The good Lord above has blessed me with many attributes, one amongst them are my two left feet. Where ever there is a slippery floor, a narrow step, a wrinkled carpet, an uneven surface or even a gravelly ground, my feet prove to be dyslexic.
So when my family decided to go on a pilgrimage, everybody had the same piece of advise for me – don’t trip and fall. The theory was that the pilgrims would have such momentum that if/when I fell, they would be unable to stop, and would simply trample over me. While some feared for my untimely demise, there were those with even more faith in my propensity who theorised I would likely set off a stampede.
Don’t trip – the message was drilled into my head.
Well, obviously my feet didn’t get the memo. Sure enough in the middle of a million strong crowd, they decided to tango with my skirt. You know how there is that one brief second before you actually fall when you know with absolute clarity that you are going to fall and your face burns up visualising the ensuing humility, well I could clearly see my headstone – “She stumbled through life and tripped into her grave. Finally she rests”
And just as I was about to fall and meet my maker, Zing!, with the speed of light, out shop an arm, AND HELD ME UP. That iron hand balanced my entire not inconsequential weigh until I could finally detangle my feet and get them to move one beside the other.
The crowd Kept me going. I did not get to see his face nor thank him. To this date I do not know who he was. But thanks to that superman, I went on to live, love, prosper, procreate and above all else, I learnt of the existence of Superheros.