Of Dreams, Ink and Kerosene lamps

On the 23rd of august 2014, over a decade later, I achieved one of my dreams and provided one of the biggest justifications for who and what I am. How do I mean? Let me explain.
Nearly a lifetime ago, a kid sat at an old, time assaulted dining table with food stained table cloth. The dimly beating heart of an aged kerosene lamp pumped light into the living room and illuminated the fading paint on the wall and empty pages in front of him as he struggled to paint a picture with the meager words he knew. He had been given a pen and told by his older brother that he could be a writer. He didn’t know what a writer was, or why he should be one. But he knew he could and should ’cause he had been told he could be one and given a dream, by someone he loved and looked up to.
He didn’t succeed at producing a wonderful story or beautiful poetry that night. But he kept trying. He carried that dream for more than nine months. He wanted to impress the brother who believed in him and prove him right. He kept pushing, voices in his head urging him on, mental midwives telling him he would give birth to something beautiful eventually. This singular event that night would shape his young life and eventually be the reason he became the person and writer he was. It would give him a goal, focus, drive and a dream. A dream that would keep him awake thousands and thousands of nights and when he slept, fitfully. But more than those, reasons. Reasons to keep going, when there seemed to be no way, something to strive for, a purpose. And these are the greatest things any young man or woman can be given.
Years later, that young man achieved his first dream. He impressed the young man who gave him that vision. It may not be a Pulitzer, or a Nobel Prize or a Hugo award, or the New York Times Bestselling List or even a million dollars but it was his first dream and worth a billion billion times more than all these things combined and he could die happy knowing he met that.
If you are looking for the reason I’m the man I am today, there it is. I may not be where I want to be. May not have achieved all his hopes or maximised my full potential but like the kid with the pen and the fragile wick of the kerosene lamp sputtering and stuttering but still shedding its dim illumination, i will keep trying to shine my light though dim it may be on any and everything that needs the light to see.
There, see my trophies…

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2 thoughts on “Of Dreams, Ink and Kerosene lamps

  1. I totally agree with Akpo. You are crazy but good crazy. This is a wonderful piece. Am proud of the writer you have become.

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