Musings of the boy next door

Flood Pains

A drowning man crying inside cos he’s tired of crying out.
Where is Moses when you need him or his rod to help out?
Where is Jesus when you need him to pull you out of this water?
I’m thinking, is it because I didn’t name my grandson Peter?
If that is the case, I would have made that his baptismal name.
But it’s too late to cry when the head is cut off they say.
The pain hurts so much, no words can explain.
I am lying down and wondering; how am I even alive?
Because since my grandson drowned, my whole life sunk.
I feel like one of the people left out of Noah’s ark.
Submerged underneath the liquified version of God’s wrath.
My grandson was a nice kid, just 10 years old.
They just moved to a house in a reserved estate his Dad just bought.
The place is so beautiful, they call it New Heaven.
Trees are so green and the people are so wealthy.
So I guess my son is rich but it was not always like this.
I grew up with my Dad who was a poor farmer.
With a large family, he had to work ten times harder.
He did that to provide us education and a decent life.
But the life was far from decent, just full of sad incidents.
After class Six, i had to quit school cos i couldn’t pay fees.
Luckily I could read and write and had learnt the basics.
So I got employed with that and worked as a typist.
For years and years, the promotion did not come.
For years and years, they said, “Don’t worry the next one”.
Then finally they said I don’t have the qualification.
But I have all the experience, I have worked there for years.
Still I kept being ignored, I remained nothing but a pawn.

A few years later, I found myself in the town-planning board.
After a few years I was in charge of given building permits.
Did my job as best as I could, with the fear of God like it should.
Then I got married and had a son and life began to turn.
My son started to grow, life became so tough.
He was to start school and the salary wasn’t enough.
And the overtime wasn’t enough, the promotion just refused to come.
So I sat down one night and i started to think about how my dad was responsible for this happening to us.
If he had enough money, I would have furthered my education, gotten a better job and have enough to take care of my son.
I would have sent him to the best school and buy him all he wants.
I would be asleep tonight and not thinking of these stuff.
Then my mind flashed to all the big men in the government who keep stealing, ripping this country off and padding budgets.
I remembered the crooks sending their kids abroad and living a life of luxury.
I remembered the preachers who eat their cake and still have every slice of it.
Why can’t I live this kind of life?
Why should my kid suffer because I didn’t provide?
The more I thought about it, the more it came to me.
I had to get dirty if I wanted to harvest some greens.
So, I started to plot how I would get paid off these lands.
I started to take bribes and approve wrong lands.
Lands on flood plains and those along water ways.
Who cares? I won’t live there, I didn’t spoil the system.
I just want my share of the cake, is that a bad thing?
So I amassed enough wealth and made my family better.
My son went to the best schools and my wife was happier.
What if some of the places now suffer from serious floods?
And sometimes a few people die but that’s how life works.
I did not kill them, it was the rain.
It is nature, something must kill a man one day.

Well, 30 years later my son is a wealthy man.
He gets married and gets a son of his own.
I am very happy I have a grandson.
I throw a party, I’m reaping my reward.
Then he decides to buy a house, of course he comes to me.
And of course, I showed him the best place to get a crib.
Free from all the madness my decisions had caused,
A land so high, a tsunami cant touch it.
But on this fateful night, karma did not hold punches.
The sins of the fathers came visiting with a box of gifts.
My grandson attended a birthday party of one of his friends.
His friend’s fathers house was on the other side of town.
Something led to another and it was 9pm.
The families were cool and the next day wasn’t school.
So, my grandson decided he will stay over for the night.
As they were watching TV, they heard a loud bang.
A series of thunderstrikes and the rain came flowing.
The area was one of the several places I had approved bad lands.
Infact, the house was the first one I approved after that night of reflection..
That night when I set in motion the plan to kill my grandson.
The rain fell so hard, the house got submerged.
5 people died from that unfortunate accident.
In the morning, I got a call that my grandson is dead
When I went to the scene, I realized I had killed him.
I tried to kill myself but I was rescued, now I am chained to the bed.
They say I am suicidal and need to be observed so I won’t harm myself.
What they dont understand is I just dont know which feeling is worse to bear.
The feeling I killed him or that they think I loved him so much I tried to kill myself?

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