THE BARE BONES OF LIFE

It’s 07:00hrs.

Hastily the bus conductor makes us climb down the slow-moving bus in fear of being clamped by the guys from central police or RTSA. The lady in front of me had her black elastic skirt almost torn; when an old seat by the door stuck its rugged sharp edge at her thigh as if in refusal of letting her go.

I throw one foot forward and another while pulling my backpack closer, white headsets loosely swing from my pocket as if pleading for me to let them fall.

I reach at the corner of Southgate Mall. Where there is KFC. The road perpendicular to freedom way is congested; buses in their droves, are going in and coming out of Kulima tower bus station. But right at the corner is another form of life. Mothers with babies at their back, grannies, youths and boys all line up selling assorted pastry; pies, samosas, vitumbuwa and scorns in buckets with different coloured lids.

With no luxury of sitting at the breakfast table at home, this corner presents me with a second chance to rededicate my life to breakfast. My headsets finally give up and find themselves coiled and shoved up in the pocket. I spot one grandmother sitting behind a bucket laden with nothing but Samosas.

Sight of her, teleports me to childhood days when I would escort my grandmother to go and sell roasted groundnuts at a famous tavern in Choma Police camp. Empathy grips me, pity courses through my veins. Who knows how many demons of poverty she is fighting? how many dependents she is feeding? What time she woke up? All those and other questions dance in my mind.

I quickly wield some kwacha notes to her; I then pick the yummy looking Samosas. She hands me a plastic full; about four to six inside. Without wanting to be a center of gossip by someone who might recognise me from one of the buses, I whisk away with a firm step. Almost melting into the crowd, a voice cracks from behind.

“Mwana wanga, waibala change” (Sonny you’ve forgotten your change).

I rush back, collect it and then continue the battle of disappearing from sight. While burning away, I hear one of the youthful town-mongers scold the old woman.

“So mwamubwezela change? ndimwe bosila aii” (You gave him back his change? you’re such a dummy).

I could faintly hear her say “Vabene sivotenga, nikumupasa muntu” (Don’t get things which don’t belong to you, always give people what belongs to them).

Oh my! I was struck with reality. A polarization of ideals. At one end of the seesaw is seated bigotry and at the other is seated integrity.

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The above and so many cases happen to everyone on a daily basis. Where we are constantly put on the seesaw of life, which side do we choose to seat on? The very small things which seem so normal like not giving back change to someone who forgot it, reveal what kind of mettle we are made of.

Luke 16:10-12 The Voice translation

“If you’re faithful in small-scale matters, you’ll be faithful with far bigger responsibilities. If you’re crooked in small responsibilities, you’ll be no different in bigger things. If you can’t even handle a small thing like money, who’s going to entrust you with spiritual riches that really matter? If you don’t manage well someone else’s assets that are entrusted to you, who’s going to give over to you important spiritual and personal relationships to manage?”

The bus conductor forgets to ask for the bus fare, do you seat quietly and play innocent or hand him his share of the cake? It has been said that the bigger things of life move on the legs of smaller things of life. The law of retaliation will always reward us with what we do. You reap what your sow, others call it Karma. When you sow integrity at even small areas of life, you will be blessed with bigger responsibilities.

There are few who realize the influence of little things of life upon the development of character. Nothing with which we have to do is really small. The varied circumstances that we meet day by day are designed to test our faithfulness and to qualify us for greater trusts. {PP 222, 223}

#Celestial Gems