I am not the kind of person who would normally idolise other people. Sometimes, I believe this attitude actually prevents me from finding a much needed role model in life. But this year, two people have got me really routing for them and wishing I were them. See, I really idolise them
First was Usain Bolt at the Olympic games. Only heaven knows how I wish I had a son today. I would personally hand him over to Usain and ask him to make sure he transforms him into the next him.
Second and even more important ......... the Obama factor. I still I'm suffering from the Obamania that infected me a little over a year ago. I should have had a son last Tuesday, he would have been named Barrack. Yes, Barrack!
The Obama factor brings a lot of thoughts to me;
First he is an African American, not the original type whose roots cannot be traced. This is the African American whose Kenyan roots are well known. He stood at a time when his native Kenya is in political turmoil. It couldn't be used against him.
Even in Kenya, his tribe Luo doesn't quite sound like an influential tribe. Very few Luos have been able to make it big time even in Kenya. And that couldn't be a discouraging thing! I have a Luo friend and I know what I'm talking about here.
And did you know his middle name is Hussein? This name is not a very likable name in the US, thanks to Obama's predecessor. Yet his middle name couldn't be used against him.
He is a first time senator with very 'little experience'. And when his opponents brought this up, it actually earned him more votes.
For me, the key lessons in this feat can never be over-emphasised; No matter what conditions you find yourself in or are born into, you can wade your way out of it just if you are determined.
The world is gradually moving to the stage where colour or creed or tribe or looks would no longer matter. And that offers a lot of hope.
I feel so Obama these days and hope this euphoria lasts till the day he becomes the first minority to successfully rule the United States to hand over after two full terms.
What does an Obama Presidency offer Africa, Asia and Latin America? Not much, in my opinion. What I do know is that it offers more hope.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
A close shave
Last weekend I decided I had had enough of the complains that I was working myself out.
So off I was to the VRA clubhouse in Tamale on my motor bike and backpack. I thought I would have a hard time getting into the water since I was without company and could easily become self-aware. Fortunately there were a couple of known faces so it was an easy thing to dive in there and to start doing my own thing.
After a while of "flexing" my swimming skill I decided to go for the kill. I handed my camera to a friend, Paul. His task: - To video me on my non-stop return trip across the Olympic sized pool. It was an easy trip to the shallow end. I promptly turned for the return lap.
Who ever deceived me I was capable of snatching an Olympic gold medal in swimming had obviously been lying big time to me. Why did I try this adventure in the first place?
Just as I got back into the deeper waters (about 7 feet deep) my muscles gave in; they were too tired to go on. For my lungs, it was decided it was time to recycle that stale air in there. The short breaths I had been taking while breathing were not enough to sustain me now. But that was the wrong place to think of doing that. I stopped to catch my breath but.... No, I am only 5'10". I panicked as I tried to come to the surface for atl east a milliliter cube of air. The time above the surface was too short for that. I found myself going down there again. That was when it dawned on me I had made the mistake of my life. What was I to do?
I took a U-turn, at least I was closer to the shallower part than to the end of the pool. So with a couple or so double strokes I tried swimming away from danger. I thought I'd done enough to stand up and take some rest but................ No. It was still too deep. At this point, I decided to throw both hands in the air to signal a desperate swimmer. No one took notice. But I simply could not afford to cry out. with a strong effort I pushed again for the top, with my hands in the air to signal that I NEEDED help. Wasn't anybody human enough to save a poor soul? Still, no one took notice.
So... a few more strokes and this time, it was just enough have my feet on the ground with my head above water and phew! some long awaited sweet oxygen. I waded to the other end of the pool to finally take a good dose of air.
Paul walked with me camera in hand to announce that he had captured it all on video. I could go back home and view how I had had to abort my return journey and how I had struggled to escape drinking a few cups of pool water.
"So you knew I was suffering and you didn't come to save me?" He smiled and responded, "I knew you would come out"
So off I was to the VRA clubhouse in Tamale on my motor bike and backpack. I thought I would have a hard time getting into the water since I was without company and could easily become self-aware. Fortunately there were a couple of known faces so it was an easy thing to dive in there and to start doing my own thing.
After a while of "flexing" my swimming skill I decided to go for the kill. I handed my camera to a friend, Paul. His task: - To video me on my non-stop return trip across the Olympic sized pool. It was an easy trip to the shallow end. I promptly turned for the return lap.
Who ever deceived me I was capable of snatching an Olympic gold medal in swimming had obviously been lying big time to me. Why did I try this adventure in the first place?
Just as I got back into the deeper waters (about 7 feet deep) my muscles gave in; they were too tired to go on. For my lungs, it was decided it was time to recycle that stale air in there. The short breaths I had been taking while breathing were not enough to sustain me now. But that was the wrong place to think of doing that. I stopped to catch my breath but.... No, I am only 5'10". I panicked as I tried to come to the surface for atl east a milliliter cube of air. The time above the surface was too short for that. I found myself going down there again. That was when it dawned on me I had made the mistake of my life. What was I to do?
I took a U-turn, at least I was closer to the shallower part than to the end of the pool. So with a couple or so double strokes I tried swimming away from danger. I thought I'd done enough to stand up and take some rest but................ No. It was still too deep. At this point, I decided to throw both hands in the air to signal a desperate swimmer. No one took notice. But I simply could not afford to cry out. with a strong effort I pushed again for the top, with my hands in the air to signal that I NEEDED help. Wasn't anybody human enough to save a poor soul? Still, no one took notice.
So... a few more strokes and this time, it was just enough have my feet on the ground with my head above water and phew! some long awaited sweet oxygen. I waded to the other end of the pool to finally take a good dose of air.
Paul walked with me camera in hand to announce that he had captured it all on video. I could go back home and view how I had had to abort my return journey and how I had struggled to escape drinking a few cups of pool water.
"So you knew I was suffering and you didn't come to save me?" He smiled and responded, "I knew you would come out"
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