STORY OF AN UNSQUEEZED ORANGE
So I just asked myself this: what happens when an orange (like the one pictured here) goes #UNSQUEEZED? Well, it becomes useless and will eventually get rotten. And quickly forgotten.
It may have been plucked from the orange tree by the farmer but that wasn't its purpose for being there.
It may have found its way to the market place, like many other lucky oranges, but that wasn't its purpose either: to just end up on the market place.
It may have been picked up by a customer like luckier oranges and eventually get to that kitchen table that most oranges dream of.
But that also wasn't its purpose.
An orange must go through a very painful process that will make it 'bleed' a little: it must first be CUT and then as though that isn't enough, it must be *SQUEEZED.*
So I took a few seconds and looked up the definition of the word SQUEEZE just to check what language experts say. And I got this from Cambridge Dictionary
"to press something firmly, especially from all sides in order to change its shape, reduce its size or remove liquid from it."
And so I thought how many oranges grow on an orange tree in one season? How many grow and get ripe? How many get plucked from the tree? How many reach the market place and how many are damaged or fall by the way side and never get to the market? How many get bought from the market? How many get to the kitchen table? How many are at least cut to find if they are worthy squeezing? And how many are actually SQUEEZED??
Is the number of squeezed oranges the same as the number of oranges that grew from the orange tree? Well, I thought the answer would be no.
This made me feel so sad for all those oranges that grow from orange trees around the world. I grew up in a village so I know how an orange appears on an orange tree. A very beautiful process for those who know it. I felt really sad that some oranges die from the tree while still tiny beautiful things, some die as they grow, some get rotten while on the tree, lucky ones get plucked and get taken to the market place and luckier ones get to the kitchen table and only a few - the luckiest, get cut and squeezed. They fulfill their purpose. But then I thought? Luck? Or they stood their ground and got attractive enough to appeal to the farmer's and customer's sight?
Well, that aside.
So I thought what kind of orange am I?
How far have I gone in the process?
Am I still on the orange tree?
Am I on my way to the market place? And if so, am I still attractive and good shaped enough to appeal to the "buyer's" sight?
Am I on my way to the kitchen?
Or am I actually in the painful cutting-and-squeezing process?? Coz if I am already there then I should be bold like a grown orange. Bold enough to accept the painful piercing of the knife's edge cutting through me. Oranges bleed silently. I should. I should accept strong hands of life's challenges squeezing me from all sides so that the juice in me, my life purpose, my call, comes to fruition. Oranges never resist the squeezing process. But unfortunately many a times I do. What a strange orange I am!!!
The fact that I have made it to the kitchen table sometimes makes me take it to my pig head. I begin to think of all the poor lads who never made it this far. I feel I'm better than most folks. I forget I remain uncut and still have all the juice in me!! And I think God is a fool? That he formed me to just end on the kitchen table? But that's me. Poor me.
And when a feel a strong hand's touch and sense from afar that I am about to get cut into two here? Oh no. I dread the process. I think of the beautiful shape I have and all that will be gone? I look admiringly at my big size, and someone wants to reduce it? Oh no. I start thinking: maybe I should roll by the kitchen's table and fall down. So that when I'm picked up perhaps I won't be worthy the cut. Poor me. I'm picked when I fall. And sometimes I'm never good enough again. I get trashed into the bin. End of my story.
And in my little mind happy I still am. That I made it to KITCHEN UNIVERSITY.
That I made it to the KITCHEN COMMERCIAL BANK.
That I made it THE UNITED KITCHEN OF AMERICA.
I think of all the lads that never made it this far. I think of how I dodged the cutting process on the kitchen table. I made it this far without a scratch on my skin. And I smile. I forget that I'm in the dust bin. Forgotten. Unused. With life unfulfilled. I forget that I'm way on my way to obscurity. To the abyss of world history. I forget that I wasn't supposed to go to the bin with all the juice in me. I forget that there are many other oranges growing from orange trees and looking forward to cooperate to the end and fulfil their purpose. I forget that I was fooling myself all along. I forget that I led my life comparing my "progress" with that of other oranges whose lives mattered less to me as far as fulfilling my purpose was concerned. Poor me.
But then I made it, so I think. To the #UnitedKitchenofAmerica!! Not many people got the golden chance!...
How lost a mind I have in my pig head. And I don't know that I'm actually just schooled but yet to be educated. Sadly. So tragic.
But then slowly somehow deep down me I begin to feel something strange. I somewhat feel unfulfilled. I begin to think that even though I made it this far but I am actually poorer than those who died on the orange tree while still tiny beautiful things. I feel like I owe them all and others something. Even though I smile but that's only on the outside. My heart bleeds from the inside. I begin to realize that I'm still full of all the juice in me. What for??? And as I contemplate my fate in the darkness of this bin with the bad smell of pieces of bread and every kind of junk around me, I see a dead orange in here. All-squeezed and empty! And then I ask myself: WHAT ON EARTH WAS I THINKING? "Somebody heeeeelllp?" I start shouting. Nothing. "Heeeeellp!!!" Nothing. Oh no. I hope I get a miracle and get rescued from this bin. I hope I get a chance to fulfill my purpose.
Well now, what about you dear orange?
Are you happy you made it to the United #KING-chen too??? Or that you too were schooled at CAMBRI-chen, or HAVAR-chen University? Happy that you come from a family of oranges that have it all? Happy that you got farther than most of us poor oranges? Happy that you made it farther than the stubborn orange tree that didn't want to release you for so long till someone plucked you off it? You forget that that orange tree fulfilled its purpose although it doesn't know how the market looks like or how Kitchen University or Kitchen Telecom or Kitchen Commercial Bank looks like. Are you happy too? Happy that you made it to the kitchen table, unlike other oranges? Happy that you know way more stuff that most oranges will ever imagine? Well, lucky you. But make sure you don't go uncut and unsqueezed. Or you'll have wasted all your life for nothing. My message to you is: Leave ALL THE JUICE IN YOU behind.
Accept to get cut and squeezed. Don't worry about other oranges. Fulfill your purpose and perhaps that will make a difference.
If you are still uncut and unsqueezed and you have no idea how on earth to get yourself ready for the preccess. Or if you are in the bin and want to know how to get back and and become any useful again just shout out loud.
Thank you, dear orange.
Andrea G Muhozya
Dar es Salaam, Tanzania,