Euticus MolaIt is Nairobi in June. The air is damp with fog as dark clouds not yet pregnant with rain hover in the skies as if daring one to step out without an umbrella in hand or sweater over thy shoulders. The Devil is on a one day vacation from the heat and stench of Hades. He is in search of company from a lost soul seeking it’s way through the maze of unbalanced morality scales of society.
“Do you believe in God young man?”
“Then why do you think so ill of me?” He whispers in my ear.
“How weighs your fear of God to your fear of the fires of Hell?”
“Can good exist without evil? Is peace the absence of war? Ask yourself if you are truly at peace.”
“There is no peace” I answer
“We are always at war. Fighting battles within and without ourselves. I am a prisoner of war. This battle between faith and truth. Belief acts both as my armor and sword. Battles between who I am, who I want to be and who “they” expect me to be. I seek escape from myself but I am stuck in a world where God’s love only extends to those who persevere through these battles but is far less for those who just want it to end. Is suicide death? Will the gates of heaven open to those who want to come before their time and find peace and rest with their Maker.”
“Tell me more young man”
“I can’t. These thoughts are not my own.”
I wake from my deep slumber. It is 3AM in the morning. Maybe at the light of day I shall write about this. Dining with the Devil.
[First published at africanplato.com]