Reminisce

On the horizon ....


I see a bird flying lazily through the blue skies above the ocean. It
zig-zags a spell-binding journey, travelling to places I can only see in my
imagination when I am relaxed or bored. As I travel with the bird I watch the
waves rise and fall below me as the sea heaves in its belly a rich variety
of life I know nothing about. I hesitate wondering if I should dive down
and investigate the wondrous seeds of nature, but yonder a force is calling
me eastwards to the land where I was born.

Little children laughingly scatter from me, clutching pieces of food
in their hands, while some dare to shake fists at me before diving
inside the scarce underbrush dotting the land. I swoop down closer to
one stray two year old who has been deserted by his older siblings and
is wailing at the top of his voice while his mother promises to beat
them all if they don't hurry in with the flour. The smell of fresh
meat cooking seeps deep into my nostrils and I turn a beaded eye
inside the thatched cooking hut where the smell haunts me taking me
back to my youth. The days of huge family gatherings when laughter
seemed to be the norm, not the exception. I remember running away when
the goat was about to be slaughtered, and sitting next to my aunt as
she explained why she was the best cook in the land. I laughed as my
other aunt told us riddles and stories about the hare, the lion, the
silly hyena, and the tortoise. Six of us would steal away mid-morning
when the adults had gone into town. We would go to the opposite hill
and meet up with other youth and try and get into as much mischief as
possible before it was time to go home and explain our long absence.
Days spent stealing fruit, and splashing about in rivers, almost
getting washed away as we shrieked in excitement and fear. Days spent
watching funeral processions and the steady beating of drums as the
call was made to announce the passing. Nights huddled in the dark as
my grandmother told us stories of demons and snakes and the glory of
God. Yawns as we tried to grow up in a hurry by staying awake as long
as possible.

As I circled the place of youthful laughter I was sobered by the realization
that the adults were not always so happy. I saw bushes surrounding the
mound where my cousin had been buried as a one year old. I remembered the
grief of the parents. I also remember that whenever we were there, we would
always point out to it and yell, "Aamir is down there!" In the fascinating
mirage of life, we as children found healing so easy and natural. Only as
an adult can I reflect back and marvel at the strength of the parents.

I am snapped from my reverie as I feel a jolt from the contact with an object.
A group of teenagers are aiming stones at me, and one has a glint of triumph
as he boasts of his accuracy to his friends. I decide that sadly it is time
to fly off, for the attack has left me bleeding from one wing.

I decide to retreat to the present, and find that with every beat of my
wings the blood flows out more heavily. A draining of innocence replaced
with experience. The laughter is still there yet more controlled. The
drops are the increase of tears which I also cried in my youth but with
the absence of sorrow. As I strain to reach across the oceans, I fear I
will not make it. I find myself crippled by the pains of journeying back.
If time could stand still, if I could always be a child, if, if, if ... the
death toll drones in my skull, urging me to a faster flight home to reality,
where the pain will be numbed by the pressures of the now.

Thankfully I see land up ahead, and pass once more the lighthouse before
the shore. I then realise that the land before me doesn't look so bad.
Perhaps in the future I will journey back to this spot and treat it with as
much nostalgia as I did my motherland.

As I look out, I see a bird flying lazily through the blue skies above the
ocean. It zig-zags a spell-binding journey but I will not join it this time
for it makes me too sad. Perhaps instead I shall search the land around me
and see what I can build right here, right now, on this rocky shore of life.
Perhaps one day I will return here to find the grains of my experiences in
the sand. I hope the high tide will not wash my memories away. And if these
new memories leave me sad, I will be glad for this means I was happy here.