MORO had come bare before a fellow countryman as he wanted a straight talk, man-to-man.
He had starked himself as bare as anyone could get. He’d pocketed his pride, too, and asked someone for help.
Then he had told most everything that he was to this stranger. Only, he kept under clothes what he couldn’t flaunt here.
It had happened that Alukho had seen some magic trinkets beneath the clothes of this gentleman. It was those moments when he collapsed; for a small wind revealed him.
So the young Jamaican picked up talk from this angle.
‘A while ago when you collapsed, sir, I happened to see something that looks like a charm—’
‘It... it is nothing,’ Moro cut in right then.
The middle-aged one was quite embarrassed already, as he pulled his clothes down to cover him well.
Alukho saw the older man feel awkward, so he explained to him.
‘You see, sir, our yesterday is what begets tomorrow—just like it is what we plant now that we harvest later...
‘So this is why I pointed out that “something” I saw on you.’
‘It is really nothing, my friend,’ insisted Moro. ‘Now let’s just talk about the war? How can I escape it, Alukho?’
The younger man smiled. ‘That is exactly where I am going!’
‘Please go on; I’m listening!’
Alukho sat up. ‘I said earlier that we only harvest what we sow...
‘Still we can’t say it is nemesis – I mean, a reaped punishment, that you were drafted for this war?’
Moro was flustered. ‘Oh, I’m a good man! And I’ve only done good deeds all my life!
‘And even the charm you see on me isn’t there to cause harm – it is only for protection! I am just a simple farmer, you know!’
‘I can tell too sir,’ nodded Alukho. ‘At least, you told me your story then I saw it too. You’re a good man, I know it!’
Moro heaved a soft breath. He felt understood quite much. Yet Alukho wasn’t stopping there. He was concerned about Moro’s story and wanted him to see...
He wanted him spotting a pattern if things had been one way.
He went on: ‘But in spite of your good deeds, sir, you found yourself in a war you desperately don’t want to fight—yet we know this isn’t payback.
‘Now think of it—is this the only time life has done this to you? How has life treated you?’
Moro sat back, memories flashing across his mind in that moment...
The journey he made to escape war. The hostile city he settled in to own.
His struggles to belong.
Then his toilings to make another rich. His effort to start family, too.
And he being caught now to fight in war.
Everything went through his mind in that moment and he breathed a laden sigh.
‘It has been hectic!’ he said. ‘Like a long dark night with no sleep or rest.
‘It has been from one toil to another. It’s a long, long night!’
The younger one lowered his head. Then he looked up in a while.
‘But we can’t still call this nemesis—you’ve hurt nobody to deserve a hard life.
‘Yet again, you know that we cannot deny that we partake in some wrongs for our own good.
‘Like celebrating a festival where someone has been killed as ritual for the peace of the whole land.’
Moro’s hands were up.
‘I’ve got nothing to do with those killings! I’m just a peasant man!’
Alukho nodded. ‘Of course, I know; you’re neither a king nor a priest. You’re only a townsman minding his own business.
‘But when the rituals are done and feastings follow, everyone is a part of it—they celebrate a sacrifice that went well.’
Moro was silent. He felt those words were right. So he found nothing to counter.
Alukho went on from there.
‘Now, you see, if all humans believe in nemesis – that we reap what we sow on earth, how much would we reap when we die and face our Maker?
‘What I mean is this: if you didn’t do so much bad here on earth, and still you say life has been hectic...
‘Then how hectic would things be in the afterlife?’
Moro answered nothing here. He only sighed.
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