This morning as I walked down the street of Accra Central, I thought about the numerous strangers that I’ve passed by.
What’s their story?
There was this crazy looking man by the crosswalk yelling at almost everything that passed by, whether cars or people. What’s his story?
Did he sell drugs to rich friends so he could attempt to keep up with their lifestyles and now he has an addiction to the commodity? His friends nowhere to be found. Tired of his shit?
What about the smartly suite-up lawyer who was caught jumping the traffic light while speaking to someone on the phone?
Is he late to work because he had to take care of the kids ?
Or the heavily built guy with his old and dirty clothes with headphones in his ears, whom I couldn’t tell who he was or what he does? He turned out to be my angel. His presence kept the crazy man from yelling at me as I crossed the street.
What was his story?
Perhaps he was oblivious to my gratitude. Maybe he is one of those guys who carry heavy loads for market women and others for money.
Do any of these people wonder about my story? The school girl with curly hair with a backpack slung over her shoulder. Do they know how I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders? Do they see I am trying to stay strong as the storm rushes in and makes changes in my life?
Do they know I’m worried because I have a lot of responsibility on my shoulders? Do they know I face financial uncertainty? My girlfriend expects me to meet almost all her needs.?
No they probably don’t know this but maybe they know as I know that no matter what is thrown in our paths the ultimate purpose is love pulling us closer to it.