Positivity in the dust

Positivity in the dustWhat a morning. First day of the week and I managed to get of bed by 5.05 clear essential mail, brush my teeth freshen up and hit the road with my dogs by 5.35am . I have been meaning to be some 30 minutes earlier than this going forward but I was out at meetings until 11 last night before coming home to work.

The harmattan weather was quite severe so it was still dark and the dust in the air heavy.  I had decided that today should be one of positive thinking. Start the week thinking only positive things… I believe that positivity breeds or encourages positivity! Business, relationships …………… children, challenges, debtors, creditors and my relationship with the “Big Man” upstairs were all going to be positive….

As i left the building i noticed some commotion as my next-door neighbour had apprehended an alleged “thief” and a crowd had decided (after shaking him up) to take him to place he had stolen from rather than to the Police station as a first point of call.

I normally do a few kilometers of jogging / walking Monday to Friday with my  five Boerboels (go out   with two and then come back for the next three). Today as I came to the end of my first session I came across a man stripped down and lying on the sidewalk. He was motionless and a small crowd had gathered around him. He was dead. He had apparently died alone!

The dust that filled the air suddenly took on another meaning, as his body lay motionless. I reached home and went back to see if anyone knew what had happened and whether the matter had been reported. It hadn’t but the lady setting up her stall to sell rice was in the process of making the report…

Today has been tough but I guess tougher for some others. I have to keep my happy positive head on and thank the Big Man upstairs that I have another chance!


  • My father, once a military man of rank Major, second in command at the Base Workshop, Burma Camp, Accra; a man believed to be very strong and very cautious of his health woke up one morning before last Christmas to find out that both his legs are swollen up to the knee. He has daibetes.
    Tears fill his eyes as he tells his story.
    Who could have thought that “Major” as we call him could be reduced to tears for any reason at all.
    It makes you want to take the whole day off thanking God for little mercies.

  • My dear Gentle Giant Brother,
    How I wish that I could jog down Labadi Rd in Osu in the early morning with you, passing by the gentle folk, the chickens, the kids scurrying around… And absorb the humidity and flavours in the air. I can just imagine you with those beautiful beeg dawgs, the focus of attention as your body glistens in the sunlight, moving through the streets.
    Anyhow, the point is this: Our Big Man up there will see to it that the sun shines gently on your shoulders, because you recognise and acknowledge Him for what He is and for what He means to you and yours. Godspeed Herbert.
    I miss you.

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