FOR THE MOTHERLAND (PART I)

_{For the motherland - Pixabay CCO}

Luke cowered behind a broken wall, his own heartbeat pounding in his ears like a thousand drums beating in a singular, rhythmic cadence. A pleasant description, it would seem, but the only problem was that there was nothing musical about his situation.

His vest, supposed to be white, had been crisscrossed with crosshatches of brown, and the majority of the front of the clothing article mentioned had been recolored different shades of grey. Not to mention the huge patch of faded reddish-brown that claimed the lower left part of a once white vest, which had so proudly displayed the insignia of the National Youth Service Corps, in more halcyon days.

Now it was torn and soiled, perhaps, in the opinions of many, like the very same country which Luke was supposed to be serving. But for now, not the state of the country, nor any other thing was of great import to the young man who hid for his life hopefully out of sight of the marauders who sought to claim his life. Nothing, except survival.

It had been the same strange thing called survival that had made him leave the place he knew and the people he loved, to go to a strange land, with strange people, and a strange language.

just because, in his opinion, and that of probably close to a quarter of a billion others, that performing the apparently compulsory one year of “service to the motherland” was necessary to what passed off as a life in the great country to which he was expected to owe allegiance.

Here was a short summary of the so-called life: get a job of slaving for someone else who probably didn’t care about your well-being, except that you were merely a tool to make money, then marry a woman you hoped you knew, then add to your troubles by getting kids who would probably love their mother more than you, despite the fact that you worked off your behind and poured all your earnings into providing their upkeep and securing a future for them, then manage your way to middle-age and get a middle-age disease; arthritis was much more preferable to cancer or kidney failure, then retire and become a pensioner, and hope that by this time, somehow you hadn’t become so odious to your kids that they wouldn’t let you see your grandchildren when they spawned. Oh yes, then die.

Everyone dies; that was a fact. But Luke didn’t plan on dying here… at least not now.

That little boy,

@pearlumie