God, people and cows

Ouuuuuuuuuuuch! Ow ow ow! Yoh! Yoh! Yoh! Hhayi marroda! Ey... good morning fellas... I will use good morning out of the familiarity of the greeting. Otherwise there is nothing good about this downright obnoxious morning that I’m finding myself having to endure. Sadly though, I have no one but myself to blame for this awful predicament I’m undergoing.

As you can see I am seated on this rock here in this wild bushy mountain at Magedeza. The howls of agony you heard as you approached me are a result of this long, super sharp thorn that I stepped on as I was running through the forest in my tyre sandals. The horrendous thorn was only too happy to pierce the subtle skin between my toes, ripping open all those tender nerves and driving itself deep in while my blood gushed out in protest of that rude violation of my body. I am still trying to gather enough courage to uproot it.

And why is a man as old as I am, now approaching 99.93 years of ripe old age, running at about 63km per hour in a bushy, thorny mountain, hurdling over rocks and skipping over stones and crouching under treacherous viny trees that have mischievous hooked thorns that grip the hair, or clothes, or even exposed flesh forcing an abrupt stop and a skidding sound from the ground?

I met a young boy earlier trying to rein in two very wild cows down by the Mhlatfute river. The boy was soaking wet with perspiration and his tongue hung out of his mouth in a brilliant display of exhaustion and despair. Without even considering the situation I engaged my turbo and flew after one of the beasts. The desperate chap shouted after me “yes, yes, please help me Madara, I need to take these cows to the dip tank tomorrow! They have been awol for the past two weeks... father.... with a sjambok.” I couldn’t make out the end of the sentence with the wind swooshing past my ears.

I bent my back slightly so that my centre of gravity was nearer to the ground to allow me to turn corners at the neck breaking speed at which I was running. The beast flew into the forest and I ‘flew’ in after it.
Now that I am seated here my mind is starting to analyse the whole thing... here is a cow, with ticks on its udder and under its tail and also other places. A tick bite is very painful and with time the affected area will rot and disintegrate and develop into a venomous, pus filled, terribly painful sore. To go to the dip would save the cow a lot of misery, but it won’t go.

Dear Lord God I thank you for life. I thank you for your eternal grace and your ever warm embrace. We, human beings, Father, are like this cow, we prefer the tick of sin, clinging to us and sucking out our lives and its only a matter of time before a our spirits succumb to this incessant vacuuming from the mother tick - the devil. The pain that you feel as you pursue us, trying to rescue us from eternal damnation is immeasurable, this thorn - pain I’m feeling is nothing at all compared to the pain of laying down your life and still not receiving recognition as the most high.... wait!!! Is that a tail in that bush? Gotcha miss cow!
Shhhhh fellas, dont make noise now, you will scare her again and she will bolt again before I grab the tail... I will see you next Monday....

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