Death of an acquaintance

I call him an acquaintance because I think that's what he was to me: an acquaintance. A friend of a friend. Or rather, the son of a friend and mentor. A part of a family I'd seen enough of to feel like I could call him an acquaintance, to feel like I kinda knew him: a little.

To them, he was so much more than that!!

And now he is dead.

Dead.
DEAD!!!
Shot. Murdered. Killed. Justlikethat.
Nothing left. No life. No nothing.
Just dead.

What does that even mean??

She is a good woman. A great mother. An awesome mentor and friend.
He taught me in university. I mean, he was one of my most inspiring teachers.
His sister is fun and cool and down-to-earth. Spunky sometimes.
His sons are young and innocent, and probably oblivious to what's going on.

They don't deserve this.

Nobody deserves this.

Why??

A life.
Snuffed out like it has no value.
What's going on?
Jamaica, seriously, WHAT IS GOING ON?
When is this going to stop?

It keeps getting closer to home.
And you wonder, who next?

My deepest and sincerest condolences to the family, friends and relatives of my acquaintance. I feel deeply for you, and that alone tells me the immeasurable pain and burden that you must carry...

I am sorry. I wish I could bring him back to life. I hope and pray that you all get through this. Somehow.

Prayer for the Self

Dear God,


I pray this feeling never goes away.


I pray I feel this agony
Each and every day


I pray I feel their pain
I pray their cries burn my heart


Let me live the situation
Till I find a solution.


Give me no peace
And give me no sleep


Make me desperate
Make me restless


Let my respiration
Be filled with desperation


I am the solution.
Help me to find me.


Copyright 2009 Ruthibelle

If ambition is a disease...

On behalf of young people all over this country who dare to dream, I proudly, defiantly declare...

If ambition is a disease, I am terminally ill... -Ruthibelle

H. W. Arnold said that the greatest bankruptcy in the world is the person who has lost his enthusiasm. I have many friends who walk around bankrupt. Empty. Daily. Fighting to keep hope alive in young hearts and minds that would rather retire and die. Or run off to another country for (seemingly) 'greener pastures'.

It makes me sad, because I remember their determination while we studied at university. I remember the light and fire in their eyes ... It is a tragedy to watch creativity and ingenuity get smothered by the recurring hardships of life, especially because those now dying struggled so hard to keep these flames of passion lit while attending university. For many of my friends, life has been a series of battles to keep hope alive.

What kind of country does that to its youth? What kind of country kills creativity and somehow transforms hard-earned success (like graduating from university) into a negative, burdensome experience? A member of our government recently made a statement to the effect that university graduates who cannot find jobs or afford to repay students' loans are in that predicament because they chose the wrong professions. Isn't that an irresponsible and careless thing to say? A statement indicative of a government becoming unpalatably abusive and insensitive to its people?

One of my friends pointed out that, by making such an irresponsible statement, our Government is, in essence, condemning ambition and telling young people to choose careers that guarantee them jobs (which ones are those, pray tell), instead of studying subject areas they are actually interested in.

Max Lucado said that ambition is that grit in the soul which creates disenchantment with the ordinary and puts the dare in dreams. I have long been disenchanted with things ordinary and substandard. And I walk among like-minded friends. We are not satisfied with average. God knows we love Jamaica, but it can get rough. It can be really hard to have a dream in a dreamless state.

Today, I use this blog post to recognise my friends all over Jamaica who dream big, and do not let the pressures of everyday life kill their passions and desires. I recognise the quiet strength it takes for them to choose energetic, active living over merely existing each day. And I respect that. Even if our government doesn't. I do. And I hope that makes a difference and counts for something ...

Perspective

Sometimes
it just takes
one moment
to put
EVERYTHING
into perspective

...

One moment.
One experience.
One epiphany.

Here's mine:

A habit is a developed discipline ...
constructive or destructive,
you decide.

The Foot

Have you ever noticed that ATMs are always built in some areas that get very lonely after certain hours? Always some little corner out of the way, where people can easily get shot, robbed, mugged, killed... you notice these things when you're heading to one such secluded spot at 8:47 at night...

At the ATM:
A woman is inside doing her business.
A man is outside waiting.
I carefully look him up and down: no untoward bulges from his pants waist, no tattoos, piercings or weird shiny objects...
Man says good night.
At first I jump a little. Then sigh, smile and return the pleasantry.
I look around: no lone, suspicious characters nearby.
No police car either.
I wish that woman would hurry!.

The woman exits the machine.
The man enters.
I'm outside alone.
A prick of apprehension.

The man doesn't take long.
Soon, I'm safely bolted into the little cubicle
... or trapped, as the case may be ...

I hear a sound.
I quickly turn round to look outside.
Nothing.
I realise the ATM glass is not transparent from my end.
People outside can see me.
I can't see out.
I wonder which genius built this thing....

There's a little clear-looking strip at the bottom of the machine.
I stoop down to peep out...
I see a foot!!

Just one foot parked menacingly at the at the edge of the glass cubicle.
The rest of the body is hidden from view.
My heart beats double time.
who's out there?
what do they want?
will they hurt me??

I grab the money from the machine.
Quickly grab and tear up my receipt.
Stuff the cash into my bag.
Zip it tightly, push open the door and .... run like the wind!!

At a safe distance
I turn around, panting, breathless...
No one. Absolute emptiness.
Thank goodness I'm not being followed.
The predator must have ran off too...

I sigh. Look down. Eyes get stuck on my shoes.
I chuckle, then giggle, then comes full-blown laughter.

That 'menacing' foot I had been seeing on the other side of the ATM?
My own--- my reflection.

Steups.

Death... Again.

I just found out that one of my favourite high school teachers died yesterday. Sad. Very sad.

Remember this post that I wrote as an ode to the teachers who invested quality time and energy into molding my mind and life?? Well, the Mrs Mullings I spoke of died of cancer yesterday.

I feel it in places I didn't even know I had.

I feel it in ways I can't explain or imagine.

I mean, it hurts. It really, really hurts. And I just want to cry and get mad and thump a pillow.

And after all that, I look around my sorry room and realise none of that really helps because it doesn't change the fact, the irreversible fact, that she is GONE. Gone. I don't even know what to say. And I never got the chance to say a million and one things to her that I should have said, could have said... don't know why I never said them.

Mrs. Mullings was my teacher-- my teacher. She was as precious as they come. She was a rare gem. A real beauty - inside and out. I miss her already, even though I have not seen her in years. Miss her dearly, and deeply. I almost feel wounded.

That was one of my favourite teachers. What she did for me.... what she did for me!! It was a miracle. In my life. She worked a miracle. And I will never get to say these things to her. Not in this life, anyway. Not anymore.

I've always had this grand plan in the back of my mind to one day go home and just shower my teachers with love. At this big luncheon, at a time when I would be able to adequately, truly express the depth of my appreciation to them all at once. How can I do that if, as time goes by, they all start leaving, one by one... I need a new plan. Because this one is too risky. I risk missing another opportunity to let someone special know just how special they are.

Mrs. Mullings was the wind beneath my wings for most of my high school life. The way she believed in me when I was still finding my footing, still trying to figure out who I was and where I was going, and why... the way she encouraged. When I was drowning in depression and despondency.... the way she taught, with eloquence, such grace and unparallelled clarity, the patience she had... the times I could catch her outside of class hours and get her to teach me something I missed in class all over again... the way she held on to grand hopes for ALL her students, not one, not some... she believed in ALL of US!! The way her life was well-lived, and she spent her years working small miracles in little lives everyday...

A life like that should get honorary prolongation. For being so well-spent. A life like that deserves to live on... A mind like that should have written books, thousands of books, or at least one good one, explaining the years and the experience, immortal knowledge bequeathed to the next generation. So much has left the world with Mrs. Mullings' death. So much more has left my life. It makes me tremendously sad.

Another death to deal with?? I don't know if I can handle it. Nobody told me that, in your early twenties, you start to see and feel death in a much more personal way... a warning of some kind would have been nice. I really would have liked to know so I could prepare... see, I like to be prepared. And why does it just do that - how can news like this just completely disrupt your life and your mind, and knock the wind out of you and, no matter how calmly you think you can handle it, completely take you by surprise??

I'm not liking this very much at all. I'd like to stay home from work today and just bawl. (Sadly enough, that line rhymes).

Sense of Adventure

One of these days,


I will pack my bags,

board a plane,

AND GO FIND ME AN ADVENTURE!!





The world is calling... can't you hear it?