By Musa Hassan Bility
There is a story that serves as both a warning and a lesson—a story of a man named Peter.
Peter was born into a family that was despised, a family that society looked down upon. Life was never easy for him. He grew up in a small town, where opportunities were scarce, but his dreams were vast. From a young age, he worked tirelessly alongside his mother and father, doing whatever was necessary to survive.
Determined to change his fate, Peter left for the city, where he struggled to make a name for himself. He took on odd jobs, faced countless rejections, and endured hardships beyond measure. Along the way, he met the love of his life, and together, they moved to Monrovia, searching for better opportunities.
Peter never gave up. He worked hard, went to college, and eventually graduated. With education and ambition fueling his drive, he entered politics, a world he had once admired from afar. Slowly but surely, he climbed the ranks, winning hearts, earning power, and finally, securing a prestigious position in government.
Peter became a cabinet minister, celebrated and revered across the land. The boy who once struggled had now risen to the pinnacle of success. But with power came forgetfulness. He forgot his past. He forgot the pain of hunger, the nights of struggle, and the village that raised him. He never looked back.
The people who once knew Peter as one of their own waited, hoping he would return, hoping he would remember. But he never did. He remained in Monrovia, basking in his success, disconnected from the very roots that had shaped him.
Then, one day, everything crumbled. Accused of corruption, Peter was fired by the president. Stripped of his position, his influence disappeared overnight. The lavish lifestyle he had built was unsustainable. He had never built a home of his own, and when his wealth dried up, his landlord threw him out.
With nowhere else to go, Peter returned to the town he had abandoned. But the town no longer saw him as one of their own. They refused to acknowledge him. The same people who once admired him now saw him as a disgrace. He was alone—his wife and children gone, his parents deceased, his land lost.
With nothing left but a small radio, Peter wandered the streets, listening to the voices of the world that had moved on without him. Each morning, he walked the roads in silence, a shadow of the man he once was.
One day, Peter woke up and knew it was time.
He climbed to the top of the mountain, overlooking the river below. As he sat there, he let his mind drift back to the past—his childhood, his struggles, his triumphs, and his ultimate downfall. He had built a world for himself, only to watch it collapse. He realized the painful truth: he had lost everything not because of fate, but because he had abandoned the people who once stood by him.
Tears filled his eyes as he whispered, “I wish I had never lived.”
And then, Peter let go.
His body crashed against the rocks below, torn apart by the forces of nature. The sea and the land reclaimed him, just as the town had once rejected him.
And so, the tragedy of Peter came to an end.
This is not just Peter’s story—it is the story of many. It is a reminder that success means nothing if you forget where you come from. Power and wealth can be fleeting, but the people who stood by you in your darkest moments are the ones who will always matter.
Let us never forget our roots.
Until next time,
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