On a few odd days, he embraced the dark thoughts. On such days, his perception was substantially upended, and he looked at death as an escape, a feeling that came with curious relief. The deathly scent no longer stung his nose. But that sort of episode never lasted longer than a few hours, even if he wanted; he couldn't get himself to spend so long in that state because the contrary held greater sway over his life and decisions. Life had been hard, and it was clear for all to see, but death wasn't to be desired if it wasn't the time for it.
For many years, he had been trapped in a cycle of tragedy, within and without. Over the years, the biggest of his tragedies was the loss of his dreams, and with every second that went by, he could see his dreams evaporate into a mist that soon vanished. He worried, mostly, that he would one day wake up hollow, a relic of the past, an empty shell, a cloud without water, wandering about without a sense of purpose or direction, and that made his stomach violently turn with unbridled anger. It seemed as though money, to those who didn't have it, was everything. And he had been condemned to this abysmal part of life without it—a life filled with longing and envy and wondering who he had angered to end up with such a grim reality.
On many days in the afternoon, when his thoughts became overwhelming, on days he failed to find what to eat or had eaten too little, he took the short trip to his friend Salim, who owned a palm oil plantation and seemed to always cook more than he needed. He had the peculiar custom of where he was raised, which emphasized that when one cooked, they ought to cook for at least one more person in case a visitor came unannounced, and if no one came unannounced, the host would take on the second plate and forego supper.
Salim had just eaten when he arrived. "Oh, Levi, good timing!" Salim said, his face lighting up with jolly eagerness. "I didn't think I would have it in me to take on the second plate."
"Have you thought about what happens if you don't follow the tradition of your native place?" Levi said, quickly recognizing how foolish a question that was, because if Salim stopped, then he would go hungry for at least three days a week.
"I would rather not find out," Salim quipped. "I'm not blind when I follow tradition; sometimes I do it because we are creatures of habits and routines, and without believing in some sort of tradition, life feels like floating about in the wilderness. There is purpose in these things, however foolish they appear; they are important when we think they are. It's not in their innate nature to be."
"That's a lot; I've never thought about it that way," Levi said, taking up a stool on the opposite side of a stone Salim loved to sit at. "You should start eating before it gets cold."
"Sure!"
After a shabby job washing his hands, Levi rolled the ball of posho into an irregular shape, pressed it in the palm of his folded hand, dipped it in groundnut paste mixed with meat, and took it up in one swift motion. While chewing, he remembered a question he had wanted to ask, not wanting to wait because he didn't want to lose his train of thought.
"What entails a happy life?" Levi spoke through muffled speech as he sought to swallow and take up another ball.
"What do you mean?"
"You seem happy even without too much; do you not seek out of this life beyond your plantation and hut?" Levi pressed.
"Is the question attached to your present presentation?" Salim retorted. Levi still chewed and waited to swallow and then speak.
"I'm constantly anxious about my life, never had enough to live on, had to curb my expectation of life, and live in a constant state of dissatisfaction in my situation, with a feeling of resignation that it won't change."
"You get it wrong, Levi; all life is perception, and life is dynamic. It can happen anywhere and need not be fixed in boxes to define if it has been good or not. I find great joy in small things, one of which is my plantation." Salim continued, "But for one with an infirmity of mind that disregards the reality in front of them to chase a fantasy, happiness is unattainable. Life will still be in the future, and by the end of it, you'll realize you never once lived."
There was silence, and Levi contemplated Salim's words while making balls and devouring them to Salim's amusement. "So, what do I do?" Levi asked, with a resigned look on his face, tinged with tiredness from finishing off the meal.
"You'll need to define your own happiness in your present situation," Salim replied. "Life is meant to be lived as is, to exist independently of anything; those things should follow it and not define it. So, if you ask me what you should do, the answer is to know what's important and treat it as such."
