The twelve of us went, each had either a staff or a wooden club. Our sub-tribe, four of us, promised to each other that we would stand our ground and win that game. I was only 12 years old then, but I together with my playmates felt we were grown-ups ready for an adventure of a lifetime. How I wish we had a digital camera then.
The Battle Begins
We did not need to tease the dogs anymore, they started barking even at 50 meters distance. The louder and stronger the barks, the more we charged with our staffs, wooden clubs and battle cries. Perhaps because we're confident the dogs were confined in a fence. We felt like Indians attacking the enemies. We heard the incoherent shouts of the old man, but we ignored him. The gate opened and I saw more or less 12 angry dogs counter charging as well. They crowded the gate's small opening. Then suddenly I realized I was alone.
The Chase
With primordial fear and shock, I turned around as well to run. I ran and ran and ran. Our battle cries turned into baby cries. I heard some of them calling for their mothers. The jungle was treacherous and the paths were narrow. 20 meters ahead, I saw an upside down boat being repaired. I thought, I would jump over it and then I should be safe. I ran as fast as I can to gain momentum, but at 5 meters, I was shocked to realize that it was too high for me to jump over. It was a dead end.
The Last Indian
I had no choice. I turned around, renewed my battle cry and swang my club. No, I missed the dogs. I hit nothing! But the dogs went into a full stop as I swang my club left and right. The game suddenly changed.They ran away. Now it's my turn: I chased them back. Nyeaaaahhhhooo!Wow, I felt like William Wallace in Braveheart.
We all went home, each with his own story. Nobody recognized me as a hero or a savior, but I felt like one.
I realize: each of us has his/her battle in life. The world may not care about our pains and struggles, but all the same we need to endure, survive, and win...
photo credit: source
No comments:
Post a Comment