GOOD PAIN?

Shhhhhhh

Came the wind whispering audible enough to miss and rustling enough to embrace.

I sat there, legs shaking, stiring into the thin space or should I say I was trying to look deeply into the soul of the air.

Memories flashing, taking me to another world, everything was happening all too fast. Where was I?

Aunty, will you buy water… the little boys voice echoed through my thoughts. The young lady did I watch, dipping her fingers “take this, and keep your product”.

In another zone did I find myself, a different voice this time around. This time rusty and crowded at the same time, she was tugging her clothes “Aunty this one na better one, open my market”. The lady made a fair deal and the little girl smiled contented.

Feeling like I was moving too fast, deciding to take a little stroll before fast-tracking.

“Take off your clothes, right now”. He thought the door was locked but the noises were unfiltered and I could only hear from a distance. 

Drip..drop.. came the sound of the tears through the echo of my memory waves. Struggling she gave in.

Zooming off, I had to wipe seeming perspiration from my eyes as I heard a familiar voice echoing amidst chants and creating awareness for the girl-child. I smiled with a broad grin that showed happiness and good pain all together.

A lady walking on the streets with sunshades talking to a street hawker and asking him if he wanted better education.

And yes just around the corner of the street was a charity foundation with a facial branding that only I could know too well.

Still shaking my legs and drawing my focus away from the soul of the air, from its nostalgia and from its reminiscent characteristics. I found myself thinking of all the terrible hurt that birthed good purpose to humanity.

Did they deserve it? NO. Did they realize that they didn’t deserve it? MAYBE. Did some of them change the narrative YES and CAN you change the narrative too? DEFINITELY.

Well, I hope this speaks to you in your own way. Keep staying tuned for more amazing content.

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