African StoriesLife and General Fiction StoriesNaija Stories

Blue Tears

Mine is a tale of pain garnished with the bitter leaves of hatred, a revolting entreé put together onto a plate of misery served to my form on the table of life at the other end of which stands the chef, his name tag reading ‘Destiny’, and his face sporting a maliciously pleasant smile that does nothing to stem the flow of tears cascading down my face not unlike Niagara Falls.

I am the subject of blame on an event that Destiny conjured long before a half of me was swimming towards its completion.

I know not how my parents met, they never got to tell me, they were served to me as an appetizer, a dish called ‘Death’.

I didn’t feel pain, I tasted it. It burned my papillae, leaving them deformed, mangled, and unable to comprehend how lovely parental love tasted.

Everything tastes like vomited ash but I kept on my feet. To be hated for something you have no control over, no one asked my permission to be born, no one knew I was going to exist when their matrimony happened, yet I not being the Jesus, had to carry the cross.

To what do I owe this punishment? I myself have no idea, all I know is that both sides hate me with enough passion to set Da Vinci’s art on fire.

Education they say is that which provides an exit from the dark and foggy chasm of ignorance but education did them no good.

Riding upon their collective certificates, they look down on all, they fuel tribalism, and power the engine called ethnicity.

I am caught in the middle of a rather pointless tug of ignorance with no side succumbing to the pull of the other.

Sick, hungry and barely clothed, I watched the masculine side drool with greed over what is rightfully mine and the feminine side happily floating in the non-gravitational plane called Oblivion.

I will retain my smile, a happy, forgiving and understanding one. The terms life, poverty, riches, and death aren’t up to them, nor I, for He who commanded the fire to simmer down and be acceptingly lulling to His servant said, “Verily hardship is always accompanied by ease.”

I once said, “Let He who so meticulously and eloquently carved a mouth feed it.”

Allah sees all, knows all, and provides to all, with the catch being to help others, so I’ll repeat this and may it serve as a reminder, “Let he whose bed bespeaks comfort heed it.”

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