Skeleton Under The Woollen Hat.

The day was cloudy and a few patches of blue sky were revealing. I stood leaning against the steel pole, whilst waiting for the bus to take me to my destination. I started to move about as to strengthen my legs and as usual like an eagle my eyes were alert of the surroundings, hovering and surfacing far beyond the horizon, searching for a prey and within a few seconds I had found one; the one to follow, the one to lead me into the real skeletons of lives , an old white couple in their mid sixties, sitting quietly and gazing at each other with talking eyes. The woman’s behaviour intrigued me, more than anything else. She wore a bulldog’s face ready to attack but the one to be attacked is silently subdued. He felt the need to talk before the woman spit out her venomous words. His woman looking angrily hissed out the words as if it wasn’t enough she grabbed his ears and pinched them hard and so quickly, leaving the man fuming and embarrassed. He calmly searched for spectators whether they have seen what he just gone through unfortunately there was one who mentally videoed the whole episode and he instinctively knew that I must have seen it,  he looked at me, he then pulled over his hat to cover  the now red marked ears. He felt pain and I felt for him. How could this old man live under such a stressful life with a woman who physically and emotionally abuse him? “It is love, I heard a voice in me saying that. Love endures forever.” it added. This old man I was looking, looked sad and embarrassed but still he tried to sooth his wife, I guessed; of which his luck ran out that day; the  woman quickly stood  up and walked very fast and soon the husband was on his feet following in the direction of his woman. He caught up with her but she was still in denial and she vehemently showed that there no conversation coming up to an agreement. She was just like a whirlwind, blowing everything that passes by, she nearly had an accident with the bus that was coming in her direction.She paced and tossed up her coat in stampede to flea away from her husband, the husband whom she had pinched, abused, battered and tolerated every rough hill that she made him to pass through. I watched the white couple disappearing in the nearby buildings.

Now, I understood the skeletons of wearing the hat, the hat had covered a lot of the things that are unquestionable or unanswerable by protecting his wife’s behaviour whilst he endured perpetual pain. It was there in his eyes, pain and embarrassed could have swallowed him up if I did not pretend not to have seen it. In my culture, they say: Hakuna musha usina gonzo. It literally means there is no a  community without a mouse. Difficult problems arises in each household and how you face it, is different.  A same problem may arise but the way we solve it as individuals is different that we come up with different solutions to a one problem. 



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