I hate being lost. I really hate being lost. Like how lost I was months back in Westlands. I was going to meet this client and I got lost. Technically, I didn’t really get lost. But you could say I was lost, pacing from the house to the nearest two houses without even knowing that’s the house. Plus, that helpless feeling that comes from being lost too. And worse, the looks you receive from members of the community or passersby or plain strangers like yourself. Then worst, you start to think what you think all these people must be thinking of you, walking by and taking a second glance at you like they do. All I’m saying is being lost sucks and more than sucking, it hurts.
Being lost hurts your ego, your pride, your sense of being in control and that’s what makes it suck that bad. Here you are, looking at buildings like you’ve not seen one before, squinting hard at empty address plates like somehow numbers should appear, sitting by short walls and frantically staring at your phone, screaming inside you for help. You’ve totally lost control. You’re stuck. You can’t go home and you’re hoping you don’t have to go home without finishing this important business you hopped into three trotros to get here for. In the middle of being lost like this, I began to understand why being unsure of the next step in life can get us worked up so much. Because not knowing what job you’ll work after a degree, whether to marry or live single, if you’d love to marry — whom to marry, what career path to choose, whether to move or stay, whether you’ll be cured or not is much like being lost in this big life maze. And it sucks. And more than it sucking, it hurts. Being lost hurts your ego, your pride, your sense of being in control and that’s what makes it suck that bad.
Here you are with your many years of life experience looking at option’s like you’ve not been in this life before, squinting hard at empty plans hoping something will appear and tell you what to do, where to go. You sit at home, in the bus, look at other’s lives and you begin to search frantically for how to get unstuck. You scream inside you for help. You’ve totally lost control. You’re stuck. You can’t redo the years you have and you can’t just quit because there’s life to live, this dream to pursue, this purpose to fulfill. You’ve heard thousands of stories of how people were here in your place and gave up — the examples of those who failed. And you’ve heard thousands more of those who kept trying and succeeded. In this place, in this moment where you’re stuck, you determine you aren’t going to be an example of those who failed, those who gave up. But you’re terrified you’ll be. After all, here you are not knowing jack about how you’ll find yourself. And isn’t that the problem; your ego. This pride that says losing control and not knowing where you’re headed, asking for help, calling to be found is weak. It is failure. Isn’t that the real enemy? The waiting, the seeming time wasted doing nothing, not proving ourselves. Not the empty addresses and plans, not the years of experience in living that strangely decides to fail. When we’re lost, we can’t find our way back by ourselves. We’ll need help. We need help. Help from friends, family, mentors, strangers and most importantly God.
When I got lost at Westlands, Accra – Ghana, I waited over an hour before help came. Help did come and when I was going back home that night, I learnt two more things. I had used the longest route to the place when the shortest was right before me and if I had not waited for the help and gone back home, I’d have used the longest route back. I sure would have come back the next day for the same reason I came the previous and use the longest route. I’d have spent another day not knowing there was a short route. That was worth my one hour wait. Living is times worth the wait, the times of being stuck, the helplessness, the seasons of God weaning us from self-dependency. Much more being lost prepared my heart to be able to say when I need help, have mercy on me, son of David!
©M’afua Awo Twumwaah 2017.
Afua Awo Twumwa 