There is an issue in the affairs of man that brings me pain. In the short life I have lived I have come across this development so many times I am tempted to believe that maybe it is written into our DNA. I have tried to ferret the cause but all I am left holding are suppositions that clear no fog. Why are we averse to the truth even when it is the safest way forward?

Why do we find it easy to forgive people who lie to us than to accept those who tell the truth about what they have done, what they are and what pains them? Why do we take frankness as a weakness when we are more weak when taken advantage of by those who lie to us?

Why is telling the truth taken for gullibility? Do we seek to be lied to so that we have little holds over each other? Why is a person who stands out to confess their sins called a wimp and yet a serial liar is admired for the adroit skills that he maintains as not to be caught?

Why are we punished for telling the truth and rewarded for keeping silent when it would have helped to speak? We seem more comfortable living with lepers who do not tell us about their leprosy but are ready to seclude (and possibly stone) those who warn us to keep a distance. Is it because we have an affinity for pain or we cannot accept those who try to toe the moral line?

Are we afraid of ourselves to the extent that we are comfortable living with those whose bridles we control? Are we afraid that the truth will shatter the glasses we live in and we will be exposed as pathetic liars who live cuckoo land lives?

The unique issue with the truth is that it cannot be anything beside that. Yet a lie can be coined to suit the moment. A lie can be sweetened, cosmetically enhanced, watered down and packaged to suit the moment but the truth is always that.

Is it the fear of us or the fear of the truth or our affinity to being gullible to glib lies or omitted truths that makes us see cowardice and yellow liver in those who tell the truth?

The affairs of men are an infinite puzzlement to me and I cannot for a moment understand our affinity to the negative when pain could be avoided by embracing those who courageously tell the truth. This is my pain.

By Phindela's Muses

Phindela’s Muses is the pen name of Nqobile Ncube. After much prodding i reluctantly waded into transferring my thoughts to the electronic notebook. I write as I see. I write as I feel. I write as I hear. I prod the deepest vivid image I can conjure and if at least one person derives some good from it then I am a happy man.

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