I know a group of men. They march everywhere they are told. Sometimes they are not even told, yet they march. They know their duties. They respond to the call even in sleep….if lucky to get one. They sit on the wall of life. They sit to protect the fruits in the garden of the wall. The women, children, the sick and lame. The weak and elderly. Sometimes, the very fruits bites their headoff. Their duty can be cold, banal, looooonely and excruciating. Yet someone has to do it.
They never ask much. Most times just a bit of water and some immediately needed food. They defend their countries. They perform heroics best imagined by scriptwrites. Yet their place is in the dark. No adverts. No medals. Theirs’ is blood and bullets. You only hear of them when they fail. The chosen by the choosers take all their shine. Yet they march always and everytime.
They sacrifice everything. Their straight limbs. Their youth. Unless lucky. They have no opinions or so it seems. No money….except serendipity finds them. The warmth of their own beds and women. The taste of their home pots……for months and years unend. They live with all imagined stress. Rest and recreation is the other enemy bestowed on them. Yet they are never applauded. They ain’t even trained to want it. They are called unprintable names. From televised speeches to bar banters. A social disconnect from their true essence. They endure all ills best created in horor movies. Yet their end……you won’t envy. They’ve sold all their freedoms. They are diers for peace……they are soldiers!!!
Now who will pamper the girl inside his young widow? Who will do monkey jumps for his boys? Those special military drills with the young? Who will console the mother of such a fine son? We’ve been through many….. ..but this will hurt real bad….. forever!
Max Adams Mahama we will never forget……
No goodbyes for soldiers, comerade….
See you down the road…..in the soldiers special heaven where the Gods forget all our special sins…….Ours is life trancient, indeed!