Innocent is Sweet

I saw a baby giggling at the gentle touch of a stranger,
I saw village kids grateful to see an old rickety rackety dump truck pass by,
As a little boy, I couldn’t wait to play in the rain or slide on a muddy slope after rain,
While herding my father’s flock, I would count all the vehicles I could see,
And even more, sighting them till they disappeared into the horizon made my day,
I also remember the old stories after dinner and how I couldn’t afford to miss them,
Demanding a pause when I was sent to bring something or to confirm if Simba (the African Bulldog that terrified strangers in our home) was back to have his dinner after his daily evening tours to fight stray dogs,
It was always lovely kicking the village polyethene football, designed under technology more technical than Jabulani,
As little boys, we enjoyed every sermon in the Church, even the ones with narrow exegesis,
We said amen even to the undisciplined musicians who went to the stage with only a verse and kept on finding words and sweating profusely in front of an audience,

O the good old days,
When we cared less about our birthdays,
With zero heartbreaks and zero rejections,
With no stress at all, even if we ate our father’s last coin at the dinner table,
But things have changed,
And the change is irreversible,
A gentle touch of a stranger will attract mob justice,
The cars that can hold our attention are the SUVs,
And a little drop of mud will make us go for dry cleaning,
We don’t herd anymore; our livestock are prisoned in the paddock,
Vehicles are everywhere, and we don’t stand to watch them pass anymore,
The bedtime stories have been replaced by the endless series of addictive and morally degrading foreign programs on cable TV,
And Simba, the village dog, has been replaced by a strange animal,
I hear they call it Chihuahua, and I see it being treated better than we dreamt as little village boys,
And to the pleasure of the village league, we have been imprisoned to the European football,
Suffering heart attacks every weekend and finding pleasure in the loss of others makes us little savages,
And even when we come to Church, we are weighing the sermons and can’t enjoy them if we don’t know their theological acumen,
Chaotic instruments have spoiled even our music taste buds; human vocals are not sweet anymore,
And we’ve gone to these places when forgetting people’s birthdays is an insult,
And our hearts have developed thick skins after a series of heartbreaks and rejections,
And even when we get our dinner table well dressed, the fear of the unknown steals away our present privileges,
We are heard to entertain because we have grown a keen appetite for the uncensored and the forbidden,
The very things which made us have a heavenly experience we have outgrown and out-tasted,
So even advertising executives are in a dilemma because we are only attracted to adverts when they are sensual and voyeuristic,
But in all these, we are taught one timeless lesson, “INNOCENT IS SWEET”,
Are you innocent?

Or, could it be that the ephemerals and follies of this world have made you sophisticated?
I know someone who can make you regain that which has been lost through indulgence of uncontrolled appetite,
That someone is Jesus…,
Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.