Back in the saddle again
Ok, I'm back.
I won't bore you with why I haven't updated my entertaining, informative and not-to-be-missed blog for what seems, in blog world, a lifetime. I'm sure whatever reasons I give would sound old and cliched. I mean there's only so much to say, essentially boiling down to: new distractions.
That said, I'll share with you what bolted me to my feet and prompted me to compose this blog.
The subject I wanna share with you is about death. In particular, preferred type of death. Have you ever thought of how you'd like to die? Although there's richness of the types of deaths one can aspire to attain, all fall under two broad headings: manly death or womanly death. Which one I fervently desire should be obvious.
Ever since I was little boy I've always dreamt of attaining a glorious death. I've dreamt of gaining a death befitting a man of unparalleled courage, bravery, dignity, honour, valour... basically glorified death the type Holloywood so masterfully depicts in movies. Or more contemporaneously fighting a whole division of Melez's troops single-handedly, going down with guns blazing. But before I proceed I should first tell you where I got this vision of my denoument.
It was just before civil war broke out, very hot, blistering sun unabating and dad was taking us to a restaurant outside of Mogadishu (i think it was Afgoye I could be wrong) for a lunch and some sight seeing. While waiting for lunch to be served I excused myself to answer mother nature. Since there were no bathrooms around I had to do the deed behind the bushes which were a little walk from where the rest of my family were seated but still visible to them. So I ventured into the bushes not caring if I would lose my way. A decision I later regretted when I lost my way. Every direction I head to get back led to more bushes, there were no identifiable landscape and it didn't help that I couldn't see above the bushes thanks to my diminutive stature. What happened next defined my view of life and death. I emerged from a row of bushes into a small open area face-to-face with a lion. There I was: a defenseless puny little boy against the man-eating beast of beasts. I had the natural urges to run but fought it for I was convinced I'll die anyway. Why not die bravely and stand my ground? Which I did. I bore a mean face, clutched my fists and shielded my face with them and said to the Beast of the Jungle, "Do I feel lucky today? Well, do ya punk?" The lion sheepishly skulked away and I was from that day imbued with heightened sense of valour. At least I think that way. I stood up and defeated a beast capable of snapping me in half effortlessly, am I not entitled to feel a mite more braver than ever other man?
But of late it's becoming increasingly apparent that my much wished death will probably never come to fruition. That's because here in the West where I presently reside there's higher prospect of succumbing to sissy deaths from sissy killers as Angina, Diebetes, Cervical cancer. Angina? What an insult to me! Needless to say I've be shaken up a little pondering over these matters the past few weeks. Had many sleeps nights and scads of anxiety attacks. Am I alone in this? Would you prefer to die fighting lions or succumbing to wussy killers heart attack?
I won't bore you with why I haven't updated my entertaining, informative and not-to-be-missed blog for what seems, in blog world, a lifetime. I'm sure whatever reasons I give would sound old and cliched. I mean there's only so much to say, essentially boiling down to: new distractions.
That said, I'll share with you what bolted me to my feet and prompted me to compose this blog.
The subject I wanna share with you is about death. In particular, preferred type of death. Have you ever thought of how you'd like to die? Although there's richness of the types of deaths one can aspire to attain, all fall under two broad headings: manly death or womanly death. Which one I fervently desire should be obvious.
Ever since I was little boy I've always dreamt of attaining a glorious death. I've dreamt of gaining a death befitting a man of unparalleled courage, bravery, dignity, honour, valour... basically glorified death the type Holloywood so masterfully depicts in movies. Or more contemporaneously fighting a whole division of Melez's troops single-handedly, going down with guns blazing. But before I proceed I should first tell you where I got this vision of my denoument.
It was just before civil war broke out, very hot, blistering sun unabating and dad was taking us to a restaurant outside of Mogadishu (i think it was Afgoye I could be wrong) for a lunch and some sight seeing. While waiting for lunch to be served I excused myself to answer mother nature. Since there were no bathrooms around I had to do the deed behind the bushes which were a little walk from where the rest of my family were seated but still visible to them. So I ventured into the bushes not caring if I would lose my way. A decision I later regretted when I lost my way. Every direction I head to get back led to more bushes, there were no identifiable landscape and it didn't help that I couldn't see above the bushes thanks to my diminutive stature. What happened next defined my view of life and death. I emerged from a row of bushes into a small open area face-to-face with a lion. There I was: a defenseless puny little boy against the man-eating beast of beasts. I had the natural urges to run but fought it for I was convinced I'll die anyway. Why not die bravely and stand my ground? Which I did. I bore a mean face, clutched my fists and shielded my face with them and said to the Beast of the Jungle, "Do I feel lucky today? Well, do ya punk?" The lion sheepishly skulked away and I was from that day imbued with heightened sense of valour. At least I think that way. I stood up and defeated a beast capable of snapping me in half effortlessly, am I not entitled to feel a mite more braver than ever other man?
But of late it's becoming increasingly apparent that my much wished death will probably never come to fruition. That's because here in the West where I presently reside there's higher prospect of succumbing to sissy deaths from sissy killers as Angina, Diebetes, Cervical cancer. Angina? What an insult to me! Needless to say I've be shaken up a little pondering over these matters the past few weeks. Had many sleeps nights and scads of anxiety attacks. Am I alone in this? Would you prefer to die fighting lions or succumbing to wussy killers heart attack?
posted by Doubting Thomas | 12:33 AM
6 Comments:
I think your chances of dying from cervical cancer are pretty narrow, but I could be wrong.
This reminds me of a joke:
I want to die peacefully in my sleep like my grandfather, not screaming and yelling like the passengers in his car.
Although there's richness of the types of deaths one can aspire to attain, all fall under two broad headings: manly death or womanly death.
How provocative. Womanly death, he says. What's womanly about heart disease and manly about a hail of bullets?
Macho plonker.
I want a real womanly death, you know...dignified, honourable, brave etc.
Wlc bk! :D
euhippus lol u read my mind. What do you care how u die anyway?........its what lies before and after death that is more interesting.
LoL@Cervical Cancer.
Waryaahee... intan ayaad la aamusnayd? Khasaaro waaxid. *nods head*
Thanks everyone! I gained much needed perspective and balance from all of you.
Call me conceited but envisioning my legacy, much of it yet to be written, I was unsettled by the prospect of my eulogy reading something like this "... Doubting Thomas, a loving and loyal husband and father of 10, a man of towering personal integrity, a philanthropist, a warrior, a hero, a seccessful entrepreneur and scholar of fine arts succumbed to the sissy demise of diabetes." To me such demise is intolerably anticlimactic.
New here so I won't jump to conclusions of vanity - but seems kind of odd for one to be so preoccupied with how they leave this world.
Anyhow, nice blog. Hope to hear from you (perhaps on a more frequent basis).
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