Make peace with your bacteria

I don't consider myself a perfectionist, but for quite a long time i've been an avid disliker of flaws. Be they physical or in character or wherever else they may squeeze themselves on.

Now, disliking flaws when you have them, inevitably, means you find yourself disliking parts of you. If anyone wants to start a fast-growing business today they can come up with an idea that seems to 'fix' what people don't like about themselves. It could be physical appearance (there's the make-up and plastic surgery industries for that), or just spending time alone (social media thriving). 

What has baffled me for a long time though is, why would a perfect God create an imperfect people? Then i thought, uhh, our idea of perfection is probably flawed too.

We have an entire ecosystem of microorganisms that live in and on our bodies that have been found to be actually good for us; like so good we in a successful commensal relationship with them. In fact, we NEED these lil' homies so much that the ones living in our intestines, for example, help us digest our food and stuff.  If a person prolongs their intake of antibiotics, they may kill off the good bacteria and cause a disbalance in their health. However, this good bacteria is still bacteria and can still cause disease in certain conditions (e.g in people with low immunity).

So, no matter how many times a day you're bathing, or 'detoxing' (all good); bacteria will still be there😆...i'm getting to my point, i promise.

Yep, here it is; make peace with it. 

The only person condemning you for what you do wrong right now is yourself. God is not anticipating the next time you fall and He definitely won't be surprised if you do. 

He's not saying be careless with your flaws, He's saying I love you in spite of them. All of you. 

I love a Francesca Battistelli song that says,      "I got a couple dents in my fener,

   Got a couple rips in my jeans

   Trying to fit the pieces together

    But perfection is my enemy

    And on my own I'm so clumsy

    But on Your shoulders I can see

     I'M FREE TO BE ME" 

Have you heard of the other Serenity Prayer?
"Lord, grant me the serenity to stop beating myself for not doing things perfectly,
The courage to forgive myself because I'm working on doing better,
And the wisdom to know that you already love me just the way I am."
Amen.

Each New Dawn.

An orange-red hue on the horizon, bird silhouettes flying against its background, fresh Oxygen, A new day...

We start on a slightly microscopic level :
The sun's rays in a blend of all rainbow colours enthusiastically race each other to touch the atmosphere for this new morning. They greet dew drops retiring for the day as they slip off green leaves. Chlorophyll on the leaves joyfully welcomes the rays; 'Good morning.' The electric life of a new day is transmitted from the leaves, to the branches and down the trunk to the roots in the ground. It overflows onto the soil, bringing each particle alive with the fragrance of a brand new morning. The freshened earth has insects cricking with happiness, passing on new mercies to each other. The harmonised cricking insects, chirping birds, the tranquil flow of streams, and the light waves waltzing with oxygen particles in the air - all compose a masterpiece; the Dawn Song of Nature.

We zoom in to a more macroscopic level:
A human. He hits the snooze button with a hand that threatens to strangle the alarm. Then he slumps off the bed a while later, eyes dreary, mind wondering why nights are always so short. The she next to him also rises, feeling heavy and weary.
 The life in the water they bathe does a somewhat remarkable job in soothing their 'dreary' skins.
Looking into the mirror before doing her make-up, lady stares not in the depth of her soulful eyes but on the surface of the skin she always thinks needs to change, somehow. Her powder gives a closer version of what's more desirable.
The man is looking into his two noted wallet; wondering exactly what he did with the rest of the notes that used to be in there; for the smile on his face hinges on the contents of this wallet.

When they step outside and meet the happy new day, it's just another ordinary morning. Same old world with war, famine, and corruption.

Detail is lost in between terrains of vanity.

Today is The Present. A certain joy should come from just the thought of unwrapping a unique one every morning.

She wasn't ordinary

She knew she was never meant to blend in. 

Sometimes it bothered her how too different she was, how she seemed to be a mutated piece of the rest of society's puzzle. 

She tried this conformity thing but it stung, screaming back at her what she already knew - 'you're not meant to be ordinary.'

Standing out is crazy when everyone else is sitting down and seemingly enjoying it. 

The mistake she made when she tried to stand was watch those that were sitting; they weren't paying attention to her, like she was invisible. And if they did, it was to point out how silly she looked standing. Attention should never have been the reason she stood up. She sat back down. But then, that conformity sting couldn't be ignored.

'Take some pain-killers and forget the pain.' No, Fear, you take a seat as I go for what's meant for me.

So, she stood back up; this time, unconcerned if anyone was looking or not.

 'Expression, not impression,' she reminded herself. 'You don't need an audience.'

She stood not to prove a point to anybody but herself. 'Just how high can I reach?' Her only competition was herself, and she had to win.

She gazed up to the blue sky. It had streaks of soft, wavy white. She kept gazing. A massive blue sky of endless greatness. The more she kept her head up, the less fearful she felt, and the fainter the voices of the seated became.

Walt Whitman's words came to her mind,

'I exist as I am, that is enough. If no other in the world be aware, I sit content. And if each and all be aware, I sit content. One world is aware and by far the largest to me and that is myself. And whether I come to my own today or in ten thousand, or ten million years, I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness, I can wait.'

She smiled.

With her right hand, she unclipped her wings, and out they spread in glorious display. Her feet defied gravity and gradually she ascended up, one flap at a time. She soared into the sunset. 

Fun in the furnace

I got into a minibus one day with the funniest conductor. I remember laughing so hard when he said, " Everyone in this country [Zimbabwe] is a freedom fighter. As long as you've lived through 2008, you are a freedom fighter." Indeed, 2008 was the hardest year Zimbabwe had to endure in the 21st century. This was the same year hyper-inflation just hyped up beyond quadrillions and the 'bearer cheques' we used as money couldn't hold any more zeros.  What's interesting for me is, this very same year, was one of the most delightful times of my life.

I lived in Rujeko, Masvingo, with my older brother. It was just the two of us most times. There was no electricity 8 days a week, and no water half the time. If we ran out of no-need-to-cook suppers, we had to buy some firewood from down the street to make food. The firewood was almost always not dry, making it difficult to start the fire. This must have taught me some patience; and some gratitude for whoever discovered electricity😏.

Being in a queit house for most of the day, I spent my time reading, writing and meditating. It was during this time I got to understand of an intimacy with the Most High that I never knew existed. My brother and I would share stuff about the Word of God that would make everything else in this world seem so small. I remember feeling super invincible...like absolutely nothing was impossible. 

Supermarkets were literally empty, some completely closed down. People had to queue up for hours to get basic commodities like sugar, bread or mealie meal. We barely had any school that entire year because teachers were on strike and there wasn't enough food to feed us in boarding school (😁 story for another day). A lot in the country seemed all gloomy. Many were despaired. But it was then that God turned our eyes from worldly cares to Him. Church was the only place I looked forward to going. In fact, I wished everyday would be a Sunday. We held church services in an auditorium in Charles Austin Theatre, in Masvingo's city centre. It didn't matter what I wore or how I looked, all I wanted was to enjoy as much as I could in unified worship to God. I look back now and I remember standing on the dark upper rows of the theatre, raising my hands up as if grasping for air; yearning to be saved from drowning in the sea of worldly things. And when I'd elevate to a higher realm, it was like soaring up high in the sky. It felt indescribably surreal. We had the kind of services where people would be looking for their shoes afterwards. It would be a special kind of chaos in the church as the Holy Spirit ministered to each individual differently, making the congregation look like a bunch of uncontollable psychos who just smoked an entire field of the strongest greens. There's no greater high. There's truly no greater high. Getting to be that incredibly intimate with God is the greatest experience any human being could ever have. 

Now, if anyone asks me how I know about this God I pray to...I can tell them with no scratch of a doubt that I have seen Him. I have seen Him at work in ways no man can comprehend. I have seen Him bring smiles to faces so pale with hunger they don't know where their next meal is gonna come from. I have seen Him instruct hearts to give the last of the little they had. I have seen him light up the darkest of hearts, transforming even those humanity had labelled retarded and discarded to garbage. I tell you, I have seen him sustain people that are just hoping from prayer to prayer coz the world around them bombards them with hopelessness the moment they say Amen. Hope to the despaired, faith to the discouraged, joy to the downcast - the sound of Heaven touching earth.
Troubles, out of our way, we are just passing through to our eternal home far beyond this broken world.

2008 might have been a furnace, but it sure was a glorious one. And we came out glistening; polished. God was, still is, and will forever be God. 

HIS LOVE ENDURES FOREVER.

  

The High

Gosh, in all seriousness, being average drains the energy out of me, because I wasn't wired to be that way. None of us were. It feels as if we've placed ourselves in self-imposed prisons of all things futile, and greatness lurks somewhere beyond the bars.

Everything we need to be the best us there could ever be is already within us. Our bodies themselves, though they be feeble and perishable, are hosts to deep mysteries of divine heavenlies. In our palms, on our skin are inscribed secrets of undiscovered words. The fibers of the billions of nerves traversing each square centimetre of our bodies, carry signals electrical with hidden opportunities.

Some of these mysteries have been revealed to human kind through the years :

For example; the ability of our body parts to communicate with each other, in coordination with the brain centre, gave a base to build electrical conduction . And further understanding of the fact that information travels along fibers in our bodies, brought about telecommunication.

Studying the human eye's ability to focus, turn light rays into images; inspired the invention of cameras. 

The whole intelligence of a computer system is an imitation of some of the human brain's physiological activity.

The cardiovascular system, centralised in the heart, pumping blood to the rest of the body for its efficiency, is the basis for the functioning of a motor engine, distributing fuel or gas to the parts of the vehicle.

There's so much more known; and a whole lot more unknown. 

The complex details to the anatomy and physiology of the human body, are astounding.
Your fingerprint is unique (shocker); we all know this one as we have had to get our fingerprints taken for legal purposes at one point in our lives. However, I had no idea that our ear pattern, tongue texture and iris pattern are unique too!
An adult is made up of about 7,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 atoms (that's 7 octillion that you didn't [couldn't] read). For perspective, there's approximately (nobody's sure) 300,000,000,000 (300billion) stars in our galaxy.
And you know what's even more baffling?
These bodies we are in were created so marvelously, all because they'd house the greatest Spirit in the entire universe - the Spirit of God. God is too God to create a flimsy wooden stature, call it man and just dwell in it. Where His Spirit dwells, He furnished with His own Godliness and beauty, adding unique intricate details to each one. Then, He honoured us by giving us authority over all of nature. This is the same God that breathes ferocious stars into existence. He dwells within us.

We are filled with potential that even the universe can't contain. Who knows what greatness is coded onto your DNA?

Decode the mysteries inscribed on you, coz you have the next big thing, on you, in you.

image from: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com

PERSPECTIVE (short story)

...

I love sitting on this bench next to the highway, especially during this season. There’s something special about autumn leaves, you know. The sound they make as the screeching wheels of cars run over them is not like the sound of being crashed,  it’s actually quite pleasant to the ear.
See, I have grown a deep appreciation for the nature surrounding me because of my condition.
Nine years ago, during this very season, I was  a married woman. I still scoff when I say that. Jonah was his name. I was twenty then, and he was four years older. Jonah and I met at a coffin store.
“Who did you lose, ma’am?” he asked me after I ordered for a coffin.
“My grandmother,” I responded, downtrodden.
Many people are surprised when I say losing my grandmother was the lowest point of my life because I’ve been through a lot worse, but nothing compares to that moment. She was all I had. The tragic story of what happened to my parents is for another day. All I can say for now is my granny is the only relative I ever knew.
“You ordered the cheapest coffin, wouldn’t you want a special send-off for your granny?” asked Jonah.
“I can’t even afford this one. I just don’t want to bury her without a coffin.”
Jonah stared at me for a while. He then took a small book from a drawer and wrote something down.
“You can have the best coffin in the store for free,” he told me.
I cried and thanked him endlessly. He was a complete stranger and  yet he had shown great generosity. Before I left the store, he gave me his number and said I could call him if I needed anything. I went back home that day sad, but relieved I’d be able to give my beloved granny a dignified funeral. My grandparents had actually been considered a  little more wealthy than the rest of the villagers. They had more cattle and goats and their farm was larger. Grandpa used to be a headmaster in his prime years. He passed on due to kidney failure. Things turned bleak from then, the workers left and life became hard. It was six months later that Grandma’s condition also deteriorated  and she also passed.
Home was a four-roomed house on the periphery of our small village. It had always had a warmth and a light to it that made it more comfortable than other better-looking houses I’ve been to. However, my granny’s absence made it feel dark and void, and I knew I could not live here alone. So, after the funeral (which literally had five people), I decided to leave the village for the city.
I slept on the streets for three days. On the fourth day,  as I was moving from store to store looking for a job,  I met Jonah again. He felt sorry for me when he saw my condition and offered to accommodate me at his place, and take care of all my needs. I was grateful to have a roof over my head so I agreed.
“So, you also moved to the city?” I asked him as we settled into the one-room he rented inside another family’s house.
“Yeah, I uhh..I was fired from work after I failed to pay for the coffin I gave you.”
“Oh no! I’m really  sorry to hear that.”
This was when I learned that Jonah was not the owner of that coffin store but just an employee, and now he had lost his job because he helped me.
He said I was beautiful and that he didn’t regret helping me. Beautiful is not a word I had ever used to describe myself. There are parts of my anatomy I’ve always wished I could alter. So, to hear this nice gentleman say he thought I was beautiful felt great.
Jonah came home one day with a box of nice chocolates. He said he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. That’s kinda how we got ‘married.’ I don’t know if it’s love I felt for Jonah, or if my heart was just too stony to feel anything at that moment. Or maybe love has nothing to do with feelings at all. What I do know for sure is that I made a decision to care for this man. See, I needed someone to fill in the care void in my heart.
The owner of the house we rented was a 43 year-old man nicknamed Rhino for how big he was, probably for his nose as well. He lived with his wife and three children. They had rented out their spare bedroom to Jonah and I in order to make some extra money. Rhino barely made enough to afford the family a decent dinner.
“How old are you Lucy?” Rhino randomly asked me one day as I was doing laundry behind the house. “You look quite young.”
“I’m twenty-four,” I lied, looking away. The way he was staring at me made me very uncomfortable.
“Listen, you are a very pretty girl, what are you doing with a poor man?”
I did not respond to him. Rhino took a step closer to me and I moved a distance away.
“I could make you very happy.”
I honestly don’t know why some men feel that statement alone is good enough to win over a woman’s interest.
I told Rhino I didn’t have time to listen to him, and then I wiped my wet hands against my skirt and got back into the house.
He made advances towards me many more times in the weeks that followed. I told Jonah about it but I think he did not believe me. He was too busy trying to get his business running so we could live a comfortable life. With the way money was out of his reach, Jonah said he was just grateful that Rhino made us pay half the rent other house-owners charged.
 One night, Jonah was out at work very late at night. I heard a gentle knock on our door. The moment I opened the door, Rhino forced himself inside and banged the door behind him, pushing me some steps back. I was terrified. He looked like a monster, his eyes raging with lust and anger.
“What are you doing?” I asked with a high pitched voice, hoping his wife and children would hear and come to my rescue. I realised Rhino was holding a small black bottle in his left hand. He drew near to me and as I tried to run away he held me tight and poured the contents of the bottle onto my face. I started burning so intensely that I hit Rhino and escaped his grip, knocking the bottle to the ground. It felt as if he had electrocuted me with a 1000volts and set my face ablaze at the same time.
The door banged open and I heard Jonah shouting, asking what was going on. He came and lifted me off the ground and placed me on the bed, panting and whispering that everything was going to be okay… but there was a fear in his voice that I’d never heard before. I kept screaming and wriggling in pain. I literally thought my flesh was being consumed off my facial bones. I don’t recall much of what happened after that, because the next time I got my consciousness I was surrounded by that peculiar hospital smell of medicine and I felt my face wrapped in bandages.
I couldn’t speak for about two months, and the doctors thought I’d actually never speak again. When I finally did, I asked why it was so dark. I got no response. I heard two women whispering to each other with voices full of sympathy. It took me a while to figure out I had gone blind. Completely blind.
“Where’s Jonah?” I asked.
“Who’s Jonah my dear?” a nurse asked.
“My husband. Jonah should be here right now.”
“Oh…uhmm, my dear, I’m very sorry, your husband is not here right now,” she responded, the tone of her voice sad.
I wanted to scream out and just cry away all that was happening to me but the last ounce of strength left in my body I had just used to speak the previous words.
I later learned that Jonah was in jail. He had impulsively murdered Rhino the night of my acid attack.
 The thought of spending the rest of my life trapped in this indescribable black void, alone, was too much to bear. I tried starving myself to death, but the nurses fed me intravenously.
“We were very happy when you made progress to be able to eat with your mouth my dear,” the nurse in charge of me said. I’d gotten used to her voice. It was motherly. “But now you’re refusing to eat anymore, it’s not good for your health.”
“I don’t have a reason to live anymore,” I told her, feeling frustrated.
“What was your reason before?” she asked.
It took me a while to think of an answer to that question.
“What am I going to do now? I can’t see anything! I have no one! I probably look too bad to be liked by anyone…tell me, what’s left to live for?”
“I see you had your entire self-worth wrapped around your physical appearance. You’re still here Lucy. That alone should tell you that it’s not over. You’re still here.” She said, and paused. “We were waiting for the right time to tell you this, but we recently found out that you’re pregnant.”
“What?” I exclaimed so hard it hurt my facial muscles.
I could not believe it. The first emotion I felt towards this was sadness. I would not be able to see my baby’s face. I started crying, wondering how I was going to take care of the baby.
However, it was the new life growing within me that gave me hope to keep living. The healing of my face and the bulging of my belly all happening gradually, strengthened me with each sunrise. My mind needed more healing than my face though. I learned to reach deep within my soul for a little amber of hope that had almost been extinguished. And I fanned it into flames until my soul was ablaze again, with life.
Seven months later,  I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy and named him Hope. I was adviced many times to give him up for adoption but I would not hear of it. He gave me strength to spend my pregnancy learning how to read and write braille, and appreciating the finer details of life. I can tell you about the scent of an autumn sunrise, and the feel of a summer sunset. My eyes are unable to see my surroundings, but my imagination is fertile. I make my world as colourful as I want it to be. I don’t know what my face looks like, or if there are still any eyes on it. All I know is that I’m still as alive as I’ve ever been, if not more. Also, my definition of beauty has massively changed.
I wasn’t always secure about my condition, but Hope loves me unconditionally. He is eight now. And extremely intelligent. It hurts that I can’t see his adorable face, but he gives me joy in every way possible. I’ve never felt more beautiful than when I just gave myself over to serve another human being, and chose love, joy and peace that transcends all understanding.
I heard that Jonah will be released from jail tomorrow, I’m not sure if it’s true. He’s never seen his son, and he’s never seen me the way I look today. I wonder if he’d still want us to be a family. But I’m really not fussing over that. Coz with or without him; I’m guaranteed to always be loved. God is my sufficiency.
I would like you to know that I embrace my story; with all of its gruesome details, it’s still MY story. I do wish I could change a lot of the lines; make better decisions…but what I can do, is appreciate today, the present.
 See, these leaves around me were once green, glistening with health as they were still attached to the tree. Then another season came, and they began drying off...dying of dehydration (i bet that wasn't fun). Weakly holding on to the tree with the last ounce of strength they had, the autumn winds blew them off the tree. And so here they lay, on the ground. On rock bottom. But look at them from where I'm sitting; they are what makes autumn magically beautiful. The blend of their colours, imprinted with all they've gone through, is breath-taking.

Maybe you look at me and see blind. I see blessed.
 Oh yeah, I do see.

'Common are the eyes that look, but rare are the eyes that see.'

Noel!

There's something different about tonight. I don't know what it is yet, but it feels...special. I'm King Herod's servant. He's  been agitated all day. I have filled his cup with more wine than I think he should be taking in a single day.
Well, there's a knock on the door. Other servants open. Three prestigious-looking men walk in, dressed elegantly. They have an unusual joy on their faces.
"We observed a star in the eastern skies. It signals the birth of the king of the Jews.Where can we find him? We're on our way to pay pilgrimage to him," the wise men tell king Herod.
His already pale face turns paler. He signals for me to refill his glass.
Apparently he is not happy to hear about this new king's birth. Within a short while, hoards of prophets and scholars of the land have been summoned and are searching to confirm if this birth is real. It is.
The king is now furious, but he tries to conceal this from the wise men.
"Go find this child, and when you do, send word. I want to worship him too," he says sarcastically, and takes a long sip of wine.
What kind of baby is this that has a full grown man, like my mighty master over here, feeling all intimidated?

As the wise men leave, I follow behind, as if to see them off. Then I stand outside. It's a different night- all is calm; all is bright.
A star, lights the way for the wise men, shining extraordinarily. Beautiful. Surreal.
It feels as if the heavens are open, and choirs of angels are singing;  peace on earth, good will to men.
"What's happening?" I ask a passer-by.
"Haven't you heard? Christ the Saviour is born," he says in the most excited voice I've ever heard.

"You mean the prophecies spoken by the prophets of old about the coming of a Saviour have been fulfilled today?"

"Yes! The baby in the manger right now..oh they couldn't find a hotel room for Him by the way...He is the Lord."

"God so loved this tinnie tiny earth of ours of all the planets in this vast universe, that He chose to come down to our level just to save us?" I asked, perplexed.

"Amazingly. He could've left us on our own, but He's here. It's called Amazing Grace bro," he said, patting my shoulder and going on his way.

I had to go back inside the palace to tend to the king's petty needs. I looked up, and saw that gloriously shining star up above.

Noel! The world will never be the same again.

...
 You and I are the way we are today because of His love. It's all LOVE.

Through the eyes of a baby

There's a whole lot of noise around me today. I think it's the day i finally get out out of here, to the world out there. The voices are getting louder and louder. The one screaming the loudest is very familiar. I've been hearing it for a pretty long time now. (*Gasp*) I'm moving outta here...
Phew, it took a while but i'm out now, and the familiar voice has stopped screaming. I think she's my mother. Oh, she's lovely. She looks all exhausted but she's lovely.
It's pretty chilly out here...can i get a blanket or something? Anybody? Why ya'll just staring at me though? Oh, I'm supposed to cry...okay, here goes...
They seem relieved now that they've heard me cry. One lady's face is still stern. She has taken me into her hands and she's examining me thoroughly.
"Is there anything wrong with the baby?" one asks.
"Let's go to the next room, let the mother rest," says the stern lady carrying me away. I'm still uncovered though ya'll, mind just throwing a blankie over my belly?
Silence. Time is passing. They are measuring my head, chest,legs...weighing me, examining me here, examining me there, bla bla bla...for goodness sake, what are they looking for?
"This baby has Down's Syndrome," says the doctor.
I'm sorry, what? I have what?
"Down's Syndrome?" asks the nurse, her eyes droopy.
"Yeah, trisomy twenty-o..."
"I know what Down's Syndrome is," she interrupts. She looks kinda sad.
"Oh, the mother's gonna be so disappointed. She was so excited about having this baby."
"Well, you're gonna have to break it to her."

Okay, hold up people, what on earth is this Down's thing you say i have? Is it supposed to be a bad thing coz I feel fine over here. I promise, I'm perfectly fine.

The nurse lifts me up and now she's taking me back to the labour room. I can almost feel the resentment in her touch, it's more careless than before. I wanna wink at her or give a side grin.
We've entered the labour room now.My mother is asking about me.
"Uhmm, ma'am..." begins the nurse," I'm so sorry I have some bad news..."
My mother's eyes are wide open.
"What?" she asks, impatiently, her breathing rising.
"Your baby has Down's Syndrome. If this had been detected in the earlier periods of pregnancy we'd have done something about it. You can..."
"Give me my baby," says my mum, calmly. I'm kinda scared. Will she accept me with this Down's whatever they say i have? Her tender hand just stroked my cheek. I'm looking into her lovely eyes. Tears are flowing down her cheeks...but behind the gleaming liquid veil deep into her soul, I see...i see love. Pure love.

"My baby's perfect." She says.

 My heart smiles in response to hers.

The definition of perfection is one you put on it. I look at myself from the inside out- and I find myself absolutely flawless.
Every cell in my body is intricately crafted- the phospholipids and proteins in my cell membranes all perfectly correlating in harmony with the cytoplasm and nuclei within. Oh, the detail is amazing.
It's funny how you people here on earth would consider someone almost less human just because of a single defect in their chromosomes, or the amount of melanin they have, or whatever else makes them different. It's the difference that makes us all so "perfect" for each other in this world. Appreciate your full set of chromosomes, and don't be weirded out by mine. I'm just as awesome.
Stop living from the outside in, for it is within that you find your crown and golden scepter, suggesting you are king, and you're meant to be reigning. (wrote that for the rhyme, but really, live from within)

Why can't we just be?

If anybody asked you if you thought greatness was in you, you'd probably say yes.You might mumble the answer a lil' if you're judging yourself based on your external success -'These don't really look like the shoes of a great person...'

I found myself thinking one day, what exactly stops us from being the best version of ourselves that we could ever be? I mean, besides money, lack of resources, laziness, excuses, money? What's holding you back from just being your best self?

You know what you want. You could describe at any moment in time how an ideal you would be...and i bet it's not who you are right now. Will there ever be a moment in time when we'll be able to say, "I'm at my best right now. This is the best me."

Or are our lives on earth going to be a continual pursuit of a distant perfection that keeps slipping away the closer we think we're getting to it? 

I think we might have got the whole definition of perfection wrong. Or maybe perfection was never the goal we were supposed to aim at. 

Every new year, nomatter how we scoff at all the jokes mocking new year resolutions and the whole 'new you' cliche, most of us actually do subconsciously decide to work on being 'new'. A lot of the time spent on social media, on watching stuff, on games... is time spent avoiding dealing with ourselves. 'You can't conquer what you won't confront' tho.

So, i think the reason why we can't 'just be' is because we choose not to be. Be brave, be bold, be hardworking. Be rich?

I've changed my definition of success to a state of inner affirmation you get after giving the best of your ability to any given task. If i gave my best, then i was successful;  in spite of the outcome. That way, I can truly just be whatever I want to be without fear of failing at it.

In my African Dream

"When I grow up, I want to be an air hostess," said the little 7-year old girl in her African accent, shyly pursing her lips together.

"Why?" asked the person behind the camera.

"Uhh..i don't know...i'm just interested in planes when I watch them fly over the village, high up in the sky. Maybe this will be my chance to be on a plane in real life."

 She sat behind her ailing grandmother's hut; wearing a torn blue dress. Her feet were rough and dusty, and bare. Rough from the long distances she has had to walk - to school, to fetch water, to the grocery store. And bare because the only pair of shoes she owns are worn-out sandals that a distant aunt got her 3 Christmases ago. Her eyes sparkle still, with a hope that says 'my dreams could come true too'; yet there's a gloom of despair on the corner of her eyes, scared of becoming like every other ordinary person around her whose dreams have slipped out of reach.

The person behind the camera asks, "Have you eaten today? Are you hungry?"

The light in her eyes that'd been sparked by talking about her dreams fades. She looks down, and playfully draws the ground with a stick.
"We had a little bit of food in the morning."

She continues drawing. Her lips are clearly dry. It's 2pm.
 "Today we will receive mealie meal and oil from CARE though," she says, almost jocundly.

'CARE' here refers to the many non-governmental organisations providing aid to Africa, mostly in the form of food.
This has been a very efficient relief from starvation for many rural families. However, when that bag of mealie meal runs out, the unfulfilled dreams of the African child still lay there, distant. I do not believe God's picture of Africa is that of lil' black hands stretched forth, ready to receive whatever the elites have to offer. It's more powerful than that.

Our education system is such that we learn whatever we're given (this is where the 'just take' mentality is forged) ,some of which we never actually get to apply in real life. Go to pre-school, primary school, high school, university...get a job, get money - pay for your kids to do the same. It's almost like the job range is outlined too - 'i want to be a doctor', 'a lawyer', 'engineer' bla bla...all great, but while we're at it, may we think out of the boxes made of our textbook pages. Manufacturers, inventors, scientists? What if innovation and creativity were instilled in us from young ages in school and we didn't have to just sit and accept what textbooks say (and wait until the textbook writers discover more and update the info), but actually questioned how that information was attained and joined the research to improve it? What if we were taught of people like Einstein and Newton as normal people who chose to explore their greatness and not as some superpowered superIQ'd superior beings in whose footsteps we just could never follow?

Many people today are sitting around competing to get the latest tech product to be on top of the social pyramid; instead of being curious to find out how it's made and maybe strive to make an improved version. Instead of bragging about buying the latest car, how about we channel more energy towards manufacturing one?

As long as our minds are still satisfied with just receiving, we might keep getting that annoying '3rd' before world.

 Greatness is in Africa too, unperturbed! Yes, colonisation happened. Exploitation of African resources happened. Slavery happened too. And we could keep teaching generation after generation about our bitter past in history classes, blaming it for our stagnation; or we could rewrite history for the future generations and say, ' inspite of it all, we rose still.' We still became one of the most powerful continents in the world.'

Children in school ought to be reminded repeatedly that they have the potential to change the world; that the next big thing is right within them. I believe the bigger portion of the limitless treasure God placed on this earth for us as people is yet to be discovered. He would not be inspiring us so deeply to dig it up if it wasn't there.

Africa can stop being the poor, diseased continent it's been named to be and start dominating and roaring like the lions it is home to. We, it's people have everything we need, right here, right now, to be the greatest we ever thought we could be.
And, my little friend up there, in the blue dress, may believe in the possibility of not just being an air hostess, but maybe operating her very own, original airline.
We are the goldened, diamoned and platinumed continent (not to mention super oiled), it's time we knew what it means to be as wealthy as we already are.