THE HEART IN INVISIBLE TEARS: A SOUL RICH IN LITERATURE BUT POOR IN RECEPTION

Literature is a rich field where I invested the last drop of my blood in UTG. That exorbitant investment is not in line with the recent RECEPTION received from Madura. A case that is a fair fantasy. Is it not part of my daily life's ironies?

But never the less, the bird on flight if tired perches everywhere as Ngugi rightly stated. However, this bird on flight is not yet tired and it will never perch anywhere unconventional. Or anywhere inconvenient.

As I entered an invigilation class where some students (pupils) waited for the person on duties to administer the course, I found some of them based on observation, scared after my first utterance. This utterance was a simple greeting and a flexible caution on the examination rules. But these faces were scared faces. "Was it the voice or the face?" None, after the prerequisite questions of enquiry asked. I observed a child who touched the chest as she demonstrated a substantial fear after my speech.

Knowing how fear can lead to failure, I used a little bit of motivational token to augment the possible ravage made. I had wanted to restore confidence into those feeble and fragile souls. I understood how innocent they were in the intercourse. So it was my responsibility to motivate them essentially to kill the fear out of them. This is my ultimate art, and I took it as a point of duty. Speaking just like writing, is my verbal art.

Meanwhile, as the examination was in progress, a boy whose name I closely and secretly mastered, called my attention. Without any detention, I marched towards him to establish his reason of demand for my presence. To my surprise and not dismay, he asked me: "Is Literature the subject you are teaching?" Beijing, as it is a capital, being so clear to the Asians, I smiled but sighed that of a relief, and answered, yes to be affirmative. But I couldn't help asking him, "why did you ask me that question?". The boy was still in conversation. "The reason for my question is that the way you speak resonates that of a Literature Teacher." The boy submitted to me again. I then dragged my head closer to his paper to confirm what name he writes and which class was referenced. This is amazing an experience to me. I was exalted beyond the mourning man I was in school yesterday.

I was mourning for basically two main reasons: one of cases is the news of the demise of my cousin and namesake, Bokarr Bah (RIP), who was said to demise in Dakar (Lakrose). I couldn't attend the burial for many reasons, and I remained so sad.

Secondly, before taking the invigilation role shortly, my enigmatic brother send a photo of a young boy who I knew to hail from Sami (Essau) where I did part of my secondary education reported to have suddenly demised. I couldn't complete the voice message in reply to the message informing me his tragic demise. Then, a call of duty came which couldn't be averted. I responded to the call only to nullify the inhalation of a mourning mind. Consciously or subconsciously, I went straight to the point of duties. But, my question in mind still is, how did this young boy able to notice that my suitable subject to teach is Literature only with my intonation or utterance?

However, this is not news to me as I continue to receive daily calls, messages, and requests to serve as a mentor to many as a writer or coach for speaking. It amazed me though having been just a shy person but quickly appointed by many as a "mentor" even without having to interact with physically. But there is no doubt that writing plays a part in coaching that a physical self cannot offer. But to conclude, this boy is another boy I have already archived and in my many surprise awards, I will surely recognise him.

It is only in teaching, deeper wounds are heeled, but the invisible tears we cry should soon be wiped out when this nation wants to retain the most Industrious teachers who can bring back standard or glory. Adopt the principles of "best practices" in policy implementation. That is never a compromise, but a fundamental principle.

As soon as I closed from this duty, it was absolutely dark and cloudy when my bosom brother and childhood friend, Ousman jeng, recognised me at Buffer zone. He quickly in a nostalgia stopped to welcome me in front of his vehicle back home. I was very pleased until I realized that he had to divert his way to accompany me to the Airport junction where he claimed a proper direction or diversion. At this stage, I alighted and headed home crossing the crossroads. And in stagnation and hurricane scramble for transportation, I join the mini truck that offered us a free service too. We volunteered to travel knowing fully well that it was only suitable for sand mining.

Sand mining too was my childhood job when I picked up a summer contract with Sanna then in 2005 at the Village. I remembered how I was able to avoid that summer class for the possible financial assistance for my parents. In grade 11 that year, I was able to buy a bag of rice and gave them some pocket money. "A chick that will grow into a cock shall be recognized the very day it hatches." Achebe said. I was never absent in that short contract until I returned for my Economics paper that was deliberately scheduled in the holidays to keep us continuing. But the History test came from the summer notes which I fully copied and mastered where I scored the highest grade even though I was completely absent from the classroom. This is a story for another day.

But for this one, the truck was my savior and having ended my sleep at 23:30 hrs, this is a generative piece to publish for the reader who may realize my feelings at 04:54 hrs as I just summed up and preparing for the next working day from Brikama.

Is this the principle of reciprocity of service of a nation?

Written By: EABUSSO, THE ICON OF TRUTH