I sit in my father’s compound. There is an Eurasian collared dove resting gently on the ground. I’m relaxed as I listen to it cooing. It looks peaceful. I wouldn’t have expected it not to, since it is a symbol of peace. I’m curious to know how it hasn’t figured out that I can be such dangerous company. I reminisce about those days when we were young…when we had our little minds convinced that once you eat a dove, there is no one that could surpass your intelligence. I smile at the memory. Slowly, I get tempted to try out my hunting skills. I’m unfortunate that this little thing figures out that I’m holding a stone and it flies away. Damn! I wasn’t even successful at making the attempt. Am I failing at trying out something new?
I’ve been giving thought what my dad encouraged me to do during this period. I find that writing a book is an extreme sport, especially for me who needs a clear mind to put something together. If I were in a mutual and clear relationship with my mind, it’d have been a walk over.
The Dove appears again. I’m inclined to believe that it’s the one that flew away earlier on. This time it is closer by, just a few metres away. The required or recommended distance by the Ministry of Health during this social distancing period. The birds are obeying and human beings are being disobedient!
There is something about it, the Dove..
It stares at me. I look away. I’m not shy, I would prefer not to have whatever is inscribed on my eyes, read by this stranger . When I look up again, it seems to be begging for my attention. Like it needs a friend to talk to. In my heart of hearts I know this is just my imagination. How can a simple little innocent bird want to find a human friend? How weird?!
I know there are many like this dove. You have encountered them during this period. Everybody is home. There is so much time at our disposal. Little doves are crawling slowly back to some of the people they had decided never to be in contact with. The times aren’t particularly harsh but they need good mental stability to handle. Certain friendships are being rekindled and others being broken. Many are trying to recreate what they have lost for decades,years, months, days. Little Doves are doing the best they can, trying to establish peace. I fear for them particularly because they are a rare breed and so fragile. And the world…it doesn’t even care. It doesn’t have a special place to treat these with care and the love they deserve. Or maybe the little doves are meant to be in the heavenly places.
Those we have held in high regard we have all the time to bask in our admiration. Those we have pushed away for long, we are trying to forge an olive branch, even to the ones we normally ” can’t stand”, we are reaching out to see where it will lead. Maybe I am at it again; over thinking or like in my usual manner of life trying to be objective , I tend to incline to that more often than always.
But I’m more convinced we will eventually hurt the little doves when our reality balance is restored. When we have little time at our disposal because;work is demanding, exams are on the corner and whatever comes with life and its unpredictability.
Many of us will be caught in the crossfire that we won’t see our selves holding out the stones until we have hit and hurt someone. Maybe the doves with very keen eyes and speed will see what’s coming and will be on their way to safety. Come to think of it…What about the recently injured the ones still holding onto to hurt from a while back? Will they survive it? Or suffer intensely. My brain has a habit of racing far ahead in time, I can’t help it sometimes. I guess I should go back to seeking inspiration for my book which my father recommends will be a master piece and I wish I believed the same.
“I don’t know what to say to the little doves except that every friend they hope to make should be judged on their merits but they should ultimately seek to live and love one day at a time. Tomorrow is never promised but as Alexander Pope put it, hope springs eternal,” a friend advises.