A LITTLE GIRL'S FUN

 

I saw a gleeful little girl on my way back from work on a Friday no different from every other Fridays. Her eyes glistened with ecstasy. And her mud-coloured skin shone in the dull shine of the evening sun. She should be about five or six; a harmless mommy's little lad. 

She was chasing a bewildered, embattled hen with chicks. She teased them, hen and chicks; the cheerful smirk on her face telling of the great joy she derived from playing this almighty terror lord of the chickens.

Little girl stroke hard every minute of the chase. At each strike of her foot on the ground, the hen flapped its wings; its red eyeballs darting, a "kookoookoo" sound in its throat, as it hits its tiny feet on the ground fleeing for its dear life, alongside that of its chicks. 

But little girl was not alone. At the scene of this event were her Elders. Mother, father, and probably aunties. They were chatting, and from time to time, their eyes watched the little girl as she played around and had her fun. 

I took in the event gently as I passed, my heart sinking at what the hen might actually be going through. I imagined myself in the situation of this hen. Me, my family, and everyone I love running helter-skelter, for our lives, not knowing what we did to deserve our fate, or why horror-happy humans whose idea of happiness and game might just happen to be chasing and killing other humans are finding our predicament worthy enough to be only but a thing of fun. 

I thought of our politicians too, the rich, people who hurt others. I thought, could this be the same way our politicians and most heartless rich people behave? Could it perhaps be, that while we shout in pain, and our lives on the verge of ending, with harsh policies, selfishness, greed, unnecessary superiority complex, that, they don't even have the faintest idea of what we are really going through?

Could this be why they blatantly laugh heartily while the nation sink, and the people die? Even go to the house to crack jokes? To nonchalantly throw around let the poor breathe? 

As I walked on, contemplating on these thoughts, one of the chicks on the run fell inside a gutter just at the same instant the little girl seeming to have had enough fun was running towards her mother. 

"You have played to your fill, right?" Her mother had asked, scooping her into her hands with no obvious concern for anything else. Not of the hen that has lost one of its chicks, nor of the chick that was now inside the gutter, crying for its helpless mother, and for the living horror that was fast becoming the story of its destiny. 

I worried of what the fate of this chick was likely going to be. Will it later be helped out by someone? Or will it be drown amongst the rest of the gutter's debris, whenever heavens decides to explode, and of its watery contents, graciously upon the face of the earth pour?  

Well, I knew that was a question I am never likely going to have an answer for. 

I took a last look at the scene before cutting to the road that led to my street. The girl was now warmly in her mother's arms, unperturbed; evidently oblivious of the gravity of her actions towards the chick. The hen, on the other hand, was no longer running, but the "kookooo" sound still rang from its throat, and its eyes continued to dart in confusion; a confusion, I am well aware, must be from the dilemma of what to do about her dear chick, that has now become, the casualty of a little girl's fun.