At
this moment, 8.57am, 20/03/17, I am watching two men. One is sweeping leaves
off the interlocking concrete and the other is washing the boss’ car and
intermittently going to the sweeping guy. They are gisting like teenage girls on a playground. They are having fun,
patting each other, laughing hysterically at each other’s jokes. They look to
be in their mid-thirties to early forties. They are happy. They are content.
You
see, happiness is a function of person not of society person is in. A person is
unhappy only when he allows the unhappiness around him diffuse into him.
*
There
is a quote I like from Jojo Moyes’ Me Before You, a touching novel about how a
paraplegic man and his help change each-others’ lives, it goes: The thing about being catapulted into a
whole new life – or at least, shoved up so hard against someone else’s life
that you might as well have your face pressed against their window – is that it
forces you to rethink your idea of who you are. Or how you might seem to other
people.
I
like it because I have found it to be true. It is a very interesting experience
to be catapulted into a new life. I am living that experience as you read this.
When I moved here, I thought I had everything about myself figured out and
wrapped together. But it did not take me long to realise that the things I know
about myself are only the things that the situations around me have exposed me
to. I imagine that this is not a personal thing. It occurs with everyone. It’s
like your life is in pages and there are several, several pages that you have
not read and you know nothing about simply because those pages are yet to be
opened.
I
have loved my time here so far. It has shown me that I can be more malleable
than I thought, that I can adjust, that life can swing left and right and I can
be still. I have decided about life to enjoy it, no matter its taste. I pray to
never ever see the setting sun and not appreciate it even on days when I am
hungry; to never get tired of the night skies even on nights when my heart is
broken, to never see the view out my office window and not marvel at the utter
wonder of life even when there is a ton of work to be done. I pray I never
become the man who does not know how to appreciate these tiny drops of miracle.
*
I
hate moving because it is a lot of work: packing things and then unpacking
things, arranging things and then lifting them. But in the 31 days between
January 28th and February 28th, 2017, I had to move twice; and certainly, I
would move again soon, at most before the end of April. I cannot complain
because in the grander scheme of things, it is a blessing. I did not necessarily
have to leave my last location. I left relative comfort and a lifestyle I
enjoyed and moved because 2017 was the year that I needed to lose my feathers
and grow some stronger appendages. This year has been such a blessing, you
can’t even imagine.
The
problem I have had is that it is not super exciting when you are new to a
place, it takes a while to get used to things. And that is another thing about
moving – the new place. People may find you strange because you act different
from them, because you are yet unaware that certain things should be done in
certain ways, because where you came from you must pay the cabbie before you
get off the cab but where you have moved to you must pay the cabbie once he’s
dropped you. It takes time to get used to new things.
The
men are done with their car washing and leaf-sweeping. I can no longer see
them. They are probably somewhere eating boli and groundnuts. Happily.