Although I was in Ethiopia in 2004-2005, I was left unscathed by the wave of pyramid schemes. Probably because I was too busy cooking up one of my own.At various points in my lifetime I’ve come across a couple of products that I was eager to spread. By the time I have mapped out a strategic framework that would serve as a springboard for the platform from which I could evaluate the pros and cons of pursuing the idea, the products would have flown past me clad in their signature packaging of skinny jeans. Later I would go on to watch them be peddled by those with more aggressive strategies.Take the other day. There I was at the supermarket, browsing and marveling at the rows of jelly and honey. Just as i was about to reach for 1 of the last 2 remaining jars of honey on the shelf, both are grabbed by the prettiest girl of all the ones that I had fallen in love with that afternoon.
She offers to leave one behind for me. If this was a split screen alternate scene movie, the suave me would be asking if she wouldn’t mind coming with his bread instead, she being sweeter than the honey. The real me is on the left side of the screen (the left being the preferred half of this film’s acclaimed director, the devil). The real me is delivering a well informed bio-chemical breakdown of the ingredients in the jar along with a painstakingly mapped health hazard of each ingredient. Thank you but no thank you to your poison jar, he is saying with as many words as possible. He invokes his future children and tenachew lay leefeTeru yemichilu alutawee tetsinowoch as a direct result of his consumption of that which she is offering. Even pulls off looking superior like he was on a break from working on his very own organic bee farm. To my credit, this time I managed to keep global warning out of the conversation. She laughs, leaves one behind anyway and walks away. Just in case my point hasn’t been well made, I walk away in the opposite direction. Later glances would catch her conversing with a guy near the health isle. He probably opened with “I couldn’t help overhearing. Do you need a hug?”
Isn’t that what happened to us at the African Cup? There we were with a chance. Suddenly we forgot all the realities of our football that had made being there so rare in the first place. It wasn’t me playing to get to the finals by all means necessary. I was acting like I was there to make a point, to play the game on my own terms and no one else’s. Even as I watched my team conceding time and time again against the odds, I stuck to my strategy and probably helped someone else make it to the final.So what’s the solution, you ask? I have one, you see. I have had it for as long as I can remember.
(to be continued)(the views expressed here do no necessarily reflect those of the writer’s)
okay i know it says to be continued but i probably won’t continue it. it would go like you building a pyramid scheme as a solution. at the very end you would recognize your scheme as pimping but decide not to be judgmental. there would be a deep n meaningful song about pimping. and maybe one about Egypt, for the pyramid part. maybe this?
One Better Half (OBH as in the reverse of HBO)