Shoe sized selfless

"Who's getting us lunch today? Hhhm, I got us lunch that day, then you Vince, then Tanya, Tanya again, whoow! Tanya again, okay then me then you Vince. Aaaah, it's me  again today! Why do I feel like I'm always the one to get us lunch when it really matters?" Zack protested, but of course his own tablature could not grant him an opportunity to put his feet on the ground. The protest was over. The lot had fallen on him once again, it was only natural that it should. "Don't worry bro., I got your back. I brought my appetite with me, so non of the food you get us will go to waste, especially because I'm sure there will be no bones to chew on, unless you have a new breed of vegetarian meals with a few in" I mocked. "Okay, eveybody, let's go" Zack said as he led the way. "Where are we going Zack, are you taking for lunch at your place?" Tanya asked. "My place? No Tanya. If we go at my place you will all join in the cooking, unless that is what you all want, I have no problem with that." Zack said as he wore a scheming smile, as if he could read our minds. "Oh, no, no. It's okay! Anywhere but your place right now, later can do for that" Tanya responded, while I nodded in support. "Well then, buckle up. I'm taking you for a ride. Oh, and Vince, you take the back seat, and once we get where we are going, kindly open the door for Tanya, her door only opens from outside. Don't worry I plan to get a new one soon, been making a few savings." Zack said as we entered his 'old faithful'. "You mean you will be getting a new door? Hhhhm, interesting." I said with a jolly smile. "Of course not, I mean a new car, nothing fancy ,just something to get me going. I'll leave the fancies to you" He objected. "Should we be worried about anything else, Zack, perhaps the rear doors don't lock, just in case?" I asked with a little muse. For this I received no answer, save a friendly warning that I would foot the bill, should I continue to malign his lovely pigeot.
We had arrived. And like we had rehersed, I got out of the car, and walked to the  front passenger's seat and opened the door for Tanya. Perhaps a display of unprecedented courtesy on my part. I was learning the lessons well.
 "Okay, here we are. Just what the doctor orderd. A Japanese restaurant. So what will you take? Anyone for Sushi?" As he grinned a broad smile. Tanya and I were not ready for 'try outs' . We asked for any alternatives and sure enough, we got some, 'hot curry rice, and baked leaks with a deep'. I tried the chopsticks, but it was evident that it would take an eternity for me to finish my meal if I dared venture in such a novelty. I liked the curry rice, though the 'hot' part made one need an air corn in the oral cavity.
Before we could finish up our meal, Tanya seemed to be turning a little pale and sweaty. "Oh, oh oooooh,my stomach hurts!" She grinched and added, ' I think I'm having contractions." Without hesitation we rushed her back to the car and drove her to back to the hospital.
Her 'LNMP' and 'EDD', estimated date of delivery, showed that she was due in a  fortnight. But medicine, like my good old professors would say, doesn't read text books so she was in labour anyhow. We waited patiently in the corridors for
nature's transformation to take its course. We hoped for no instrumentation. Zack was sweating as though he too had somehow gone into labour. He paced the corridors. He was as one who had come down with akathesia ( a feeling of restlessness with an inability to sit still due to a subjective desire to move). He kept on looking at the time on his wrist watch, I wondered if he was given the task of being the time keeper. Soon his nerves took the better of him, and he crouched into the Labour room. And just then, the little lad was out. But no ululations yet. The rite of passage could not be complete without the baby accepting it's new home-earth, with breathable air, this acknowledged by 'the cry'. With a little rub while drying out the liquor,  it cried, 'it is done!' perhaps. One may burst into all forms of frenzied noise.
Tanya had given birth to a baby boy. So perhaps Zack now had a heir to his throneless kingdom. Tanya wept as she was handed the baby after the cleansing rite. To the onlooker, it was a natural phenomenon, a cry of victory for bringing forth a new life. Yet for Tanya, the sight of her babe conjured up a host of memories, some not worthy of recall. She realized, this would not have been save, perhaps, for the intervention of Zack who too perhaps was moved by a hand unseen by the natural eye. Whispers of heavenly sentinels may perchance have wrought such a decision. She recalled the shame she had brought upon herself. Her tears rolled. I had my handkerchief.  I handed it to her, but before she could use it, I realized I had not cleaned it proper. I withdrew my courtesy, and instead tapped Zack on the back, and as a apt reader of non verbal cues, he got some tissue to wipe her tears.
We left the hospital and took her home. She was to nurse the lad for the first six months of his life, though provision was made should she decide to opt out. Zack and I got all the necessities for the young lad, and we visited Tanya as oft as we could while she took leave from work.
At six months, Tanya took the weaned little lad to Zack who had been rehearsing on how to play 'daddy' for quite some time. Tanya was freed from all responsibility towards Shawn, as Zack had named him. She was free to become the woman she had wanted, a second chance at life? Perhaps.  We had agreed never to talk about Shawn in the presence of Tanya, lest we arouse a mother's sympathy and cause more grief.  For a while she manged to keep it all cool. Yet with the passage of time, the cords of love drew her to her babe, as she peradventure brought to memory how she had him suckle at her breast. She would feign see him. Zack noted deliveries at his home ranging from formula feed to diapers from an unknown source. Of course one needn't be a detective to have Tanya as first suspect.  With a little interrogation,  she owned up. A plea of 'guilty' was made, and this was followed by a request for an indulgence to continue doing the same till she had finally moved on. Her request was granted with a pinch of salt.
 "Look here Tanya, I'm doing this for you. At the end of the day, if Shawn being with me is killing you, then I would gladly hand him over to you. I have no intention, at all, of causing you pain. That I decided to keep the child was simply to prevent you from taking a life. This, perhaps would have been more hurtful to you than the first err." Zack said as Tanya had made a surprise visit to his home. "I hear you, I really do. I just don't know what to do now. I gave over the child to you, and technically I have no child, for without you, chances are high I would have aborted. But now, I have this strange desire to somehow be part of his life. Yet I don't think I'm ready to be with him, the thought of my prior intentions would crush me." She said as a weeping willow.
"Look, I stand here not knowing how it must feel to give birth and believe me, I'm content in my ignorance. I have helped many a mother  deliver, yet I'm bareft of the tie that binds mother to child. Perhaps the ordeal one goes through makes the cord even stronger. I did not experience the abrupt gain in weight, the pica, the flaring up of hormones. You did." Zack spoke in tones so sweet, he would almost burst into tears himself, but then again, men don't cry- they just get dust in their eyes. With a warm countenance, he said,"You know what, it's true you waived your right over this child. But beyond all the technicalities and legalities,  he is more of yours than he is mine. May I suggest that you become his aunt, and since an aunt is technically family, you are free to come over and see him as much as you want. And in future, should yout decide to have him back, I will gladly waive my adoption rights. But for now, grant that I take care of him." "A few years back, I thought I had seen an angel, I guess I wasn't wrong. It was not a delusion, I really did see one, and I'm looking at him right now."  Tanya iterated.
Perhaps angels sometimes do take the form of men, mortals. One needn't, perhaps, mount up with wings or ware a garb of the brightest light to be one. We miss a great opportunity when we speak with indifference to the aching soul, when we treat with contempt the downtrodden, the mendicant or pauper in the ally, or the weighed down coleague. The courtesy Abraham bestowed the trio of sojourners resulted in the aged birthing. The kindness lot had shown the duo that roamed into the city poised for doom paved way for his close shave escape. Perhaps one may need a new pair of shoes sized selfless.

A different shoe size

Tears ran down her cheeks, sobs were the rhyme of her grief, she sat coiled up trying to hide from the world as it were. I had just handed her my last fold of toilet paper, for I lacked an appropriate handkerchief, for her to wipe her train of tears. I had dared not ask what the matter was, till I was sure I had performed dutifully the 'ABCs' of consolation; allow as much time as possible for one to let it all out, lest   such drowns in his or her own sorrows, bequeath no more than you can handle, care for her immediate needs. If in an unfortunate case of advanced grief, I was inexperienced , my senses would be as it were inebriated. I had to keep all emotional vitals stable.
In a stroke of luck, Zack was in, the ever elated gentleman. "Hey  Tanya, hey  Vince, guess what. I got us extra large sized vegetarian pizza! And guess what, I got it at half the price apparently, since most of you guys prefer the meaty stuff, no offense,  there was plenty of the vegie stuff so I was offered at that beautiful, oh wait, pretty price. How's that nha?" He yelled as if walking in a room with dumb people, with ears decrepit. "Ssssh, Zack, please" I said, "Can't you see this is not the right time for your rattling. Tanya here is not too well" I added. He drew closer, and like a consultant that had come to the rescue of a novice junior medical resident,  He got some of the tissue I had given Tanya and wiped dry her cheeks, lifted her from the seat and gave her a long hug. I sat there as though I needed to take notes in my ward scribbling pad lest I'm faced with such a scenario in the OSCE and should regret the moment. I watched closely as he begun to sing out the consolation rubric as it were, "Hey Tanya, we are here, I'm here. We are not fine weather, rather, all weather friends and don't you ever think that's going to change today just because you are hurting. Now talk to me, what's the matter?"  For a while, Zack tried to negotiable for an 'openner' as one who would feign see the vessels for a canular. An audible hush then wisked in. Everyone was anesthetized into an awful silence. I wondered whether I would be in order to suggest 'we leave' her alone for a while, but alas, she spoke up. "I'm pregnant" she wispered. "I was about to shout, congratulations, but sanity pinched me by the ear and wisdom spoke in inaudible tones: words spoken in haste seldom carry any balm, perhaps a scarthing trail." I held peace as she proceeded, "It's not the way I planned it, I had kept my self all this while till I messed it all up." "Go on, we are listening."  Zack said. "Well, the child I'm carrying is not my fiance's. I had always  hoped I'd use the 'blessed' route before conceiving- a proper marriage!" Tanya said as  she lapsed back into another  derge. At this moment I wondered whether I should sympathize with her fiancé  too. How was he going to take the news?
This time I offered the napkins from the pizza tray as tear dryers. We requested her to continue after the flood had waned. "So you see, I'm a mess." She said.
Now Tanya was a flower in bloom. She was a marvel to behold. She, however never took pride in her form, for she was wise enough to know that a frame does not necessarily make a person whole, but the character with the frame, with emphasis on the former.  The latter attracts, while the former gives reason for one who has been caught by the web of charm to stick around long after the frame has faded, lost its lustre or altogether ebbed away. She never did use her frame to get herself undue favours, though one may confess, we did push her to use it one too many times for our advantage,  a little like the patriarch Abraham and the matriarch Sarah when they encountered a king in a land foreign. Though she would oft rebuke us for doing so, and soon we learnt to grant her due respect.
Over time, however,  she had gotten the attention of fine acquaintances.  In their presence, we appeared deam with respect to everything that seemed refined. They talked more of what they drove, while we talked about what  drove us, for we owned nothing worthy of mention, not to say we didnt love our little cranked vehicles. For a while she managed to keep them just as friends, and we would too associate with them. Perhaps there lucre would rub on to us. And as long as she was our pal, we received indirect contingencies; free tickets to this and that, invitations to garlas and balls. For she would not leave without her voices of reason, Zack amd I, though  at times defunct. Perhaps she was now in this mess due to our selfishness.
Her heart was won over by one of the fine young men. A man of enterprise and a character worthy of emulation. A polished young lad. She was not to him a trophy or another masterpiece in his galary, rather a partner, a helper and friend. Yet like an awe lamb that wandered from the fold, she nibbled her way into the latches
of misfortune.  An awful stipend for a wrong turn.
"What am I going to do now, how am I going to face my fiancé?" She said with deep agony. I was at a loss of words. "Should I even tell him? let me just abort." She added. I felt some chills go down my spine as I heard her plan to abort. Where had her morals gone. Did she not fear the law of the land, and if that wasn't good enough  did she not fear the one who owned our lives, the creator of life? I was ready to blast that thought out of her head, yet once again sanity saved me. "You know what, I've made up my mind , I'm going to abort- I can't bring this child into the world a shame." She said. I wondered how Zack kept cool in all this. Was he deaf to her speach? "Ok, Tanya" Zack said, " That you are pregnant is not a sin, neither a wrong nor a curse, it's a blessing, as odd as it may sound to your ears. That you where unfaithful was the sin, the wrong yet still not a curse. Should you abort, you will probably be adding a curse to the other two ills. Now I speak as one who has not directly experienced what you are going through, but I know you are a prodigy of good erudition and well know that one need not pass through misfortune or any experience for that matter to grapple with it and gain understanding. I will not suggest you bare the burden of keeping that child and neither will I suggest you rid yourself of it. May I suggest that you tell Harrison, your fiancé, what you have just told us. Don't expect too much from, save that he might receive the news with a weight of salt. Possibilities of outcomes are varied, don't lean on any, yet hope for some good riddens." He added as he looked sternly in her eyes, as if communicating in cues only they could comprehend. There was a piercing silence once again. Arrows of plain truth as from an archer's quiver seemed to be aimed in great number with non going amiss. "I will take the baby!" Zack spoke. His words seemed to echo in the room. "What, what do you mean?" Tanya and I spoke in concert. "Well, I mean just what I said. I will take the baby. If Harrison declines to take the child, and I will place no blame on him for that, or his biological father fails to own up, I will keep it as mine. As long as you don't get rid of it. I will adopt it. You can go own with your life and I will make sure you are free from any responsibility towards it." He added.
 I was awe struck. Either he was having a moment of insanity or he was the most caring person I had come to know. "Are you serious Zack?" Tanya asked with tears still rolling down her cheeks. "I can sign the paper work before you even go into labour so you are sure of it." He iterated. Tanya spoke in some gibberish "But, but, what if, you, me, my fiancé and..."   Zack quickly interrupted  "No buts, ifs or ands. I have decided to take up the care of your child. I guess my child now".
The papers were signed, ratified, for the othe two parties would not take responsibility. Zack was going to be a father having known no woman, and Tanya was freed from what nature had bestowed upon her. I dared not put myself in Tanya or Zack 's shoes. Perhaps they were a size different from mine. Yet one may glean lessons so precious, books fail to put them in writting.

For Love's sake

"How I wish I could call you 'my love, my precious boon, pumpkin pie or other rosey names without any illegality. How I wish I could spend a little more time with you, walk hand in hand, or perhaps carry you on my back and run into the setting sun on some whitened Sandy beach or lake side. How I wish we could sing melodies, even in discord, and still feel they were the sweetest songs ever. How I wish the feeling was mutual" These words seemed to reverberate from the walls, for a little while it was thought someone was rehearsing a line in poetry.  Sobs soon followed, but were quickly put under guise of 'a speck in the eye.'  Frick had received a letdown on his 'proposal', not for poetry class or the theatrical innings. His object of love had spurned his efforts, it seemed. She dared not stay too long, she hurriedly left. Frick would have followed but for a neighbour's restraint.
Frick was an average middle-class 27 year old male, standing at 1.8metres, well built and groomed with no obvious deformities. Sheka was a fair maiden, words would not suffice in describing her, albeit she was built in perfect  symmetry, nothing short of beauty. She was reserved.  A perfect match it seemed. If rules of engagement were in existence, they should have declared the two 'green lit' , a perfect rendezvous.  Yet it was not to be.  I was deficient of consolation . The one thing I could do, that I did. I walked up to him and offered to pay the bill for the meal he had ordered. Not that he couldn't setyle it, but to make up for my lack of 'know how' in such cases, I had to do something. While I was fidgeting and trying to figure out what else to do, 'granny' (we didnt know her name, though we had been at her restaurant several times, so we just called her granny- what a shame) walked up to the table. "Well hello boys, hope you enjoying your food?" She said cheerfully. "Oh yes, granny, we sure enjoyed the meal, bonappetite!" I reiterated. "Hey, Frick , what are sulking about, don't tell me I put too much chilly in the fillets?" She added as she noticed Frick's somber mood.  "Nah, granny, your food is awesome as always, otherwise we wouldn't be coming back here now would we? Just not feelin' too great today."   Frick said as he tried to pull himself together."Well, what's the matter? If my food can't sort it, then perhaps I can" she said wittily. I tried to change topic, but Frick interrupted and gave her the gist of the matter. "Oh my poor boy,  look at you. That's why you look so miserable. What you need is a free hot cup of your chocolate, and it's comin' right up as we talk a little bout your predicament" she said. "Can I have one too, for free?" I added  and for sure we all got in full measure. What a way to start a counselling session,  free food!
 "So do you love her, I mean really love
Love her?" Granny asked. "Of course I do, would I be sulking if I didnt?"  Said Frick . "How much?" Granny added. " How much? A lot!" Frick asnwered. "Ok then, it makes my task a little easier then." Granny continued. "Easier, how ?" I interrupted. "Well, if Frick loves her a lot, then it goes without doubt that he desires her happiness as much, sometimes-foolishly more, as he desires his own. Hence let me ask you a question my good boy Frick. Do you know what makes your lady 'tickle', happy?" Granny said. "Well, I may not know everthing. But this I know, she finds delight in working out things on her own, she likes to be given freedom to express her individuality. She likes to help other people. She doesn't like being undermined or pushed to make decisions she does not approve. She disdains failure to keep time, among other things, or and she's quite reserved, not so outgoing." Frick said. "Great, at least we getting somewhere.  Now ask yourself whether or not you are able  take her mold, and  make her happy . Would you be content to be with her, even though you knew with your guts that she wasn't happy being with you, would you?" Granny added. "No, I wouldn't be content. I guess I would be glad to have her with me, yet sooner or later, her sadness would permeate our relationship and it would start to eat me up, and by extension, our tie" Frick said. "Good, you're not only smart my boy, but you have a heart of gold, you are considerate. So would you rather she leave now while she can, and let her find her happiness where perhaps it lies, or she sticks around and ties the note with you and suffer a scourge so great in marriage?" She said. "Well, gran, you speak as one with goulds of wisdom, and much experience. Yet my heart still yearns for her.  But then again I love her so much, I guess I would have to let her go, for her happiness, as odd as it turns out to be." Frick said. This was rather a strange discourse, and had it not been for the free food, perhaps I would have interrupted many times. It was a hard lesson to learn even for me. I thought  we had to find the problem and solution.  I thought we where supposed to help Frick gather courage to go to Sheka and try a few more times before giving up, I mean, the lesson we just had was more about quitting than perseverance, or was that a lesson for another disappointment? Frick put his feet to the ground and a new glow permeated his visage. He soon had no need of the tissue  I had stock piled in my pocket for any eventual tear down.  As I was still trying to put 'one and two' together,  granny spoke up again. " Hey, you know what, this reminds me. Have you boys heard of the 'man of calvary'? Well he was in a love dilemma too. Love, I tell you is no child's play, not to mean children can't or shouldn't love. When you love, you kinda put yourself at the whims of the object of your love. 'For God so loved the world...' for what? For you and me and every other Jim and Jack that has ever come upon this earth that had strayed." "But gran, doesn't that show us love's pesevearing side?" I encroached. " hold your horses, my boy. Did Christ desire your good, your happiness?"she asked and I quickly responded with an affirmative. "Alright then, does he know what counts for your happiness, does he know where you can have your happiness? She added. "Yes he does. Real and lasting happiness is found in him, in accepting him as lord and savior. For in him is our life, at least this I've read in the scriptures. And technically we all wanna live." Frick answered. " Perfect Frick. So you see, Christ loved you so much and he desired your happiness. The catch is, your happiness can only be found in him. So technically Christ had no choice as it were, though really he had a choice, but
to bring you to himself, for then you would find your happiness. However, you still retained the power to decide whether or not you wanted to be with him. Unfortunately, you and I don't know if we hold the happiness of another person, and actually we really don't . But with interaction with them, we can learn to see whether we add an once of happiness to their life or not, and if not or we are not sure, I suggest one stays back or does a little more detective work." Granny said as we listened in awe. A little too much to swallow for the moment, but I guess time would melt everything into a cone and we would sip on it as we went on life's errands. Hard nuggets we hard to grapple with.

An unexpected turn 3

'Knock, knock' , I tapped gently on the lovely dooor leading to a porch in the house. For a while after, silence prevailed, but as I tried to knock once more, I heard footsteps towards the dooor. The door swung open, a lady walked out, 'Well hello. Goodafternoon, how can I help you?' She said. I quickly responded, 'Oh hello, good afternoon ma'am, I'm Andy- I reside just a few blocks down the street. I, I'm...' And just before I could find the right words to properly introduce myself, a shout rang out, 'Andy, you came! Mom meet Andy. Andy meet mom. Mom, Andy is my good friend and he is a therapist and I asked him to help you out, seeing you really get stressed out a lot' By the time she was done, I had a shy smile on my face for I couldn't have introduced myself in a manner as such, perhaps it would have been easier to say plumber.
Natalie's mom was stunned. Whether or not it signaled good tidings was beyond me. The door was closed gently with me outside
and the two inside. A little muttering and near opening of the door occurred, then finally I was asked to come in. By this time I had already rehearsed a few minutes' escape plan. I had set an alarm to ring about ten minutes later, and I was to take it as an emergency call.
As we walked down the porch, I noted dozens of pictures or portraits, to be more precise, hanging along the walls. They were age old frames of genealogies past and now present. They were neatly arrayed in such order . We turned to the living room, and a huge aquarium caught my attention. It was replete with corals, goldfish among others.
In just a few moments of settling in the house, I noted a particular exactness and orderliness.
'Andy, Andy' Natalie called, ' What are you going to have for a drink and a snack '
as she hoisted up a list of options. 'I'll have a glass of water, and a snack of your choosing.' I responded. 'May I have  tea please, a quarter and half teaspoon sugar, make it hot, but not too hot' Natalie's mom replied.
'Oh, where are my manners, I'm Mrs Roberts, others just call me Katelyn or Kate. May I see your credentials please' She said. 'Aaaah, cred- credentials? Well I, I don't have them hear with me'   I grappled. She laughed and added, 'Oh, no, I didn't mean that, my apologies. I mean, what is your profession, your occupation?' 'Oh, I'm a therapist.' I could see her face turning straight at me with a stare commanding verity in me, as she lowered the her glasses, perhaps to decider falsity . I felt she could read my mind.  In a moment's breath I was somewhat taken in a trance. I begun to rationalize which one would be the easier way. To lie would be easy momentarily, but would require remembering every
detail of it, so it stays clean . But to tell the truth would put a stain on my fair personage, but of course I was in this  situation because of the earlier lie that I was a therapist- I recalled a line I had once come across which read thus,' the line of least resistance makes all rivers and some men crooked' Napoleon Hill's laws of success. I figured I should own up and say it like it was, for lies or fables where like sugar coated pills that mused one's mouth yet left bitter his belly.
'I'm actually a doctor,  I'm currently doing my residence in general surgery' I said in low tones. I was ready to receive what ever was to come as I sat there sipping on my cup of water , albeit their in lay no sweetness,  but in that moment it did taste sweet. ' Oh Andy, you lied to me. I trusted you. You 're just like Dad,' Natalie mourned as she left the scene and rushed to her room. Her mom followed her with molifying tactics, but it seemed I had set in motion a grieving cascade, and perhaps the natural process had to take its course. Her mom returned after a while. I sat there, a little like a statue -motionless with the exception of my lips which seemed to constantly sip from the now 'bitter waters of Marah'. I needed a briddle to my tongue.
'How is she doing?' I asked Kate. She replied,'Oh she'll be fine, she just got a little emotional- kids.'   'And why did she say  I'm just like her dad, is there anything you would like to let me know?' I added. 'Well, her dad is a doctor just like you, and me. So I guess that's why she said that, it's nothing really.' At that point, I didn't want to probe any further, I had probably even overstayed my welcome. I apologized for the inconvenience I caused, as I was escorted out the door.  I recalled I had set up an escape plan, so I  checked to see why my phone alarm didn't ring. To my amazement, I had not activated it.
Three days had past and I hadn't heard from or seen Natalie. She was like a constant dripping on a rainy day at times, and yet at other times, an angel. I decided to get her a bouquet of flowers. I knocked at her home, but there was no reply.  I gently placed the flowers by the side of the doorway with an apology note, and walked away. While at a stone's throw away I heard a call, ' Hey Andy. Wait!' It was kate, Mrs Roberts. She walked up to me and asked if we could have a little chat while she took her pet dog 'Ruggae' for a walk. I agreed. She took the first slot ' Well, Natalie's dad and I have not been together for a while now,  it's been about a year now. We're not divorced and I don't ever want that to happen, but I fear the worst. Well he seems to have put his work ahead of everything, and that includes his relationship with his daughter and I. Even when we had him around, we would barely see him. This was especially after he got into hospital management. He was and still is a very good and dedicated gentleman. Very apt. His colleagues like him a lot for his good work culture, and pleasant personality, perhaps a reason too we are hate with his detachment from us. He moved to another town where he took over managerial position. And we seldom see or talk to him for that matter. The few times he comes over are like a patch of heaven, he's very kind and he sure knows how to spoil me and Natalie. But no sooner do we start enjoying his presence than he vanishes into thin air. And just like that, we are left with a void, an emotional emptiness creeps in. Natalie has been hugely affected, she thinks he's a liar, but of course I try to defend him by telling her he's busy saving lives -a bitter sweet truth. All too busy for us.  I've tried to be strong for her sake. But sometimes I crack down, I figured that's why she called you to help out. Normally I wouldn't have sought help, but I entertained you for her sake. When you lied to her, it reminded her of her dad.' 'Oh that's really sad to hear, I'm so sorry for the pain I caused her, I wish there was something I could do to help.'  She looked straight in my face and said,
'Perhaps there's something you can do. You can still be my therapist,  we'll just have to convince her even doctors do psych. at some point, don't they ,or didn't we ?' I hesitated for a while, then I agreed to the suggestion.  So I was still going to be a 'therapist' -psychotherapist.

Under the country sky

The dust was chocking, the noise was deafening, the heat was searing. Somehow I found myself seated on the 'hood' of one of the engine's tentacled appendage. It had the least comfort in the overpacked minivan. Every thumb and vibration from the pothole or hump was transmitted undiluted to my gluteal laden rear end.  I had to give up my seat to a time-worn sun-tanned merchant whom we picked up along the dust laden gravel road-he seemed a few decades older than I, though I found it rather unnecessary seeing the mini had limited number of passengers it could carry, but for 'respect's' sake, I dared not protest once the man was on board. My chance at protest had passed, before the man could get in. So I soaked it in like a good lad should.
Efforts to keep the dust from coming in came a little too late, and closing the little windows were like a smothering recipe. So we allowed the free entry and exit of air, with dust of course. We had to improvise with cloth face masks. Another ire to my nuances.
The mini was a legend in the route. I bet it had seen many more sunsets than I could count in my entire life, evidenced by its decrepit like nature. It's rear end exhaust was agush with blackening soot. The reving of the engine was as though a roar. But with time, I learnt to look passed all that. It was of little consequence how one traveled as long as one reached his intended destination, or so it seemed for every other person aboard. I too took note of the art of taking it all in, without a murmur.
It was a lonely track, with a paucity of vehicles heading the opposite direction.
As you may have guessed it, it's the old road that leads to the country. It's got no posters to guide you, but once you tread it one,two three times, you need no posters to act as a guide. The very sights and smells, sounds and scenes would,without ambiguity, dictate your station. And somehow once you disembarked , a train of years would begin to wind round your mind till, perhaps you grasped the time of your last visit.  It would serve to grant you memory of people and place.
There I was, standing with my little brief case, not much in it save a few pairs of pants, sweaters, soaks and everything manly, and a back pack with everything miscellaneous. A few buildings stood erect right in front of me-buildings not of motor and clay, rather of wood and straw others with baked brick and/or mud. Folks, not many, dotted the place. I feared my little belongings being purloined. A little tension and awkwardness filled the air for about a minute or so, albeit they soon lightened up and I drew closer to them for to seek direction to folks I had come to visit. One or two approached me and took a good look at me, perhaps examining my frame for any
signs of belonging. They muttered amongst themselves -'His face, his ears and his voice too-they match one Mr so and so.' They chuckled and in concert asked, 'Are you one of the  Lutanzi's ?' I quickly noded with an affirmative yes. These guys were better at putting pieces together than I was getting it together with patients . I wished I had their  great acumen and insight, I would cut down on time spent clerking.  'How are you related to Mr Lutanzi?' They probed further. I responded, with a jargon of relationship maze. 'He's my grandpa's brother's son'. They retorted, 'Over here, you are either his son, grandson or brother , other relations are no importsnce tof us.' So I settled for son for I presumed it would confer me greater privilege if he, Mr Lutanzi, had won himself a good reputation in the land, though the opposite too was a possibility.
I was quickly granted a little lad for an escort . He was untamed as one could be, free spirited lad. Out here he seemed more mature than I. On our way we were met with a herd of cattle. Bulls and cows in large number were grazing in the area. I was no herder or cowboy, I dreaded the sight before us.  The sheer size of the animals, the dagga like horns gave me unwonted tremens . With quivering lips, Lisping tongue I motioned, 'Perhaps we wait for the train to cross before we offend the multitude.' My little escort was not at all shaken by this 'fleet' as it were . It was all natural  for him.  At the rear of the herd was another young lad. It was rather strange how such a fellow should wield so much authority over these creatures. He could even call some of them by name, whether they took cognizance of that was anyone's guess, albeit they listened to his comand or the whip lash and non dared charge at him. Perhaps, here lay a perfect example of the 'power of the mind'. I needed to grasp a lesson or two from him, just not at the scene. Either his ignorance protected him from the fears I had or his experience given him enough guts he could lead the cattle on.
The train soon passed, we were at liberty to proceed, perhaps my mind was at liberty. We continued on our errand. As we traversed the upwinding and downturning dusty road. By this time I had nicknamed my escort 'chatterbox' for he was never short of stories and questions . He liked it, the power of ignorance- but of course I later reverted to calling him Menda, his real name, after a brisk explanation of what his nickname mearnt. He smiled and said, 'I still like it.' 'Menda, I'm worn out and  parched, how far till we get there?' I mourned. 'Oh don't worry, just a few turns and we'll be there'.  He then led me me to a place we could get a drink of water. I could not resist. We were served water. It was not the usual crystal clear, but water it was. Menda added, 'if you close your eyes, it will just be as clear'.
An Oxcart on the road was heading our way, we were in luck. We left that home and hitched a ride. In no time, we had arrived.  We were warmly welcomed. And before Menda could leave, I handed him my wrist watch. It had made an impression on him all the way. He wondered how I could tell time simply by looking at some gadget that had three hands as it were, with no numbers save a few dots around the center. Apparently part of the talk along the road was a time telling tutorial on the same watch. He was an apt student, his mind was ripe for molding. I only feared he would never make it in good time   back  to the station, for he would spend much time looking down on his wrist watch laced hand than walking.
I was to be here for a week then return to the tamed city. Life under the rural sky was different as expected. No rush, all was hushed. No busy communtors, no pile of deadlines to meet. It seemed there was additional time yet with only a handful of things to do. Perhaps the busiest person was one who toiled in the field, herded the tame animals, fished from the river, or worked the harmer mill . The night sky was brighter, the moon glistened in majestic splendor, the stars seemed webbed in their sparkle. Costellations were candidly displayed. The Orion, Taurus the bull and the others whose names my tongue would get twisted in attempt to mention. It seemed nature had chosen to give some compliment to the lands far.
Perhaps I was able to unwind and recalibrate in a time slower paced. Amenities were few but they were just as good. I watched as lads would spot in the streaming water. Their diving board would consist anything from a tree branch or some levee on the banks. I dared not engage. My fears were many. The currents were strong. I knew not the depth of the water. Occasionally cattle would come for a drink, sometimes crossing to the other side. Some folks would plunge in while holding on to the tails of the animal. This was safe as long as one was quick to let go before the animal reached the banks. The results would be  near fatal from my calculation should one receive a hind kick in the face. I reserved my energies in doing something more delicate-fishing.  Of course I only caught reeds and everything else not fish. I had not the skill.  Perhaps I was meant to preserve life, for my bait was never on the hooks once I pulled out the fishing line. Maybe I should have called it fish feeding instead .
So perchance, the country has place for one willing to tune in to the slower pace.

The birthplace of great minds

What births invention or rather inginuity, success and all that seems to set mere mortals at the verge of superhuman prowess-intellect? Where are the storehouses of great minds? Is there still room for one to slither in the tight slot?These and many other questions were stippled in my mind. Perchance, I thought, let me follow the way of great minds. If inginuity is borne on the wings of science then it therefore follows the simple rule of cause and effect. I wondered whether my quest for the affore would bequeth me the lot of the alchemist-whose desire to obtain gold from common ore or base metal may have been relegated to the infamous heap of history.
 I started out with  sir  Isaac Newton's well known apple tree experience. I gathered that one would get much inkling if he spent precious hours recluse in nature. I sort out a fair quiet lot. It lacked an apple tree but it was complete with fruit trees and gravity. For the Apple tree, I had to make do with a guava tree (poor man's apple). I sat under the tree, not hoping for any fruit to land on my head, rather an epiphany of inspiration . I received neither, save several hours of sleep.
I tried out Einstein bus experience, noting the apparent slowing of time as the moving vehicle increased in speed, inpiring him to the time-space concept. That didn't work either, just ended up missing my station one too many times. I tried the Edison formula of trying out something a hundred times over. As it turned out I neither had the patience nor the resources for such an undertaking, and last I checked, I was bent on proposing a fair 'doe' a hundred times and this was only to be cut short by a quick earned acceptance or a constant rejection till the hundredth time. Of course, the second rejection turned out to be the hundredth in my case. I through in towel.  I figured a hundredth would land one in the hands of a psychiatrist.                                     
Perhaps the Wright brothers could help, I thought. If  observation of a bird in flight could inspire them to put together a featherless object midair , I too could certainly come up with something novel by careful observation. I spent time decifering where my inspiration would come from, fauna or floura. The former was more aluring.  From the tamed to the untamed, from the graceful to the roughed out, the slothful to streamlined fast, the beauful to the 'not so bueautiful', aquatic to terestrial  I searched . But this too was a futile escapade, though I must admit I had gained myself a new hobby, if it counts for anything. An interest for the creepy crawlers, the slithering serpents, the marching ants, the delicate worms, the awe lambs, the pride, the stallion, the muse of hyena ,Wildhog and meerkat, and the list is endless in script.
I must have be doing something wrong, if not everything.  I mean, why was nothing working out. How were ordinary men able to weave from the mundane a masterpiece, where their paths engraved in flint stone and mine waddled over the sand of the washable sea shore? When was my breakpoint coming? Peradventure I had stood on giants archaic, perhaps their methods were not in sync with the day's rule. I sort out more contemporary folks of renown. A quick perusal of their life
showed quite a nerving resume. One too many school or college drop outs, not my kind of route.  I had been brought up with the notion that 'education is the key' and there much truth in that, for ignorance ,though may carry with it bliss temporary, is a harbinger of blight.  no one ever said what door education opens, but then again, I guess it left the options as endless as can be. Education, I must add may be obtained in ways varied one from another-conventional type being the most pronounced.
The thread, I've come realize that runs through many, if not all men (men loosely used for both sexes) of renown, is the desire to solve an established problem ,drawback or dilema or simply add pleasure. To this extent, every invention should to a degree bring in its train relief or pleasure for man, though it must be noted that this sometimes has been done at the cost of fellow man.

So one might well be right to arrive at the conclusion that inguinity precedes a strong desire to achieve an expected end. So instead of asking such questions as pertains to whether or not there's need for any more inventions but rather those that pertain to solving the common ires or adds value to the way of life. So necessity breads inguinity after all. Grant me occasion to elaborate it as thus: should a wayfarer struggle to traverse a long distance for his errands, provision of a cart would bring him relief, yet provide him with an automobile, he will not only arrive in good time but in comfort-value addition.
For many a man, the chase after succes may be likened to a  plane . Some have  all that is needed but lack fuel-mortivation. Some have top notch intact planes, but no run way-opportunity, some simply lack functional raders once airborne-judgement/discretion.  And some simply don't know when and where to land-goal.
With all that I gannered I changed my approach to acquisition of the touch of inventiveness. One may seek rather to find out what buffets the common man, for many are they, and pity them if non lends a hand to rescue him from the whims of life.

So opportunity to grab a hold of an inventer's mind still spawns as each day unfolds. And the beauty is , one needn't start from scratch-for we have the privilege to stand on the 'shoulders of giants'. Take a leaf from the past to build your canvas today. Have you seen a lady so uptight about her hair? It's a beckon for invention with success in its trail. Why not cast your net into finding remedy for bad hair days, keeping the natural glow and augmenting it's beauty. Are you troubled by the irregular power supply, this beckons your thought. Have you noticed a trend to go green on food yet with a paucity of diet, it's your scene-take a shot.

My Everyday unsung hero-under the African sky

 

'Pssh! pssh! Hey, move over a little, you've taken up too much space and the blanket.' This was not an unusual call in the early morning hours when the heaven chilled winds would blow in through the unpaned windows -more like breathers for the the cabin. The dew would be the wind's faithful stead. It would caress our bodies till we were brought back to conscious state. As it were, breath of life was breathed into our nostrils, with an additional touch on our bare bodies. 

Like logs lined up for the roll, we lay each evening, not on the soft comfy porch but on the natural evened out floor, lined with a mat and with the passage of good tides, our own wooden bed replete with cushionings. We didn't complain, for we hadn't known anything better. Yet our bony prominences would oft grown, the occiput and hip-perhaps they deserved better. At times, much of the warmth came not from the covering but from the closeness with which we arrayed ourselves. However, the lads at the ends of the row would often act as shield in times of shear coldness.

We had no alarms to wake us up, nature and mom had concocted a way to rouse us from slumber even before the sun could rise in its glistening morning grandeur. The gripping morning coldness and mom's early morning chores. The searing noise of pots and pans while she cleaned the kitchen dishes, music to her ears it seemed. Dust filled the air, but it soon settled revealing  a glowing sheen. Not much to see really, save a few relics. Old couches and tables at times befitting the meseum yet found welcome place, and old pictures on the walls ,a telling of our roots.

She would oft put water to the boil, and line us up, a triad of boys, and one after another, she performed the ritual of body cleansing.  A dread of the morning. But we appreciated the result, nothing to attract the beauties (girls ), just the mere state of fine looking, modest young lads. Our breakfast was sure, but we didn't fret when we had to settle for kisses on our foreheads and mama's goodwill as she sent us off to school. We dared not feel destitute, for we had much more than a full stomach could warrant. We had a few tricks up our sleeves too. We had come to know, all too soon perhaps, that a empty pocket and stomach were potent in making one a scoundrel, a rogue and all that lies in the train of atrocity, yet the opposite too was true, it would awaken ingenuity, perhaps a breaking of wisdom's pot of gold. We would trade our hard earned knowledge for a note or more, (monetary term). We would pile up our fellow graders' assignment and answer it in their stead. This worked well for us, as this prompted much study. At a time or more we landed ourselves in betting, but more often than not, we had to pay heavy losses for it. Perhaps we were not the best guessers.

While our life strolled by with Interludes of ups and downs. Mom was out and about. She sold at the market place. She always motioned-'my little one's, if I  have to sweep the streets for you, I'ld sweep a hundred of them, and I'ld do it with a smile on my face for my delight is not in money or fare dine, or laudeable apparel, though that would be mighty fine, my joy is found in yours' . This often brought tears to my owled eyes-late night watcher  I was.  I didn't make it known to her that tears filled my eyes most of the nights, especially because her joy lay in ours- I must admit, many of the 'runny noses' I attributed to common cold and treated as such, where a mere breakdown in her presence and a perfect cover up. Did she know I was covering it up? Perchance. If she did, she sure had her own share of cover up. 

Mom's trade in perishables -tomatoes ,among others, was not always an easy one. She would awaken at dawn and after her preps, would hasten to get a good purchase at fair price from the good old farmers . Trucks tolled into the market docking area, and dozens of tomotoe boxes were unloaded.  She selected a few good ones

with the number depending on the weight of her 'pocket' as it were.  On good day, she would sell the entire purchase, but some days she would barely sell a single tomotoe. But she was rarely disconsolate . She always held her chin high. She refused to be reduced to mendicancy or dire paupery. 

After school, we would avail ourselves at the market place, so we could help her with the sales once in a while, though she didn't demand it of us. She said we needed to get married to books, everything else was to follow later on. 

There was a golden glow that marked her face even in the face of hardship.  The sweat streaked brow ,the calloused hands all testified to the effort placed in the work. I dared not compare her to the manicured hands I saw from others, their lot was different. She had little time for the beauty Palour, later on afford it, but she was our model, even though we were not spared a great deal of beatings for our unwonted misgivings.  

Before dusk, we each had to give account of our school work. We had to make sure all was done in good time. She required us to be studying extensively. The catch however, was, we barely had any books to read. The only books we had at our disposal were a few books we had to share at our basic school. She would make us read newspaper she would often come with home, and in a stroke of chance, she would acquire what  I might wittily term 5th-hand books (but of course the information Therein was still first hand-so worth it). She would get tbem from her 'well-faired ' friends, and a few she could gather from the street sellers.  We read just about anything that was contained in a book. 'If you are ever going to find success, it will be in the books' she would often snort if we dared lazy around on the little 21inch bellied screen television. Of course a little indulgence was permissible , especially if educational matters were aired.

The common ritual before retiring to bed was family round table prayer, with no table really. If anyone could pray, mom was one.   She would read out a few verses from scripture -which as may have been expected, she conjured us to read through, followed by an explanation. Then we would bow our heads low, and she would offer up a prayer. Often left her as the only one awake by the time the amen was uttered. 

We would be awoken to head to our little place of sleep. Sleep it seemed was our common escape from the toils of the day. But morning was always looming, ready to get us started in another's day round.