I remember a lot of things. But I don’t remember the day we met.
Therefore, it must have been a regular day, with a regular appeal. Mostly unremarkable.
It must have been a random Wednesday. I was probably trying to get a file from GM or Pat or someone else.
Or maybe someone was spewing evil at Samsung’s newest thrill and you, backed by facts, were thrashing him or her.
It must have been a random afternoon. Definitely in Molyko Buea. And definitely three years ago.
I did not know you then. And I would not make the preposterous claim that I know you now.
I can make one claim though: it wasn’t serendipity.
I remember the evening you told me your story. I soaked in it.
Baked in the journey of a boy with a dream, a will and an unwavering smile.
A boy who had been lucky in life to find true love and (I might surmise,) true friendship.
You talked of the moves, of the decisions. Of the hard conversations and set contentions. And of the light you kept staring at the end of the tunnel.
A light you believed in.
There was a glow as we talked. You weren’t in that comfy chair you narrated from.
Your body was, but your mind was plurimomentarily (yes, I just invented that word) displaced.
It was in the past, the present and the future. All at once during that conversation. Ebbing. Pulling.
It was a conversation I am glad I did not record.
Because the memory of the courage you gave me cannot be replicated.
You’re too good for your own good. Heaven knew and sent you a shrewd, smart, incredible woman to build your life with. Together.
With all you’ve had, success and not, your love for helping people- genuinely and without restraint- has not wavered.
Now, this is the part of this text you must pay attention to:
Many will take advantage of you. A few have. Many will try to break you. Do not succumb. It is the way of the physical world. It is the test of the strong. And strong you are, my friend.
Do not let those who don’t deserve your good soul impede you from the loving touch you spread with your laugh, work, care (and often) money.
I am a grateful beneficiary. And for me, and the others whom you’ve been so kind to help in time of need, I say thank you.
For the meals at Tastie. For the Sharwarwas you paid for. For the Bonga juices.
It’s never about the money. You know that better than anyone.
It’s about the people at both ends of the transaction. It’s about what they share.
Forgotten heroes (or a Few good men)
There are few men who stand out of the basket of mankind.
I don’t mean the Bernard Fonlon or Margaret Thatcher kind.
There are a few good people who make life worth living.
Not the ponzie schemers who spend their EQs and charisma stealing.
There are a few good men who walk among us each day and smile faith to us.
They make our ordeals better and convince us some situations aren’t really that worse.
We can all be the few good men the world seeks us to come to.
But only if we look around us and decide that few is not enough. And that we can be more if we want to.
Happy birthday Ngwane Daniel you have a proud Daughter in Emma, and a proud friend in me.
You’re a good man.
Dan’s birthday was yesterday. When I posted this on Facebook, I wasn’t expecting the reaction I would get from it. It is not the number of likes or share I got ( actually, only he shared at the time) but the quality of the few comments. I thought you might like reading it too. If you enjoyed it, please don’t hesitate to heart the green button so that others might share in your bliss too. Cheers.