He walked through the beautiful school surprised at the surprise that lay before him; it was hard to think the school could be this quiet and empty. He resorted to admiring nature. And architecture. The school had been planned beautifully and although he knew it would not be easy, he did not mind doing a sketch-up model of it. That sounded crazy but yeah, he was deep like that. He smiled to himself. The flowers looked out of this world—the effect of lightning was amazing, he realised. Everything looked perfect and he liked it. Wasn’t that the way his mother had said life practically was all the time? He remembered her usual look whenever she was about releasing one of her numerous philosophies. She looked deep in thoughts like she was reading from a book etched in her memory. She knew what she was saying, was never confused and she would definitely convince you. She could not have been wrong—she never was. She had said life was perfect just as it was all the time. All those who hated life for one reason or the other just had to do a little more analysis on their claims and they’d realize the beauty. And then he had added his own part. As usual. Life had to be perfect. So when it looked like it wasn’t going to be, just give God a little helping hand. The big man up there could do with a little something back from the humans he seems to have given so much up for. God owed him a lot for all the help he had offered him. The earlier he started paying up, the better. He chuckled to himself.
This time the big man owed him quite a lot. He had brought peace into the world on his own. His carefully-thought plan had worked of course. He had taken out the crime that the world had been trying to fight over the years. The reason his Sunday school teacher had told him one Jesus dude was sent to earth for. What a waste of time that was! When he was sworn in as the dining hall prefect, he knew there had to be a purpose. He was always placed in places for a cause. So it was almost time for him to hand over and it looked like the world wouldn’t recognize his efforts. That was unheard of. Even taking his mother to heaven had been easy and should be in the Guinness book of records. She had repeatedly said all the children were going to take her to her maker. She said this at least thrice a day. Prayers had to be answered. He got his answered and he just found it fair that that sweet woman’s were too. And that was what he didn’t like about the God his mum spoke about. He was a little too bossy—he did things the way he wanted and when. He couldn’t stand his annoying timing and that’s why he always got his back. The day his dad spoke about the poisonous leaves was the day he saw the joy Archimedes had when he shouted ‘eureka’. He just knew that was what his mother needed to go to heaven. The children would finally be able to take her to her dreamland. All he had to do was to add two of those leaves to her morning moringa drink when his dad had left and everyone else disappeared like they always did. She had taken it and had laughed her way to her maker. Then there was peace and he found out why he was created. To bring peace.
And that was simply what he had done to the school. Those kids would just not go through a quiet mass. The old priest was going to die soon, agreed. But it looked like something was quickening his almost-near death. The children. They always made him talk a lot after the mass. He said something about silence. He was always silent so he could not be involved. But those kids! That morning’s mass was the best he had been to his whole life. It was centred on gratitude. If for any reason, you choose not to be grateful, remember that the dead do not have the choice of whether to speak or not, the priest had said before communion. He almost cried. Why hadn’t the priest said this earlier? That was what he had wanted all along? His wish was his command. God showed his approval by coinciding the day with their usual palaver sauce that afternoon. He made his way to the garden and picked out the poisonous leaves. That would make up the palaver sauce for that afternoon. It worked after thirty minutes. Careful calculations would mean they would all be tucked in their beds for a supposed siesta. They would be dead before siesta was over. So they did die and another accomplishment it was.
Oh this guy isn’t crazy. He is a hermaphrodite whose gender depends on the reader of this piece. He is you when you decide that the perfection of God isn’t enough. He is the Sara who decides that the prophecy couldn’t have been through her. God probably needed some help. He is that Saul who just realises the great detail God missed in the instruction and decides to save the cattle and the king and also helps the prophet Samuel out of his broken-watch problem. That is how ridiculous we sound to God. We understand things this differently from his perspective. And when he observes us this silently, it is simply because he is wondering how crazier we can get. We cannot call coincidences destiny to mean he needed our help anyway. They simply coincided and showed him how much help he needs to give us.
Patience does all the work in the waiting process. Let’s wait.