HUGS

Oppong Clifford Benjamin.

This afternoon I felt for the first time what love does to two bodies screwed into each other for unknown reasons. The science in the process leads to discoveries of tears that eyes have never cried before; very cold yet liberating.

In the scorch of the sun, an old man rested his life on a bench at a park. He probably had made so many mistakes in life that they even showered in the many tattoos that crawled on his wrinkled skin, on the many piercings in his disappointed body, the many rings that arrested all his ten fingers and his very brown and heavy Rasta hair. His pair of worn out jeans were in tatters, his faded black shirt had in the front a painting of a point within a circle - the circumpunct (the universal symbol of God). And at the back was printed the number 33. His eyes were still alive, confident. In fact, his eyes lingered on the last hope of life, as if they reminded him he is still living, he is not dead yet. Once there's life, there's.........
His eyes located God in the bright sky above his head. He searched the sky for mercy, paid attention to the voice of God.
If only he knew he was actually a God, he would rather have searched his shirt, his mind.

God created man in his image, and lazy Christians who read the Bible like they read novel misunderstood that portion of scriptures. Yet when someone unveiled the truth to them, they called him blasphemous devil.
God actually created the minds of men in the image of His mind. That man would climb the 33 vertebrae of his spine to reach the peak of himself (the mind), Jacob's ladder to the heaven (the mind), the Freemasons after they had gained summit of the winding staircase (the spine) of the temple of moral self, arrived at the door of their minds to receive their wages; it is also not mere coincidence that there are 33 degrees in Freemasonry, at 33 degrees Celsius temperature the alchemist turned all metals to gold and so on the number plays roles in many mystical schools. The old man's shirt contained the master number 33 written opposite the symbol of God. This day was designed. This moment in the park was all part of a grand scheme.



Touch me from Heaven, the old man seemed to be saying with his head thrown upwards lifelessly. Life has been cruel. Youthful exuberance had brought him very unfortunate old age. But his tired sneakers seemed to tell him no regrets boss. Yes, you lived. And oh! You're alive. You are just homeless but still you sleep. Hungry yet you feed. Life happens to you. All these I thought of a stranger because of sight.

I had my worries. I wanted somewhere to cry them off. I don't have a job now. I've lost my stay in a foreign country. I contemplated whether to take asylum or to go back home painfully. The idea of returning always frightened my reputation. They will laugh at me. And yet if I stayed I would end up like this old man, I thought as my eyes scanned the remains of a wasted life beside me. I had tears sitting in my body. My eyes were wide opened but I saw nothing in particular.
The coins left in my pocket were all I remembered about money, they were my last breath. I wanted to buy water but I was afraid of letting go those coins. I was scared my breath will cease. So I sat there very thirsty, waiting for a miracle.

I found a designed smile on the man's face. He wanted to  communicate his happiness with me but I was too broken to collect the pieces of my face together for a smile. I managed a glance at his self and my eyes fell dead on the circumpunct. I stared now. The Sun God Ra, I thought. Eventually, I pushed my face backwards to form a smile and it met the number 33. It wasn't a genuine smile but that was all I could create for the moment.

I realized the man was far better than I was. He was a citizen of the country. Yet I could see in the man's constant stares he wished to be like me. To be young again. To be in fine cloths. To have smooth skin. To have a home. And there I sat almost homeless, almost dying of thirst, almost hungry.

Like God had foreordained it, our eyes met in a very dense atmosphere, the air ceased to be air. 'You don't need money, this is what you need....' the old man whispered to me. I didn't want to believe he was talking to me. 'Can I hug you, pls? ' politely, he asked with a reassuring smile. I didn't know how people respond to love that comes in hugs. Strangely I nodded in the affirmation. I needed somebody anyway. He needed somebody anyway. Humans need humans in them. A body needs a body in it to be complete. A circle needs a dot in it to represent God. Nothing can be empty. Empty vessels make the most........ Everyone needs everyone to be full. We are all one. All is one.

After what seemed like death, what seemed like a sophisticated minute, we found ourselves gazing straight into each other's eyes. I thought about whether I want to hug a dirty old stranger. He probably thought if I will open into God.
Then tears happened in my eyes all of sudden. Tears slapped his wrinkled cheeks and eroded the joy on his face. Like a mother and her baby, we hugged so hard. We wanted to squeeze each other into our bodies. Hug is life. Hug is a religion. Hug is earning an expensive freedom in your prison cell. Hug is the only place grown men become babies again. Hug .........


For about ten minutes long, we hugged. We cried tears. He sobbed all his regrets on my back. I wept bitterly of the few mistakes I have made on his back. We broke the hug. We looked at each other and again, we found ourselves tight into each other's embrace. As if we were thanking ourselves of the surgery we have done on each other. Tears rolled again and again and again  until tears lost their form to something sacred. We wondered if tears said thank you. Tears are not symptoms of weakness, they are the art of unlocking souls. Tears are prayers.

'We are free' I whispered into his ears. 'Are we?' He allowed God to bless our sacred religion. 'Don't we need some more hugs to complete each other?' And then I held him so tight. He retaliated the gesture. 'Come on, sink deeper' the old man said very softly. My body reacted to the chemical reactions. My spirit was light. For once, I was a weightless being in the Holy arms of God. For once, I couldn't feel my body, all that was left of me was a liberated soul. And the old Rastafarian stood in me and I in him. We shared one eye that saw everything our pairs of eyes had never seen all our lifetimes.



The sky took off its elastic cover and poured the manifestation of God on us. Ordinary people ran helter-skelter in search of shelter from the rain. Trees fell on the park. Screams surrounded us. We stayed on the bench as a unit body. We found order out of the chaos. Ordo ab Chaos.

 'God is here.' He looked at his wrist watch 'it is 33 minutes past 3. I'm late' a calm smile stood on his liberated face.
'Are you going somewhere?' 'Work.Waste management engineer. You can tell from my working uniform. You?' I sat up. 'A civil engineer, Sir. Did two semesters of waste management. I need a job, please' Our eyes locked. 'Would you hug me again?' he asked like a child 'any day all day, Sir'. We hugged tightly again and life returned to me. He whispered into my left ear 'you're hired'.