The person on the other end needs you; they have had a day born and styled in hell they are hoping that they can get some of your attention, that you will listen.
So, put what ever it is that you are going through on
hold and be what they expect of you; the punching bag,
the shoulder to cry on, the one person who wont ask questions
/make judgements but just listen.
Worst case scenario (in my world) is that their partners
left them for some one younger, richer or one with whom
they (apparently) ‘click’.
Or worse, they have lost their jobs and have no idea where to start off from.
Or maybe, they are just having a bad day- and cant figure out why.
Every day, in this life of ours, there is some one holding a phone
to their ears, weeping, and occasionally saying words that the
person on the end cant fathom. But in the end, they feel conforted
because he/she listened.
It is a world of twos this one.
A world of where person needs another for not more than just
It happens to every one us.
Some times it is your mother you want to make the phone call to
And when you can, all you do is hold the phone to your ear and cry
And apologise for how you turned you turned out
(even when you know the way you did was the only way- given the circumstances)
And there are times you just feel lost and almost certain that you
wont find yourself again. And each time this happens, a part of you dies
some people call it growing up.
They say you have matured, that experience (read- bad experience)
is the best teacher, the only teacherthey say its the steer you
need to get there.
But the truth, it is a a part of you dying, gone.
I write this post today hoping that i can complete and publish it
(i wrote it about a week ago).
Several pieces of me having been chipping away for over ten years now, and i am mature enough to accept that i cant handle it all alone, that i need to share, in more ways than talking about it (am not that brave).
Therapy didnt work out–ethical problems.
So what has been racking my mind since last month is how do others hold up. A mother who sends her beautiful daughter to school (university) and barely two months into the semster, she is annouced murdered- under very un clear circumstances.
A family that goes down in a dump because daddy likes t
he house help more than he does mummy.
An entire region drowning in floods, but in country that gives no rat’s ass about its citizens. All the ‘Ugandan Love’ is reserved for the foreign visitors .
How do people who have witnessed their loved ones being cut into pieces just so the butcher gets international media attention, live through the next day and the next day.
And why do i always ask so many dumb rehtoric questions. Maybe thats what I be- dumb and Rhetoric.