Paint brush in my hands, I smear a part of it on a cloth forming an undefined image. Little is known about what I’d painted, but all I remember was it was something dazzling. I watch, tilt, and admire my dazzling painting. I place down the brush, hold the cloth and hang it on my wall.
25 years ago, someone decided I should be born and there I was. The fine young man that I have become has been through taking the long walks on steep walls.
“Daddy, daddy I want to be doctor when I grow up,” I would tell my old man when I was so young and tender.
The struggles and negligence of a young man did not elude me; they almost swept me off the cliff edge. I almost crushed into the deep water flowing freely on the rocks bellow. The cliff edge was too sharp and slippery. It was very easy to fall off.
I made it passed the cliff edge and crossed to the other side. The other side was dark, with cruel sounds and thorns filled the pathway. In a corner was a clear path. It is used by many but they do not seem happy. They are complaining. Some are being pushed to use that path. They do not want.
I make the decision to walk through the thorn filled path. I bear the brunt and wrath of these sharp, piercing and skin peeling thorns. All I can see is a tiny light ahead of me. That is where I am walking too but the thorns aren’t making it easy.
There are distractions on the way. Finely shaped green apples, money hanging on tree branches and people who are walking in the opposite direction are some of those distractions. Any of these choices will make me go off the path, and getting to the light will be more complicated if not impossible.
I prefer not to be deterred.
That cloth with the paint is just the first step, the progress I have made in my life. The progress for the last 25years of my life. Walking on a steep wall has never been easy.
A good friend mine did some magic on my picture. This has been one fine inspiration for me be one of the best scribes this country will ever have. The light I am looking forward to getting too.