Hands

We both needed something from each other. I his service and him, my money. I noticed how young he was when he came closer. But then, I thought I was doing him a favour as I believed he needed the money very much. I asked told him what I wanted him to do, and he set to work. I couldn't help it. I stared. I observed his concentration on the task at hand. He was so young, I thought to my self. Why, he is barely a child!

My thoughts strayed... I started trying to imagine how bad the situation might have been for his parents (if he still had any) siblings, or guardian to send him out to the streets to earn a living. To fend for himself and find a means to survive on his own. At his age...

I kept staring. Under the guise that I was inspecting his work.

Then I saw them.

His hands...

They certainly didn't belong to a child. They were very big. Calloused. Weathered. Hands that had gone through many changes. Hands that looked stronger than mine. And older.

What happened to childhood?

Why do parents punish their children this way?

Why bring someone to this world if you cant take proper care of them?

What can we do to change things?

I couldn't help but compare him to other children. Children who went to schools. Who had warm breakfast in the morning. had a hot lunch packaged for them after school? Children that had assignments and had their lives structured for them.

Children who were given a chance, while others like him had to fight everyday for a chance to survive.

Children should be left to be children and not made to become adults. They should have soft hands and be innocent.

They should be loved and taken care of.

Twenty Children and Twenty Years

I thought I understood his saying perfectly. I couldn't have been more wrong! "Twenty children can not play together for twenty years"...it sounded so simple!

I graduated. I forgot some things I was thought. I remembered some. Then I found out that indeed twenty children wont truly play together for twenty years.

It started in bits.

We all moved on. Settled in different parts of the country. For some, it was different parts of the world. For others, it was in the same neighbourhood. Gradually, our tastes changed, based on our individual environment. Some got better and more refined. Some got worse and crude.

Then the circles of friends changed. some got wider, some shrunk. Then along came NYSC, taking people to different places, in mind and in reality. Our worlds increased and decreased.

Then work.

Suddenly, we had fewer things in common. We hardly saw, talked or remembered. Except at weddings, events, work, on the streets, in traffic...then we said "hi, did you go to XYZ?" and the answer would be "Yeah" , and your response, "I thought you looked familiar, OK, bye".

Twenty children...Twenty years!!!

Two Minutes

"Gimme N2,000 now"! I looked up with an annoyed expression. "Gimme N2,000 now, let me go" I immediately wanted to wind up the glass, but he clamped his hand down on it. The window didn't budge one bit. It was at the tip of my tongue to ask if he had gone mad. Realizing I wasn't taking him seriously enough, he said "you see wetin I hold for my waist?" I looked down to his waist, but all I saw was a big orange Tee. very dirty. I couldn't even say anything. I realized it wasn't a joke. My sister yelled at me to wind up the glass. "what are you still waiting for" she asked? I told her the man was holding it down. "What do you want?" I asked him. "gimme N2,000, let me go" I kept staring at him stupidly, thinking to myself...I'd sooner give the money than give it to you. "if you don't answer me now, I'll blind you with this thing in my hand. see my hand". Automatically, my hand moved to the hand on the window, I saw a white thing in his hand. all i could say was "the blood of Jesus" repeatedly. I kept looking around wondering if passers by were observing it all. Everyone looked preoccupied. The people who noticed probably removed their faces so it wouldn't happen to them. We were stuck in traffic and it was barely after six in the evening.

Hold on, my sister said, remove your hand. Why , he asked? she said" if you remove your hand, I'll answer you. He did, and we wound up. As soon as that happened, the traffic jam eased up and we started moving.

I was so glad I was already seated, as i wasn't sure my legs would have carried me if I were standing. I checked my watch and realized it all this happened in 2 minutes!

Establishing Boundaries

Boundaries....the word rolled on my tongue as I was in the shower, and I marvelled at the meaning. At that point what came to my mind was how good it was to set boundaries in every thing. After the shower, I went straight to the Dictionary to get the most appropriate meaning.

"Boundary: A visible object or mark indicating a limit".

Recently, I had a spat with a very close friend of mine. It was over something that didn't warrant a fight. But we were so strung up and stressed. So we snapped. Both of us. And we did not talk to each other for a while. Then I apologised. Not really because I knew I was wrong, but because I respect her. She calmed down somewhat but was still miffed. I let her be for a while, then started talking to her. Tentatively. She responded. In Monosyllables at first. Gradually to short sentences.

Finally started talking...but it was not still the same.

Not until the next day. When she had healed completely.

Then it hit me. Boundaries.

The Boundary we set had previously had been taken down. This did not go well with either of us.
We need Boundaries to define who we are, what we do, where we are going. As friends, we may go closer to the boundaries than most, sit, play and flirt with it. But we always know exactly when one single step would make us cross that line! And we try to avoid this by saying sorry promptly.

Our Boundaries tell others what we love, like, tolerate, detest and hate.

We are our boundaries!