Reflecting on hope, violence and peace

10 Sep, 2019 - 00:09 0 Views
Reflecting on hope, violence and peace Oftentimes nuclear weapons are projected as being more perilous when they are in the possession of supposedly smaller and insignificant states, and less lethal if they are in the hands of mighty states

The Herald

Elliot Ziwira Senior Writer
Raging storms may torment us, hunger may strike us numb, and hardships stalk us as if they were created for our lot; but all that cannot beat hope, for there is no condition that is permanent.

All that we cherish and aspire for only thrive in a peaceful environment, for violence only begets violence in its facets — physical, psychological, emotional and mental. Without peace we are doomed, and with doom comes hopelessness.

Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and WhatsApp “heroes”, who beam the firestorms of the blasts in our midst, the eruptions of our dreams, through gold-rimmed lenses, and project them on gigantic screens on the anthills of our suffering, over glasses of whisky and in whiffs of rich cigar smoke, are not what we aspire for.

Such social media “heroes” should be ignored, for they are divorced from the reality of our land; the reality of our struggles. Oftentimes nuclear weapons are projected as being more perilous when they are in the possession of supposedly smaller and insignificant states, and less lethal if they are in the hands of mighty states.

Either for single or mass destruction, all weaponry is dangerous, for its main purpose is to destroy and nothing else. Isn’t it curious that negotiations the world over would never come to fruition without the use of coercion, brutality or war?

All peace truces are an outcome of conflict through wars — bloodied peace. But should it always be like that? As a global village; as a nation wouldn’t we be mature enough to enlighten ourselves and our young people on the essence of peace, not by snatching explosives from them, but by impressing on them that nothing has ever been born of violence, except more violence; and that weapons are dangerous no matter in whose hands they are?

Truly, hope is the aviator of our dreams, without which all our aspirations are doomed. As certain as the sun shall rise tomorrow — indisputable as the fact that death flourishes in life — and that hurt is love’s bedfellow, hope should always be given a chance, although many a time it may seem hopeless; so that our cherished flowers do not perish in the dry season of our toils.

Indeed, pain is the forerunner to gain, moss the zenith of loss; and the rainbow, God’s promise not to bring another deluge of Noah’s days, comes after a storm.

We all want to be happy and lead fruitful lives, true, but who is responsible for that happiness or its absence in our lives? Happiness is a condition or state of mind rather, whose existence cannot be hidden, but whose source is ensconced in our hearts; no matter how many heartbreaks life might have dropped our way.

There are seasons in life, different seasons surely, but each of them comes as a result of the receding and passing of another; such is the circle of things. We plant our flowers in the rainy season, hoping that the dry season might not see us napping; without giving much heed to the tempests that come with the rains, scuttling our hopes, uprooting them and exposing them for all and sundry to have a field day at our expense; yet all our fears manifest in the dry season.

But can it be trite to say that it is the dry season that teaches us to store our grain, and to pick the best seeds in preparation for the vagaries that nature strews our way? A good flower is not determined by the way it blooms in spring, nor the way it luxuriates in summer, but by the way it withstands the dry season. If it is born of a weak seed, that cracks open in the wake of the scorching sun, then the farmer’s joy is only but ephemeral.

Fate gives no man no choice, as the deck of life deals cards randomly; making every hand a winner, and every hand equally a loser. It is up to all of us to turn the odds to our favour by playing well those cards dealt to us and paying close attention to how others play theirs.

Downpours may always seem to be meant for us in equal measure to the shimmering sun on our sprouting flowers, but it is in such situations that our mettle is tested. And to start with gentle citizen, friend, and countryman, reflect on what makes us one; on our nationhood and locate yourself in the miasmic orbit that takes your dreams to heights untold. Our possibilities as a nation are limitless, if our desire is to be better than we were yesterday.

It may be worth our while if we shun individualism, deceit, avarice and violence, because no nation strives in strife. Although we may be clad in different claes, and have our own separate melodies, we can reach a therapeutic crescendo if our telepathy leads us to a cirque that resonates with share hope.

If we own up to our foibles, it is only possible to redeem ourselves from the jaws of the monster that creeps from within our bellies — an orgy of our creation, for the common good of our nation.

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