OUTLOOK (MINI-SERIES)

A portrait of a man helping others climb a mountain hanged in an office fit only for a winner. There were no words, only faces. Descriptive faces that echoed these words "win and let's win". At a high point in a career that's given so much people plenty to love, the contrast was how it made him so hollow. Deep down he questioned his motives, even his methods and means. He had bought this fine portrait at first sight while stuck in traffic, something he never did before because of his background in marketing. Now he reads the words of a journal a simple Chinese monk once kept; "I like to win. I love the smell of victory. When I can win, I win. But before I win, I ask myself should I win? Winning is not winning when everyone else is losing! I know I cannot dance, so when a dancing win comes, I pass it over to someone who can. Then we celebrate the win together. That way I always win. For every win of mine is someone else' loss. That's how I win!" Nothing made sense anymore. The big contracts, the flashy cars, the costly shoes; they all tend to depreciate in the face of the reality. No more than a pauper had he become. Martha walked away with the kids. The legal suit that followed had seem him lose though his lawyer friend was confident the case wouldn’t even get to trail. There he stood, embarrassed in court by people he would be employing were they to be in his field. Three different patents, a partnership with Nike that gave him the nod to be the sole producer and distributor of their products across Africa, and the recent add to his enviable collectibles, diamond chain shops in South Africa and Switzerland. The mirror on the plagues made him even angrier. In it he saw the grey hairs that had began to crawl around the corners of his left cheek, and on it he saw the inscription boldly written “ENTREPRENEUR OF THE YEAR, 2015. Beneath it he saw the only thing he still keeps from his father, MR. E. A. BOATENG JNR. Even that he would have stripped off some years back were it not for the fact that his birth and school certificates bore it. The resentment that fumed in his heart was as much for the dead as it was for the living. ‘Life is a bitch’- He screamed! He didn’t know which of the two had become busier, his paper shredder or his mind. For years he had been admired for the latter for he could wrap it around any problem at all and come up with brilliant solutions. That was what baffled him the more, how it seemed there was no way out of the situation he was in. A thought came to his mind. One he had rubbed off for so many years. A friend he had abandoned too long ago, could he be the solution to this whole disaster?

He had set off empty into a world that gave him very little chance. He had made his mark and earned his place among the very top ranks. It did not come cheap, he had to make sacrifices, take risks and battle his way to where he had gotten now. The early years were the most difficult of his journey. He was a street boy after his 12th birthday. His father, a man he hated with passion, had gambled his inheritance away at casinos. The reputation of his grandfather suffered a fatal blow by his father’s actions. By the time his father had died, his mother was so sick with worry that he had to attend her funeral only a month after. He was 11 by then, too young to bear the burdens but old enough to record the experiences and bundle the trauma. As an only son everything fell on him. Too much responsibility he had to shoulder. He had no choice but to pick up the mantle even at that uneasy moment. By his 12th birthday he had moved from three uncles and two grannies to her paternal aunt. The very woman she owed her inspiration to succeed to, the same woman who drove her out of the house one cold December night, three days before Christmas. It was the day he became a street boy and vowed never to allow himself to be passed around like an unimportant luggage anymore. It was the day he was made. He had done so much without his friend. His childhood friend, so why would he need him now? He didn’t. He concluded! Like all that had befell him, he reckoned this one too would pass. There was no need to succumb to anyone, and no need for anyone. He would stand tall, when it’s all said and done. He only needed to take a drive to clear his messy head and everything would be fine. Broken hearted! Him? Never! It couldn’t ever happen to him. He’s not cared about anyone since his mother and that was a long long time ago. Maybe it was not about Martha. It should be the kids. Those lovely boy and girl she had given him. When Ida was born, he understood for the first time what real love was about. He was restless, he couldn’t sleep for weeks, every tickle and sound and he was by her cot side. He would have breastfed her if it were possible. Then Nana Agyemang Prempeh, his son came through and for once in his life he felt complete. He was always grateful to Martha for holding both babies for the 18 months she had to. That was all he owed her, gratitude. It was out of the same gratitude he had made arrangements to outdoor her and to give her a white wedding after their 6 year relationship. How dare she betray him like this? It was he that gave her the dignity she had, Mrs. Martha Boateng. Though to him she had only been one thing “the mother of her children”. So when she had pushed him to the wall he didn’t hesitate to make that clear to her in other words. She had it coming for some months. Asking him where he was, who he was with, what he was doing every damn minute. Then she overstepped her bounds when she started going through his messages and call logs. No one had the right to do that to him. No one! He had warned her, he even gave her the chance to apologize but she had grown wings. So she had to fly away from his nest and build her own. All he did was give a simple boost for her ego. He sent her packing, and packing she did. It could have ended peacefully had she not done what she did. No one takes his kids from him. They were his kids. So when Martha asked him for a divorce he readily gave it to her assuming since he was the bread winner he would get custody of the kids with ease. His lawyer friend had confirmed that to him just so he would be sure. He would hire the best nannies to care for them, even far better than Martha did. He just didn’t know Martha had a clothing line under her belt opened with his money. She surprised them both at court with that. He had assumed she being just a housewife gave her no chance at all with the kids. What she presented to the court was enough to grant her custody of the kids. That coupled with his almost always absent from home were the basis for the verdict. How did he not see that one coming? How did he come to this? Losing to a woman? A car horns, then another, then all the others join. He comes to himself, takes a look at the traffic light turning almost red again and speeds of hurriedly ignoring the bashing from the next lane driver.

Sunday 27th of December, 2015… He woke up to a new world, one with beds of the same sizes all around. The place smelled funny to him. He struggled to lift himself off his bed. Too many pumps and pins held him down. Then she came in, a twenty-what young lady dressed in white again with a syringe in hand. Easy, easy she said. But where am I? He inquired. Don’t worry sir, you’re in good hands. She replied. He stopped the fight because his body would not allow him. He surrendered to the young nurse as she put the syringe down and picked up a thermometer. She gently lifted his left arm and put it under his armpit. She injected him on the other shoulder and he dozed off as she applied the cotton to the little drops of precious blood oozing off. He woke up to see Martha by his bedside. He said the second thing that came to his mind for the first was too inhuman. She smiled at him. It’s going to be alright, she said. He fought the urge to smile back at her and eventually gave in. Where was he? Why was everyone being nice to him all of a sudden? And what was Martha doing there? So many questions he just didn’t have the strength to ask. So the doctor eventually came in around 2pm. Mr. Boateng, you’re a very lucky man. You lost a lot of blood…. I have a personal doctor, why am I not with him? He interrupted. He’s on holidays, I spoke to him earlier. The doctor continued. This is the Sunthreso Hospital. You were involved in a very fatal accident and you lost a lot of blood. Thank God it happened right in front of our yard; otherwise it could have ended gravely. And thank God for your wife’s quick response, most of the blood runs through you now is hers. The doctor finished. Ex-wife, doctor, ex-wife. He retracted. Anyway thank God you’re alive. I’ll see another patient now. The doctor concluded. Of all the people in the world Martha’s blood was what he needed to live? A twist of fate it was indeed. He would just pay her off once he’s discharged, he reasoned. Yet something told him Martha did more than just offer her blood to him. But it didn’t matter she (Martha) had caused all of these. If she hadn’t gone through her phone logs there would be no argument, then no packing and leaving, and eventually no divorce. He didn’t owe her anything because she had caused all of these by her immature behavior. He remained adamant and convinced by his own sense of reasoning.

He had made it out alive and well. The only thing he detested was how he had needed Martha to live. He thought about it as Martha rode him home. The kids were jumping and having fun at the back seat throughout the ride. If events were different and circumstances were not as they were, he would have hugged all three of them to tell them how empty his life had become with their absence. But his ego kept him in check and he kept the feeling bundled up. So night came and Martha had to leave. She had promised to come back in the morning and as a sign of good faith she left the kids at the house. So nothing had become something. He wanted to beg her to stay, but his pride was at stake. The latter won the best part of him and he watched her leave with his heart aching more than his body. Whiles on bed that night all he could think of was Martha, and the kids who were sleeping downstairs. He finally gave in and dialed Martha’s number. He had wanted to apologize to her and just ask her to come back to him. The phone rang twice and went straight to voice mail. Then he put the phone down and cursed himself for stooping so low. When Martha rushed in early morning, the concern she wore on her face described her care for him despite everything. She had seen the missed call and wondered if something bad had happened to him during the night. She explained she was a little tired so she slept like a log and only saw the missed call just 15 minutes before she came. He asked her not to worry and that it was just some bodily pains but he was strong enough to handle it. And so she came in and went out for three days nursing him till he was fully fit to be on his own. The last day eventually came and they said their goodbyes. It had been three days since she left. The mess the kids had made in the room was the only memory he had of them. He didn’t ever assume for a second that in his lifetime he would come to such a place of utter emptiness. He tried to look for a solution outside Martha’s fondness but nothing seemed to come up. Then he remembered, several years before his surgery he had always resorted to alcohol to solve problems like these. It was only when the doctors had told him the imminent danger that he stopped alcoholism entirely. It was something he did for himself, he couldn’t afford to lose his kidney as they were predicting at the time. He could pay for a transplant but then again he would spend hours at the hospital, valuable hours which could have been used to make huge amounts of money. So he gave it up immediately because nothing came between him and business. He had his mini bar cleared and had it stocked books. Such was his life and that attributed much to his successes. He was not a religious person but he knew where to draw the line. And his focus was intact, once he saw the mark, he would go for it and nothing would stop him. The following days were spent in loneliness. He tried to gulp down a bottle of wine he had kept in his locker just in case he needed it but his stomach wouldn’t accept it. He spat it out into the sink and crashed the glass. All in all, his mind began to race back. To the time when he was actually free. When he was the envy of every young man and the desire of the many women he came across. He sat on his bed to watch what TV had to offer. And then the ad came; it was a new preacher man in town. Making promises as usual, offering alimony to all who cared to listen, he changed the channel almost immediately. He had always had a problem with them. Those poachers calling themselves preachers who dwell on the weaknesses of the poor and confused in life to milk them of the little they possess. He didn’t have a problem with God, nor Jesus, he had always thought they were cool. His only problem was with the third person of the trinity as He stands by and watches people use His name to do all sorts of evil. His thoughts carried him into sleep and his thinking continued in another world.

He stood on a hill. There were a lot of people around him. Women with abandoned children, men who were begging for alms, lives which were ending for want of little money. He wept bitterly. The masses were looking up to him on the hill and he had his back toward them. He was looking to the other side, where there were plenty to drink and food to eat. He saw people he knew and the likes he would mingle with in there. It was the cry and the wailing that confused him to stand still. All he wanted to do was go downhill and party. The glitz was far more welcoming than the havoc behind. Naturally he would go for the former without a thought but he still stayed glued atop the hill. His foot would not just carry him along. The pain in his heart was too heavy. He decided to look back once more before he made up his mind. The scene was horrific and he couldn’t ignore it like he used to. He stepped on the lowly grounds and began to share with them. He gave bandages to the wounded, food to the hungered, money to the needy and smiled to the hopeless. Suddenly a fog began to lift. The gloom gave way to a new sensation triangled by love, faith and hope. He saw the changes around him and he felt the urge to do more. The possessions he had on him were finished though, so he surprised himself by lifting the weary up, wiping the floors of messy homes, and picking up disabled kids. He felt the joy in his heart. It was unexplainable, something he had never felt before and couldn’t find the words to describe. He heard for the last time the sound of his favorite song on the other side. Suddenly it died with every new person he helped; something new had sprung up to replace the old feeling. He tossed again in bed and fell on his left side to the floor. He had had a weird dream. Something he did not have often. He tried hard to remember the last thing he saw in the dream. There was a number, and then there was a name. Seemed like a Bible verse? But why would that come in his dream? He accused the pastor on TV he had cursed before sleeping. Then he made a choice not to be bothered by what he had seen. He would give it some days and he would forget it, he said. Yet he just couldn’t brush this one aside. It came to him one morning, and then he remembered vividly what he last saw Daniel 9:20-21. Then his thoughts came back to him. He was praying right before he had slept that night. For some reason he believed there was a God somewhere listening. He had asked for the purpose of God for his life to be revealed to him. He begged and cried that he was confused about his life. He had made it to the very top and yet he felt so hollow. He spoke words from his heart and somehow it had found its way to God. Just like Daniel heard and saw Gabriel give him skill and understanding of what the future was to look like, he E.A Boateng Jnr. had been giving a divine revelation into his destiny. He mocked his recent thought. Yet it did not help his peace. He decided to do something about it. He read the whole book of Daniel from the Bible his mother had given to him on his seventh birthday to get a better understanding of the events that led to Angel Gabriel’s visit. He realized something new had happened to him and he couldn’t afford to ignore it. That was the last day of the year and he decided to seek more from his old abandoned friend, Jesus they called Him. He made his way into an empty church. He had intentionally stayed out of church on New Year’s Eve because he knew the place would be flooded with people. He knelt down and began to sob uncontrollably. He had spent time alone thinking about the dream and had reviewed it as a business man as well. He accepted the fact that he would lose nothing if he moved in the direction he was in the dream. Besides he had not been fair to the people on the street to say the least. It was the same place he had spent his youthful age until a self-made entrepreneur picked him up. He used to sell on the streets and slept in the front of containers. He knew without being told how it was like trying to sleep on an empty stomach. He knew the horrors that befell the street boy and girl every day; he knew how easily it was for babies out there to die of curable diseases like malaria. He knew the dangers young ladies faced and how vulnerable they were to predators. He knew all these, yet he had chosen neither to mind nor care. He was out of the rat race and it was not his business anymore to clear the park. Anytime he had felt the inclination to do something about it, he found an even better excuse too. So his sober voice found the words to whisper all these to the LORD he now knew was listening. He wanted to give other people the chance that man gave him about 28 years ago. He sought direction on what new steps to take. Unlike previous years there was no hangover to battle, no resolutions to keep, only Jesus remained. After the prayer he felt lighter. His circumstance had not changed but his heart had. He stepped out with newness and radiance. Then he saw those guys’ whiles driving home. They were not in clericals; they had no titles, just simple young men and women. He parked aside to take a look for a while. They were busily sharing gifts with people on the streets. They held Bibles and proclaimed words from it. They had a certain appeal to the way they chose to do what they were doing. They seemed to be in love with whoever had sent them. So he stepped out and took a hasty walk toward them. He had intentionally left his shirt in his car and only had a singlet on. He was greeted with a wholesome smile and offered a seat. The words he heard, he never forgot. “Jesus loves you! No matter what you’ve done,” He was told. One young man offered him with a T Shirt and another lady offered him home-made food. He enjoyed the food heartily and they talked to him about Jesus and His finished work on the cross at Calvary. They gave him a Bible and pointed him to Romans 10:9, 10. After he had read the whole chapter, he believed and made his own confession to salvation. He thanked them and left after he had taken their contact numbers. He was confused about where to start from but God had given him a family right away. He drove home happy and fulfilled. When the phone rang and Martha called to wish him a happy new year with the kids he cut that short and said the words on his lips ever since he had found his peace. “Martha I’m so sorry, please forgive me for all I’ve done to you and to our kids”. He pleaded. “I love you Boat, and we are coming back, me and the kids”. She replied at the other end. So a new chapter began for him, no New Year resolutions, no more bitterness, only Jesus to look unto, and Martha and the kids to love! He was thankful for his new life in Christ and he set out to live the Christian way like his mother had always wanted. And he became a part of the group he had met, Strictly Christ. And together they set out to impact lives and change the world with the Gospel and love of Jesus Christ. And so they go on! THE END!

INSPIRED BY THE HOLY SPIRIT

 

SCRIBED BY JOSHUA GYASI