Keeping up appearances

‘I am ready to die!’ He bellows. Like anyone cares I retort mentally as I roll my eyes. People scramble for life everyday in unstable countries and you blatantly stand here and announce your readiness to die. By all means take the lead, and do not forget to remind us to invite beggars to come get ‘small chops’, hoards of sachet water and drinks from your burial thanksgiving ceremony. ‘ I am fifty eight years and have lived a full life; I am not afraid of death! I have absolutely nothing to lose! When Kwame Nkrumah was building the port city of Tema and placing us in sustainable employment in factories where were you?!’ He continues these rants for what seem like a decade amidst spittle, sweat and foam that gathers at the sides of his lips. This foam! Eww! I can’t stand this foaming. The sight of it makes me sick and I will Myself to clear the image from my graphic mind lest it reappear while I eat later in the day.
‘Look man, you must control yourself and be disciplined, you can’t shout and make all of us this uncomfortable, if you hate the dead goat that much go and attack him personally instead this of gusty portrayal of plain cowardice and frustration’. This makes the old man really angry. He jabs at the younger man’s shoulder and makes to physically engage him. People tear them apart and the angry words continue. ‘Your kind is the group of young kids who die early, 25 years, plastered  on the wall, smiling from an obituary. A still image trapped in time and eternity because yours is the type that keeps up appearances and fails to admit when they are suffering. You sit frozen like statues never admiting your suffering and smiling forced smiles because you are too ashamed to say you are broke. The Dead goat is strangling us and may all who fail to overtly admit it die along with their pretentious lifestyles.’
dead-goatThe Dead Goat – Credit the Black Narrator
‘All you do is sigh and sigh and sigh, no action taken, chin in hand ; all lukewarm like porridge that will grow cold and eventually get chucked. ‘
I can’t help but stifle a laugh; the young attacker of the elderly man is quiet for a moment…
He freezes as he clutches his antiquated iPhone 3 even tighter.

Published by Efua R. Armstrong

Efua is from Ghana and is interested in society and culture as well as conversations on gender and sexuality. While sitting through a speech by a professor at Kenyon College, I agreed with the idea that the limitations of the human mind aren't necessarily burdens but gifts! I couldn't agree more! I am curious and love to process and reexamine information. I also have absolutely no restraints in admitting that I don't have all the answers or that I am still thinking about something! Go ahead and leave me a message!

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