell they're going in the right direction? And how do they never get lost along the way? And the very first time, how do they know they've arrived, never having been where they're going before?

When you can't see the future, when you don't know what dreams may come, when you're not sure whether or not this was supposed to be The One for you - how do you know when it's time to stop fighting and let go? I don't want to be that guy ten years later looking back wondering if I threw away a lifetime of happiness over a stubborn disposition. But I also don't want to be that guy who turns the other cheek and says "Please, slap me again." I like to think when I have a stand to make, I'll be able to get the courage to make it. And for the rest of my life I'll be able to live with my choices. But it's just so damn hard without knowing.

Two things I know about myself that I didn't a year ago: I'm not chauvinistic, but I do like to be made to feel like I'm in charge. I hate it when people don't make sense. I hate it when something's so obvious to me but other people can't seem to see it. I hate everything that's not rooted in logic (so naturally I love my blog). And two, I'm a needy person. And I'm not as strong lonely as I thought I was. When I fall for someone, I fall hard. Hard. So in a sense, I'm just like everyone else. I'm really not the superman I thought I was.

So I'm at that point now. We got into a fight, repeatedly. The same fight. And if you ask me, what's at the root of it all is respect and compromise. I feel I keep bending over backwards, and she doesn't meet me halfway. She feels I'm rude and I don't respect her or treat her like a queen. We've been here before. And we got through it every time. But I think we got through it because I was always willing to extend an unconditional olive branch. I think I give and I give and I give, and I don't know if I can live like that for the rest of my life. It's supposed to be a cycle, is it not? Now you give, now you receive. If it just keeps being one-sided, I think one of the people will lose themselves. And maybe some people are fine with that-personalities differ, right? But not me. The third thing I know about myself, and have always suspected, is that I have to be allowed to BE me. I've won too many times at too many things in the past to doubt myself.

I saw an episode on one of my all-times (One Tree Hill) where Andy and Lucas' mum were breaking up. He was moving back to Australia coz Dan got him deported, and she wouldn't go with him even though she seemingly didn't have a reason not to. So as he walks out the final time she's like, "Andy, I love you, you know." And he goes, "I know, Karen. But somehow that just doesn't seem to be enough." And he walked away. Right now, I know where I wanna go with this girl. I just don't know how to get there. Or if it's worth it anymore to even try. I need help.

END

remember to call at my grave

"Being black is not a matter of skin pigmentation. Being black is a reflection of a mental attitude." Steve Biko

A lot of things changed for me when I moved here. Two things, however, stood out more than anything else: how rooted in their culture the black people here are, and how sensitive the issue of race is. 

The latter I totally didn't understand. I looked around and saw people in their 20's, people who don't have the same story Mandela has, or even Raymond Suttner, decry apartheid and how the white person ruined their lives, and I belittled in my mind these people, because from where I stood, they were just using past injustices as an excuse to be mediocre. They weren't old enough to see the worst of what apartheid did. By 1990 they were maybe 3 or 4. They shouldn't know about apartheid. Yes it happened, but it happened a hundred years ago and it happened to different people. I heard black people complain about how the ANC (the "black" party) was no longer doing anything for them, but come elections, they still automatically vote ANC. And I stupidly thought, if you know the DA (a "white" party) would do do a better job, why not vote them in? This interracial animosity I sensed everywhere was totally unfounded, I thought.

I've seen enough now to know the error of my ways. How naive I was. I couldn't possibly have been wrong on more levels.

As I've looked at the history, through a combination of stories from the older ones amongst us, visits to the Apartheid Museum, and countless documentaries on TV, I've started to find that the fundamental mistake I made was to judge a situation I had no insight into, and to judge it through my very narrow scope. I have started to realise that there isn't a limit to how much damage mentally oppression can cause someone. When you grow up and everyone around you tells you you won't amount to much, that you'll never be any better than you currently are, that you can't rise above a certain level, that you're systemically inferior and not worthy of a good life, I guess you believe it. Those limitations become the fabric of your thought. Your glass ceiling becomes a granite wall. You stop dreaming. There's not many things in the world more damaging than seeing your life stolen from under you and being completely powerless to do anything about it. 

One of the pictures I saw at the Apartheid Museum that killed me was of a train station, with I think a train waiting, and there was a whole bunch of black people standing on the one side crowding, obviously looking for transport, but because the station was marked "FOR WHITES ONLY" there was nothing they could do but stand out in the cold. And the caption read something like, despite the fact that there weren't any fences or police presence enforcing segregation at the station, those black people could not even conceive of crossing over to go into the train waiting. That's how strongly imbued into their minds the apartheid system was. The fences were now in the minds of the black people, there didn't need to be any physical ones.

And this is the thing that made me least qualified to judge - I've never had that feeling of being trapped within my own mind. Being shackled by invisible chains. The kind you can't break not because you really can't, but because you don't know that you can. I grew up believing I could have it all. I grew up with that sense of entitlement. My parents made sure they were there every step of the way, supporting me, making me feel like I was superman. To some measure I've seen people's hard work pay off for them. I've even seen a determined people change their government just because they came together. The black people of South Africa, they didn't have that for a very long time. Steve Biko said the most powerful weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed.

When I was growing up, I read about Rosa Parks refusing to stand up for a white person on a bus. And to me that was literally all she did. It sounded simple enough. I didn't get what all the hoo-hah was about. But I realise now that to the people that know, there aren't enough words to describe the symbolism, the empowerment, that came from such a basic act. And from a natural act like Nelson Mandela unconditionally forgiving his former oppressors after 27 years in jail. I am beginning to understand now why he is such a legend. Not just because he forgave, but because of WHO he forgave. There's a phrase that plays in a loop at the Apartheid Museum, a recording from the conclusion of the Rivonia Trial, at which Mandela and his cohorts were to be found guilty of treason and possibly sentenced to death. I have not been able to get this line out of my mind since I heard it.

I have fought against white domination, and I have fought against black domination. I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons will live together in harmony with equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for, and to see realised. But my Lord, if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.

And so I don't judge anymore. I don't judge because I cannot possibly understand. I don't judge because I've never been through what the people in SA went through. On the contrary, I marvel sometimes at how grounded it's made them. At how fiercely strong they've grown to be in the face of such adversity. At how being black has to them become something much more than just the skin color it is to me. If I can learn that from the, I will leave here having become a much better person than I came in.

Sarah Britten is a modern-day writer of note, and she wrote a story recently that covers just this subject. She said, "...we seem incapable of resolving conflict without resorting to racist generalisations. Somehow, if we see bad behaviour, we immediately attribute it to race rather than a failure of character; every time somebody behaves like a total doos [dumbass], the entire premise of post-apartheid South Africa goes on trial..." The first time I read it I agreed completely. I felt as though she had read my mind. But when I think about it, I'm not so sure anymore. Maybe race keeps coming up, and will continue to keep coming up, because it's just that big a deal. Maybe it keeps coming up because those wounds just run that deep.

END