The Will To Live

Walking along the planks of a wooden bridge, I happened to noticed a small plant growing from a trunk of a dead tree. I took a shot of it upon realizing that the plant is hanging there to live on its own, making the dying tree its host. I named the picture The Will To Live.

It reminded me of a close friend I had met many years ago. He was a young handsome lad who makes very little money for a living. He came from upcountry and decided to find a better life in the city, a typical story shared by many.

He worked doing many things and the last time I heard of him, he was driving a cab. There was this time that he called me asking for my help as he was very ill. I went to visit and I was in tears finding him in an almost empty room. With no bed to lie on, a very thin blanket and a small pillow, it was a sad sight to behold. He was clinging for his last strength, gave himself a push to muster some courage to ask help from me and it was gruelling to listen to his story. I had helped him so many times that I lost count and this was the reason why he hesitated to call in the first place.

He survived through the help of neighbours, giving him food for lunch and dinner and some money to buy medicines. In my capacity as a lost friend, I helped him out. I gave some money, bought food and more medicine and sat there for some time. When he felt sleepy, I left knowing that he would be fine.

I have no idea where he is now. After that incident, he decided to leave the city and return home to his parents and he had not made contact ever since. I still remember our last telephone conversation. With him crying on the phone, he said that he had learned to love me and I believed him so.