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30.06.2020 Feature Article

Freedom never comes - Part 16

Freedom never comes  - Part 16
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Heinz Wohlfarth asked: "Which door to use?"

"Which door to take?" asked George Fähnrich.

"Which door to use?" asked Moshe Shalom.

"Which door to take?" asked Seth Wooly.

"Which door to use?" asked Linda Evans.

They stood side by side in inner silence. Their eyes were wide opened, their minds confused. Silently did they ask themselves how possible to be standing at the place they were standing. They looked around, it was all quiet, no sound to be heard, no cry disturbing the peace of the moment. Each of them looked down on their shape to convince themselves of themselves. Yes, what each of them saw was the shape of a human body, but were they real bodies with flesh and blood, with brain and imagination, with moral values and dreams and hopes? They had their doubts pinching each other by their arms. They did not feel any pain, yet they were able to see each other in human shape, not ghost like style of humans once born and gone for good into heaven and hell. No, they stood side by side in human bodies, in their shapes. They looked around, then they turned around. Nothing but doors to be seen. Doors with no numbers, doors with no ending, doors endless as far as their eyes could see. And they stood in front of the doors. White all round, nothing had an end, only white all around. No sound to be heard, no heartbeat to be noticed; no whispering to blow like a quiet wind through their ranks. Time was nowhere to be seen. Loneliness among others lifted itself up in their minds. They saw each other next to one another yet having to stand still alone all by themselves. Everything did not feel right, not real, nothing possible to understand based on what they knew from their past; from down under, from under their feet.

All in white he appeared, right of the invisible, the unknown. He looked at them carefully, one by one. He knew all of them down to their last bones, dust to dust, ashes to ashes seemed to be written over the newcomers. He on the other hands has a daily mission to fulfill, to welcome the newly visitors and see that more are about to arrive in due course. Standing tall with his iron rod in his right hand, he stepped forward. As the light was shining so bright around him, it was hard to see his physical shape, his appearance was it that made the newcomers scared and at the same time at ease feeling nothing serious would happen to them having reached at a point of never-ending bright white light.

"My name is Mr. Ceremony, simple to remember," did he say in confident and quiet tone looking each into the eyes. He smiled tenderly knowing what was about to come and how they felt. He turned to the doors before them that were not fixed to any wall or any ground other than the white shining color. "These doors are many, in fact...they are endless as endless as they can possibly be. They are endless," Mr. Ceremony turned his face back to the newcomers and smiled with wisdom in his face, "as endless as souls are supposed to walk on earth. We always have more than enough just in case you people decide to be too fruitful and multiply too much as we originally did not plan for here. So, there is enough for all of you. Anyway," Mr. Ceremony turned his back to the newcomers facing the doors, "let me explain the situation here for you. You see these and many more doors lifted up standing on nothing...but down there at the left corner of each door you can see some shoes, a kind of house shoes I guess you would call it. These shoes as you can see are all the same in style and sizes...and the doors are all the same when you look at them with an innocent eye and overlook the details...indeed, open eyes can spot details and see they are different." He stepped closer to one of the doors that was the nearest to him. He looked down to the shoes put before that particular door. "Now you see these shoes, beautifully handcrafted, carefully selected...really well done to perfection...as regards of our concern. Anyway," he turned around again facing the newcomer feeling they were eager to take their next step after listening to his instructions, “you will now decide to which door you want to go. You will look at the door you want to pass through, which room you want to enter and before you can do so you will put your feet into these shoes before the door as these shoes are the keeps to unlock the doors. When you pass the door and enter the rooms behind, the doors will automatically close and whatever will happen in that room is up to you. No one will say anything form our side here, no judgement given, no comments made. Listen now carefully...listen up...hear my final words." He paused for a few moments, than added: "When you have enough of a particular room, turn round, face the look, look at the door with all yourself and say the simple word `I have enough`. That moment the door will open, you will step out, put the shoes back to its original place, decide whether or not you would want to enter another door to look behind the closed curtains, do as you did with the first door and so on as many door as you pleases; or you go back to the place you are standing in right now and say `I have enough`, for us a sign that we know you very well and can focus on the once that need to know what is behind all these doors. Do you understand?"

All agreed and nodded their heads. Mr. Ceremony disappeared into the unknown as fast as he had appeared. They looked at each other, who of them would dear to be the first and put his feet into one of the shoes, and most of all, which door to choose in the first place.

Linda Evans stepped forward move straight to the door that was closest to her, not thinking which one to choose, just to give it a go and see what would happen. She took her own shoes off, places it at the side and put her feet into the shoes provided. She looked behind, saw her friends with wide-open eyes standing unmoved but inside their mind ready to go, knocked at the door, saw the door got opened but nothing behind the door to see, only bright white light. She made one, then two and finally step three after which the door closed behind her. She closed her eyes, tried to focus on herself, opened her eyes again. She stood in the middle of a most impressive living room, a room of the kind she had seen always in her dreams as an innocent child when playing with dolls in her mother´s apartment, a simple place with few furniture and the smell of poverty hanging all over the place. Here she stood in the middle of a field full of flowers, so pink, so fresh, so beautiful. She looked around and around, she was spinning around on her feet not falling at all. She smelled the beauty, the flowers, the caring love that filled the atmosphere. Hospitality all over the room, nothing to miss, nothing more to desire for, everything provided. She stopped turning as he heard the deep voice of an old man approaching her. She looked into his tender eyes that smiled like the universe of stars would look at her. He asked what would please her, a ride on her pony, a walk with her dog, some sweets, a delicious cake baked this morning in the downstairs kitchen of the magnificent castle she called home or a freshly squeezed orange or mano juice. It did not take her too long to answer and she opted for the oven warm freshly baked cake with cream and lots of dark red cherries in it made by her favorite chef, Ms. Courtenay, a lady for sure that she loved so much. While James, the old butler was about to follow her instructions by the letter she walked over to the big glass window that lead out to a vast veranda and saw in the distance her pony grasping peacefully. Her dog, a German shepherd dog she had named Arthur as he had that kind of upper-class snobbish behavior that was surely crying out to be identified with the name Arthur. The sun was shining on this beautiful Sunday morning. In the background the church bells were ringing from the nearby church located in the heart of the village that was owned by the castle´s owner, old tradition from generations past. She knew it still was plenty of time before her parents would ask the chauffeur to pull up their old Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud II, two toned, the upper part in silver-gold while the lower part in a most impressive powerful red, the best car ever build, the best color combination ever chosen, as the church bells would always ring one hour before the service would start and the drive was only five minutes to take. Her parents were still on the upper flow of the castle, her father most certainly making phone calls with his Factory Managers in different countries around the world, while her mother would dress up and dress up never able to choose at first sight which dress and which accomplishing shoes and rings to wear. Most certainly she would complain that the wardrobe was empty, nothing suitable to wear and in the end smile about her good choice to look attractive once again. Her younger brother was storming into the room and shouted on her to come out as he had seen a bird with broken fathers just besides their doorsteps that needed their help. Leaving Butler James unattended to they rushed down to the scene. Butler James was not moved but carried the plates with the cake to the living room, placed it on the long Victorian table with well-placed inlays, not too many, not too shiny, just the right match to demonstrate the house and table owners were of old royal status knowing who they were no need to show off their wealth. They left the birds in the good and caring hands of Ms. Courtenay that took it to her room to nurture it with formula she had always stored away for the babies of guests. As it was her habit and wish Linda Evans sat behind in the church next to Josephine. Even her parents did not like her to mix with the underprivileged class, over time they gave in and allowed her to meet up with them. In fact, Josephine was her best friend playing with her as often as possible. Sometimes Josephine would ask her over to come and play in her small apartment and she loved to see her there always.

Fred Walter looked to his right, looks to his left before stepping forward. His door was standing next to the one Linda Evans had gone through. He looked down to the shoes waiting for him. For a moment he hesitated to put his feet into them. He picked them up, checked them out from all sides whether this would not be a trick and draw him into misery. He was thinking, not moving. He was not easily to be convinced. He turned round and looked at his friends for advice. They advised him, he should not hesitate but put on the shoes, walk through the door, and see what will happen. He looked down to the shoes, put his feet into them and felt instantly how well they were fitting him, made for a man like him that was written all over his face. With confidence did he open the door, stepped in; the door closed behind him. He was standing in the middle of a humble living room, green plants everywhere where there was enough space to spare. The white painted furniture was old, the TV set new, flatscreen of the latest model, a dining table placed alongside the wall facing the two small windows that were half blinded by dust from the street. Artificial white orchid made in China was the only decoration on the table the family of four used for their meals and the three children doing their homework. His mother was single, divorced year back, no boy-friend insight, no support from her family, she worked hard for her money to give her children a better life. Her youngest daughter constantly claimed she would not be her mother as she would not deserve to be the daughter of such a mother born in low living standard. When her heart was hearing her daughter, the one that had come out of her own womb say that cruel comment that the small girl was so convinced off, she cried in her heart for the children not to see. At nights she would lay in her master sized bed all alone and cry over her situation and what her youngest child would think in her heart about her. While during the day she tried to be tough where she had to demonstrate strength and the loving caring mother whenever possible. She called Fred Walter to sit opposite her at the dining table knowing her daughters are safe outside in the small park playing with friends. Looking straight into his eyes she shared with him her thoughts. As much as his teachers wanted to promote him in class and school finally it would only lay on his shoulders to progress and make it. Knowing her education background, was she letting him understand, she would be unable to assist him in his moving ahead and up. But all she would be able to do for him that is what she would do and provide for. He looked at her with understanding mind. Why she mentioned all of a sudden that she is fed up with the calls for donating money to Africa, the children dying for nothing only because of lack of food and money, the unwillingness of all Charities around the world engaging in charitable work in those African countries to demand from their leaders accountability and right and correct performance of their duties as the lack of it was the cause of all the evil, was not known to him. She was outraged about her own government that gave her taxpayers money to support countries that have even more than her own country, made her mad. Africa rather, that is what she was more than convinced, should rule the waves of the world instead begging and begging for money while hiding mountains of cash in their bank accounts, the once of their leaders in foreign lands or in water containers on the roofs of their mansions like recently made public from one of the leaders in Nigeria. She stressed out to Fred Walter, she would not understand much about politics, but the little that she knew was enough to make her understand her own government should be taken to court and brought to justice for giving money to in the end destroy the African continent and keep it in poverty for good. He looked into her eyes with great surprise never having expected from her to think like that and to express herself that strongly. He was very proud of his mother that very moment, felt energized in his heart and soul, felt the spirit of fight in his mind.

Karl-Heinz Heerde
Karl-Heinz Heerde, © 2020

The author has 391 publications published on Modern Ghana.Column: KarlHeinzHeerde

Disclaimer: "The views/contents expressed in this article are the sole responsibility of the author(s) and do not neccessarily reflect those of Modern Ghana. Modern Ghana will not be responsible or liable for any inaccurate or incorrect statements contained in this article."

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