Time Marches On

I was at a funeral where the preacher-man looked at the dead man that lay in the coffin and urged us to live in the awareness of our own encroaching death.  Carrying on with the trees motif he had picked for this occasion, he gravely declared, “There are many of us whose trees are mature and ready to be fell.  No one is getting out of this life alive!”

Tic, toc… I need to make my life count!    

On a lighter note though:

Funeral Humour

A notorious thug is being buried and the pastor asks those present to pay their final tributes to the departed man.  There is a long silence, all eyes seemingly glued to the floor.  Eventually, an old lady walks to the front of the church and says that the deceased had been most helpful.

At this point, everyone is all ears.  You see, the the 'mourners' were there to get closure and confirmation that Kamau and his terrorist acts on the villagers were no more. 

The old lady continues with her narration: “Kamau had come home and it was pouring heavily outside.  I had been taken ill, as is normal with us old, neglected folk.  I was freezing as I had not been able to build a fire to chase away the cold.  Kamau came, hewed firewood, lots of wood and lit a fire for me.  I was truly thankful.”

The crowd was touched by the redeeming story, (ala, kumbe there was a spark of humanity in the fellow, after-all?), until the old lady added that her axe-head had been missing ever since.