The Optimist-1
He was a boy from the village who had a unique gift. He knew there was something different about him, something that was present in him that was absent in many. It was the presence of a an omnipotent. The Optimist could be imagined, but could not be perceived and whenever he thought of the power it felt as though it was present and that he was supreme above all. The power had control over the minds of everyone else stretching from the seas to the sands, control over dawn and dusk. That power was present in the boy because there was a void-the absence of rubies and cowries for it was the absence of rubies and cowries that unlocked the doors for The Optmist to gain entry into a soul. The Optimist for that was the power’s name; He could only dwell in a soul that had very little encounters with rubies and cowries. Rubies and cowries were the main means that enabled people to carry out a commercial activity. It was near impossible to survive 'rubieless' and 'cowrieless'.
Sheer spiritual benevolence, human sacrifice and the intervention of genuine souls to ensure that the likes of Ninong had food. Ninong was the outcast of the town. He was often left to himself to wonder in his inability to make sense of the world. Society had abandoned the likes of Ninong who skimmed through the filth of the city, the trash from peoples’ homes and bins scavenging for food. They labelled Ninong naked, bare, insane and on every lip; he was a disgusting sight with a repugnant stench. Ninong did not have to go far off to look for his food, and despite feeding in all the filth and for all the years, he never took ill, never needed the services of the hospital. And day in day out, those who bothered about providing for the people passed him by and looked at him with usual resentment. In their minds, they questioned why he never changed clothes, why his hair was constantly unkempt, why his family members had given up hope on him. The condition to which he was exposed was considered precarious for those with normal and sane lives. These onlookers would never dare imitate not even for a nanosecond.
Every day, the Boss passed by, waving at others from a distance and never stopped to take a close perspective at the lives of the people that were left in his control. Nahou wanted to understand the mind of the Boss to understand why non-chalant he was towards the plight of the people. His thought triggered the presence of the Optimist which made Nahou feel goose bumps on his body, an eerie feeling, the kind that erected hair strands on all parts of the body except the armpit. It just made the armpit feel sweaty. He was glad to have the Optimist; he made things that appeared cluttered, tidy and neat. With the presence of The Optimist, he knew he’d get an answer. The Optimist knew just what to do to warm up Nahou.
He struck a conversation: “Hi Nahou, I made myself present even though you did not call. Your littlest wonders and ponders cracks the shell that covers me, opens the doors of imprisonment and I feel complete liberation each time you wonder. Isn’t it amazing that your thoughts are the source of my freedom? I’m happy to see you.”
“Ugh the Optimist-the master, you've come again, and you know your presence does bring a little confusion.” The littered papers were flying way up to the sky; the dust that covered the land surface rose and made a swirl as though it was the harmattan winds that crossed paths in a rush to the desserts.
Sheer spiritual benevolence, human sacrifice and the intervention of genuine souls to ensure that the likes of Ninong had food. Ninong was the outcast of the town. He was often left to himself to wonder in his inability to make sense of the world. Society had abandoned the likes of Ninong who skimmed through the filth of the city, the trash from peoples’ homes and bins scavenging for food. They labelled Ninong naked, bare, insane and on every lip; he was a disgusting sight with a repugnant stench. Ninong did not have to go far off to look for his food, and despite feeding in all the filth and for all the years, he never took ill, never needed the services of the hospital. And day in day out, those who bothered about providing for the people passed him by and looked at him with usual resentment. In their minds, they questioned why he never changed clothes, why his hair was constantly unkempt, why his family members had given up hope on him. The condition to which he was exposed was considered precarious for those with normal and sane lives. These onlookers would never dare imitate not even for a nanosecond.
Every day, the Boss passed by, waving at others from a distance and never stopped to take a close perspective at the lives of the people that were left in his control. Nahou wanted to understand the mind of the Boss to understand why non-chalant he was towards the plight of the people. His thought triggered the presence of the Optimist which made Nahou feel goose bumps on his body, an eerie feeling, the kind that erected hair strands on all parts of the body except the armpit. It just made the armpit feel sweaty. He was glad to have the Optimist; he made things that appeared cluttered, tidy and neat. With the presence of The Optimist, he knew he’d get an answer. The Optimist knew just what to do to warm up Nahou.
He struck a conversation: “Hi Nahou, I made myself present even though you did not call. Your littlest wonders and ponders cracks the shell that covers me, opens the doors of imprisonment and I feel complete liberation each time you wonder. Isn’t it amazing that your thoughts are the source of my freedom? I’m happy to see you.”
“Ugh the Optimist-the master, you've come again, and you know your presence does bring a little confusion.” The littered papers were flying way up to the sky; the dust that covered the land surface rose and made a swirl as though it was the harmattan winds that crossed paths in a rush to the desserts.
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