A head with greying hair sitting on a chair

If Kunle did not sit in the rickety chair most of the young persons around him would not have noticed his greying hair. They would not have seen the evidence of the passage of time. Perhaps, they would not have been concerned about the wider implications of their mentor getting old and bidding them goodbye anytime in the foreseeable future.

It was only patches here and there with most part of his head still covered by black hair. But the random greys seemed like they did not want to wait out the time given the black hairs to complete their journey. Someone had mentioned to them that they, not the black hairs, have the pleasure of accompanying the great head on the journey to the other side. Instead of checking to see whether the information was true or not, they were behaving like it was true. If only they knew that for the vast majority of heads, black hairs and greys share the honours.

Kunle on the other hand, had begun to wonder why he sat in the chair and let them see his hair. Why did he make them begin to consider the association between hair and chair? At first, he kicked himself for sitting when he should have been standing. But when he paused for a moment and considered that however long he stood, he would have to sit down at some point, he gave himself a break. Let his service as a mentor to the teens over the years, discount some of the restlessness and anxiety created by their interpretation of what they saw. The discount operation would certainly create room and some space on which he may yet erect some impressive structures.

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