THE GLIMMERING LIGHT

Happy new year guys😀. Its been a minute right? I know, the lazy bug bit me again. You can't blame me👼 But here we are. I wont tell you how my year is so far or if I've gained or lost some weight. For some reason that the first thing people notice when they meet post- covid, or is it just me? Anywho, lets get right into it. Shall we...

A story is told of a man(Don't ask me who told the story. I don't know either)

A timid guy this man was. Completely removed from the world he lived. Oblivious to the dangers and insecurities that plagued the town he lived. Whether he could hurt a fly I'm not sure.

Wait I've never caught a fly. Those things are really fast. I mean who can actually testify to catching leave alone hurting a fly? Not sure why we even adapted the expression in the first place. I think our old wise men should change that quote. Maybe say something like, He couldn't hurt a chicken. Makes more sense. Right? I know a couple of guys who feel guilty murdering a chicken. I know I do.

Anyway, back to the story. This man preferred minding his business. Turning a blind eye to the atrocities he saw in his town. You see, his town was one of those places you wouldn't think twice about it passing through. Night or day. There was a gang that terrorized its residents you see. Business owners had to pay a certain fee to the gang everyday for them to stay in business. Girls and women had to walk accompanied otherwise God knows what would happen to them. Men could testify of loosing one thing or the other to the gang. A phone here, wallet there, a life too if they failed to bow out and yield to the gangs demands. A terrible town it was.

This man, let's call him Baraza, lost a couple of things as well. The most precious being his wife. The fateful night it happened is what put him in the rut he currently lived. The rut of debilitating anxiety and constant fear of what would happen to his daughter who he never let out of his sight. The rut that barely made him live his house. The rut that kept him up most nights with nightmares he couldn't stand having.

That day was fresh in His mind. He was on his way seeing his wife off to work. It was 6.30pm. Like most men with a wife and girls, he was on his guard. Ready to shield his wife from any danger. Most times, should the gang see a man escorting his wife or kids, they hardly bothered them. Too much of a hustle accosting a man willing to fight tooth and nail to defend his kin. This day was different.

He heard footsteps behind them. A group of five men followed closely. His wife clung to him. All he had were his fists and his fists were no match for a pair of five fists that held one or two weapons. He tried. God knows he tries. But in less than 5, his wife lay lifeless before Him, defiled and bleeding. He himself drifted in and out of consciousness, the blows and cuts dealt on him too painful to save him or his wife. He relived the nightmare of the fateful morning. A nightmare that many men in his town could relate to. 

Baraza always wished he could do things differently. Maybe join his wife in heaven, or go after the men that robbed him of his joy. Neither option seemed wise. Not with his daughter looking up to him for strength and guidance. Every day seemed worse than the last. The nightmares that brought him back to that fateful day tormented him.

One particular night proved unbearable. The dream started like it always did. Him and his wife walking hand in hand as they planned on moving out of the God-forsaken town. Nothing interesting was happening around them. The streets were quiet. With few men walking past them. Just when they were about to turn the corner, the dreadful gang suddenly appeared before them. This time, he was prepared, his gun at hand. But no sooner did he try to place it in position than one of the guys snatched it from him. Faster than he could say VascoDagama. His wife lay beside him, dead, her body mutilated. His daughter on the other hand, who suddenly appeared was being whisked away, tucked on the side of one of the men that attacked them. 

Baraza jolted out of the dream and sat up in bed. Sweating profusely and screaming his daughter Imani's name.

It was then that he saw it. The glimmering light in his bedroom. It shone so bright He could barely look into it. His room reflected the light. In the light was a figure. A figure his sleepy eyes with the blinding light shining into them couldn't make out... 

To be continued next week😊stay tuned...

You may not be in the dreadful situation that Baraza was in. Yours may be a little less terrifying or far much worse. But I promise, no matter the end of the spectrum you are in, it gets better. With God and with professional help, help from family and friends included. Baraza was clearly battling depression, a fact he wasn't aware of. But you don't have to be in remain in that rut if that is where you are at.

I pray with all my heart that if this is the space you are at, God will give you strength to go through today, and tomorrow and the day after. With that said, until next time, as Iron Sharpens Iron, so should you sharpen one another😊