THE WIND CATCHER
‘Who has seen the wind, neither you nor I; but when the trees bow down, you know it’s passing by...’ There is a breed of men and women whose very nature makes them as mercurial as the wind. They are able to slip out of the tightest restraints, flit past the strongest doors and many a man or girl has chosen one of these as a potential future partner only to learn to his or her utter dismay, why many before who made similar choices had failed. These people are infamous for their elusiveness and the many hearts they have broken. For some of these ‘children of the wind’, their instability stems from many reasons. These include a deep-seated fear of commitment, an inability to stop sowing wild oats and sometimes, as simple as it might sound, an inability to find a suitable partner. The son of the wind is not to be mistaken for the philandering man who looks at women the way he does because deep in his heart, he is still like a kid in a candy shop and can’t stop grabbing at the sweets. This one (and the majority of men fall into this category) gorges himself on the different flavours until he falls ill and begins to find the sweets he once craved so much, nauseating. Then he recuperates and after a while, resumes diplomatic relations with the opposite sex. His female equivalent does much the same thing.
Not so, the children of the wind. These ones are elusive, and are often, even if they were the ones who initiated the relationship, unable to take the relationship as far as the partner might want.
As a friend once wrote, the problem in these situations is that many see where stronger parties have failed in their bids to ‘snare’ the children of the wind, but are not discouraged until they find that their own exertions amount to nothing. And then the bitterness starts. There are many who have been hurt and ‘branded’ by the children of the wind and who spend the rest of their lives holding the sources of their pain in unforgiveness.
Where does the Whisperer stand? The Whisperer, in his own days of rage and before he lent gentility, was regarded by many as a chieftain in the ranks of the children of the wind. He would feint, evading grasping fingers as he ran whatever gauntlet was in issue at any particular period of time. Around the world and on every continent, there are people who can regale you with tales of the Whisperer’s infamy, people who will spend hours cataloguing his ‘exploits’ , of how he wounded this one and wreaked havoc in the life of another. The Whisperer does not see these long-gone incidents as badges of honour but as things that happened because he had not yet grown into the fullness of maturity and his calling as a Whisperer. For the librarians who feel it is their destiny to keep archives, the Whisperer advices a change in vocation. People tend to walk in the direction they are facing, so why face things of the past and which are of benefit to no one?
If the man, who has ‘wronged’ you, gives you no thought, it might be better for you to dust your clothes, and get on with the business of living. We each have only one life to live and every second counts.
How to know who the children of the wind, are? It’s not as difficult as it sounds. An unwillingness to yield to long-term commitment is a tell-tale trait, and you are advised to let this kind of people live their lives. Do not feel a compulsion to play a central role in the emotional upheavals that usually follow the affairs of these people.
Is there any kind of being such as a wind-catcher? One who can hold on to a child of the wind no matter how much he or she twirls and turns and attempts to elude the grip of the catcher? Yes, there are, but often, the catcher is of the same stock as he or she who would escape and they usually complement each other. Sometimes, an individual is given the grace to be the one who will hold on to the wind. Sometimes, the wind itself waits to be captured because it needs a certain type of person in its own life.
If you are not called to be a wind-catcher, do not try to force it; you will be resented for your tenacity if the wind-child ever decides to break free and seeks to escape. A misshapen relationship will come into being if this person seeks escape and cannot find it, the relationship knocked out of any proper shape or definition, until someday, an escape, for you cannot hold the wind forever.
On to lighter matters, a couple of months ago, that most respected of film houses announced through their massive television station outreach that the Whisperer had won a night for two at a hotel somewhere just at the edge of Lagos, his name being drawn at a raffle . (This Whisperer loves the movies). After the presentations, filmed and broadcast on TV, the Whisperer finally made it to the hotel which shares names with an insurance company, to claim his prize. The manager hemmed and hawed for a while and said he’d call but he is yet to do so. Somehow, the Whisperer’s prize became trapped in space. I would like the night I won, restored to me, its rightful owner, so I may sit in quietness and solitude for one night and think of the days of thunder when I ran with the children of the wind.