Monday Lines The fisherman in all of us There was a fisherman in the very distant past of my race. Actually, his story was a delicacy that regularly replaced our bowl of pounded yam in the age before our ogbanje electricity displaced our more predictable and reliable moon. The fisherman in our story was a very poor man. He lived in his decrepit hut all alone with his wife. Where were his children? He had none. Or more appropriately put, he was still looking up unto God to answer his prayers. He had no farm, no implements besides his fishing net and the God-given river that supplied what he ate and what he sold to meet the basic demands of life. He was such a quiet, humble, nice man that everyone wanted to be their neighbour. He never begrudged the farmer for tilling his ground nor did he ask the wayfarer not to tread the village path. He was a very good man even in the abjectness of his poverty. And then one day, he cast his net and was pleased to behold a mighty fish. He would sell this and be rich, he told himself. What did his ears hear? From the mouth and gills of the fish rang out a song that was out of this world. But for his poverty that had steeled his heart, our fisherman would have dropped his net- fish and all - and flee, but no. A man must see what is pursuing him. He listened carefully to the unearthly song from the fish and heard it pleading that it be spared. “ You sing so well,” he told the fish. “ But I cannot spare you. If I do, my wife and I will sleep in hunger today. What I catch is what we live on,” he explained. Then the mystery fish promised to change his life for the better if he could spare it. “Ask for anything, I will give you,” the fish said. Okay, because our fisherman was a good man of faith, he gave the fish the benefit of the doubt and agreed to let it go if it would make him rich. Your request is granted; go home,” the fish said. Our fisherman went back home to meet his wife but what did he see? He met the wife in wealth and splendour. Even the rag he wore to the river was no longer adorning his shoulders. Truly, he had become a rich man, the richest in all the land. But his wife had no children to complete the joy. “ My husband, go back to the fish and ask for children to complete our blessings,” she told her husband, who did as he was told. Again, the grateful fish granted the wish of its benefactor, who went back home and met his wife in the midst of beautiful kids. “ Our joy is full,” he told the wife the following day. Bemused, the wife cast a cold look at her man and asked what filled his jar of joy. “ Are you king yet or can’t you see that villagers still do not prostrate before us? My husband, go back to our fish and tell it that we want to be king and queen of this land,” she said. Fisherman went again and, with reluctant reference, sang to the fish, reminding it of how he caught it and granted its wish to stay alive; how the fish asked him to demand anything for its life and acknowledged all the past good the grateful fish had done for him. “ Now, what else do you want?” the fish asked. “ I want to be king,” he demanded. “Go back home into your palace,” he was told. He got home and met his wife in a palace of gold. Wow! Nothing else would make him poor again, he intoned. He lived well. His wife lived as an empress. They were blessed and the whole world knew it. Then one morning, the king’s wife was roused from her habitual deep sleep and sweet dreams by the rays of impudent sun. What insult! She cursed, as she asked her husband to go back to the fish and demand powers to control the rising and setting of the sun, the moon and the day. The king went as requested by his wife and summoned his fish friend with the enchanting song of a priest. “You have been king; what else do you want?” the fish asked. “Yes, I am king, my wife is queen. We are rich; we are blessed with beautiful children. We have powers over all men in the land but it remains one thing - I want powers to determine when the sun rises and when it sets. This will save me from the insults of the rays of the sun,” he replied. “You have been king, what else again?” the fish roared. “You want powers over day and night. So, you want to become Olodumare! The powers you seek are God’s only. He does not share his powers with anyone. You are a greedy ingrate, go back home, fisherman - to your hut,” the fish decreed and disappeared into the depths of the river. Dejected, the king turned to go back home and discovered that the rags were back on his shoulders. He got home and met his wife in the old hut, alone, lonely, poorer than the poorest. That is the old story of our fisherman. But have we learnt any lesson from his cycle of fortune? Look around you: Can you see elements picked by Providence from the sewage of life and deposited on golden thrones who now want to become God, who alone reigns forever? May God give us the spirit of contentment so we can count our blessings and live long enough to enjoy the great things He has done in our individual lives. Monday, 12 August 2013 00:00 Published in Monday Lines Written by Lasisi Olagunju
Posted on: Mon, 12 Aug 2013 07:23:09 +0000
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