Those who have authority over me are agents of change in my life;
everything works out well in the end, if not, then it is not yet
the end. Life begins during conception - growing slowly in the
womb, it bursts out at birth and ends silently when death creeps
in. The long period between birth and death is what we commonly
call "life" that is the period when we exist to witness and execute
all sorts of atrocities and conversely, the revered measures the
world has to offer. It makes us ride the wave and live on the
surface, missing out on our gifts. Looking back to where I came
from - the unpleasant times, the appalling, dreadful years of my
miserable past, the times when I was deprived, dispossessed and
cast out by the ones I considered to be dear to me - causes
inevitable streams of tears run down my cheeks. In my mind, I
relive the pain, my wounds bleed again, but in my heart, I have
found peace and healing, brought forth by gradually learning to
forgive. Countless, excruciating memories run around in my head,
reminiscent of a young girl who was physically and emotionally
abused beyond repair in every aspect. It is difficult for me to
look at the scars that I still carry with me today. Memories of
sleepless nights and sobbing in silent whimpers, memories of
involuntary fasting and frailty - such recollections haphazardly
flash in and out of my mind, and each giving a gravely melancholic
sensation - most would imagine this to be yet another farfetched
folktale. How do you recover from a wound that is within? How do
you ever rise up and walk when you have been mutilated down to your
feet? How do you ever recover from public humiliation? How do you
restore your sense of being when your dignity has been ripped
apart? How do such pains heal? Do they ever? I once heard from an
old woman, that life has its rises and falls, but how deep do we
ever get, and how difficult does it become to rise again? Yes, we
do fall and it is natural to most of us to succumb to it and give
up; on the other hand, hard as it is I believe - it is always
rewarding to soldier on, fight, stand for the truth and defy
failure. It fuels me to look at so many people that have lived
their lives like combatants. The black woman, who refused to sit at
the back of the bus, be separated, and judged by the color of her
skin during the race struggle in America. The man who endured
twenty seven years of his life behind bars and never capitulated,
the man who was mocked, scorned, ridiculed and was crucified for
edifying the truth, and many more who have been militants and
fighters because they believed. When life takes you through its
rapids, the avalanches, falls, ups and downs, it is wise that you
gain strength through it all, because, behind every great
achievement celebrated and triumph commemorated, lies challenges,
thus, unless we stand for the truth and fight on, that moment of
greatness shall never come to us - besides if you pursue complete
authenticity, you are bound to offend a large number of people.
This is when the question arises, "Where do you get the strength?"
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