Crossroads

  He is lying in bed making a thousand wishes. He is ready to take the least blessing if the Big Guy up there will grant it now. But somehow he knows that he’s been given all the blessings and the grace he was ever going to get and he’s blown it all.

  He is listening to Bob Marley and crying into his pillow. His hospital gown barely covers him but that is not on his mind now. Wearing baby blue is preposterous. It is against the revolution. It is a Babylonian invasion. But at the moment, if help came from the Babylon System, he would gladly kiss a foot.

  Some git once said big boys don’t cry but such is the stupidity of the world. That git was not at a crossroads when he said that. Was probably high on some prehistoric grass.

  Last year, he was fine. Two years ago he did not think it would come to this. He felt stronger than his hero Bob, who had a condition like this and just looked straight in the face of his fate. Right now, he does not feel very brave.

  His foot will be history in a few hours. The doctor said, in his hospital gray tone, that if the leg was not amputated, he was going to be dead in a month. The cancer has progressed to such an extent.

  He is thinking of his little Princess. She is but a month old.

  At the point when he had to be brave and say he was keeping his leg; when his much-touted revolutionary instinct was put on the weighing scale to inspire others the way Bob Marley’s stubbornness has done for many Rastas since his death, he buckled and gave in.

  He cannot just go like that. He is too young to die. Princess must see her daddy. She must grow up with memories of being soothed to sleep when she wakes up crying in the night. She must kiss away daddy’s tears when she walks down the isle at her nuptials. This is not the time to die.

  He gives his toe another twitch, the hundredth this hour.

  Small blessings.

  

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About Steven

It wasn't me; arrest the voices. It was the voices in my head. Sike! I am Ugandan first. I care for development in my country. I am a curious observer second and I care to know what you think.
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8 Responses to Crossroads

  1. Mataachi says:

    When you come back, you really come back! But I hope this is not the *real* reason why you have been away so long. I hope this is just a story and that all this is made up. Nevertheless that cliche is true, you can never know what you are going to do until the crossroads are upon you and then who you really are comes out.

  2. Cheri says:

    Wow, this is so deep man.

    So who did it happen to? It’s wonderful that he’s willing to let his foot go to be there for his princess. To walk her down the aisle, even if he does it on one foot.

  3. And just as the surgeon lifts his scalpel, a voice from heaven says `Avast, doctor. The ‘and of Jah no abide amputation, mon.’
    And a man, with wild dreadlocks, dressed like a 70’s Jamaican, walks towards the surgeon, who is backing off in fright.
    `He no have no cancer, mon. Jah been ‘earing his prayers.’
    The angel, who later insisted on being referred to as `Bob – just Bob’, tells the Revolutionary. `Rise, mon. You a go be well. Rasta no abide amputation. Jah no allow man fe be dismantled, ya know. Seen? Seen.’

    Sounds of Zimbabwe were heard in the sky that night, and it is said that the angels were singing.

  4. Mataachi says:

    27th, you’re sick, sick, sick! In a very good way!

  5. duksey says:

    oh life oh life,you have it and embrace it,only for it to come falling in pieces

  6. country boyi says:

    in related stories, the man, now helpless in his wheel chair is left with no option but to ‘wheel’ himself down a tall building. if so he prefers to stay wheel-chaired then he was not man enough in the first place. at least that’s what novels have led us 2 believe.

  7. Zack says:

    I can feel the lad’s pain… ‘ts of such sacrifices that as you say, ‘e’en the hardest of men’s hearts are melted down’. Bless him!

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