My 2nd Near Death Experience Here, My Long Lost Djiboutian Flower, and the Beginning of My Goodbyes

What an eventful day the day before yesterday was. I wanted to sit and write about it while it was fresh on my mind. But here at about 430 in the morning, a couple days later, is my first real chance. There is something about stopping and writing about something right after it happens that captures the raw emotions and impulsive thoughts about it. Then again, after you let something sit and stew for a while, you trade freshness for more introspection and detailed opinion on the matter(s). Well, for some reason I was feeling pretty negative when I woke up. You know how it is. It seems like just about everything (and everyone) you see and hear irritates you to some degree. It was like that. And when you are walking the streets of Djibouti in the daytime—with all the noise, crowds, and commotion that go with it—there is so much to be negative and irritable about. And if you are a foreigner—especially a Westerner—it gets worse; taxi drivers gouge you for more money, street salesman are incessant about your need for bootleg sunglasses or t-shirts that are two sizes too small, and little children or women (that actually “rent” infants to produce more sympathy when begging) surround you with their hands out feigning starvation (who strategically hang around ATM’s) to compel you to reach into your pocket—all become targets of your frustration.

Therefore, my negative mood got me thinking about so many things I have witnessed here on a daily basis that angers me. I don’t say this from a judgmental perspective. Every nation, just like every family, has its own set of problems. When we are on the outside looking in, it’s so simple to sit and identify (not JUDGE—there is such a huge difference) them. Then after identification comes analysis—which is where I like to spend my time. However, my foul morning mood dictates that I just complain in my mind about the things I see that really burn me up; for example, a brand new multi-million dollar parliamentary building near downtown that I wonder how many “qualified” appointed officials and other “democratically” elected ones will use—not to create policy to help so many that are in need here—but to use as a giant luxurious office to discuss deals, create new ways of stealing money, and sit together to conjure up any and every form of practicing corruption. I think about the cost and labor to put such an edifice up and can’t help but wonder how many schools, clinics, roads, public housing areas, or other ways the public could have benefited from such. After all, isn’t the government elected/appointed to serve the governed? Well, maybe so—after they steal “their share” of aid money, finish their commercial building projects, ensure that political opponents and openly opinioned citizens are dealt with,  make their backroom deals to protect local monopolies (in the case of the beloved President here, this includes the lucrative khat trade) and hand out businesses and positions to friends, family, tribe/clan members, and/or the highest bidding foreigner. 

Front view of the new Parliament Building. Constructing this was more important than so many other needs here.

Another view of this massive structure.

This alleged $600 MILLION, Chinese built 2nd port facility was built a few years ago. Sure, it brings in lots of commerce and generates untold millions in cash--but for who? Usually priority to given to massive money making projects like this while the poor and their needs are seldom addressed. Meanwhile, money from outsiders (yes, outsiders care more than their own government) that is intended to help is usually stolen before it reaches its intended recipients. See > http://www.themarknews.com/articles/3841-corruption-plagues-aid-agency-backed-by-bono-world-leaders/#.UQkkZL919Lo  "Two-thirds of funds for an anti-AIDS program in Mauritania was siphoned off, 30 per cent of funds audited in Djibouti had been misappropriated (the majority of it to buy motorcycles and cars), and tens of millions of dollars worth of anti-malaria drugs bought by the organization were being sold on the black market."

So, with all this negativity on mind, while I was walking down one of the narrow streets with vehicles parked on each side and people going every direction, I suddenly see about two to three people about 5-8 feet in front of me telling me to watch out (with the accompanying hand signals that animate and exaggerate verbal communication here). I’m thinking maybe there is some stray mad dog about to bite me or something. But before I can even turn to see what the commotion is about, I feel a slight push on my left calf and see the plastic bumper of a car appear. Yep, I was this close to being hit, clipped, or worse—run completely over by a car in the midst of my mental list of criticisms about this country. I am all of a sudden in a “WFT?!?!?!” mode. In pure Djiboutian tradition, the guy does not at all offer apology nor seek to know if I am alright—he leans over to the passenger side and blames me for this near miss/hit scenario. I am well aware that in this country, traffic laws (and even now the newly installed traffic lights), pedestrians, safe speeds, narrow roads, dark areas, and potholes mean very little to the average driver. Nonetheless, also in Djiboutian fashion, he could have at least used his horn while dangerously barreling down this crowded narrow street. I say to him, “Dude, you can’t use your damn horn?” He, an older gentleman, who I am sure is filled with stubborn pride, yells some collaboration of French and Somali at me (of course with the accompanying hand signals) which I cannot really hear nor understand and then proceeds to mean mug me like he wants to step out and do something. Well, there are two women in the car and I am sure he cannot afford to admit guilt on front of them. So he must insult the young foreigner even though it is clear that his idiocy and carelessness could have killed me. The women in the car also look at me in disgust and I think for a minute about inviting him out to mop the streets with his ass. But the swelling crowd and the potential legal consequences convince me otherwise. After a few more words back and forth that I am sure neither of us understand, I say to him, “You need to roll the fuck on out of here, and do not get out of that car!” I am sure all he understood was that his confrontation was over and he sped off in the same reckless manner that created this mess.

As I watched his car zoom away, I was then hit (yes, “hit”)with the reality that had things been a bit different, that car could have killed me. With clinched fists of anger but a heart pumping in shock, I began to wonder why this happened in the midst of me being in such a nasty mood. Did they have anything to do with one another? Then, I moved from being angry to thankful. The truth is, it could have been a lot worse. So, I went to eat lunch and afterward found myself in another restaurant sipping on some tea. To me, this is the second near death experience I had since moving here over five years ago. The first one is recounted here: http://ramonsreality.blogspot.com/2011/01/about-night-my-buddy-and-i-almost-got.html.

While I was sitting in the local eatery I frequent now and then, I was immediately grabbed and hugged from behind and turned to see an old friend—little Oubah. My mood became a joyous one and I asked her how she was. Oubah is one of many children you see in the downtown area walking the streets either begging or selling things out of cigar boxes like cigarettes, chewing gum, facial tissue, etc. Whenever I see her, she always has the same line—“Hey, you remember me? Oubah—flower.” I always say, “Yes, of course, ‘Flower’ I know. How are you?” She always flashes her beautiful innocent smile and in pretty good broken English shares small talk with me. If I have money, I give it to her. If not, I promise her some the next time I see her. She always smiles and replies, “Thank you” or “Okay, next time.” I remember a few years ago when I first met her at the market (errr—local tourist trap) that sells souvenirs. She was so excited to tell me her name and explain to me its Somali meaning—hence “flower.” Since then, whether I am in the downtown area day or night, she usually finds me. On a side note, my heart goes out to such kids here, especially the young girls. At any given time—even 4am, you can see children running up and down the street selling things and begging for money. Sure, my first question is, “Where are your parents?” or “Don’t you go to school?” But this ain’t the US and I already know the answers so I don’t even waste time letting these inquiries leave my brain to form the questions with my mouth. The kids are raising themselves. They learn how to look sad and destitute. But it’s hard to hold in a laugh when a chubby kids point to their mouths and tell me how hungry they are. Truth is, the kids all eat. But they beg for money and take it straight to an adult waiting somewhere. In any third world country it’s the same. I first ran into this in China. There the begging street children even smear dirt and grime on their faces to add dramatic flair. Of course, as pretty much every Westerner, when I first encountered this slew of begging children and women with infants in Djibouti I would quickly empty my pockets. But as time went on, I learned to funnel such charity to the ones I know and some personal friends of mine whose children I know belong to them. Yes, some of the begging mothers here are holding their actual infants—while others hold onto babies that they paid the mothers to use all day. Nothing garners sympathy like a destitute looking woman with a whimpering infant—right? What angers me now as I write this, is that sometimes the heat here is so intense (well over 100° F), and you can see these women out there using these babies to make money exposing them to the heat. Sometimes the poor babies aren’t even awake. They’re out there under the blazing sun sleeping in the sweltering heat on the back of these women with their little heads dangling to one side. Anyway, back to the children. The boys as they grow out of this lifestyle will one day realize that begging and selling small goods will not get them very far. So, what are their choices? The girls, well, you see it all the time. They start out innocent wandering the streets looking for money, helping people find places, even translating—but as they grow into teens and young women, we all know that there are few choices that await them with regards to survival. So, they end up going in and out of nightclubs—and well, you know the rest. Another tragic thing is that while they are still young and prepubescent they also have to ward off the ill intentions of the European perverts that love to travel to 3^rd world countries and take advantage of such children. Yes, some of my local friends here tell me that such vile acts do occur here in Djibouti.

As I think about young Oubah, who according to her is now 13 years old, I wonder where life will take her. So, at the table I asked her where she learned English. She said she just picked it up from the streets. Truth be told, young kids like her can actually employ on average 3 to 4 languages. They have to learn—survival will do that to you. You can stop and speak to any one of these kids in English, French, Arabic, Amharic (the main Ethiopian language), Somali, and maybe even Afar. But when you walk these streets and one of the kids say “akuna matata” please don’t try your best Kiswahili, they don’t speak it. It’s a testament to the dumb Americans that only know this phrase (and no other spoken in Africa) from watching the Lion King (gotta stop and laugh here if this describes you). Anyway, I know that for whatever reason, she does not attend school. But there are plenty of small inexpensive English schools here. I mention this because in talking about her ability to speak English, she told me that she wished to attend such a 6 week course but she had no money. I asked her she what wanted to eat and drink, ordered it for her, and then enquired about the fees for the school. She told me it cost 1,500 Djiboutian francs (about $9). I reached in my pocket and pulled out 5,000 francs (almost $30) and gave it to her. Will she actually take some of this money and go to the English school in her neighborhood? Who knows? I hope so, but at the least I guess she didn’t have to run the streets so much that day.

While Oubah ate her pasta, I noticed an old gash near her elbow. I asked her what happened and she uttered one word, “Police.” I clearly understood. You see, the children here that beg, as well and the young ladies toting the rent-a-babies, are constantly harassed by police. Now when I say harass, I don’t mean how it is used in the US. I mean the police, who are armed only with a club, (and occasionally about a half a bushel of khat) believe in using it to beat away beggars of all ages—apparently they are seen as a nuisance. I have witness this in action. If you suddenly see begging children and women holding infants disperse at top speed, chances are that someone spotted a local policeman. I have seen this too many times. After she told me how she received this injury, my mind drifted back to a scene involving another little girl a few years ago. I had given another little girl some change from my pocket only to see her return to me a few minutes (and a few blocks) later in tears. From what I could gather through her sniveling and my small understanding of Somali, someone hit her and took her money. I was furious. So I asked her to show me who did it. Ready to knock out some young punk, she walked a few paces and pointed to a wiry old woman who had to be at least 65-70 years old. Though she was old, she was feisty and mean—like a rattlesnake. I confronted her and asked about why the child was crying. In the meantime (as always when there is any type of commotion) a huge crowd on onlookers encircled us and I’m wondering if I should even be here now. The old lady tried to convince me that the little girl is lying while at the same time giving her a dirty look, raising her hand as if she is going to slap her, and telling her to shut up every time the little girl looks at me and protests. It was obvious the old lady jacked her for her money and expected the little girl to just shut up about it. Soon others start to join the ruckus and I know it’s way past time for me to leave. I fished out a few more coins, put them in the girl’s hand as her tears magically dry up, and walk away as fast as I can leaving the old lady arguing and raising her hands threateningly at the crowd of people. Ahhhh, there is no sound in this world quite like hearing people argue in Somali. I don’t know what is more violent—the screaming or the hand gestures?

Where the "lucky" reside. This is also near the same area where I had my first near death experience. 

Where the "unlucky" are forced to live

Some of my local friends get upset at such photos, but this is the reality of those that are neglected so that the government can further enrich itself

Back to little Oubah—well, I then told her I wish her the best and asked where the school was. She told me that it was in “quartier quatre” or roughly translated “neighborhood/section four.” In Djibouti, they call some of the poorer areas (in some estimates, slums) “quateirs.” Though I have been to this particular one many times to visit local friends with no problems, some of the other numbered sections are in very bad shape in terms of the condition of the housing and safety at certain times of night. But, I have never, and will never be hesitant about visiting someone because of where they live. Some of the best times I have had here have been in some of the worst places. But my friends live in these places—so it doesn’t matter. My mother raised me not to see the world in such an arrogant way. Thanks mom. I remember once when I was visiting a good friend in this area, I got lost and was wandering around and actually ran up on this school she spoke of. I hope she gets enrolled. It’s one little option she has to make a small improvement to her life. Many—no, most--here are just not fortunate. And it’s funny how the only “lucky ones” are the rich and upper middle class. Beauty is nice. But it can often be a curse (or temptation for “easy” ways out) for young women born into poverty. I can see that Oubah will be a beautiful young woman someday and hope with all of my heart she is given opportunities to make good and beneficial decisions. However, the reality of this place with what I have witnessed during my five plus year stay here tells me different. If something does not happen for her, she’ll be speaking good English at some bar or club to someone not fluent in French or Somali.

What breaks my heart most about these areas is the constant presence of children.

Such housing projects are going up fast all over the place. Sure, they suit the rich and create money, but housing for the poor is low on the list of things to address.

More shots of the other side.

Well, this day was also about me coming to grips with the fact that I must leave soon—for good. It has been such an amazing ride here for me. I have lived, learned, loved, and laughed so much in Djibouti as well as the other 8 nations I have visited here on this wonderful continent. I hope to return to Africa one day and visit more. Of course, as with so many things about life, I have mixed feelings about Djibouti. I care for people so much. That’s why I get so frustrated by some of what goes on here. But then, there are times when I have hope and am inspired by what I see. Then other times, I can only just sit back and shake my head—like one time when I was walking at night with a buddy of mine and in the dark a local screams out, “Hey, fuck you nigga!” Wow, how do I take that? Or when I had a huge neglected beard on my face and I was once standing on a street corner and two of the local youths stopped and asked me if I was from Afghanistan. When I told them no, they doubted my answer, pointed at me and yelled, “You Al-Qaeda!” But the one of the funniest of all is when I was walking down the street one night and a young lady on her way to work, at one of the bars presumably by the look of her uniform, says to me, “Welcome to Djibouti, where every day is a holiday!” When I first heard this I almost suffocated from the laughter but after over five years, I have to agree; it’s been quite a holiday for me.

My "Afghanistan" beard that got so much attention

Don’t Focus So Hard That You Can’t See Anything Else

            We’ve all marveled at some of those beautiful close-up photos; you know, the ones of magnificent detailed objects that we may pass over daily but never took the time really examine. Maybe it’s a photo of a dew drenched blade of grass, the petal of some exotic species of flower, or even a shot of luminous rays of sunlight bursting through a sharply cut precious stone. But take the time to look closer. Though the subject of the photograph is quite clear, everything that surrounds it is blurred and unrecognizable. That’s how our vision in life can be at times. We can become so focused on our brilliant plans, our lifelong dreams, what we are expected or have been raised to become, or even the latest goal we have that we can lose sight of other opportunities that present themselves. Sure, it’s important to have a plan. The old saying states, “If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.” This is so true. Yet, let’s embrace reality for a few moments; how many of our well thought out and even well funded plans actually panned out to what we originally envisioned? At the end, it wound up along the lines of some hybrid of Plan A, Plan F, and some other crap we didn’t even think of but glued it together anyway so that we would not be completely empty-handed. Then, we just prayed and hoped—and prayed again—and cursed—and wondered if it would work. Does this sound like your business idea, the house you’ve been building, that car collecting dust in your garage you’ve been pouring money into—maybe your marriage?

 No matter what, we’ve all been there. What we plan and what we get are oftentimes not even distant cousins. But that is part of the beauty and blessings of life. How many times have we been travelling on the path to our self-appointed destiny and then we serendipitously “stumble” into that idea, that job, that class, or even that person that changes the direction and purpose of our lives? Then, once we relax our focus a bit and see the new opportunity, we then have to muster the courage to release the old thoughts and make changes. So, once we do this, we realize that what we thought was a vision that we were carrying was actually a burden. Sometimes these types of burdens are the expectation of parents, family, society, friends, or even a case of us tenaciously clinging to the ambitions of our youth—that we long ago outgrew. We don’t want to disappoint those around us or have to come home halfway through college and explain to everyone that we decided to do something else and appear a failure. Therefore, we just focus harder, and the misery begins.

It’s all about focus—you can focus too much. Have you ever tried to thread a needle? Of course. You must close one eye, focus intensely on that small hole at the top of the needle (the “eye” ironically), and then somehow work the frayed end of it through. Once you finally accomplish this feat after many tries, you feel that scaling Mount Everest is next—OK, maybe not, but you feel victorious nonetheless. Anyway, you noticed how the task at hand forced you to focus so intensely that the only thing clear within your field of vision was the eye of the needle and the end of the thread—everything else became a blurred mesh of colors. This is what happens in life. We can become so focused on our goals or ambitions that much better opportunities—life altering opportunities--become lost in the blurred background. And the sad part is that we often only notice these long gone opportunities when they are permanently out of reach.  I would even venture to say that some of the best opportunities are the ones that challenge our original plans. They are the ones that suggest we adjust, deviate, or even change directions completely. I am not proposing that you drop everything and move to a remote part of the Earth to go dig wells for the rest of your life or that you leave the office right now and find the nearest military recruiter. I am saying that even though you have plans and you are intent of reaching those goals—always keep your options open and don’t be afraid to seize new opportunities, even if those opportunities require you to put your preset plans on hold for a while, or even abandon them altogether. Don’t be afraid to try something new or expand your limits and redefine your expectations of yourself. Be honest with yourself if something is not working or fulfilling you.

Besides procrastination, fear is one of the greatest thieves in the universe. Many people allow fear to dictate to them what they can and cannot do. How many people rejected opportunities for promotion, ran from potentially great relationships, or avoided situations that demanded more responsibility because they were scared of failure, pain, rejection, etc. This is tragic. The truth is, the world needed these people and they permitted their personal fears to rob us all. Imagine if Martin Luther King Jr. allowed fear to limit himself to become just another Black American pastor, or if Barak Obama was satisfied being another law professor because he was convinced the American Presidency was reserved for privileged Whites, or if Hillary Clinton simply believed that being a former President’s wife carried enough advantage and influence in and of itself. None of these people limited themselves, and when opportunity was presented, when the spark of possibility erupted, they seized it. Michael Jordan was cut from his High School varsity basketball team, Bill Gates dropped out of college (Harvard), and Oprah Winfrey was told that she didn’t have what it took to become successful in television—yet none of these people limited themselves or their options. Yes, they were focused on their goals and they all achieved success. However, in each case they all exceeded their original plans because they all noticed other opportunities and pounced upon them. MJ made more money from shoes and merchandise than he did playing basketball—he even starred in an animated movie (though his acting was horrible), Oprah herself acted in movies and did a bit more than host a daily TV show (if you know what I mean), and Bill Gates has moved way beyond building personal computers and he’s even involved in trying to make enormous impacts in the lives of the less fortunate the world over. Put simply, they kept their options open.

Do the best with the opportunities that you do have and you will see other doors open for you. Remain committed to your plan, but don’t let your focus become so strong that it blinds you from other potential things placed in your life. Never let fear rob you of taking chances to walk through life-changing doors. Tyler Perry started out simply writing plays and performing them to empty auditoriums, as a child Cassius Clay (AKA Muhammad Ali) learned to box from a policeman because someone stole his bicycle, and a man by the name of Malcolm X found his calling while languishing in a Massachusetts state prison while serving time and after living life as a drug addict, common thief, and numbers runner. In life, it’s not all about what you can see, because what you don’t see is usually where your destiny is found.

It’s Not Where You Fell, It’s Where You Started Slipping

“Never let me slip, cuz if I slip, then I’m slipping.” Dr. Dre – Nuthing But G Thang (1992)

Falling down, or failure, is a part of life. There’s an old Biblical proverb that says, “for a righteous man falls seven times, and rises up again…” This reinforces the fact that all of us, from the perfectionist to the free-spirited, are not in any way immune to making mistakes—or falling down. And yes, the most important thing about falling down is getting back up. You must get up, dust yourself off, and try again. But let’s be real here; falling down really sucks. No one wants to make those huge mistakes in the first place—let alone over and over again. Let’s take it a step further; some falls are permanent. Life is not always as easy as realizing you have fallen and simply deciding to get back up. Sometimes it’s a case of either you not being able to get back up, getting back up is a lot more difficult that you think, or even the time, energy, and cost of getting back up may not be worth it. Yes, that’s the reality of life. We all know that to a certain extent, falling down is inevitable. When you were an infant, how many falls did you have to endure before you finally mastered walking? So it is in life in general. Yet, I would venture to say that a significant amount of falls, and for some of us the majority of falls, were avoidable. Let’s examine this closer…

Generally, unless you are pushed or dropped, there are basically two ways to fall: slipping or tripping. Though they are pretty much the same thing, one usually trips over something (the front of the foot) and slips upon something (the heel). For the sake of simplicity, we will just label the act preceding a fall as “slipping.” Well, what does it mean to slip? To slip means to suddenly lose stability or the ability to balance oneself while standing, walking, climbing, running, etc. In terms of the act of falling, this is the crucial starting point. In other words, if you don’t slip--chances are--you are not going to fall. Unfortunately, this point is commonly forgotten when we look back over our lives and try to understand our mistakes and failures. Guilt, from within and those that surround us, often times compel us to focus so much on the mistake that we overlook or minimize the importance on what caused it. The quick and easy way to relieve ourselves of the guilt and shame is to quickly blame someone or something else. However, how many times have we done this and again find ourselves falling for and upon the same things? We even try to remove who or what we blamed and the same thing occurs again and again.  I suggest that if we are to minimize our falls through understanding the cause—we much look past the falls themselves and intensely scrutinize when, how, and where we slipped.

However, the issue with slipping is that slips don’t always amount to falls. Therefore, when we slip and quickly recover our balance, we usual fail to note how that slip occurred. This is where the prelude to a huge fall commences. In other words, just because you slipped and recovered today, does not mean that you have sufficiently addressed the issue. You were fortunate to be able to keep from falling—but that does not mean you will be so fortunate tomorrow. If you do not stop and take a look at what made you slip—that same thing will have you fall later. In the immortal words of Dr. Dre; “Never let me slip, cuz if I slip, then I’m slipping.” Obviously, even he understood this concept.

To make this easy to digest, let’s use three rules your parents (mainly “mom”) had you live by in order to keep you from falling when you were a kid and see how we can apply these in a greater sense to our lives:

1. Watch Where You’re Going!

2. Slow Down And Stop Running!
3. Tie Your Shoelaces!

These simple, but vital rules that were exclaimed multiple times into our ears (sometimes into one and right out of the other) throughout childhood can serve to help us better our lives and avoid many pitfalls as we can look at them from a different perspective.

Watch Where You’re Going

This is easier said than done. On the surface, this makes sense. No one wants to just wander into places of danger and failure. But every one of us has had that moment where we are sitting in a corner with our head in our hands, staring into space (sometimes accompanied by tears) asking ourselves, “How did this happen?” Sound familiar? Well, a better question to ask is, “How did I get here?” This is not as much of a question of geographic location as it is a question of how did you arrive into this situation. Yes, some stuff in life just happens. But coincidences are not normal. You know you messed up no matter how much you feign innocence, victimhood, and/or ignorance of the circumstances. Most of the time it is only you that gets yourself into these debacles--whether you saw them coming or not. How? Because you did not take the time to look at where you were headed. You let emotions cloud your judgment, strong desires cause you to disregard the true dangers associated with taking such risks, impatience compel you to act impulsively, or you trusted someone freely when you should have investigated the situation first. For some reason you let dreams, visions, anger, wants, etc. cause you to keep your head in the clouds to the point where you neglected to open your eyes and really take time to study the path you were travelling. In other words, you were so caught up with where you wanted to go and what you wanted to do that you kept yourself from seeing how you were getting there. Or even worse, you had no idea (or cared about) where you were going at all because you just wanted to enjoy the moment. Whether you realize it or not, we are always in motion—always headed somewhere—even if that somewhere is nowhere at all. We are either set in a purposed direction and at the helm of life trying our best to arrive at a specific destination or we are aimlessly floating around wherever the wind and waves of time and chance carry us. When you don’t watch where you are going, you are going to fall.

Watch where you spend your time. Watch who you spend your time with. Watch what makes you emotional. Watch who makes you weak and emotional when around. Watch what makes you disregard all personal rules and parameters associated with your behavior. There’s always that one friend that can convince you to go wild. When you two were in college, that was cool. But if you have a career and family now—he/she may need to be cut off—sometimes completely. I’m being real here. Your eyes are for watching and if you do not use them, you might as well wander in darkness. Take time out from the journey and really study where you are headed. You may think you are moving in one direction, but the results of your life and efforts (or lack thereof) may testify to something different.

Slow Down And Stop Running

                We all remember one or both of our parents yelling this cautionary command to us as children (especially when we had a pair of scissors in our hands). Why were we running? Why were we in such a hurry as to ignore the possibility of falling and hurting ourselves—or even worse--breaking something that belonged to mama? Excitement, impatience, playfulness, etc. Being a child, we were accustomed to being dictated by our impulsive excitability, being heavily influence by our lack of patience, and of course virtually controlled by the innate desire to play at every given opportunity. Though this is a natural part of growing up and learning—it does not translate well into adulthood. How many decisions have we made in the midst of emotional excitement? Maybe we fell when we allowed the impulse for revenge to take over. Or perhaps the excitement of getting something new before we could really afford it convinced us that taking out a loan was a good idea. Young love is also often the culprit in manifesting excitability, impatience, and playfulness. Whatever the cause, such actions must be avoided or a fall is surely on the way. In life, we must take time to gauge our speed. Similar to travelling down the highway at high rates of speed, we could be rushing through life without really being aware of how fast we truly are going. Just as when we look down at the speedometer and adjust accordingly, we need to find ways to pace ourselves when making decisions. Again, if we have not fallen yet from living such a life—just wait a while. It is bound to happen. And please understand, desperate and hastily made decisions, with regards to temporary circumstances, can easily transform into something that brings lifelong consequences. The old saying, “Haste makes waste.” comes to mind here. Haste can make you waste time, energy, money, opportunity, health, relationships, etc. Please, before you endure a nasty fall, slow it down and take time to access the situation. Going too fast only decreases your amount of control over your life and increases the chances of you falling and crashing hard. Do not let impatience from within and the opinions and pressures of those on the outside force you to make rash decisions that you and only you must pay for—sometimes even with your very life.

Tie Your Shoelaces

                 Now this particular one may seem a little silly. Nonetheless, it is just as relevant and the two that preceded it. Let’s look at the purpose of shoestrings. They are there to help tighten a pair of shoes to your feet so that the protection and stability that the shoes offer are maximized and stay intact. Unless you are wearing slip-ons or sandals, a shoe without a shoestring actually becomes an impediment to walking—even a potential hazard. Go on, take your best sneakers and remove the strings and go play basketball or run for a half hour… You see what I am saying? Now, walking around with untied laces in your shoes isn’t the same thing as having no shoelaces at all, but as time goes on, the stability provided by the shoes decrease. This is surely something that your parents hated to see—you walking around with untied shoes. They would say, “Tie your shoelaces before you trip and fall and hurt yourself.” We all know that keeping our shoes tied provides the best amount of safety and stability when we walk in our shoes. Yet, all of us through laziness or carelessness have spent lots of time walking in such a way. A lot of us have a pair or two of those “lazy” shoes with the heel pressed down and the tips of the laces sticking out to the sides. They started out as a nice pair of shoes and ended up as raggedy slip-ons or “house shoes” over time because we got tired of crouching down and taking the time to secure the laces on them. Sure, we only wear these in the house or maybe on a quick trip to the grocery store or gas station. But God forbid we get robbed while in them because we cannot chase the thief for too long in these shoes.

In a similar way, there are things we do in life where we get used to skipping the necessary steps even when it involves important processes or decision making. Carelessness and laziness are reasons why we place our feet into untied shoes and trust our natural sense of balance to keep us from falling. But, when we walk around like this—we only increase our chances of falling and trusting too long in ourselves when we have the tools to better equip ourselves and the knowledge to better prepare ourselves is foolish. It’s far better to walk barefoot than to walk around with untied shoes. In the same sense, it’s better not to use something at all than to use it incorrectly. Also, don’t get accustomed to skipping steps and details in life—they will sooner or later be the cause of a major fall. Take time to do the small things even if you have been able to get by without doing so. Don’t skip steps no matter how insignificant they may seem. They are there for a reason—just like your shoestrings.