## The Oration
"What was it exactly that endeared Max to us?" he began, looking at the crowd. In attendance were more than three thousand people: men, women and children. He could not imagine how they all knew him or how they all came to know about his funeral.
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"Was it equanimity?" He continued. "His youthful exuberance, fairness, honesty, generosity or just the way he appreciated others? For me it was his confidence of the eventual triumph of good over evil, his bravery, his compassion and his ability to make each person feel special no matter who you are."
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The speaker paused to gather his thoughts. He met Max, no he is not sure when he met Max but one day was vivid in his mind as the day he really looked at him for the first time. It was middle of 1969 in the Biafra province. The enemy forces had attacked the base of the battalion in which Max and his colleagues were in the middle of the night.
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It was raining heavily but the troop needed to cross into another town through the thick rain forest crawling with all forms of amphibians and decorated by climbing plants. Every half hour, they came across a water body, a brook or some other running water. They carried with them, their food supplies, their drinking water, guns and other ammunition. Max carried a bomb specially made by the Biafran army called _Ogbunigwe_ which loosely translates to **killer in multitudes**.
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He carried it on his head! It weighed about fifteen kilograms. As they negotiated their way through the forest, they each used scissors or pocket knifes to cut the ropes of the climbing plants to ensure they did not leave tracks that the enemy soldiers could easily follow. Unknown to Max, there was one of those plants just above his head but low enough to pull the bomb off his head as he moved forward. He did move forward.
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Suddenly the bomb fell of his head. It was a mechanical device that could be triggered by falling. So as it fell from his head, Max closed his eyes and waited for the lightness that will come as his spirit soared away. He had heard so many stories about how people never get to see or hear the bullet that kills them. He was not expecting to hear the bomb but he knew the result. He kept his eyes tightly shut for ten seconds and nothing happened. He was not afloat from his mortal body, his legs were still firm on the ground.
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He opened his eyes slowly to see that the bomb had fallen into the ditch of water he had just crossed. Slowly and without a word, he folded his old shirt which he used as a pad on his head to carry the bomb again. As far as the speaker could tell, he never complained about having had that risky assignment. Reflecting on it, he felt that this was how Max carried all the troubles that life threw at him throughout his life....
With bravery, no complaints and a smile that heals the soul, Max sailed through life.
"Each person that knew him, knows how lucky they are to have breathed the same air with him. He helped me out of many tough situations than I can remember and sometimes when there was nothing either of us could do about a situation, he would just sit and listen, making you feel that you matter and I suspect people did matter a lot to him. He was a perfect gentleman, compadre without compare."
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_We often get so busy with life that we forget what matters. In the final analysis, people will only remember us by how we made them feel. Finally, I leave you with this poem_
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## Slow Dance
>Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round?
Or listened to the rain slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight?
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
>You better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.
>Do you run through each day on the fly?
When you ask, “How are you?”
Do you hear the reply?
>When the day is done, do you lie in your bed,
with the next hundred chores running through your head?
>You'd better slow down
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short
The music won't last.
>Ever told your child,
We'll do it tomorrow?
And in your haste,
Not see his sorrow?
>Ever lost touch, let a good friendship die
Cause you never had time
To call and say,'Hi'
>You'd better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last..
>When you run so fast to get somewhere,
You miss half the fun of getting there.
>When you worry and hurry through your day,
It is like an unopened gift....
Thrown away.
>Life is not a race.
Do take it slower
Hear the music
Before the song is over.
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Images were obtained from [Pixabay](www.pixabay.com)
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It's your boy Kels
@churchboy
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hiveblocks