HUMANE NATURE (please take time to read) Madame Esther used to be my next door neighbor. I remember her first by the angelic smiles that her face beamed untiring whenever I hurried pass her, every morning, on my way to work. She had a pretty face. You could say her face was the sort that called up the picture of innocence. So you would never suspect such a pretty smiling face was only a covering for a blood thirsty heart. I also remember her by the howling that always came from her apartment whenever she was at home. She never seems to stop threatening someone and whenever she did you were sure to hear the distressing cry of an embattled house girl. Sometimes, the naughty laughter of children reached you in the midst of confusion. It was the laughter of her children, rejoicing that the poor house girl was taking yet another bashing. Monica was the poor miserable house girl. As I hurried past every morning, I often saw her bending over a heap of clothes. A basin of water and buckets at her side, she never failed to bow and smile at me. Out of the sockets of sunken eyes sprang a tenacious desire to be happy. She was only eleven. A mere baby you could say. But she was like a dog, ever troubled. The booming voice of her mistress caused her heart to beat on ends. There was no rest for her. If she was not washing utensils, you would find her washing all sorts of dirty clothes. She was expected to be on her feet all the time, doing one thing or the other. Monica never went to school like the other children. You would find her sitting at threshold, haunted by loneliness and fear. But these were not her greatest problems. Hunger was it. No matter how hard Monica worked for her mistress all she got in return were rejected crumbs. But why? Madame Esther’s house was always in a festival mood. Plenty meat and fish put away in the deep freezer every week. She prepared her meals enough to see the family through three days. But she would lock away everything before taking her children to school. Poor Monica would be left with gari to soak. At best, some left over Eba and a modicum of soup. Some days, she went without food. Anytime I heard her cries, I felt as if someone was pricking me with needles. I always wished I could do something to set her free from the bondage. Who knows how Monica has been faring ever since? God be with her. One thing amazes me about human nature. Why do we protect our own even at the detriment of others? Why do we derive joy when we see others suffers? Why do we let others feel pain simply because they are not our blood? Not minding whether they perish. You can smash a glass on the head of your house girl because she was a minute late in answering your call, whereas you will let your daughter go scot-free for abusing you. MORAL Why don’t we look at it this way: your child could one day find herself in the position of the house girl. No condition is permanent. Those who prod today may have a good laughter tomorrow when they find freedom. Remember, be nice to those you meet on your way to the top, so on your way down, they could lend you a hand. May sweet LORD grant US the grace to do unto others as we’ll have them do unto US. GOD BLESSES US ALL. I LOVE YOU. NOTE; (All names portrayed in this article are fictitious; any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental) @johnrogo
Posted on: Thu, 05 Jun 2014 12:21:55 +0000