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The Two Men of December: Broke or Broken

 

























December. That month of hard truths. December. That month that brings to severe light that which lays hidden for the rest of the year… the state of a man’s pocket and mind, his relationships or lack of them, whether he is going places or he is stuck in a rut… complaining and blaming everything else but himself for his present circumstances… incessant, soul-sucking complaining that turns him into a drag and an unhappy and unlucky man. The broken man.

The broken man revealed in the light of December… when you meet in the whereabouts of Christmas, he asks if you can buy him a drink. Preferably, hard liquor of the cheap kind. Right there, is manifest of his lack of desire for better outcomes. I mean, this being the week that ushers in the New Year, you would expect him to ask (better yet, offer) for something that is a bit kind to his liver… a cider ale, perhaps, or a glass of sweet red.

The broken man, he starts his conversation… first, he blames the government. Then, what his great-great-uncle did in the summer of 1953 that led to his grandfather getting a smaller share of the family land, and onto his present misery. The broken man, he always has a ready crowd around him, sharing similar complaints that have handed them a poor hand – misery loves company.

Ah, the broken man, contagious to the last with his misery that precipitates various calamities everywhere he goes… the very anti-thesis of the ‘Midas Touch’. Robert Greene, in his illuminating text that is ‘The 48 Laws of Power’, describes the malady thus:  “You can die from someone else’s misery—emotional states are as infectious as diseases. You may feel you are helping the drowning man but you are only precipitating your own disaster...”

Now, let’s tackle the broke man. He is present in the moment that is the December celebrations. He is happy and wishes his fellow man good cheer. He is a joy to be with and you don’t need asking to order him a drink or two – a cider ale, a sweet red – after you’ve feasted on fowl as befits the Mass of Christ done properly.

The broke man… he is just that. Broke. All year long, he had plans which he swung at with the axe of zest. His is a temporary situation… the rise and fall of commerce… some unseen factors derailed his carefully laid plans. Remember Covid-19? The broke man, he was the one who had just opened a brand new hotel… that kind of scenario played out, hence him being broke this December.

The difference, again, will be manifest come the next December. The broken man, vagabond in thought, drifting along unhappily to the dictates of forces bigger than him, or so, he thinks… still, he has refused to be master of his fate. The broke man, he plans and executes, responds better to that not factored as he is now experienced. The broken man, bitter as ever, envious in his speak. The broke man… no more as he is into riches which he will grow into generational wealth. It is this man whose deeds will be recorded as the Nation’s history.

                                                                   ********


#GreaterTogether 

You are great. Say after me, slowly, “I am great!” Yes, you are. And so, we are going to create great works together… memorable characters, riveting plots, immortal phrases. Yes, you and me. With your support of Kshs 20, we are going to launch two great anthologies: ‘A Funeral Dress for Nyasuguta’ and ‘Love Told, Poetry Souled, Family Bold.’ Then, create some more… ‘People of the Sand’, ‘Soweto: A Love Story’… in twenty years’ time, you’ll look back and say, “In my greatness, I made this happen!”

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