I met a hilarious princess called Ruth who princes would definitely attempt to court and raise to their throne. How did I meet her?
My IPhone predictably cracked so I made my way on my Black Horse, Not Guilty, to the local cell phone repair shop. A couple of coincidences ensued on that humid afternoon. A conversation sparked with local customers about the beautiful weather in the Sparkle City including the recent court case between Apple Inc. and the FBI. I chimed in to provide my opinions to the audience as I had prior knowledge from my online Cybersecurity and Auditing classes.
The lady sitting nonchalantly in the back turned out to be my good friend, Mr. Temple’s mother. Mr Temple and I met in Sparkle City one Wednesday student night and began a friendship bonded by our interests and beliefs in art, music, British television and alchemy.
What is an alchemist? Well, as you should know by now, I refer to my Oxford dictionary a couple times a day and this is what it read:
1A seemingly magical process of transformation, creation, or combination:
finding the person who’s right for you requires a very subtle alchemy.
Alchemy has led me to believe we all carry a distinct, mysterious energy and each of us collide when interactions occur. It’s like meeting a person for the first time yet you click like you’ve known each other for decades. It’s these type of human instincts which irrigate alchemy. There’s a spirit we all carry and the deeper your spirit of discernment you are more likely to meet with people with similar interests, backgrounds, and carrying the same energy. Many infant readers may think I’m referring to witchcraft or sorcery, but not at all. Energy creates combustion and the collision leads to interactions an infant mind would describe as coincidence.
Mr.Temple’s mother expressed herself to be an alchemist too and we had a great discussion about life, her move from up North, and her proud understanding of Marketing principles. We later took a picture and chuckled how her son would be astounded at our “coincidence”. Mr. Temple wouldn’t be surprised because he taught me this concept of alchemy. Another lady walked in and this is where the inevitable combustion with princess Ruth occurred.
I would describe the lady who walked in as a polite artist. She shared her interest in silver art and her infatuation with the artist known as Nneka. She introduced me to Nneka because I provided information of my African lineage, my heritage from Zimbabwe and interestingly my affection for the prince of Zamunda. If you haven’t watched the movie Coming to America, I’d like to believe I’m the character that Eddie Murphy plays. At Bearcat University I disliked his portrayal of Africa but I soon came to learn it was my ignorance. If you watch the movie carefully and undistirbed, you’ll learn Eddie Murphy is wealthy and culturally aware, proud and ironically searching for love and for oneself in America. We all chuckle at his accent, but can’t debate about his wealth. Like Murphy, I am a prince and I recently came to love the Barbershop folk who call me Prince of Zamunda. I accepted honor and figured it’s an opportunity to teach dozens of American citizens I encounter about what Africa is really like.
Nonetheless, the polite artist continued to chat to the technicians behind the wooden desk. She insisted on showing a video of someone she knew who was run over at a New York Subway Station. At this point I wasn’t paying much attention, but when she said the victim survived the injuries, I zoomed in. She showed us a video.
It turns out the victim Ruth was her daughter, who walked in just before the video screening.
Flesh was grounded, blood spilled, astronomical medical bills incurred and clearly a near death experience from what I gathered. Several months of physical therapy and surgeries later, she was standing right in from of me. My curious mind relatively gets me in trouble, but this was a risk worth taking. I asked if it was really her and quizzed her how in the world that after a horrific accident she still had both legs. Surely something fishy was going on, right? It turned out skin was removed from fleshy body parts and essentially planted on her leg to grow. It’s called grafting and gradually her skin began to grow. Doctors are golden.
She lifted her leg for me to witness the gory, yet beautiful sight. I wasn’t disgusted but amazed at how anyone can survive such an accident. It was awe inspiring moment. It was remarkable that she was living her life like the rest of us except she appreciated the gift of life a whole lot more and just getting to muster her way through her gifted days.
It turns out that before the accident, she was on her way to a remarkable career in New York City, but now just glad to live in Spartanburg, SC and grow not only her leg, but her spirit of survival. I was so apprecitative of her courage and willingness to share her horrific yet inspiring story. We shared the same appreciation for comedy, rap and the controversial Kanye West. The day we met I was coincidentally wearing my soccer shirt blazed with the Fly Emirates logo. I didn’t understand why until she said her friend M.I.A would love to see a picture so we took a selfie. Wait, did I just say M.I.A.? Yes I did. M.I.A is the world renown Srilankan alternative artist facing a legal battle against the Fly Emirates Giant.
I could keep going on but, there’s not enough time to keep writing today. Ruth is now a good friend and I can’t wait to see her get back to her destiny of being a hilarious comedian.
You see in life, we are going to get scars, injuries, pain but you have to RISE like the Phoenix. You have to use your faith and self-belief because no one else will save you. I’m sure it has never been an easy journey for Ruth but hey, she clearly makes the most of her days.
What I’ve learnt about adversity is that some go through it privately while some are forced to endure it publicly. I have endured it in both circumstances and what I’ve noticed is those that keep it private are usually trying to keep appearances. True healing doesn’t happen that way because matters of the heart require time and sharing the load with those that are trusted companions. You can’t do life alone and you can’t fully recover if the scar hasn’t healed. I speak from experience and inspiration rendered by Ruth’s remarkable story.
So why did I call her Ruth? If you look in the Old Testament there’s a lady called Ruth who experienced traumatic experiences including a famine and loss of her husband. She decides to enter a foreign land and more drama ensues. I read the short book before publishing this piece and here’s my favorite excerpt:
8 Then Boaz said to Ruth, “Now, listen, my daughter, do not go to glean in another field or leave this one, but keep close to my young women. 9 Let your eyes be on the field that they are reaping, and go after them. Have I not charged the young men not to touch you? And when you are thirsty, go to the vessels and drink what the young men have drawn.” 10 Then zshe fell on her face, bowing to the ground, and said to him, “Why have I found favor in your eyes, that you should atake notice of me, since I am a foreigner?” 11 But Boaz answered her, b“All that you have done for your mother-in-law since the death of your husband has been fully told to me, and how you left your father and mother and your native land and came to a people that you did not know before. 12 cThe Lord repay you for what you have done, and a full reward be given you by the Lord, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come to take refuge!” 13 Then she said, d“I have found favor in your eyes, my lord, for you have comforted me and spoken kindly to your servant, though I am not one of your servants.”
If Ruth can survive a train and scars created, why can’t you get up on your own to feet and keep going? I’d like to believe God finds favor in those that keep their faith, and smile through publicisized adversity.
Check out some internationally recognized posts and efforts about my friend, Liza “Ruth” Dye.
If you have any letters, donations or gifts to pass on to Liza, let me know at firstname.lastname@example.org and I’ll personally see that they are passed onto her with proof and verification. Her story still lives.
© SonofGuruve 2016