2016 could have been your annus horribilis. Or your best year yet.
But as it comes to a close, look into the heavens and thank your Gods. You are still here.
The Karai 43 are not, yet they sinned no more than you did. The Al Adde 150 rest so we live. Achieng Abura sings with the stars, yet we still croak with the frogs right here on earth. Many more rest beneath the clay, as we all shall some day. Only not this year, hopefully (we still got some 40-odd hours to go!)
And especially to those the year was horrible and grindingly unforgiving; those that lost fortunes and loved ones; those that lost livelihoods and neibahoods; those that almost despaired and depressed; those that failed to attain their dreams and aspirations; those, indeed, who were pulled back by the foibles and fickleness of our very human nature.
We are many; you are not alone.
So, not enter quietly into 2017. Do not whimper or hide in shame. You are here. You have survived - or even thrived.
Now, as we enter another year, whenever your spirits dip or your drive dies, remember these the words of one of the greatest poems ever written, and which have seen me, personally, through thick and thin:
INVICTUS
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeoning of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
A prosperous 2017. Godspeed!
