Time might fly, age might become a threat but memory will never fade. (Note: This sentence has been reviewed). This is true about my dear memory about how I left my hometown to find a job in the largest commercial city in my country.
It was in the afternoon when I boarded an 18-passenger bus. I had just presented my luggage to the conductor who heaved it to the back of the vehicle. And while walking into the bus, I could see the serious faces of the passengers who were seated, minding their own businesses and expecting the driver to start the engine. So I was also seated as though I were trapped, quiet like a desolate island, nervous, and mentally strained. Like a satellite in the space, I was absolutely restless on my seat. Comparing myself to a statue could be a mismatch because I was nothing but the personification of death. It was not that the vehicle was not comfortable for a sane man, but carrying a troubled mind had set my entire body on fire. Losing my first love and my job, as well as leaving behind my hometown in order to find a greener pasture was everything but heartwarming. That was where I had known from birth: I grew up and schooled in that environment. So it was so difficult to leave behind the known for the unknown.
Looking out through the window as the bus sped across the green vegetation of the rainforest – the beautiful birds flapping their beautiful wings as they enjoyed the freedom in their habitat, and the enormous rocky hills inspiring my romance for nature, I could not blink an eye although some of the passengers in the vehicle were dozing like victims of tsetse bite.
I was in the blues, so getting lost in nature at that moment was only meant to suppress my worries. My heart was as hot as a molten metal; it was nothing but a load of anxieties. What else could be expected of a man in his late twenties, who was unemployed, broke like a deflated ball and single because he could not satisfy the financial demand of his girlfriend? The only things I possessed were my life and the little money dangling in the pocket of my fading trousers.
It was at that moment that I remembered an article published by a writer a couple of days before my journey. The article was titled, ‘Let’s Cross the Bridge’. For a while, I rescued my focus from nature and tried reading and reflecting on the article again. It was on a blog, so I typed the link in the address bar of my browser and triggered the search button. As soon as the main page finished loading, I began reading the lengthy article:
“The trousers looked nice online. He quickly added it to his cart. He intended to wear to kill (or to impress others) but when the trousers arrived, it looked faded and was torn at a hideous part.
This true life story shows exactly how many of us view life at the other side of the bridge and what life turned out to be when we tried exploring it to that imagined length. We think where we are not is better than where we are. We can’t stop imagining how life could be at the other side of the bridge.
This introduction deeply struck my interest because quitting my hometown was nothing but a result of the norm that life was always a platter of gold for those who had the courage to leave behind the comfort of their home in order to find money on the street of my destination. Well, it was a good tiding about David who left for the city, so I was also hopeful that my life would take a better shape there.
The article continued:
“Truly, life could be better at the other side of the bridge but … when thinking about the positive side of life, we have to spend even extra time thinking about the negative.
What many of us regard as accomplishment is living far away from people who are close to us.
“No, this is not my primary goal,” I said within me. “All I want is comfort, so that I can build my own family at ease.” Yes, the life of a man is encompassed by what he can offer his family: food, education, shelter, clothing and others. So, my primary goal was to prepare myself for building a family.
I focused my lens again and continued reading.
“On the other hand, it may be a result of deteriorating financial condition, lack of amenities for potential development, poor educational facilities, unconducive or less secured environment, and lack of job opportunities among others.
Yes, this was true about me. I needed a job so that I could have financial security, not just a job but a well-paying white-collar job. And I felt there was no other road to financial security but using my hard-earned certification while staying in an air-conditioned office. Yes, it was worth it because my life had been focused on education, and I had no alternative means.
“Whatever one’s motive is to pack up one’s belongings in order to cross the bridge, one must be sure that the other side of the bridge is not a swamp covered by grassland. Let me say it in a clear way: You must critically consider how life would be at the place which you are heading to… In the absence of this, you are definitely writing a letter to the lifestyle you never prayed for and only chance could determine the end result. Remember, once you say “Bye”, it is difficult to say “Good day” a few minutes later. This has happened to many people and I would like to share their experience with you without pointing a finger at the victims.
“Hum!” I took a deep breath and changed my posture. The essay was not ameliorating my fear about how situation of things might be at my destination. Rather, it was getting me more discouraged. It seemed the writer mainly targeted me with his essay although I did not even know his identity. One little secret about my journey to the city was I could not even afford rent. I had been working from hand to mouth and to satisfy my demanding girlfriend, Lola, who later abandoned me after we had a little differences. As a result, I was worried about my accommodation.
