The squeak of his unoiled wheelbarrow was deafeningly piercing my eardrums as it produced some distasteful high-pitched shrill which eventually faded into a natural sweet mellow as it merged with the echoes of the screeching, screaming and hooting winged-wildlife.
I was nearing my nest, numbed by an uneasiness from an early-winter morning jog, chilled and seething some clear nasal fluid indicative of the demise of a cold that I had caught a couple of days earlier.
My gloved left hand railed our black gate westward, then like a grasshopper frozen in the early morning breeze, my lanky body reluctantly stumbled into the yard.
Turning to give my right arm a chance to close the gate, the attention of the brains beneath my Bantu curled hair was captured by the four storks that were emerging from the eastern meadows, painted as moving silhouettes in the rotten-orange horizon, nodding their heads as they gradually rose into the morning drab which promised the soon birth of a new day.
As these four beautiful creatures flaunted their wings past my location, their whoosh sent down my spine some intriguing chills and my memory slid with them. I went down the memory lane, and before I knew it, my thirsty mind was already drinking from the time I first realised that my biological father was married to four wives.
By the time I sashayed around the monumental rockery in the middle of my garden, I was already a hostage of thought, a prisoner to the polygamous experience that raised me up. Unconsciously, I coalesced my hind-set into my bamboo crafted garden chair that was mulched in the drench of early-morning dew. I appeared to have wet my pants by the time I walked into the house.
Sitting there, my forearm formed a fist at its helm to hold my thoughtful head steady in the early morning chill. After a moment, the romantic massage on my patched small beard by my fingertips made the garden visible to my sight again, it had vanished in the eerie-haze of imagination.
Like a gladiator, I emerged victoriously from the catacombs of memories with a treasure box locked between my ears, the bitter experience I had as I grew up had come in handy. The four wives that vied for my father’s attention daily had visited me, only as relishable lessons this time.
First Wife: The Dream: Failure or progress, passion or indifference are all hinged on our love for Dreams. You should love the dream that you pursue whilst awake more than the one that pursues you in the dungeons of slumber.
The former capacitate you for insurmountable heights but the later decapitates you of all potential before entombing you in the deepest strata of the forgotten
A wise person weds the former, but treats the later as a concubine that you occasionally visit. You can’t sleep like you are competing with dead and expect to make it in the world of the living. The dream you choose to serve is the prophecy of your future. Dreams happen naturally but success comes with effort.
Second Wife: Pressure: Pressure in unenjoyable for anyone but if you want to be remembered as a history maker then you have to choose it as your constant companion.
Silver that avoids heat has no lustre, the dross attached to it steals its proper market value. The pressure is inevitable, the kind of pressure you choose is what transforms or deforms you in the end.
Adapting to hardship whilst others evolve because of it is not inspiring, it makes you odious and repulsive to the future. Decorations of honour awaits the soldiers who endanger their lives for a greater cause in history. It is better to be honoured in death than to be alive and not making a difference.
Third Wife: People: Greatness is usually associated by persons with the skill to attract the best out of those around them. The more people you have around you means more problems around you. It’s the solutions you apply to their problems that determines the value they will give you.
To make a huge difference out of people, devote to minister to their spiritual, physical as well as social needs. Strive to be an all-rounder, being good in one area of your life makes you handicapped.
Fourth Wife: Pleasure: Pleasure tastes good when earned than when borrowed. Rewarding yourself after a good work is accomplished often revamps a sense of pride and responsibility.
Tasting goodness before you work is criminal, you will either be stealing from your future or others. Take moments out to give yourself experience and exposure, you deserve it especially after a good work.
Liberty Kingsdale
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