Reflections on Life, Purpose, and Aspirations
In Harare, the days grow longer, the nights shorter, yet the hours still add up to 24. The routine remains unchanging—Monday to Friday, an eight-to-five grind, followed by two fleeting weekend days. As a Sagittarius, I find myself not just bored but agitated by this monotony. A week ago, I drove past the golf club at precisely 7:43 AM on a Monday, watching a few men already immersed in their game. Meanwhile, I was on my way to work. It struck me then, without much deliberation, that life, as unfair as it is, can also be profoundly hard.
I’ve worked as an assistant to a man in his sixties who confided in me that he had been in the same role for over 29 years. His fondest memories weren’t from the office but from his travels and spontaneous adventures. This revelation, coupled with my own birth month introspection, has led me to question my life choices. As another Monday looms, I can’t help but wonder what legacy I’ll leave behind. Will I be remembered as just another employee who worked tirelessly, day in and day out?
Marriage, a milestone I yearn for, seems like another societal checkbox. Raising English-speaking children, retiring on a pension, and avoiding the pitfalls of divorce or financial struggles—these are the markers of success in our narrow societal lens. It’s disheartening to see how limited our perspectives have become. Have we all resigned ourselves to insignificance?
Two years after moving out of my mother’s house, I’ve carved out my own life. From the old double bed and kitchen utensils she gave me, I’ve added furniture and bedding, building a semblance of independence. I still recall the pride I felt when I bought my first pair of underwear. In a country where meager salaries are the norm, I’ve managed to do okay. By United Nations standards, I’m not poor, but by my own dreams, I remain far from wealthy.
My mother has always seen greatness in me, bestowing titles like pilot, engineer, torchbearer, and professor. Whether it’s her unwavering belief in my potential or the story she often recounts, her faith in me is unshakable. Born in a rural clinic, I wasn’t the healthiest baby. My mother vividly remembers the hospital admissions and prayers that carried me through. Today, old women who knew me as an infant marvel at my survival, a testament to the miracle my mother believes I am.
Reflecting on my journey, I realize I could have easily not made it. Yet, here I am, with memories to cherish and experiences to relive. I owe it to myself to ensure that when my time comes, my story will be one of a life lived fully, freely, and positively. My survival is a tribute to my parents’ sacrifices—the hospital bills my father paid and the prayers my mother whispered by my bedside.
I’ve taken risks, some reckless, yet I’m still here. Many who did far less are no longer with us. This realization humbles me and deepens my gratitude for the superpower guiding my path and my parents’ enduring prayers. My parents, though not modern, have always supported me. They may not fully understand my work, but they recognize my passion and skill. Married in the golden years after independence, their relationship, though imperfect, is a testament to love and resilience. Their advice, though archaic, stems from genuine care and concern.
It would be a dream to become the man they envision—a protector and provider of our family’s name and heritage. But life is no fairy tale. Success is rarely solely one’s own, and failure is seldom entirely one’s fault. Few can claim their lives unfolded exactly as planned. Cemeteries are filled with those who left home with intentions to return but never did. Prisons house individuals whose plans took unforeseen turns. Beggars on the streets didn’t choose their fate. Life is unpredictable, and while choices matter, nothing is straightforward.
My resolution is simple: with every passing second, I will take steps toward my dreams. Wherever the ink in my life’s book runs out, I’ll know I wrote as much as I could.
My mind is incredibly adventurous. I aspire to learn a language—something captivating like Spanish. I dream of traveling to all the places I desire, camping in jungles, and stargazing in hammocks with the love of my life. I want to relive ancient experiences in the modern world: making love under the moonlight, riding camels with the Arabs, reading hieroglyphics with the Egyptians, savoring spicy pizza in Italy, and exploring the birthplace of democracy and the cradle of great philosophers like Plato, Aristotle, and Socrates. I want to witness how the citizens of America live, immerse myself in the wild vibrancy of South America during Rio de Janeiro’s carnival, and experience the legacy of the descendants of Adolf Hitler—their engineering prowess and their love for beer and sausage. I also want to feel the biting cold of Moscow and warm myself with their finest vodka, indulge in the Irish passion for whiskey, and explore the British history of conquest and adventure. I want to listen to stories of Viking life and plunder, told by one of their own. I envision doing all of this alongside a soul who truly understands mine—someone who protects my need for freedom and nurtures my curiosity. Will I achieve all of this? I sincerely hope so, and I will do everything within my power to make it a reality. Yet, I wonder if my eight-to-five job will allow it. Will I have the resources to pursue these dreams? Even if I do, will I find the time? Assuming I manage to secure both the money and time, along with the human I so deeply desire, will I still be the man my parents hope I will become? Or will I transform into a free spirit, too absorbed in my own life and quests? Will I have the time to raise adorable, mischievous children in the way I envision? Will my person embrace these aspirations? Are these thoughts selfish? I truly do not know.
Yet, these dreams clash with the realities of an eight-to-five job. Will I have the resources, time, and companionship to pursue them? Can I balance my wanderlust with the responsibilities of being a husband, father, and protector of my family? These questions plague me, but I remain determined.
I want to be my mother’s professor, a wanderer, a great father, an awesome husband, and a guardian of my family’s legacy. Achieving this requires financial stability, yet the system demands relentless work, often at the cost of time and relationships. It’s a vicious cycle, and I need an escape plan—a shrewd one. For as one climbs the ladder, time slips away, and the sacrifices made along the way become painfully evident.
P.S
This is a remastered version of the original I wrote some time in 2018. Still with the same overall goal, I’ve failed at some things and I’ve outgrown some fantasies. But most importantly, I’ve done lots of what I wanted to do. I’m tempted to document my current musings just to contrast between the two. It’d be a fun way of seeing how much I’ve changed and how far I’ve come.
Do let me know if this is a great idea.
This is beautiful. I would really love to see the contrast between this piece and what you write now.