FIND YOUR ZIROBWE

In the last stanza of the the song 'Paint the sky with stars', Enya urges us to:

Place a name upon the night
One to set your heart alight
And to make the darkness bright
Paint the sky with stars.

I am sure that your mind is racing to find an appropriate interpretation to this stanza. Well, here is mine. One should set a goal that enlivens the heart.It should be one that will spread joy in and around an individual and cause that person to be a source of inspiration.

The decision to ride my bicycle to Zirobwe and back was a goal that scared and excited me at the same time. The round trip was 102.01 km. and it took me 6 hours 11 minutes and 34 seconds.

Of course, I did not know from the get go that it would be that far and it would take me that long. Maybe I would have summoned the negative committee to spell out all the pit falls of attempting such a journey that had no obvious reward. The streets would not be lined with a cheering crowd. Cheering the seeming lunacy of one man who could easily have jumped onto a vehicle and gotten to Zirobwe without sweat.

All I knew, in the depths of my heart was that this was a goal that had to be attempted. From the time I set my mind to do it, I had that palpable desire and heart throbbing fear of a virgin. There would be pain. There would be pleasure.

So on Thursday 20/06/13, my bicycle and I set out on a mind blowing journey. A journey that was set to test me to the limit. To test my fitness and endurance level. To test both my external and internal motivation.

It was arduous. It was treacherous. It was hilly.The fresh air and the lush green vegetation provided me with a very welcome diversion from the constant vibration and the speed humps along the way.

The unforgiving bicycle seat revealed to me bones on my rear end. Bones that my mommy forgot to tell me about. With every turn of the wheel at the 60km mark, the bones were aflame with the heat from another world. I choose to ignore that sensation by focussing on the pure joy of unadulterated air filling my lungs. I think it worked.

I got back home unscathed...o.k, my muscles spoke a language that was alien to me. My feet were sore from all that endless and seemingly mindless peddling. My shoulders were arching. My fingers, in spite of the full finger gloves, went through an incredible cycle of numbness. My thighs were vibrating to music that only they were aware of.

But I was happy. Happy that I had set and achieved a goal that excited me. That set my heart aflame. That lit my world with a thousand stars.

There are stories of "insane"people who cycle from Cape Town to Cairo. Well, I have an idea of what drives them. I have partaken of that substance that infuses them with a madness that fills them with zest. It fills one with an obsession to be all that one can be.

There are two lines in the poem 'The road not taken' that go:

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

Zirobwe has lit the path for me,
Hence forth there is no turning back,
I found and conquered my Zirobwe
Find and conquer yours.



Your life is in your hands