Ghetto Dreams - The Sequel

It all started with the stain of a single drop of blood in a half-empty bathtub.

You know what? I’m getting way ahead of myself; let me back up a few short years so as to give you the whole, unadulterated picture.

Its 1985, Nelson Mandela rejects an offer of freedom from the ‘South African’ ‘government’; blood tests for AIDS are approved; a volcanic eruption in Columbia kills 25,000 people; VH-1 makes its broadcasting debut; 59 people die as Egyptian forces storm a plane on Malta; and, Live Aid, a 17 hour rock concert broadcasts worldwide from London and Philadelphia, raising $70 million for starving Africans.

You know what? I don’t really need to go that far back, let me fast forward to the juicy parts.

I had never thought I’d ever be in this position, in this place, in this moment in time – I mean thinking about it is one thing, but the sobering reality of the cold slice of the blade, the warmth of the oozing blood, the staining of the clear cold water in the half-filled bathtub, is a magical sight; it’s something to behold as it is both mesmerising and captivating, and, in the right light, it adds the colour otherwise missing from most mundane lives.

In that moment, in that instance, everything was clear and everything made sense – I realised why it is life itself.

To fully appreciate this moment, you need to realise that I was never keen on living, but do not mistake this as meaning that the eternal release into the hereafter was an option either. Being raised a Catholic by loving parents who went far and beyond their civil service paychecks to provide a lap of luxury that left me needing for nothing but wanting for more, instilled in me a strong sense of the foreboding as I was reminded on a daily basis that my actions, whose consequences apparently yielded the comfort and luxury I’d enjoy beyond the things that my hands can touch, were being closely watched by an ever present Omniscience and a multitude of witnesses with nothing better to do with their eternal bliss but watch little boys take baths – and people judge the catholic priests, and to them I say, “cast the first fucking stone!”

Therefore, this wholeness I feel in my heart – this transcending peace – was not arrived at lightly.

However, if you understood my birth, you’d understand that I never wanted this life that I’m living but made the best out of the many great opportunities handed to me on a silver platter. Even Nature itself could not force this life on me and, therefore, Science had to intervene and prevail where Nature failed.

Ah that Science, the stain that has polluted and raped my land long before lubricant was ever invented; our saviour, our messiah; our very own personal Jesus.

But who said we needed saving? Maybe, just maybe, we were fine before You showed up.

But, alas, Science saved me where Nature failed me. Nature, what a fucking joke! You give us everything but You gave us nothing. Because for ten months You tried to push me out and for ten months I refused to be moved. For ten months my parents joyfully awaited my arrival but for ten months I was the disappointment that I would become. For ten months, for ten whole months, I stood my ground. Because in those ten months, I was a man and as a man I stood firm. For the first ten months before my life started, I was a man. Even before I took my first breath I knew how it felt to smoke a cigarette next to a spent beautiful woman whose name I will never remember.

Now that you know the context, let’s proceed with the story.

Getting out of the bathtub felt effortless. Maybe it was because I was being carried out of it. Or maybe it was because for the first time in my life I had allowed someone else to be strong for me, to help me where I had failed to succeed, to lead me beyond the path that I saw before me.

Standing besides the empty bathtub I realised that even the toughest stain can be removed with time.

Standing besides the empty bathtub, I realised that she wasn’t breathing anymore. She had died before I could help her, before I could reach her, before I could tell her that I loved her, and now all I have is time but she isn’t here to hear all the things I have hidden from this world in our special place. 

Living feels like an eternity without someone to love you.

So I let go.

THE END

This Blog was first published on LM squared on Tuesday, 8^th October, 2013 when I was featured as a guest blogger. Check them out, they are two people who love to experience life and write unlimited, uncensored expression of all its pleasures that inspire you beyond belief.

This article has been reedited from its original form to better capture this blog’s new feel. The Original article can be found in its originally published and unedited form here.