Mbuh

“Get up man, let me show you exactly why we live” a friend of mine slapped my head, attempting to tap my energy. The next minute, off we went to a midnight club somewhere in the heart of the capital city. As we arrived, we were immediately welcomed by thundering sound of house music and dozens of women in mini (super mini) skirts – so short that it barely covered anything. “Look here man; this is exactly why we have to live” said he while coiling his arm to one of the short skirts “happy to be alive”. He immediately plunged himself into the crowd of fun lovers on the dance floor.

As he left, I looked around the place to look for a comfortable spot, perhaps in the corner a little bit distant from the crowd. I landed on a stool at the bar before the dizzying arrays of Chivas Regals, Martinis and Tequilas. “Is this it?” I asked myself. Among the hustle and bustle of this night life, I was drowned in deep thought of the purpose of life. “No way” I thought out loud “If this deafening music were the reason to live, I would have to redesign my entire life”. I sat on the stool for half an hour solely accompanied by my Belize before I decided to hail a taxi and went straight home. Half dizzy and half drunk, “Why live?” my thought kept on asking my entire sanity.

“Why live?” mum repeated my question. I did ask her several times about it – thinking that being a catechist, she would have been able to figure the answer out. I thought wrong. She would start preaching me on living for others and for Him every time and I would intentionally deafen myself.
“Why bother asking that question, while you are still very young? Why don’t you just enjoy it? Now look what you have brought yourself into”, my mind blamed my conscience. They must have been too tired fighting, a moment after, both were silent. I was yet pleased.

“Listen and you shall hear, watch and you shall see”, a heavily bearded thin old man said. My mum’s friend brought me to him, claiming that he might be able to help me out or at least ease my curiosity. “If you really look deep into yourself and listen to what you yourself actually tell, you shall find the answer to the question”, he murmured, leaving me puzzled. “You shall be able to do it if you can control your consciousness. It is what set us apart from the dead”. That night, I thanked him for putting the chocolate on top,” Now, my confusion ends, replaced by a mystery”.

It took me a few years to realize what he said. “How many times in life do I actually listen to myself?” I listened to people, to desire, to wishes, to expectations – all but myself and conscience. “How many times do I look back and actually see who I really am?” He did mean something after all.

Today, every now and then, I practice to listen more. The more I listen the more I learn. I listen to liars to learn honesty. I listen to chatterboxes to learn the importance of silence. Every now and then, I take some distance and see myself for even a mountain is invisible before our eyes. “Look, you are off the track”, I sometimes say to myself from a distance.

The question “Why live?” remains unanswered. Yet, until the day I find the answer or a way to figure it out, I will keep on listening to and looking back to myself.