That Man – by Ea2

I wake up each morning, grateful for the knowledge that I am indeed becoming that man

Its 7.30 am. The alarm on my phone wakes me up. I open my eyes, reach for the remote, and turn on the telly. I listen to the morning news, so I can hear about the problems in the world I live in; the crimes being committed, the state of the world’s economy, the headlining celebrities, and all the other injustices suffered by the innocent; but while digesting all that, I also remember that I am supposed to be that man.

I shower, get dressed, locking up as I leave my home. I then stop by the confectionary shop for my morning coffee. While there, I pick up the morning paper and read about all types of chaos and monetary inflations. I read about trade agreements between countries, and movies just out in the theatre; about the greed of executives, who already have cash in abundance; the exploiting tactics used by unscrupulous multinational corporations; the hardships subjected to the working man caused by their corrupt governments, and the defence of this deficiency by eloquent politicians; but still, even after learning about all this, I choose to remember, that I am supposed to be that man

I get to my office, and spend the first hour or so, going through mail and leftover paperwork. I then turn on my computer, play my selection of film-scores on I-tunes; go online, and search through the various news sites I favour. Each report nowadays comes with a video link. As I read further, I click on the corresponding video link, and see gruelling images of the poor and malnourished; images of people like me, subjected to the agonies of war; the innocent that are now homeless; the remains of victims of genocide; but while sieving through all this grief, I still try to keep myself aware that I am supposed to be that man

I then visit a few of my favoured blog sites, and spend a few skiving moments reading about the deterioration of our planet, while sipping on my now lukewarm coffee. From the blogs, I get updates on current environmental issues, read comments on exploitation of resources for individual profit; the unfair distribution of a nation’s wealth, and sinuous misdirection’s by those who were appointed to govern; but even as I read about all this, I keep conscious the fact that I am supposed to be that man

The phone begins to ring; I’m consumed with enquiries from clients to be. For the next couple of hours, I scan through spreadsheets for prices, and send out purchase orders and invoices. I give instructions to my staff on the way out to lunch. I get on my bike and ride towards my favourite deli, anticipating the sweetness of my meal, as I get to the traffic lights. The light is red; a little girl, no more than 7 years old, carrying a baby on her back, stretches her arm out towards me, begging for some money. I pull out some loose change and give to her, and she return a smile; a smile of hope, filled with innocence. A middle aged woman sits about 10 metres away from us; her back leaning on the traffic light, as she observes this episode unfold. I notice more kids hovering around her, while some others move from vehicle to vehicle. I feel my heart shift, as I ponder the reality this little girl faces daily. The light is now green, and I speed away; but despite what I am feeling, I still try to stay alert to the fact that I am supposed to be that man

I lock the door to my office, and wish my staff a good evening. I slip my bag on my shoulders, and walk towards the bus stop. Moments later, the bus comes; I get on, find an empty seat, and settle in. Three stops further, a man rushes into the bus, barging past a pregnant lady, as he goes in search for an empty seat. The pregnant lady had a few grocery bags in her hands; the thrust had sent one swaying, as she fought to regain her balance. The man paid no attention to her plight; just made his way towards the empty seat beside me. I then gestured him away, saying to him that the seat was for my wife coming behind him; only then did he realise the pregnant woman with the grocery bags he had bumped into, and offered an apology. The woman sat beside me, offered her thanks, and began explaining to me why she had to do the shopping at this hour in her condition. When we reached her stop, I took her bags, and walked with her to her house, which incidentally, was only a few streets away from mine. She thanked me profoundly, insisting that I stop by again for a plate; I thanked her for the invitation, and made my way home; but despite what I had just experienced, I choose to maintain my thoughts on the fact that I am supposed to be that man

I cross the road and began walking towards my home. I stop by a local supermarket selling alcohol and tobacco, for a packet of cigarettes and a beer. As I get to the counter, I notice a teenage kid there paying for the same things I was about to pay for. I look up at the loud sign, hanging behind the man at the counter; “No sale of Alcohol or Tobacco to anyone under the age of 16” was printed in bold uppercase. I then took another look at this kid who appeared no more than 13 years old, who was now paying the attendant; the kid turned and look at me as he lit a cigarette, and then walk majestically out of the shop. I look into the eyes of the man behind the counter as I give him my money; he turned away, gets me my change and comes back, looks back at me dead in the eye, and at that moment, for the first time that day, I was certain that I didn’t want to be like this man

From the window of an electronic shop, on my way home, I stood and watched a bit of the evening news; hearing this time about the death toll in countries now divided by religion; I listened to reports of fighting for supremacy in nations with different religious sects; all this fighting by those who seem to have forgotten the reasons why we all kneel down and pray each day; watching images of horror on the screen, as policemen cover up bodies, with stacks being driven away in pickup trucks. I get fairly irritated by all the unnecessary bloodshed, and decide to continue walking home; but even though I feel repulsed by the actions that I see; still I refuse to forget, and choose not to sway from the fact that I am supposed to be that man

I reach my front door, twist the door knob and walk inside. I head towards the stacked provisions on the top right shelf, and make myself a cup of coffee. I count the money left in my wallet, as I light up a cigarette. I sit on the edge of my bed, feeling fortunate to be where I am; grateful for my day, and all that I had achieved. Now feeling somewhat relieved, that I can continue to strive in the quiet of my home, to be that man that I am supposed to be.

I lie on my bed and reflect on my day reviewing my actions and reactions; making mental notes on the aspects I wish to improve on. I begin to recollect images of smiles, the warmth from hugs, the firmness of handshakes, and the echoes of laughter. A smile begins to form, as I recall the effects my presence had on all those I met and even passed by; all those who got to meet the man that I am

Now the darkness of the night approaches; I switch off all my distractions, and find a quiet moment to converse with my creator. I express my gratitude for Him giving me the strength, availing me the wisdom, advancing me the courage to become the man that I am, and the foresight to recognise that man whom I now strive to become.

As I get into my bed, I convince myself that I can be that man; one day I will surely be that man

“What manner of man, is this man I seek…?” My eager mind asks.

That man who believes in the good we can all represent; that man who chooses to encourage rather than condemn; that man who believes peace can always reign; that man who wants to share his joy with all he can; that man who believes in justice and freedom for all; that man who acknowledges that all have the right to worship as they conclude; that man who wants to see his children live in a world that has promise; that man who looks inwards for his answers; that man who listens more than he speaks; that man who loves without deceit.

That man is the man I want to become; that man is the man I know I should become.

I nod off to sleep, wondering if I can be all of that man, and if not all, at least a sizable portion that would make a difference in my own world.

As my eyes close, I try to remember those whom I had met in the past that were like that man. I try to remember how they were, and how it felt when I was with them.

“I know we can all be like that man. I know that that man is a man that we can all become.” My mind concluded.

But before I suggest to someone else to be that man; I must recognise that part of me that lives in that man.

Then, maybe, that man can be who I am.

Ea2 – 07/09

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