A day with Mr. Badmus

A day well lived must know the shape of silence. that, he had made clear since last night. We watched the birds chirping throughout the rising of the morning sun as our footprints traced us back to the market square.

Mr. Alhaji Badmus had turned the black night into white, telling me stuffs and secrets I could barely know until my late forties so I wasn't flummoxed while he strode silently with his face ducked downwards as if he was learning how to walk for the first time.

We've just reached the U-turn where he harbored to smoke some cigarettes last night when he cocks his head towards me and wails "The day is a prayer; we must pray the day".

At first, his words sounds weird and incomprehensive but knowing who he is made me realized that he was just thinking out loud then it makes sense to me about his ability to stay calm and quiet over a long time.

The day is getting brighter as the leaves shivers the morning dew. The shame of my own ignorance surges through me as I stare at his hard expressionless eyes. One white and cloudy, the other dark and unfathomable.

My voice came from my mouth with a tentative quaver, "What do you think about anger? Mr. Badmus". That minute, his face cringed like I had asked a stupid question then suddenly lights with a smile "Anger is only for the one who speaks," he squeaks before pausing to admire a flower which looks like one he had called Queen of the night.

"It never opens the heart of one who listens except he's one of those who has the anger of silence." He continues, he squints his eyes as always to scrutinize the flower properly then guffaws "There are two kinds of anger" he pause and squints again to read his wrist watch then continues "The anger who wants to speak" this time, his fidgeting lips reveals how much he has to say about anger but continues, " I'd advise you become the anger that listens".

Every other words after then sounded interesting but forgotten because I was already in a reverie examining myself to be the anger who speaks. I knew I needed to be in the moment, at least to show some respect of listening yet I felt like I had gotten the whole point.

We got to a Malina tree with huge branches, a piece of Ankara was laid indicating this is or was someone's shelter so he yawned then reached for a stick of cigarette when I quickly asks to eradicate the silence, "What about being lonely? What's your take on that" He giggles then remarks, " People take loneliness as being in solitude".

Although I understood what he meant yet I needed him to continue talking so I whined, " Isn't loneliness same as solitude?" Mr. Alhaji Badmus exhales aloud then pinches the tip of his cigarette, "Loneliness and solitude are two different things" he lits the cigarette then continues, "Loneliness is like you in a hall and just the emptiness of the hall while solitude is still you in that hall but this time, there's no emptiness in the silence of the hall but lessons, beauties and magic words sprouting through your thoughts from everything around".

I believe he noticed the amazement on my face about his lecture when he added, "Solitude is deliberate while loneliness can be a circumstance we can barely change". Cupping his left hand around his mouth to sneeze, he

brushes his hand through his bald head with a reservoir of joy that was deeper than anything you can imagine.

Mr. Alhaji Badmus averted his eyes, his voice was struggling yet his eyes had that twinkle of life and wisdom to share his knowledge which he had gathered throughout his entire seventy eight years of learning and practicing of something he calls 'The true church'.

I wanted to ask more questions but didn't want to choke him with his cigarette while talking so I stayed calm then into a reverie when a young boy of about eleven years greeted us as he walked pass. The boy looks like a tramp and through his eyes, anyone could find hopelessness and pity thus engaging Mr. Alhaji Badmus to stuck his gaze on the little till he was out of sight.

"To raise a child is an honor" Mr. Alhaji Badmus whispers as he tilts his face to me. I nod my head in affirmation when he continues, "But to raise a child well, is a Gift". He spoke so well in parables making it hard for me to give an authentic response until I squeaked, "Children brings joy, I guess". He shrugs like he was in disagreement with what I had said then bellows "Great joy makes us love this world yet it's only great sadness that makes us understand this world".

His expression was as dark as the land beneath our feet; his eyes as hollow as the moon and somehow I wasn't my real self around him but a man ready to learn the schemes of life from his own perception so I grinned doubtfully, "True but who are we?.

I don't know why or what erupted such question from my mouth yet I loved the fact that he understood my misery, "We become who we are at the expense of who we are not" he suddenly moans then finds his feet and gestures me to tag along as we hit the road towards the final right turn before our destination.

He never said a word since then except for his consistent hissing, silent mumbling and nodding of head like a mad man but it didn't matter because somehow right now, I had realized the importance of silence and couldn't wait to grasp my journal and pen down everything I've learnt through him as I remember.

I really bless this day with him and actually learnt a lot from his aged wisdom though it did hurt me to watch him gasp for breath yet couldn't quit smoking but what's the essence of being judgemental when true forgiveness is achieved when we embrace a person with our heart and make them feel that in our presence, they're welcomed home.