Friendly Enemy

Kevin had spent several days inside. He felt odd and sad. It was awkward for a man of his age to stay at home. His reliance on Daniel, his wife's young brother, worsened his acute condition. In the past, he had supported Daniel by helping him settle in Nairobi when he first moved there. Kevin was oozing cash back then. Unfortunately, things changed. This promising, enthusiastic young man that could even buy the whole supermarket for his rosy wife had now become dependent on his abrasive and unfocused brother-in-law. Kevin sat pitifully on the hard-wooden coach as he longed for and reminisced on those beautiful days when life was merry and blissful.
Kevin tried desperately to reach his bosom friend Onyewu during these incessant lone moments until he finally found him. Kevin sent a simple text message to the peculiar Onyewu that drew his attention. He had ignored several calls from Kevin. Most people preferred calls to text; Onyewu was different. He never took calls.
Onyewu called Kevin in response to the text. The two long-lost friends engaged in an agreeable, drawn-out conversation of sweet, sentimental memories of their college life that made them desire to relive it. By the end of it, Onyewu demanded that Kevin move immediately to his place so that he could help him pick up his life. Kevin quickly accepted the offer without mulling over it. The trust he had in Onyewu was greater than that of his mother. On top of that, he felt that staying with a friend was more acceptable than staying with a brother-in-law.
In the evening of the following, Kevin called Onyewu to meet as they had immaculately planned. Onyewu did not pick up this call. He repeated this call severally but to no avail. Kevin's infinite trust in Onyewu killed the slightest whiff of doubt about Onyewu that attempted to cross his mind. He believed something wrong must have occurred that made Onyewu unable to respond.
"When he finds time, he will inform me about it," Kevin concluded and slept peacefully.
Despite Kevin holding him in high regard, Onyewu was a seasonal friend that would disappear during the holidays like polar animals during winters. Additionally, Onyewu was so reserved that nobody knew anything concrete about him. Kevin never minded his closure. He was not the sort of person that pressed people to talk about their feelings, emotions, or intimacies. Kevin accepted Onyewu as Onyewu was. After all, Kevin believed that leading a happy life was all that mattered, which they both led through their friendship.
The following morning, he picked up his phone and contacted Onyewu again. Onyewu picked up the call this time and started laughing apologetically to ease things between them. Kevin joined in the laughter too. He was used to getting disappointed in this half-life of Nairobi.
"I know you think I was about to stand you up. It'sIt's a common habit among city folks," Onyewu started lightly.
"I can never doubt you, my friend," Kevin answered.
  Onyewu then explained how his workload had increased the previous day abruptly, making it impossible to meet. Kevin assured him that he had taken no offence.  

The evening was cold and dry. Kevin packed his few countable clothes into his light-brown army backpack that his generous wife had given him. She had taken it from her loving father, whom she always spoke of highly, making Kevin wonder if he would ever meet his high standards. Fortunately, he was now in Nairobi, and his affluent friend, Onyewu, had offered to help him rise again. Kevin bid Daniel a contented goodbye with the hope of never returning there. Kevin boarded a packed and loud bus to town to meet Onyewu.
When the two friends met, it was like the meeting of the long-overdue rains and the drought-ridden drylands. It was evident that days ahead would be bright and leafy. The sweet aroma of the roasted whole chicken and chips filled Onyewu'sOnyewu's bedsitter apartment. A full one-litre coke bottle stood tall on the delicate glass table. The two friends sliced, ate, and drank to their fill as they told old stories that saw them through the late night into the early morning hours. It was like before when they would play FIFA until morning. The only difference was that they had changed over the past six years. They needed time to norm again.
Kevin no longer listened to hip-hop music. There was nothing beneficial to married in music that only talked about sex, money, and women. He had watched many new musicians rise in the hip-hop scene, like Cardi B and Migos. He tried to follow them, but none of them grabbed his attention. Regionally, his favourite Bongo music had taken a new and unpleasant turn. Renowned Bongo artists like Diamond, Harmonize, and Ray Vanny abandoned the typical Bongo beats and adopted new afro beats that disinterested him. Kevin only listened to Mbosso since he kept the real and authentic Bongo music alive.
Like Kevin, Onyewu had abandoned both hip-hop music and FIFA. However, unlike Kevin, Onyewu was a big fan of the new trends Bongo music had taken. He was a big fan of Harmonize. He took offence when Kevin told him that even Ray Vanny was far better than Harmonize, let alone Diamond. At that time,  a scuffle between Bongo music's leading artists, Diamond and Harmonize, caused a giant rift in the industry. Historically, Kevin had loved Diamond. He would not drop him for any artist, including Onyewu'sOnyewu's cherished Harmonize. Thus, the two friends pledged allegiance to opposite sides of the Bongo hostility.

Reggae music had grown and established itself within Kevin's heart. It talked about the retched nature of this Babylonian capitalist world and the great hope for a bright future. It spoke about freedom and justice for the oppressed. It talked about love and the importance of a woman in a man's life. These are the things that a married man and a father, at the brink of futility, wanted to hear. Kevin surprised Onyewu with this absolute change in preferences. Whenever they played the music they now loved, Kevin tried to listen and get into that vibe of his friend's songs while Onyewu ignored his friend's songs and only engaged with his phone.
Like many people across the globe, the two friends loved football. Even though they supported different teams, it never caused a rift in their friendship. Onyewu, a staunch supporter of Chelsea FC, sat with his friend in his thick, expensive coach one Saturday evening to watch the much-anticipated match between Chelsea FC and Manchester City FC. There was a lot of hype, especially among Chelsea supporters, who ran out of superlatives to applaud the newly appointed coach, Frank Lampard, who was also a legend for the club.
Kevin always admired Chelsea, especially when it had an exceptionally high number of black players like the lethal striker Didier Drogba, powerhouse midfielder Michael Essien, French international Nicholas Anelka, explosive winger Solomon Kalou, and the determined Florent Malouda. The team was a force to reckon with. He, too, was hoping Chelsea could upstage Manchester City. However, unlike Onyewu, he knew the chances of that happening were slim. Kevin had seen Chelsea suffer draws and defeats at the hands of meagre teams like Sheffield United FC and Norwich FC. Thus, he was not raising his hopes to the roof.
The match started with Chelsea dominating possession and playing aggressively. Within four minutes, the young and promising Chelsea striker Tammy Abraham slotted the ball in the bottom right corner of their opponent'sopponent's net, making Onyewu jump high as he screamed goal.
"I told you that we are winning this match," Onyewu reaffirmed confidently.
Kevin, aware that his friend loathed opposing views, applauded Chelsea FC lightly, then kept quiet as he observed the match keenly.
After another thirty minutes, the unstoppable Manchester City FC struck Chelsea FC with a simple equalizer from the legendary Aguero that silenced Onyewu'sOnyewu's bickering mouth. A few minutes later, the enthusiastic Sterling added another decisive goal that sent Onyewu to his warm, comfy bed. He often gave up quickly. The match ended three to one, a typical Manchester City victory.
The following day, Onyewu, still pissed off with the Chelsea loss, brought up the conversation about the match again at the dinner table.
"I know you pretended to support us yesterday," Onyewu commented irately.
"Chelsea has been playing good football. However, Lampard'sLampard's resolve to use those inexperienced kids will greatly hurt your team. Big matches don't just need the flair that youth brings. It needs experience that comes with caution and grit. Untried defenders cannot bar City's world-class trio of Sterling, Aguero, and Silva. It was a game Chelsea FC was bound to lose just upon observing the lineup Lampard selected."
"I knew you pretended to support us," Onyewu replied as he grimly stared at his friend. Then he changed the direction of the talk.
"Kevin, my cousin just finished his high school exams. He wants to spend time with me. He is coming on Friday. As you can see, this space is too small to accommodate the three of us. Go home before Friday. Then you will return in January when your program with Yusudi starts."
Kevin meekly agreed to leave for home even though he had planned and coordinated with Onyewu to spend the December holidays there. In the cold and dusty Nairobi weather the following morning, he packed his clothes and left for Kisumu.

Kevin was thrilled to see his family after staying away from them for six weeks. He found his daughter Joyce with scars from chickenpox all over her body. He felt guilty not being there with them throughout this challenging period. When Joyce sat on his lap, she made him promise never to leave them again. Kevin pledged not to go, although he knew it was a lie. For the first time, Kevin wished a lie come true. It was his first time staying away from his family, which gravely aggrieved him.

Onyewu never picked up Kevin's calls when Kevin called to inform him that he had arrived safely home. Kevin tried reaching Onyewu throughout December in vain. Although Onyewu read his WhatsApp messages as the double blue ticks confirmed, he did not blink an eye by responding to any of them. Kevin kept faith that that was Onyewu's nature. He never talked to people out of sight. Soon, they would meet again, and everything would be fine.
Unfortunately, on the morning of the first of January, Kevin woke up to this jaw-dropping message from Onyewu that read, "I have decided to withdraw all the help that I offered you. It seems you do not trust me; that is why you keep writing me messages and calling me."
This cruel message astounded Kevin, so he called his supportive wife to help him absorb this nasty surprise.
She genuinely felt sorry for her naïve husband but was unsurprised by this turn of events.
"Nicholas had told me that Onyewu could never be trusted. I have been reluctant to say this to you since you never like me speaking ill of anybody or anything. However, I let the cat loose since what I expected has occurred.
"There was a time in college when Onyewu locked you and Nicholas out of his room. You kept calling him to let you in, but he refused to open it and made you walk away embarrassed. Mark you; he was your closest friend back then. Many years have passed now without seeing each other. It is hard to fathom that you could trust such a childish man."

Human Beasts

 "Animals are worse than humans. See that cock beating his tied opponent pitilessly. The wild thing about animals is that when their opponents are at their weakest point, they see it as an opportunity to eliminate them. 

"Unlike them, we, humans, show much care and compassion. We recognize our fellows lowest points, and empathize with them. We are far better in love than animals," Ngala recollected Owalo's sentiments.

However, he strongly disagreed with Owalo. 

 "There is nothing good about humans. They are more opportunistic and devouring than other animals.

"People have brains, but their actions prove that brawn is much better. Their greed, enveloped in sweet terms like civilization and development, has destroyed the environment, eradicated several other species, and sown deep seeds of hatred among themselves. That is why men keep fighting over petty things like religion, race, ethnicity, and traditions. No wonder they came up with this fallacious idea of 'survival for the fittest' and make it appear normal by supporting it with the idea of 'natural selection.'" 

Ngala alighted at Tom Mboya Street and headed for KenCom to wait for his high school classmate, Obonyo. Twelve years had passed since he last saw him. Now that he was in Nairobi, it was necessary to have good old friends close. He was desperate to stabilize his staggering life. He sat on a "depression" seat nearby and observed passengers boarding the several huge KBS buses at the stage. 

"Nairobi carries hoards of humanity," Ngala pondered. "A single city produces sixty percent of the nation's GDP, a massively uneven distribution of resources," he mumbled. "Sixty percent of the nation's production occurs in this city, yet it carries less than ten percent of its population. This situation is highly unfair to over ninety percent of poor Kenyans who don't live here. 

 "Must we all crowd this overstretched city to get jobs?" 

Then Ngala saw a man rolling up the front side window of a KBS bus to avoid speaking to a lady. The woman was left red-faced as she stood confused beside the vehicle.

"Is it necessary? Must he embarrass her publicly? She did not approach his window, shouting or doing anything out of order," Ngala mumbled again as he watched in disbelief. "Humans have become so ignorant of other people's feelings. We only see our hurt and anger. People do not take time to feel other people; like that haughty man."

Suddenly, Ngala's phone rang. It was Obonyo calling him. 

"Hello."

"Hello."

"Have you arrived?"

"Yes. I am standing here below a traffic light besides KenCom building. In front of me is a lousy crowd watching a busy band shooting a gospel music video."

"I know that place.I am coming there. Give me thirty seconds."

When Ngala and Obonyo met, they greeted each other warmly like two great childhood friends meeting for the first time when old.

Obonyo had not changed except for the trim beard he had grown. He was in great shape, like one of those few people enjoying the rare fruits of this unbridled capitalism. 

They walked into Cafedeli, a high-end restaurant along the busy Moi Avenue, and sat confidently like the wealthy foreigners around them.

"Boss, bring me a glass of strawberry milkshake and get him a cup of white coffee and two beef samosas," Obonyo ordered.

"My friend, you are one of the few people eating their education," Ngala followed up that order with this witty comment aimed at his friend.

"Do not worry; your time will come," Obonyo responded.

The waiter brought the food. Ngala's plate had two samosas, sliced tomato and lemon, and a small sauce dish. His cup had a thick and robust white coffee, proof of its high grade.

"Kenya is a significant producer of tea and coffee globally, yet we drink the lowest grades of the two products. One has to visit classy restaurants like this that are typically for these wealthy foreigners to get such a strong and sweet cup of coffee. 

 "Now we are here with them. That is why when I say you are eating your education; I firmly mean it."

Obonyo laughed.

"I am sorry about your loss. I mean, your mom," Ngala said remorsefully. 

"It's a pain hard to bear. 

"She had an accident at the flyover in Nyamasaria. 

 "She had hired a trailer to move her grains to Kondele. The vehicle lost balance and tipped over the edge protection as the driver oversped while passing through the sharp bend of the flyover. They fell down the highway below," Obonyo paused.

"The sad part is people rushed for the container behind to loot grain instead of rescuing her and the driver. 

 "Those who tried saving her later stole her purse." 

Tears welled in both eyes as they stared at the light-brown soft board table without noticing it. Ngala did not know what to say.

"That is wicked," Ngala mumbled suddenly.

 "Are such actions motivated by poverty or greed? 

 "It must be greed," Ngala thought assertively. 

 "How can one steal from a dying person? How can one put bread above life? 

"Life had become so meaningless that it was reasonable to let a person die.

 "Or was this the paradox of life? Others die as others fight for the resources the dying are laeving to live. Was survival for the fittest at play here again?"

A man should expect nothing from his fellow man in this capitalist system. It holds that only the strong, capable, and fit deserve to live. A man should expect nothing from these world religions that serve to advance the interests of unrestricted capitalism. In the Bible, people read God charging the Jews to murder and destroy other tribes. Were not those tribes God's creations? Man has become hopeless, and whoever thinks religion promotes morality and humanity needs to think again objectively.

"Recently the Kenya Bureau of Statistics released the 2019 Census Report," Ngala started again. "One key statistic is the nation's fertility rate that has dropped to about 3.8. This shows our population will reach a replacement level in the next few decades."

"What do you mean by fertility rate and the replacement level," Obonyo inquired.

"Fertility rate is the average number of children in a family. Replacement level is a situation where a country has a fertility rate of 2. This occurrence implies that most families mainly have two children that act as replacements for their parents when the parents die. In such a situation, the population remains relatively constant. 

"Our low fertility rate shows that Kenyans are aggressively responding to the economic stress they have faced over the last decade. 

"Look at you. You are thirty yet you have no plans to marry. This shows that in as much as you reap these benefits of capitalism, capitalism still does not assure you that you need to start a family." 

 "That's true. I work hard. I work a lot. Rarely do I get free time for anything — not even for courtship. 

"You've made me remember. Sorry, I need to leave now. I must finish a client's project before tomorrow. I'll settle the bill. We will meet again soon."

"Okay."

They both rose and walked away.

Why Language Choice is Crucial in a Film’s Success

 

"Bloody Indians. Can't you read English?" a British soldier scornfully asks Manikarnika.

"I can read English. It's a mere language. Just words. Words without culture have no meaning." Manikarnika responds. 

 It has always been that way. Language is part of a culture. Language goes hand in hand with culture. You cannot separate the two and expect to pass a message. Film producers and directors must be careful when selecting the language in their films and television series. When you choose a language that does not match the culture of your setting, then your work is bound to fail. I have seen how Kenyan producers grapple with the choice of language for use in their films and tv series. 

 Kenya has several local languages. Then there is Kiswahili, the national language, and English, the official language. Most Kenyan producers select English for their production. That is why they fail, and the Kenyan film industry remains stunted. 

Creating a Kenyan movie in English is suicidal. Virtually, Kenyans do not speak English at home or even at work. English is a language of official papers and documents only. Most Kenyans speak Kiswahili or their mother tongue. Thus, when a film is in English, it becomes unrealistic and boring at best.

A Kenyan tv series, Makutano Junction, was produced in English. It failed to attract public attention because it used English. The portrayal of a local chief, politicians, and market women speaking English buried it. Virtually no local leader in Kenya speaks to residents in English. Additionally, no market women speak English among themselves and their customers in this nation. People could not watch it since it did not show the genuine Kenyan society. It needed to speak the language Kenyans understand.

A film needs to be accurate to succeed. A film achieves reality only when it upholds the culture of its setting. That is why India's, Nigeria's, and Tanzania's film industries are experiencing immense growth today. They are true to their cultural settings. Indians produce their movies in Hindi, Bengali, Marathi, Telugu, and other local languages. Those are the languages most Indians speak. These are the suitable languages to use to depict a particular issue in Indian society successfully. Using a foreign language in an Indian film is like producing a Nazi film in Kiswahili.

 Most Nigerian films use Nigerian pidgin English, the most common language in Nigeria. Most people love these movies since pidgin English helps them portray authentic Nigerian society. 

The Tanzanian film industry has also emerged strongly due to its use of Kiswahili, Tanzania's national language. Its films and tv series, such as Huba and Kapuni, are popular across East Africa due to their use of Kiswahili. Thus, one learns that realism is the key to the success of a film, and language plays a crucial role in making a film genuine. 

Besides foreign languages making films unreal, they also make actors struggle to perform. In Makutano Junction, several actors struggle to express themselves and their emotions in English. The actors in Indian films produced in English also struggle a lot with using English. These struggles result in low-quality films since actors need to express themselves better, damaging their producers' reputations. 

 

Unfortunately, most producers argue that they must use English in their creations because it makes them reach a wider audience. They should know that using English does them more harm than good. It makes them produce substandard films that cannot relate to and communicate to any audience. Additionally, they should learn from Indian, Nigerian, and Tanzanian film industries that one can only reach, penetrate and establish themselves in the international arena by being authentic in his production. Indian films are typical in Kenya, yet very few Kenyans speak Hindi. Hollywood films dominate the world because they are true to the American culture rather than because many people understand English. 

Culturally-relevant language makes a film real. Thus films must be culturally competent by using the appropriate language to achieve success. This simple trick shows why a series like Selina have gained national fame. Producers, choose your productions' languages wisely.

Bajirao Mastani: Against All Odds

 

The greatest commandment of all is love. Nothing reminds us better of this saying than Bajirao Mastani, a tragic film that shows how only a few people genuinely love. 

Our dreams make us develop pride and ego. Then pride and ego make us hateful. Thus, to love others, we must sacrifice our dreams. Bajirao Mastani demonstrates this point well.

Plot

Bajirao inherits the title of the Prime Minister of the Maratha Kingdom after his father's death. He brings success to the Kingdom in the next few years by conquering nearly half of India. He embarks on military duty to the South, where he meets Mastani, a beautiful princess of the Kingdom of Bundelkhand. Mastani wants him to help her father fight invaders that have come to conquer Bundelkhand. Bajirao is impressed by Mastani’s fighting prowess when she enters his tent, downing several soldiers. He agrees to help her save her home. After the victory against Bundelkhand invaders, Bajirao stays for a few days in the Kingdom, where he and Mastani fall in love. Before departing to continue his campaign South, Bajirao gifts Mastani his dagger. Unfortunately, he is unaware that when a man gives a lady his dagger in Bundelkhand, she becomes his wife. Thus, he married Mastani. 

Bajirao abandons his campaign South and heads back to Pune (his hometown). A few days later, Mastani (now his wife) follows him there. Bajirao’s mother ensures that Mastani does not meet him, especially after learning that Mastani is a Muslim. Mastani, determined to meet her husband, acts as a dancer and attends the party to celebrate Bajirao's victory and beneficial alliance with Bundelkhand. Bajirao learns of her presence and plans several meetings with her later. He agrees to take Mastani as a second wife after she accepts that she will tolerate all the ridicule she will suffer by marrying him. 

Kashi, Bajirao’s first wife, learns later about Mastani’s existence. Bajirao's second marriage angers her, so she moves to her maternal home to have their baby there. Mastani is also pregnant. She is isolated and ridiculed such that Bajirao attends to her himself when she gives birth. Later, Bajirao brings Mastani home. Nobody is there to welcome them except for Kashi. While she lives in Bajirao’s mansion, Mastani is scorned and called derogatory names like “mistress” and “court dancer.” She is not affected by that. She is only focused on Bajirao’s love for her.

Later, Bajirao's eldest son, Nana Saheb, first attempts to kill Mastani while Bajirao is attending a feast. Bajirao arrives in time to save her. The second time, Nana Saheb and his grandmother arrest Mastani when Bajirao leaves for war. They aim to kill Mastani. When Bajirao learns about this, he is enraged that he goes to battle alone, suffering severe injuries. A few days later, Bajirao and Mastani die together simultaneously in different places. 

Conflicts in Bajirao Mastani 

Love vs. The Pride of a Woman

The movie presents two wives of Barijao, Kashi and Mastani, with similar challenges but different reactions. Kashi symbolizes the pride of a woman, while Mastani symbolizes love. 

Kashi

Kashi is angered that Bajirao has brought home a second wife. She feels her pride is hurt because Bajirao’s eyes and heart caught another woman's. This occurrence exposes Kashi’s side that Bajirao and, probably, the audience did not imagine she had. 

 Before Kashi knows Mastani’s existence, she appears as a loving and supportive wife. However, when Kashi learns about Mastani, she becomes a hateful and jealous woman. First, she leaves Bajirao to have their child at her maternal home. When Kashi returns, Kashi supports all the ridicule and suffering other people make Mastani endure. She enjoys all the vile things Bajirao’s family and court throw at Mastani. She even calls Mastani "mistress." When she learns that Mastani is about to be killed, she delays informing Bajirao. Were it not for Mastani’s superior fighting skills, the assassins would have killed her. Kashi does not oppose Mastani’s arrest. She only asks for Mastani's release upon realizing that Bajirao will die without Mastani. She even tells Bajirao that he hurt her pride when she forbids him from visiting her chambers. 

Here, we see Kashi’s pride, in the pretense of love for Bajirao, make her clear and pure mind turn into a dark and hateful heart. Kashi thinks she loves Bajirao, but the movie reveals that she loves her dreams more. She supports the scorning of Mastani, whom she ought to help uphold her dignity because she wants Mastani out of her life with Bajirao. She joins the company of people who call Mastani a mistress and dancer, hoping they will break Mastani down and make her leave Bajirao. 

 Kashi loves her pride (dreams) more than Bajirao. That is why it is hard for her to understand that Bajirao and Mastani are in love. Her pride makes her not see that the heart chooses who to love, and Bajirao and Mastani are blameless here. Her dream of being the only wife of Bajirao unfolds as pride and ego, preventing her from understanding the love Bajirao and Mastani share. 

Like Kashi, most people today claim their partners betray them. They do not realize their immense pride and ego clout their love and make them hate their partners. True love does not have room for hate.

Mastani

Mastani is a valid symbol of love. The film uses her to show what love is, which is different from people's collective knowledge of love. She accepts to be Bajirao's second wife in a society where people ridicule second wives. Additionally, she is a Muslim, so Bajirao's Hindu society twice discriminates against her. Mastani’s love makes her strong, weathering all these challenges. Mastani, a princess of Bundelkhand, abandons her home and moves to Pune, where she lives a low life among courtesans. People call her mistress, concubine, and dancer. That does not matter to her. While Bajirao’s family disrespects her, there is no time that she responds with anger or insult. She is humble and sober throughout the movie until she dies in prison. Mastani shows that love is humble and strong. It makes her ignore her title as the Princess of Bundelkhand and lives that low life in Pune because she loves her husband. Bajirao’s love is enough for her. She needs nothing more; neither pride and titles nor riches and servants. It is very moving to see how Bajirao, the Prime Minister of the Maratha Kingdom, attends to her when she is left alone in labor. That is the movie's sweetest part and most magnificent expression of love. Had Kashi put her passion for Bajirao above everything else, like Mastani, neither Bajirao nor Mastani would have died. Her pride destroys her love for Bajirao and not Bajirao’s second marriage. 

Mother vs. Son

The arrival of Mastani rocks a steady family as it puts mother and son at loggerheads. Radhabai, Bajrao’s mother, opposes Bajirao’s marriage to Mastani. She tries as much as possible to prevent Mastani from seeing Bajirao when Mastani arrives in Pune. She leads her court in insulting and degrading Mastani. Radhabai is a conservative Hindu eager to preserve her family's status. She believes that welcoming a Muslim as a second daughter-in-law destroys her family's high position among the Hindu priests and people. Thus, she does everything to have Mastani out of her house. 

Bajirao’s love for Mastani is so strong. The actions of his mother, brother, and Kashi against Mastani stress him a lot. It is hard for him to fathom that his family cannot see and accept the pure love that he shares with Mastani. Bajirao reveals how his mother, Kashi, and brother are mainly concerned about the status of the family than their love for him when he chooses to leave his position as Prime Minister. He tells them that if that position matters to them, he will abandon it so that the appropriate person takes it and uphold the family's status. Later, he takes back the role because he admits that his love for the Marathi Kingdom is more significant than his love for Mastani. Here, Bajirao exposes Radhabai, Kashi, and his brother, that their love of status is far greater than their love for him. Their opposition to his marriage to Mastani (a Muslim) is not because Mastani has a bad character but because her marriage to Bajirao lowers the family's status in Hindu society. This occurrence reminds me of Alexander the Great, who lost popularity among his commanders and Greek people due to his tendency to marry foreign women.

Religion vs. Love

Religion or love, which one is mightier? This question lingers even today in a world plagued by terrorism and Jewish aggression in the Middle East. Bajirao Mastani shows how man has struggled with this question for centuries. The notable thing about this question is that love is one of the core teachings of virtually all religions in the world, yet there comes a time when love and faith collide. So, is the love taught by religion true love, or does religion have pride and ego that make it unloving?

In Bajirao Mastani, Mastani gives birth to a boy and gives him a Hindu name, Krishna Rao. Bajirao asks the Brahmin priest to conduct a Hindu naming ceremony for the innocent Krishna Rao, but the priest refuses. He argues that Krishna Rao is an illegitimate child. It is hard to understand why a priest should refuse to perform a ceremony for a child whose "fault" is only being born. Whatever the wrong things Bajirao or Mastani did, their child should be free from condemnation. Here the actions of this priest or religion do not amount to love. The priest and his faith have started isolating and killing the dreams of a young soul even before it knows what is right or wrong.

Additionally, Bajirao's family is devoted to Hinduism, respecting every practice and norm of the religion. One of the critical teachings of Hinduism is love and selflessness. However, their actions towards Mastani, a Muslim, go against the basic principles of their religion. Bajirao's family ridicules Mastani and does not show her an ounce of love. No one can get attracted or converted to that religion with the immense hate they show Mastani, a fellow human being. Thus, the film shows that love is more significant than religion as it shows the maltreatment of Mastani and her child under the Hindu religion. 

Conclusion

Bajirao Mastani is a classic epic movie with deep themes that challenge women, families, and religions to self-examine themselves. It reveals how people's selfishness (immense love for their dreams, pride, and ego) makes them develop hate disguised as love and feel betrayed. It shows that true love is humble and selfless. Watch it and get challenged.

Hope Springs: So Watchable

 

Recently, I was having a conversation with a friend about her marriage. She told me she had been married for 20 years but wanted out. I tried to talk her back into her marriage, but she seemed adamant. It was hard to fathom that a marriage that had lasted for 20 years could experience great turmoil and get to the brink of collapse. 

Then I came across this 2012 movie titled "Hope Springs." The film is about a couple, Arnold and Kay Soames. They have been married for 37 years and are now on the brink of collapse. 

 The thing that glues me to the movie is that this couple has been married for 37 years, yet their marriage still faces turmoil, just like newlyweds in their second year. If my friend's 20 years of marriage felt like forever, what about 37 years?

 Plot 

Kay and Arnold are two nesters. Since their youngest child went to college, they have slept in separate rooms. It is over five years since they last made love. Kay is unhappy primarily with this setup, while Arnold feels it is okay. Kay takes her savings and pays for a trip to Maine, where she and Arnold are to attend an intense marriage counseling therapy for a week.

 At the start of the therapy, Arnold does not want to attend the sessions. However, as time passes, he gets stuck in it. The therapy makes significant improvements in their intimate lives. They end up saving their marriage and remarrying. There are vital lessons to learn from this movie. 

Importance of Intimacy in Marriage

During my years of study in a health-related course at the university, I learned that sex was one of the basic needs of humans as adults. A few years into marriage, my father advised me of the importance of sex in keeping a marriage. Now, Hope Springs adds significant weight to this observation. Observing this couple, Arnold and Kay, older adults, probably in their fifties or sixties, and seeing how Kay talks about her desire to have Arnold touch her in one of their early therapy sessions is very moving. One wonders how at such advanced ages, people still desire sex. They do, and the lack of it threatens marriages.

This film reveals that sex is essential not just because it fulfills a person's sexual desire but also shows that one admires and is still attracted to their partner. That feeling of attraction and admiration is what brings couples together and keeps them together. This feeling is mainly expressed through sex. For example, when the therapist, Dr. Feld, asks Arnold if he is still attracted to Kay, Arnold says he is. However, later, when the couple tries to make love in front of the fireplace in a luxury inn, Arnold is not aroused enough to go through with it. Kate realizes that Arnold lied to the therapist. She is no longer attractive to him. She decides to leave to pet-sit for a fellow employee. 

Fortunately, the night before she leaves, Arnold makes passionate love to her. That act saves their marriage. They resume a happy and fulfilling intimate relationship that leads them to remarry. 

Men and Women in Relationships

People may say that the movie advances stereotypes about men and women in relationships, but that is the reality of how most men and women are in relationships. Like most men, Arnold is a closed person in this relationship, while Kay is open, like most women. Arnold is okay with the present setup of the marriage. He does not understand why Kay feels a problem with their marriage. He thinks Kay is exaggerating their situation. It is like Kay is petty to him. This attitude later makes Kay tell him that he is a bully.

Arnold goes on a trip to Maine to please his wife and not to solve anything. During therapy sessions, he is unwilling to open up. One notices that Arnold only responds to questions after Kay does. There is a time when he even tells Dr. Feld that he cannot discuss his sex life with a stranger. His unwillingness and inability to talk about issues Kay deems crucial make him appear uncaring and disrespectful towards his wife. There are times when Kay cries because of this. 

On the other hand, Kay is open and willing to talk about anything concerning their relationship. She answers Dr. Feld's questions with ease. After storming out of a session when she feels suffocated by Arnold's bullish attitude, Kay goes to a bar where she informs the bar attendant that she has not had sex for long. One notices how Kay is open to discussing her relationship issues with anyone. She is seeking help anywhere she can get. 

Importance of Third Parties in Marriages 

Most importantly, HopeSprings elaborates on the importance of visiting counselors to help solve relationship problems. This movie shows how couples find it hard to discuss vital issues in marriages that can only be eased with third parties. For example, rarely do people talk about sex and sexual fantasies. In the film, we see Dr. Feld filling this gap in communication by taking this couple through a discussion of sex life and sexual fantasies. We learn that Arnold has had some essential fantasies that he wished Kay would help him achieve. If he were to tell Kay about these fantasies earlier, probably their relationship would have been different and better. Dr. Feld is crucial in helping this older couple solve their marriage problems. He gets them talking about what they love and hate about each other. Dr. Feld helps them pull closer to each other. He helps them save their marriage.

Conclusion

This movie is a perfect illustration of the problems couples face. It shows how men, at times, are usually distant and okay with unfulfilling relationships. It encourages women to pull men closer and not give up on seeking solutions to their unpleasant relationships, as Kay did. It also informs men not to trivialize their partners' issues, as Arnold did to Kay. It encourages them to spare time and discuss every item their partners present. It encourages men to be open and not have a fixed mindset about issues. Couples should save time and watch Hope Springs. I am recommending this movie to my friend I mentioned earlier.

"Xenophobia" in "South Africa", Really?

Mahatma Gandhi once said that the only language the poor people understand is bread and butter. He was right with this observation. Poverty limits people’s thinking and endurance and makes them susceptible to manipulation and misguidance. That is why the African continent remains colonized even today. We are peasants. Imperialists know this fact and use it to make us eat our people. They know that the only language we understand is bread and butter.
A few years ago, colonialists conquered our lands and stirred divisions among us. They separated relatives and friends. They created boundaries in a continent that people traversed with ease. That's why a Luo in Kenya calls himself a Kenyan while a Luo in Uganda calls himself a Ugandan. A Tutsi in Burundi calls himself Burundian, while a Tutsi in Rwanda calls himself Rwandese. There are Zulus and other similar tribes spread across southern Africa, yet they call themselves South Africans, Zambians, Zimbabweans, Malawians and much more. Unfortunately, the poor African man has “proudly” assumed the identity given to him by the white man. It makes him reject and even kill a fellow brother because he is poor.
A few years back, there were tribal clashes in Kenya after the elections. I remember having a conversation with a “Ugandan” friend. I told her that I was not Kenyan. All I know is that I am a Luo. She seemed surprised by that claim. She did understand what I was telling her by the end of our conversation. It was as simple as this, the nations we are “proud” to relate to are creations of the white men during their scramble and partition of Africa. We only owe our affiliations and loyalties to our tribes.
The Luo people spread throughout Ethiopia, Sudan, Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania, and Congo. Why did colonialists see it fit to divide this group into different countries? Divide and rule it is. A concept that the African man fails to grasp even today because of poverty.
Look at how the people of Hong Kong are embarrassing China. See how "South Africans" upset Africa—an African calling a fellow brother an alien. Poverty is the cause of all this madness. It has blinded them so they cannot see they are related to the Africans they chase away or kill. It would be understandable If a Kikuyu called a Kisii an alien (even though I do not support it). There are deep and credible foundations for being a Kikuyu or a Kisii. However, a South African driving a Nigerian out of the country is utterly incomprehensible. What is the foundation for the terms South African, Kenyan, Nigerian, Congolese, or Rwandese, besides the Berlin conference, identities that Africans proudly assume, yet they are not free in their so-called nations? Colonialists hold South Africa captive and drive "South Africans" to the edges of poverty, which makes them see true brothers as aliens.

Poverty is a dangerous thing. It has made "South Africans" lose hope of reclaiming their ancestral lands. Now, they have enmity with their brothers, who move to their "country" to fend for themselves. Colonialists left “South Africans” neither land to cultivate nor food to eat. When fellow Africans move next door and succeed in making ends meet in their oppressed "county," “South Africans” see them as the enemy.
Colonialists have even coined the term “alien” for “South Africans” when referring to fellow brothers. The imperial media call these heinous crimes against brothers “xenophobic attacks.”
The term “xenophobia” makes these atrocities appear light and almost insignificant. It drives further division among Africans by suggesting that a “South African” differs from a “Nigerian.” “Xenophobia” lightens this crime to a nearly normal and acceptable event. It makes these crimes appear like “South Africans” are fighting foreign invaders.
I wish “South Africans” could see and understand how brothers stood solidly with them during the apartheid. They would not dare lift a finger against a brother. But who can blame them for their myopia? Centuries of colonialism, apartheid, and imperialism can turn any sharp eye blind using poverty. Let's pray that they see.

A Letter to My Brothers

Dear brothers,

When you read this letter, I am already in Addis Ababa. Do not worry about me. I am fine and settling down well. I am in a new, focused country with an energetic leader who dares even the Pharaohs over the Nile waters. I am already in the arms of my empathetic lover, Edel, and her beautiful daughter, Beli, eager and ready to start a new life. I am in the country of Menelik II, the most outstanding African emperor who defeated the feared dictator and fascist Mussolini and his Italian armies on our sacred African soil at Adowa. I am in the nation of Gabrielle Selassie, the long-distance track legend. I am in the land of Ras Tafari MacKinnon, the prince and founder of the Ras Tafari religion. Being here reminds me of reggae music; that line, "the system does not cater for me." That is why I have left you, my dear brothers. That is why I have left my beloved daughter Emily back home. I cannot say that about her mother. She deserves my abandonment. It is good I have left her. Otherwise, living with her another second would have killed me.
Brother Manga, it is only you who can understand me. You have lived with these young women of this age. You have seen how torturous it is. You have experienced it all, from them throwing the little hard-earned money you give at your face to the enormous insults projected at you. How does a man bear that? How does a grown-ass man watch and tolerate his ego brought down among neighbours and strangers? I now understand why Kevin beat sister Clare that much. I now know why he had this colossal bat stored under the bed for his wife. People say words don't break bones. But they forget that they break hearts and spirits. You went through this torture Manga and came out alive. I respect you for that. Perhaps, I should also thank the weed you took to kill the stresses women give. I am sorry that Velma turned you, our innocent brother, into a drug abuser.
I know our father is blaming me for my bold move. He thinks of nothing other than his sons getting married and maintaining those relationships. He believes that since he has handled our stubborn mother over the last forty years, we should also have the calmness and tolerance to stay with our mean wives. He told me I should not abandon Tesa because finding a good woman is hard. He stressed that there is no good woman and advised that I should not leave Tesa because it would lead to having multiple women in my life. I am sorry to disappoint him. I have to take my chances and seek the best life possible. The good thing about father is that he is light-hearted. He will soon accept what I have done.
Mother never liked Tesa. However, she is unpredictable. It is hard to say whether she will be happy or sad about my move. I wonder if she will keep staying with Tesa. I am sure she will not be pleased with me being far away from her. She has never liked it when we move out. Do you recall how she quickly brought Manga home when he moved to Migosi? She never likes it when we go for those interviews that promise to take us to the big cities far away from her. I wonder if she knows we are too old to live around her. She may like the idea of me leaving Tesa but not leaving the family. She has got us deeply rooted in her.
Mother hates Tesa's overambition. She hates her desire for the high life, yet she is unwilling to work for it. Recently, she told Dreda that Tesa's frustrations had reversed my development. I am becoming more childish and sluggish. The vibrancy of my youth has ebbed away. I have become like Njoroge, who Ngugi wa Thiong'o describes as an "old young man." Mother knows it. She understands it. She knows how a wife can turn a husband's heaven into hell. Probably, she did the same to our father. You can see how quiet of a man he is. Her daughters do the same to their husbands too. Now, Tesa was there, frustrating me.
Remember, I told you we could not judge Davy for marrying another wife. You can recall how sister Celine used to thrash him. At one time, Celine told us how she climbed on his back and stabbed him there severally with a scissor. Do not forget how she vandalized his car and beat him black and blue one morning. The poor guy collected himself amidst all that shame and reported the incident to the police. I can imagine the embarrassment and derailment he faced from your incompetent officers. Who knows what more action-drama our brother-in-law faces under Celine's domination?
Have you ever wondered how hard he finds discussing such matters with us? What avenues of help have men who suffer physical and mental abuse in marriages got? Society expects us to stay strong and suffer quietly. The laws and traditions are against us. Probably, that is the reason most men die first in marriages.

People often wonder why a good Christian like Mistari turned bad after marrying Akothe. Mother usually praised his powerful prayers. Mistari no longer attends church. All he does is smoke bhang and drink. That is what happens to a man who marries a trophy wife. Her work is only to squander and bankrupt you when you work hard. Mistari gave Akothe the comfortable life that few people in your country live. He rented a posh house in the high-end side of Murang'a town and took his children to the best academies. He even started a bakery with his brothers and cousins. Unfortunately, Akothe frustrated and chased his brothers away, claiming they were dirty. The bakery business stopped as she kept spending Mistari's dime purchasing designer clothes and expensive shoes. When Dreda and I visited her place, she never wanted us there. She had the nerve to tell us that since she had sent Mistari's brothers away, we, too, should leave. Now that poor Mistari is broke, Akothe calls our mother and father, crying as she narrates Mistari's irresponsibility. What a devil!
We do not know what made Ronny run away. People say he met a sugar mommy and decided to live with her in Mombasa. All they see is sister Sarah and her little daughter. Nobody bothers to ask what motivated Ronny to take such an unexpected move. I have never judged Ronny. I will not judge him today. I will wait until I hear his side of the story.
These quick and wrongful condemnations of men are leading to the rising rates of suicide among married men in your country. This unjustified expectation that we should absorb an immense amount of pressure from women without a word or a sigh is driving us to the gutters. I won't fall for it. That's why I left you all to start a new life.
You all know that Tesa has been a pain in my ass. I have told and hinted at that to you on several occasions. You must have noticed how I have withdrawn from you lately. That's because she never likes it when I talk to you. She claims that sitting with you people makes me less ambitious and lose focus. Some nights, I have to go without supper as punishment for spending time with my brothers. I can't take this anymore. Why does she have to do this to me, yet I let her roam around and spend time with those useless women who only sit around and say vile things about other people? Since she started spending time with them, she has turned into a negative, insatiable hyena. She wants more and more.
I have never come across anybody so insecure as her. I can neither talk to nor have any woman as a friend. Her insecurities made me delete my social media account. She snoops around my phone like a dog, searching for a bone. I was even surprised that she knew my phone's password. That makes her feel like the most intelligent person in the world. She read my messages and replied to them disgracefully. Then she claims that I shame her. She does not know the love and respect I had for her.
Brothers, you know I am always indoors nearly twenty-four hours a day. I only leave to dump our daughter's poop and pee in the lavatory or to have a small chat with you. When do I get to cheat? Tesa had imprisoned me.
Do you know that she stopped Derrick from visiting me? My bosom friend from childhood. We went to the same high school and college and did the same course. She claims Derrick corrupts me. Tesa made me live a secluded life. She neither loves you nor my friends. I could not take it anymore. According to her, nobody is right for me. I fear she might lock me up and kill me someday.
She gives me no privacy. Indeed, everyone deserves some bit of privacy; partners included. When you look for dirt, you will always find it. She read messages from my friend, Pats and became wild. She assaulted me. I had to defend myself. In this age, who understands a man who protects himself from a feline attack? People only see the bruises I gave her. They forget about my finger that she almost ripped apart.
Do you recall when I was playing wrestling with her, and I almost choked her to death accidentally? The nurses declared I was guilty of her condition and that I did choke her intentionally. They pressured her to press charges against me. She did not. But that has been her leeway to blackmail me. I promised not to touch her again. However, my retrieval made her more dominant as she pressed me into her small corner.
Last week, I had to rise again. I had to face my fears and undress this timidity that covered me. When Tesa lashed at me like a hungry lioness, I had to give her a beating that she would never forget. I am not proud of what I did. I wouldn't say I like fights, and this is not the life I wanted.
When I was young, I believed those men who beat their wives were devils in men's form until I found myself doing the same. Tesa provoked me. She attacked me ferociously. It was my life and health at stake. I had to respond. That's why I keep saying, "if you don't know the story, do not judge the book." I left since I didn't want to continue living that violent life. I hope you all understand.
Sincerely,
Moremore.

Bye Bye, Comrade Mugabe

It is another dark day for the African continent. Another fallen hero. The last hero that we will ever see for years to come. The demise of President Mugabe reminds me of the painful losses we have suffered in the past. The death of President Ghaddafi. The end of President Sankara. The death of Patrice Lumumba. The demise of Kwame Nkurumah. True Pan-Africanists. True fighters for and liberators of their people. True defenders of the African continent. Visionaries. Legends. They were brought down by Western greed and capitalism. Tears roll down my eyes.
 
 We have seen leaders come and go. Nobody has been brave enough to solve the land question in Africa as Mugabe did. It is disheartening that the African remains colonized today in his own country. Look at South Africa. Look at Kenya. The descendants of colonialists are the significant owners of lands in these countries. Yet, praises of Mandela and Jomo Kenyatta are sung everywhere- leaders who lacked the steel needed to free the African man from western domination.
 
 Observing BBC, I am almost inclined to smash my TV to pieces. The level of name-bashing and propaganda against Mugabe is unimaginable. What moral authority does a colonialist have to speak about an African liberator? Our African liberator. They raped our lands and left them in a dilapidated state; they allocated our resources to their descendants, whom they bullied us into allowing to live freely in our countries. Yet they frustrate our brothers who live in their countries, honest, hardworking, and hopeful people who move to their countries to soil their hands and toil their lands to give them greatness. Yet, no dime of appreciation.
 
 The white race is the pure race; that is what they believe. They brand those who attempt to challenge this fallacy as despots, tyrants, autocrats, and much more. It is no surprise. That's the essence of capitalism-greed. It was expressed in the early days of Mugabes, Lumumbas, Machels, and Nyereres as colonialism and today as imperialism and neocolonialism. The savagery of white capitalism lies in its wild belief in survival of the fittest; the most inhumane notion or idea ever developed by man. That is why, for centuries, they have labelled Africans backward, weak, and unintelligent- just because we are humans. Just because our Mugabe, Ghaddafi, Kwame, Sankara, and Lumumba were human. They were leaders who stood with the African people after centuries of slavery and colonialism. We know them as heroes. We respect them. Our belief in our humanity and strength as African people cannot fade away, even if we are a few.
 
 They talk about economics. About the performance of Zimbabwe's economy under Mugabe. Is it Mugabe that placed economic sanctions on his country? Was it not bullies that tied down the growth of a vibrant nation under an energetic and focused Pan-African leader? After shamefully and illegally amassing wealth by exploiting our generous and kindhearted forefathers, they use it today to bully us through sanctions. They use it to instigate divisions and civil strife throughout the African continent. Who profits from the wars in Congo? Who profits from the violence in the oil-rich Niger Delta? Who profits from the wars in the greater Sudan? Who benefits from the "xenophobic" attacks in South Africa?


  No. You will not soil Mugabe's impeccable reputation. What moral standards do colonialists, imperialists, and economic terrorists have to discuss our Mugabe? Mugabe is impeccable. There is no man alive that does not sin. Whatever Mugabe's weaknesses were, he did much better and greater things for the African continent than any other leader today.
 
 I focus on the liberation of Zimbabwe from the shackles of our white colonial masters. Zimbabwe is the only African nation that is closer to ever-elusive freedom. I pray Mnangagwa remembers that. I chose to focus on the provision of Zimbabwe's land to the many landless Zimbabweans. I prefer to focus on the fight against neocolonialism and imperialism still gripping the African continent today. I focus on principles and ideals that show the African people can stand against white colonial bullies even in the face of sanctions and poverty. I choose to be proud to have lived in the time of one of the very few African legends.
 
 Rest in peace, comrade Mugabe.

Roll One

 Chwa found Bandia sitting on the concrete slabs that formed the stairway for the door leading into the house. Bandia's eyes were red, comprehensive, and lazy, indicating that he had taken some puffs of weed. They greeted each other with a moderate meeting of fists, and then Chwa sat beside his brother. After staring at the empty vicinity momentarily, Chwa began, "Bandia, it's time I started taking weed. I used to think I could pass this tough life with a sober mind, but now I feel it has stretched me to my limits. I feel downtrodden. I need something that can energize me. I need something that can make me active again. Nothing is happening in my life. It's as if someone buried my luck in an abyss."

Bandia smiled sceptically at his innocent older brother. Then he responded, "weed does not energize or activate people the way you think. It makes time pass quickly and abnormally indulges you in an activity. It makes farmers till without noticing this scorching afternoon sun. It makes unemployed youths like me sit and sleep around the whole day without minding our houses' unkempt and stuffy nature. It makes dreamers float on cloud nine for the next couple of hours, thinking their lives are better than ours."

"Don't give me that crap bro. Then why do you keep taking it? By the way, I forgot to tell you that Mose came here looking for you yesterday evening. We sat in my house for an hour but you never came."

Bandia laughed softly and replied, "Mose was looking for that thing that you also desperately want. 

 "Ever since I gave him a roll of Manu's high-grade marijuana, he has been nagging me for more rolls, yet I don't sell them. He is losing his senses because of weed now. Can't he understand that I am no dealer. I have no rolls waiting for him on demand. I'll refer him to Brayo. He is the new dealer on the block."

 "Weed is usually something else. See Mose now. A good kid has gone bad. He was always busy taking care of his animals. Now all he thinks of is weed. You are a bad influence Bandia," they both laughed as Chwa ended the statement.

Bandia continued thoughtfully, "Do you recall when Manu came here desperately looking for me?"

"Yes, I do. That day he almost met the lioness. Lucky was he. Had mother opened the gate, he would be dead by now."

"Nonsense," Bandia disagreed, "Manu is a good orator. I am sure he would have calmed mother's calamitous spirit that doesn't want friends looking for me."

Chwa laughed off that comment and then argued, "Have you forgotten that even Mose is also a good speaker? Did he withstand the torrents of mother's angry words and loud reverberating voice? His calmness and composure disappeared. He had to run bananas out of the narrow corridor before mother's anger consumed him. Manu is not different."

"True," Bandia concurred. Then he added, "that day, Manu came to ask me to be his dealer in this area. I rejected his offer. 

"I cannot believe that Manu is this serious about dealing in weed. He has turned that business into a profession." 

 The two brothers laughed riotously at Bandia's statement, dreading that this miserable life had turned Manu, a graduate, into a drug peddler.

After a moment, they stopped their laughter. Chwa continued the conversation. 

 "You wanted to do the business too, but we stopped you. It is hard to believe that you had bought marijuana seeds and was planting them in the backyard." 

Disheartened by that memory, Bandia responded, "you people are only good at timidity and killing dreams. I could be reaping my harvest and making muller now. Unfortunately, I let your fears grip me and stop me from engaging in this promising venture. Wait a few years and see where Manu will be."

Then Bandia hopefully added, "Musa told me he planted some of seeds I gave him in Nyawita. I hope he is not lying to me. I should visit the farm and confirm if it's true. As for now, I'll focus on this poultry and hope that I have a decent number of chickens for sale by December."

"All will be well." Chwa responded empathetically. Then a thought crossed his mind.

 "Have you ever wondered how many times we have been told that all will be well? I am getting old, years keep passing, yet I keep hearing the same thing; 'all will be well'."

Bandia, looking to get into that line of thought, replied, "It seems this wellness is a distant dream."

"I hate faith and religion. 'All will be well' is what they keep saying. They make us wait for imaginary things that we die without witnessing. 

 "Gospel music doesn't motivate me any more. I better listen to reggae. It relates to our situation. 

 "Even prayer is worthless. I used to pray consistently every morning. Can you recall that church Caro and I joined where people pray while shouting at the top of their lungs? I had to go through all that embarrassment to seek redemption. How many years yet misery does not end? and it's not me alone. Nearly everybody prays, but how many get pity from the Almighty? It's misery all over."

Bandia laughed again sympathetically and responded, "You have passed through a lot and seen many things at your tender age. You surprised us when we heard all those drums and noise coming from your house in the name of prayer. I even thought you had joined Legion Maria. For a moment, we thought we'd lost you. These women you people marry, and the things they bring into your life. They make me pity married men." 

Then Bandia got serious and philosophical, "I don't think God exists. Religion is just an invention of early man to give people hope since hopeless lives are meaningless. Many people pray to God regularly and still die poor. Look at those troubled men, women, and children of Syria living under bombs and air strikes daily. They pray to God for peace, harmony, and prosperity. But what happens to them? Painful death stares at them like a snare. 

 "If God existed, this world would be a better place. There would be love, peace, harmony, and prosperity. These are the things most people seek from God. Unfortunately, they die without receiving them. God does not exist. If he does exist, then he is a different being from the one religions describes."

"True," Chwa agreed. 

 "Have you ever prayed so much for a breakthrough that you even start arguing with God? If God existed and was as robust and benevolent as most people claim, he surely would have listened to our plea; the cries of little children in Syria; the refugees and migrants in Europe and America, and the poor in Africa and Asia. 

 "Moreover, this world is significantly skewed to injustice. Sinners live well, yet people claim God exists. 

 "God is an illusion created by men who failed to trace their origin in an attempt to explain their unexplainable existence."

 "Yeah," Bandia agreed. They rose and started strolling towards the gate. Bandia then changed the course of the conversation.

 "Did you bet on Chelsea to win?"