Be Your Own Savior!
In recent days, I've been reminding myself that improving my life lies solely in my own hands. Nobody is going to come along to rescue me.
Even if I starve and have to ask for help from friends and family, they would only dismiss me with laughter and disapproving murmurs when I turn my back. Others might feign sympathy but quickly return to their own affairs. The instant I die, people will suddenly become generous with donations for my funeral service. So what’s that saying again?
Only your mother and father truly wish for your success in life; everyone else merely feigns support before betraying you. If your parents remain living, then honor, treasure, and appreciate them.
I had been waiting outside the large two-story white house for over an hour. Among the various homes along the street, this one boasted a meticulously maintained lawn like the others.
Should you be an admirer of flowers, you certainly wouldn’t overlook their beauty. Among them, the diminutive red hibiscus, which mirrors a small poppy and belongs to the mallow genus commonly found in Zimbabwe, stood alongside the Flame Lily—the nation’s floral emblem—famous for its vivid shades ranging from red to orange. All these blooms displayed themselves spectacularly against the landscape.
Red and white roses adorned large cylindrical vases positioned on either side of the entrance. The road was flanked by orderly rows of palm trees on both ends.
The person responsible for the landscaping seemed to have envisioned the Garden of Eden from a frontal perspective. Clearly, they were skilled at their craft.
I might have appreciated this view during better days, yet these were dire moments. Today marked the consecutive fourth day I stood waiting outside the house. This wasn’t an average neighborhood.
The high-end newest car models cruising down the streets served as a stark indication that this area was affluent. The residence I stood before belonged to my opulent uncle, William, who was the younger sibling of my departed father.
His business holdings encompassed extensive involvement in property development, mining operations, and transportation logistics. Additionally, I've been informed that he was considering acquiring an interest in the profitable energy market.
I hadn’t spoken with him in many years. Our most recent conversation took place at Aunt Ruth’s funeral.
I can vividly recall his precise words when he stated emphatically that he wouldn't provide financial assistance or job opportunities to any family members since they would lead him to ruin. As he departed, he added, "Even though you're my nephew, make your own path; don't count on receiving anything from me. I built everything through sheer willpower alone, without help—from rags to riches—so prove yourself."
His comments cut deep into me. For several years, I stayed away from him even during family get-togethers. Meanwhile, his reputation kept flourishing as most of our relatives struggled. Throughout this period, I couldn’t maintain a steady job. Despite trying various endeavors, none panned out for me.
My journey to South Africa in search of better opportunities turned out to be disappointing and filled with setbacks. Similar to numerous other immigrants heading to South Africa, the hope for a improved existence proved to be nothing more than an illusion. The only thing I returned home with was my miserable state of being.
The last thing that prompted me to go back to Zimbabwe was taking up a gardening position for an impoverished Afrikaner man who falsely portrayed himself as wealthy but was actually just another destitute Boer. He often spoke incoherent English that made little sense. There was also this canine whose breed remained unknown to me; surprisingly, it spent most of its time inside the living area. This dog would usually snarl and glare at me menacingly. Additionally, the persistent stench permeating throughout the home constantly reminded me of the animal’s constant company.
He would make me sit through watching the news with him in Afrikaans, fully aware that I couldn’t comprehend a word. Driven by his ego and the desire to boost his self-esteem, he did this. Eventually, unable to tolerate it any longer, I returned home.
At present, I found myself in a difficult situation. I put aside my dignity and sought an opportunity to meet Uncle William. My only way of reaching him was by waiting at the entrance. Despite the frigid breeze coming from all sides, it didn’t discourage me.
For the past three days, every time he pulled into the driveway, the electric gate glided open effortlessly. His Mercedes-Benz zoomed through, and then the large aluminum gate closed silently behind him, shutting quickly without my intervention. What would happen if this occurred once more today?
The next time, I'll carry on with the tale.
*Onie Ndoro
X@Onie90396982
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