27 April 2015

Hafiz Adewuyi

Dragon or Lion; two miserable options

And every single night, sitting on my room table, I have to make a choice. A choice between these two terrifying monsters; is it the dragon or the lion?

No, I am not fortunate enough to be given the option of choosing the cricket. A choice that is my natural right but which I and my fellow earth dominators have forgone for the sake of civilization. For the security that a brick house offers, we've forgone the feels of a beautiful African night. The chirps of the crickets, the beauty of galaxy andromeda who lies beyond our endless skies.

With our giant fortresses, we've created obstacles that keep the cool lagoon breeze away from our settlements. In the blink of an eye, I'd forgo all the glamour and promises of city life for the serenity of a calm suburban habitation. I long to know how it feels, to sleep in the nude, with the eyes appreciating the beauty of the skies. With the only sound filtering into my hear being that made by crickets. The only sensation, that of the cool breeze being waved over to me by the blades of grass that so willingly share their scent with the wind.

While I daydream of a utopian existence in a rural setting, I have to face my current urban reality here though. Two options, the city gives to me:

A tale of a lion, a dragon and a man called Zifah
Many a time, he will choose the dragon. Of course, at the risk of being fried alive, just because he can't stand the endless roar of the lion. The lion personates the neighbor's power generator right behind his room window. Now, there's only one way to keep the lion out; the lion with his endless nasty roar and noxious breath.

Zifah employs the services of the dragon, a worthy match for the lion. The dragon places her huge wings over the large opening in the exterior wall of Zifah's mono-ventilated room. In effect, she all but blocks out the lion's noise, while also keeping the fumes out.

Alas, the services of the dragon do not come at no cost. The temperature of Zifah's room rises to a  nauseating degree. The rickety fan on the white ceiling does all it can to keep the room cool, but, where is the wind to work with? The man accepts his fate, sweat accumulating on his forehead as he sits uncomfortably on his makeshift desk, trying to make the day count. The dragon smiles as the temperature climbs. "I'm glad I took this job", she hisses just loud enough for Zifah to catch it.

Soon enough, all the life force is drained out of Zifah. He now has to return to the mysterious land of dreams to refill his will and energy tanks. The beast outside has gleefully anticipated this moment all night. Zifah now has to put his own lion to sleep. His own beast who lives in a cage, just far enough away from his flat to ensure that the only victims of the beast's terror are his hapless neighbors.

When Zifah puts his lion to sleep, he of course is not able to stand the dragon's presence for another second. At this point, the dragon knows that her work here is done. She knows without telling that it's time to let the neighbor's lion in. As the dragon flies away, leaving her warm presence behind, the lions scampers in, uninvited and full of rage. For all the hours of keeping him out, the man now has to pay with more hours of lying in bed, unable to sleep.

The man, with nothing to do but muse, sees a dark fantasy take shape in his mind. "How I wish I could get a gun to shoot down this freaking generator", he thinks to himself. He imagines the explosion, the consequent spreading of the fire to the rest of the neighbor's house and the warming prospect that after that, no longer will either the neighbor or their lion be there to make his life, hell on earth. He wishes to find someone that can teach him how to evaporate.

{{end of tale}}

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25 May 2015 at 13:19 delete

U not alone bro. A generator is very much like an air conditioner: Comfort on one side, misery on the other. Depends on what side you're on.

I hate my neighbors too, and instead of a gun, i'd fantasize getting a really old Lister machine with a broken exhaust, to make their gen sound like a lullaby.