Sister Bees. When Family Connects.

I visited my friend one holiday in the early 90s. His father was a farmer and he specialised in the farming of honey via the beehive. My friend, Kingsley was that kind of friend who would always check up on me at least once every weekend. 

Dad noticed how kind he was. He would come greet my parents modestly before asking about me. You know, it was a good time to share our thoughts and after some time, he would ask to leave then I would accompany him to the gate, that's how far I can go. My parents never allowed me the space to go out and I dare not leave our compound without their consent. The worst is that I never visited my friend, Kingsley. 

During the long vacation holiday, I politely asked my father to permit me to visit my friend. He looked at me, then smiled. He accepted my request and volunteered to take me to my friend's place and to pick me up after five hours. 

When we got to Kingsley's, my father and I got down from the car to say hello and exchange pleasantries. My friend was so happy to see me. He immediately led me through his father's large expanse of farm. There were different sections but the one I loved the most was the beehive where honey is harvested. 

As we returned to the farmhouse, my dad was already gone and for the first time, I saw a pot of freshly harvested honey. It looked so fresh and welcoming. But what caught my fancy was the three little bees struggling for life in the sticky honey. 

While I was feeling pity for the little bees, my friend called his father and asked that he removed the bees at least that they could make more honey but his father said:

There is no need. They are already half dead. They won't make it alive if I remove them.

The thought got Kingsley weary. Then he told his father to at least ease the pain of the bees by killing them at once rather than make them suffer all the pain as they drown in the pot of honey. 

His father obliged him but did not kill the bees. He threw them from the pot of honey to their fate. 

Already, the bees on the farm were humming around since their comb had been disrupted earlier by Kingsley's father. All I did was watch as father and son conversed. 

Before I could say jack, these three little bees had been surrounded by their sister. All the bees are usually females. They have removed all the sticky gum honey from the wings of the three little bees. I watched how the sister bees helped their young ones to hope in life again.

This singular act registered in my. The three little bees survived from the venom of death because they have family around them that could help them through difficult times. This is what family is all about. 

Rather than compete in the family we should be one another's keepers and helpers.

Like the sister bees who stood during the toughest of times, we should all be around relatives to lift them out of their shame, dishonour and even bankruptcy. 

The three little bees had given up on life, probably other bees had died as a result of no intervention from any quarters because no-one ever thought they would survive the sticky drowning in the honey. Here we are, the moment the problem was shared, the three sisters received help. 

We all should be our brothers' keepers and not allow the gains of power, wealth or popularity separate us from humanity. 

First Published Here