Mtima Tradeoffs by Acacia

Mr. Mtima lived in a world of milk and honey and complete self-knowledge. In his world, everyone knew what they wanted and placed exactly the right amount of value on getting it. For example, he wanted a promotion, and day after day he jumped through hoops for his boss. He wanted a cup of tea but wasn’t prepared to leave his comfortable chair… Oh yes, Mr. Mtima made excellent ethical decisions all the time, there were no grey areas.

Unfortunately this made movies a little dull; he knew exactly how many people should die to save George Clooney’s life. He knew exactly how many people should be locked up to protect America’s freedom. And he knew exactly when the actors reached the tradeoff point that made it not worth it… when the price was too high to pay… when the ends stopped justifying the means.

You see Mr. Mtima valued his inner peace, more highly than anything else... and it had to be protected against looters. Oh yes, he had a built-in burglar alarm; it shrieked when his neighbour made kachasu out of ARVs, it screamed when his employer dodged MRA, it moaned when his worker sold fuel on the black-market and it wailed when his cousin bribed the police. These dodgy deals would certainly have stolen Mr. Mtima’s deep contentment, and he knew it wasn’t worth the tradeoff.

The programme officer at the next desk was so beautiful it took his breath away, her body called to him… she was innocent yet cunning, naïve but sensual. Mr. Mtima’s imagination quaked in desire, oh for an embrace. When she walked past he would sigh involuntarily, then smile, then look away, as his brain screamed expletives at his cowardice.

Mr. Mtima suspected that his precious peace contained his whole essence; he threw himself into feeding it, nurturing it. For him that meant a little bit of art, and lots of time with people he loved. He got thrills from talking to his two fascinating daughters, occasionally enjoyed the vicissitudes of football (arsenal), and often enjoyed extreme intimacy with his wife (that’s enough about that!). His pleasures were simple but ultimately satisfying.

The aforementioned police-bribing cousin was dear to his heart, but Mr. Mtima could not understand her… why she gambled her self-esteem on one little man, why she threw away her sense-of-self chasing a disinterested guy, why she lost her self-respect bending over backwards for a word of approval. He watched as a shared laugh, a private conversation, an email… formed a bond in the wrong context - without commitment, which grew stronger and more and more inappropriate, more risky. Mr. Mtima watched sadly when things fell apart and the spark in his friend’s soul was dampened.

Mr. Mtima did not earn much, he was not clever or especially handsome, but he knew the truth about what made him happy, what kept him peaceful, the things that made him calm and gentle... he was the most powerful person I’ve ever met.


Ref: Never offer your heart to someone who eats hearts by Alice Walker