When life
stares hard at you in the face, do you stare back or simply flinch? The
adversities of life are extremely disrespectful. They show up without notice
and try to tear our dignity into shreds but there is yet a man that can weather
the storms of life and come out unscathed. A giant not necessarily in the
pounds he weighs or the feet he measures in height but him that has unraveled
the secret weapons of life’s battles and has mastery in welding them. Such is
the man that stands unflinchingly at the face of troubles and gives his
challenges a long hard stare that eventually breaks into a chuckle when he
emerges victorious. Today, I would like to share with you three weapons forged
in eternity, in the presence of which despair disappears and only a song of
victory is sure.
This event happened long before I was born and long before you let out your first shrill came this thunderous shrill in a hut in the distant land of “Arogbo”. Surrounded by the traditional midwife and experienced mothers was a set of triplet screaming in high pitch as euphoria took over the neighborhood. The long awaited birth had come and the gods had proven to be true for the compensation for an almost eternal delay was three healthy screaming boys. Kurokimi, the great warrior didn’t have to fret, he had beseeched the gods for a warrior but they had given him three. The drums were rolled out and the “ijaw-wuru” freely poured at every corner of the warriors’ compound, it was a great feast that lasted for three days and three nights. "Sui generis” indeed!
The gods bestowed rapid growth upon the triplet; they were bigger in stature than all their contemporaries and learnt the art of war as boys but the great warrior, with his wealth of experience soon fathomed out something by the help of the eye of the gods who lived in the mountains. The clairvoyant saw that the triplet would conquer great battles, bring down fortified kingdoms and reduce many a great kings into ordinary men. They would be known not just in their community but will be revered in distant lands. Their exploits would supersede their fathers’ and the spoils of their wars would be a city itself but they had to walk in circumspection and above all togetherness.
The eye of the gods proclaimed that as long as they stood together, there was no man born of a woman that could conquer them but woe betides them the day they go separately into battle. The great warrior was pleased and hurriedly left the presence of the clairvoyant who had not emptied all the words in his heart for in the spirit world, the boys had been given three unique names and their names were their weapons in the human world. Their father had not tarried to inquire the names of the eye of the gods.
Time passed in a blur, boys became teenagers and teenagers became full grown men, warriors. Kurokimi the great had begun to fade; his vision wasn’t as sharp or his grasp as firm. His ancestors came calling and time became a luxury. So, on a harmattan night, when the sound of the wind boisterously overwhelmed the song of the night owls, he sent for his sons. His intention palpably was to inculcate into them final values, bless them and bid them farewell.
His speech was concise and following words resonated through the howling of the harmattan wind “your doom lies in your division”. Shortly after, the great warrior left for the realm of the spirits. It was an abomination for the brave to shed tears. His sons, brave men, indulged no emotions and buried their father as tradition would demand a warrior be sent forth. A remarkable ceremony it was!
Thirty days passed and catastrophe struck, the town was being invaded by a coalition of warriors from the west and the north.
Pandemonium took over, Kurokimi had just being buried and the entire town was still in mourning. The king immediately ordered for all the brave men to prepare for battle and meet the enemies at the gate before they infiltrated into the city. Kurokimi’s youngest son raised an argument at the king’s palace. It was tradition to mourn a deceased warrior for forty days or incur the wrath of the gods! Time had failed them the king announced; the city was under attack and would be taken in no time if a counter attack was not launched.
Kurokimi’s third son further suggested that the city take to siege and complete the mourning period within the city walls. No enemy could break down the legendary walls he went on and after that, they could launch a full attack. An excruciating argument ensued amidst the warriors. There was an enormous division, a dissension that had gotten way out of reason. Logic had proven abortive and force was taking over. The king then moved for a vote, alas, it was in the disfavor of Kurokimi’s last son. The warriors were to match out at sundown into the valley that separated their city from the northern and western borders. They were to battle at dawn!
The last son objected obstinately, he told his brothers he would rather incur the wrath of the king than that of the gods. He was not matching out until he had given his father his well earned mourning rite. The other brothers tried to convince him beyond all doubts but the young warrior was recalcitrant. Thirty one days after the death of Kurokimi, his sons went into battle not as the legendary trio but as two of three brave brothers. The brave two, blinded by patriotism, let their fathers warning fall to the wind and matched straight into their Waterloo dismissing their last brother as a Neanderthal.
The battle was fierce, the warriors fought gallantly but on the thirty eight day, they could not hold the line. The enemy had a huge stash of reinforcement but the army from Kurokimi’s city had lost many soldiers.
Defeat seemed imminent, so the horn was sounded for a retreat. It took them two days to get safely back into the fortress, half of the warriors gone. Kurokimi’s two sons made it back to the city alive but badly wounded. It was a horrendous blood bath. The enemy was advancing so; the citizens had to be evacuated using the underground tunnels, women and children first while the remaining warriors faced the invaders to buy the escapees enough time.
It was the end of the city but this time, the brave trio stood side by side and the third son came up with a strategy seeing that the army was outnumbered three to one. They set an ambush for the enemy soldiers who fell straight into their trap and with the city gates shut; they fought fearlessly and with versatility till dawn. They won the battle but shortly after, precisely on the forty fifth day after their father’s demise, his two eldest sons joined him. They were heroes and immortalized, their effigies standing at the left and right hand side of the city gate. Their last brother lived to a good old age though his vision blurred, his teeth fell off, his bones got soft but he became very wise.
The wisdom that came with old age helped him interpret their names from the human language in to that of the spirit and he discovered what their father had not the patience to understand centuries ago. In the realm of the spirit, his name meant wisdom, his eldest brother strength and the one that stood in between, courage. The brothers were strength, courage and wisdom and their names were the weapons the gods had given them. He then understood why his father overemphasized their staying together because at the end, there were one person and an augmentation of the trio would consequent a limitless and inexplicable victory on any battle ground.
Sensing that his ancestors beckoned on him, he made it a duty to narrate the tale of his brothers, the indomitable trio to every young warrior because any man who got to know and worked on himself enough to discover how to weld those three weapons strength, courage and wisdom will never lose a battle. His tale lived after him, it is still told up to this very moment.
You might be saying to yourself that they were three entities bequeath with three distinct gifts but I make bold to tell you and indeed with hundred percent veracity that lying somewhere deep inside of you and untapped are the same weapons that were forged in eternity. You might have discovered one or two and are probably satisfied with your finding but there is one yet lying, unused. Search your insides for it and when you have found all three of them, learn how to weld them and when you have mastered their usage, stand upright and give that disrespectful challenge a long hard stare, and then you will be amazed at who will be flinching. Certainly not you! And it is simply because you just became indomitable! Break that shackle that bounds you to petrifaction, Shakespeare said through the mouth of great Julius Ceaser
This event happened long before I was born and long before you let out your first shrill came this thunderous shrill in a hut in the distant land of “Arogbo”. Surrounded by the traditional midwife and experienced mothers was a set of triplet screaming in high pitch as euphoria took over the neighborhood. The long awaited birth had come and the gods had proven to be true for the compensation for an almost eternal delay was three healthy screaming boys. Kurokimi, the great warrior didn’t have to fret, he had beseeched the gods for a warrior but they had given him three. The drums were rolled out and the “ijaw-wuru” freely poured at every corner of the warriors’ compound, it was a great feast that lasted for three days and three nights. "Sui generis” indeed!
The gods bestowed rapid growth upon the triplet; they were bigger in stature than all their contemporaries and learnt the art of war as boys but the great warrior, with his wealth of experience soon fathomed out something by the help of the eye of the gods who lived in the mountains. The clairvoyant saw that the triplet would conquer great battles, bring down fortified kingdoms and reduce many a great kings into ordinary men. They would be known not just in their community but will be revered in distant lands. Their exploits would supersede their fathers’ and the spoils of their wars would be a city itself but they had to walk in circumspection and above all togetherness.
The eye of the gods proclaimed that as long as they stood together, there was no man born of a woman that could conquer them but woe betides them the day they go separately into battle. The great warrior was pleased and hurriedly left the presence of the clairvoyant who had not emptied all the words in his heart for in the spirit world, the boys had been given three unique names and their names were their weapons in the human world. Their father had not tarried to inquire the names of the eye of the gods.
Time passed in a blur, boys became teenagers and teenagers became full grown men, warriors. Kurokimi the great had begun to fade; his vision wasn’t as sharp or his grasp as firm. His ancestors came calling and time became a luxury. So, on a harmattan night, when the sound of the wind boisterously overwhelmed the song of the night owls, he sent for his sons. His intention palpably was to inculcate into them final values, bless them and bid them farewell.
His speech was concise and following words resonated through the howling of the harmattan wind “your doom lies in your division”. Shortly after, the great warrior left for the realm of the spirits. It was an abomination for the brave to shed tears. His sons, brave men, indulged no emotions and buried their father as tradition would demand a warrior be sent forth. A remarkable ceremony it was!
Thirty days passed and catastrophe struck, the town was being invaded by a coalition of warriors from the west and the north.
Pandemonium took over, Kurokimi had just being buried and the entire town was still in mourning. The king immediately ordered for all the brave men to prepare for battle and meet the enemies at the gate before they infiltrated into the city. Kurokimi’s youngest son raised an argument at the king’s palace. It was tradition to mourn a deceased warrior for forty days or incur the wrath of the gods! Time had failed them the king announced; the city was under attack and would be taken in no time if a counter attack was not launched.
Kurokimi’s third son further suggested that the city take to siege and complete the mourning period within the city walls. No enemy could break down the legendary walls he went on and after that, they could launch a full attack. An excruciating argument ensued amidst the warriors. There was an enormous division, a dissension that had gotten way out of reason. Logic had proven abortive and force was taking over. The king then moved for a vote, alas, it was in the disfavor of Kurokimi’s last son. The warriors were to match out at sundown into the valley that separated their city from the northern and western borders. They were to battle at dawn!
The last son objected obstinately, he told his brothers he would rather incur the wrath of the king than that of the gods. He was not matching out until he had given his father his well earned mourning rite. The other brothers tried to convince him beyond all doubts but the young warrior was recalcitrant. Thirty one days after the death of Kurokimi, his sons went into battle not as the legendary trio but as two of three brave brothers. The brave two, blinded by patriotism, let their fathers warning fall to the wind and matched straight into their Waterloo dismissing their last brother as a Neanderthal.
The battle was fierce, the warriors fought gallantly but on the thirty eight day, they could not hold the line. The enemy had a huge stash of reinforcement but the army from Kurokimi’s city had lost many soldiers.
Defeat seemed imminent, so the horn was sounded for a retreat. It took them two days to get safely back into the fortress, half of the warriors gone. Kurokimi’s two sons made it back to the city alive but badly wounded. It was a horrendous blood bath. The enemy was advancing so; the citizens had to be evacuated using the underground tunnels, women and children first while the remaining warriors faced the invaders to buy the escapees enough time.
It was the end of the city but this time, the brave trio stood side by side and the third son came up with a strategy seeing that the army was outnumbered three to one. They set an ambush for the enemy soldiers who fell straight into their trap and with the city gates shut; they fought fearlessly and with versatility till dawn. They won the battle but shortly after, precisely on the forty fifth day after their father’s demise, his two eldest sons joined him. They were heroes and immortalized, their effigies standing at the left and right hand side of the city gate. Their last brother lived to a good old age though his vision blurred, his teeth fell off, his bones got soft but he became very wise.
The wisdom that came with old age helped him interpret their names from the human language in to that of the spirit and he discovered what their father had not the patience to understand centuries ago. In the realm of the spirit, his name meant wisdom, his eldest brother strength and the one that stood in between, courage. The brothers were strength, courage and wisdom and their names were the weapons the gods had given them. He then understood why his father overemphasized their staying together because at the end, there were one person and an augmentation of the trio would consequent a limitless and inexplicable victory on any battle ground.
Sensing that his ancestors beckoned on him, he made it a duty to narrate the tale of his brothers, the indomitable trio to every young warrior because any man who got to know and worked on himself enough to discover how to weld those three weapons strength, courage and wisdom will never lose a battle. His tale lived after him, it is still told up to this very moment.
You might be saying to yourself that they were three entities bequeath with three distinct gifts but I make bold to tell you and indeed with hundred percent veracity that lying somewhere deep inside of you and untapped are the same weapons that were forged in eternity. You might have discovered one or two and are probably satisfied with your finding but there is one yet lying, unused. Search your insides for it and when you have found all three of them, learn how to weld them and when you have mastered their usage, stand upright and give that disrespectful challenge a long hard stare, and then you will be amazed at who will be flinching. Certainly not you! And it is simply because you just became indomitable! Break that shackle that bounds you to petrifaction, Shakespeare said through the mouth of great Julius Ceaser
"cowards
die many times before their deaths; 
the
valiant never taste of death but once, of
all the wonders that yet I have heard it seems to
me most strange that man should fear seeing that death,
a necessary end will come, when it will come"
a necessary end will come, when it will come"
Let strength,
courage and wisdom light your paths through the dark creepy tunnels of fear as
you face it and become indomitable!!!!!!!!!
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