EACH STEP FORWARD CREATED ITS OWN MOMENTUM

Part 1: I WAS LIKE A RUNAWAY HORSE

I was like a runaway horse, galloping hard and fast to uncharted territories. I charged forward with increased momentum not understanding my passion or my purpose. At times I stumbled and fell. My encounters were numerous and taught me valuable lessons in my transition to adulthood.

It all started when I was barely eleven years old. I ventured into our family business which was a motor repair shop.
I stood there in awe and enquiringly looked at the machine and equipment. I saw the sparkling lights emitted from the welding process. The machine quietly hummed and then startled me with its sudden row of popping sounds. The hydraulic ramp
just outside the workshop quietly mumbled as the fluid pushed through its system, at times hissed as it leaked out. The hoist whirled and grounded as it uplifted a car engine. The angle grinder whined and scrapped with a high pitch. These sounds synchronized and created their musical genre for a live rock concert. Something within me started to brew. I was adrenaline-fueled.

The sight and sounds of the workshop spurred the start of my exploration. I frequented the workshop often. I made it my duty to greet the workshop manager, Mr Ndlovu. He was like a grandfather to me. He chatted with me a bit then warmly patted my shoulder. He watched me from time to time. I was drawn to the pit ramp. I repeatedly ran up and down the pit ramp and then repeatedly walked in and out of the pit.
My eyes eagerly looked at the machines. I became bold and looked forward to my next encounter.

One day I decided to put my pencil sharpener away. I was excited to use the angle grinder instead. I tried on the goggles. It slipped down my little face. I left it aside and then stood on a wooden box to reach the work surface where the machine stood. I switched the machine on and then placed the side of the pencil tip on the fast-rotating disc. My attempts to keep the side of the pencil tip steady on the disc were a total failure. The pencil abruptly slipped away from the disc. This was daunting yet exciting. My encounter was short-lived when I heard Mr Ndlovu's hard and fast footsteps approach me. My pencil dropped to the ground. I ran hard and fast up a flight of twenty stairs to my bedroom. I was under my bed for almost an hour when I realized that Mr. Ndlovu did not follow me up the stairs. We met after a few days. He explained to me the consequences of my actions and ordered me to leave. I was on my way out when he shouted very firmly, "You are forbidden to enter this area. " I was just a curious child but one who pushed daringly into uncharted territories.

My next encounter was bolder. I was playing with my neighborhood friends when I impulsively ran across the road to where the hydraulic ramp stood. It was used to steam wash the undercarriages of vehicles. It had an on-ramp followed by approximately fifteen meters of a flat surface then an off-ramp. It lifted three meters from the ground. Without sparing a moment to size the situation I started running up the ramp. My speed accelerated when I got to the flat surface of the ramp. I continued my run. Just after two-thirds of this flat run, I felt the ramp uplifting.
I ran harder and faster. About a meter past the ramp, I fell flat on my face. I was heavy-headed and unsteady. I felt the world spin. I was confused. Mr Ndlovu picked me up and carried me to the motor spares shop. He attended to my scrapes and scratches. When I came back to my senses he sternly cautioned me about my aimless purpose and its repercussions. He said that zeal is good,
but your goals need to be known and charted accordingly. I did not fully understand what he meant. Once again he said, " You are forbidden to enter this area. "

My boldest encounter came just a week later. I reached the final straw of this unknown madness. I was brought to reality. My neighbor was a year older than me. We often spoke about racing cars. My Dad had a stock of cars for sale. I sneakily got hold of a red 1960s Austin. With my neighbor alongside me, I repeatedly drove up and down a steep hill. I accessed the school playground and found myself repeatedly circling the ground. I revved and excessively swerved the car. My speed accelerated. I was deaf to the frantic shouts of my neighbor. He shook me and shouted for me to stop. I abruptly brought the car to a standstill. He pointed at the ditch which was within very close proximity to the front of the car. He asked me if I wanted to land there. It took me a while to register what I just did. I handed the keys to him and asked him to drive back to the retail site. Enough was enough! I spent the rest of the day reflecting on my encounters, more so this very last one. I recalled Mr Ndlovu's words of wisdom. It now made sense to me.

Zeal is good for elevating performance, only if is channeled with appropriate knowledge and guidance. My fervor moments of impulsiveness, purposelessness, and blindness proved to be potentially dangerous. Indeed! Zeal without knowledge is a runaway horse.