When the Party Is Over (#262).
In the sleepy town of Hastings, between the hills and the ocean breeze, lived an old man named Pa Tholley.
A retired teacher with a weathered face and wise eyes.
He was known across the village for his stories deep, slow, and always with meaning.
One rainy season evening, his son Bai returned home from Freetown.
He had grown into a young man, sharp-dressed, loud in spirit, and drunk on the fast life of the city.
His voice carried confidence, and his phone never stopped ringing.
“Papa, things are happening in the city,” Bai said as he entered the yard.
“Big money. Big people. You wouldn't understand!”
Mama Ya-Aminata, sitting by the fire preparing cassava leaves, gave a small smile.
“Hmm… everything big starts small, Bai. Even the mango begins as a flower.”
Pa Tholley nodded. “Sit down, my son,” he said calmly, patting the bench beside him.
Bai dropped into the seat, still scrolling his phone.
“I want to tell you something,” Pa began. “It’s a story, but also a warning.”
Bai sighed. “Papa, I’ve heard all your village stories.”
Pa ignored him.
“Life is like a party.
When you enter, everything feels sweet—music, food, laughter, noise.
People dress nicely, talk big, and show power.
But they forget one thing…”
“What’s that?” Bai asked.
“They forget the party doesn’t last forever.
One day, the music will stop.
The guests will have to go home.
No matter who you are, when the party ends, you must leave.”
Mama Yeama added softly, “And the ones who live wisely are the ones who remember the party will end.
And live with purpose while it’s still going.”
Just then, Bai's phone rang.
It was his friend from the city, Junior, a flashy guy who had introduced Bai to the nightlife and fast hustle.
Bai stepped aside to take the call.
“Bro, where you dey? Man dem dey go club tonight.
Money go flow!”
Bai laughed, excited. “I go meet una soon. I just reach Hastings small.”
After the call, Pa Tholley watched his son quietly.
“Junior,” he said. “The same one who almost got arrested last month?”
Bai stiffened. “Yeah, but he dey enjoy life, Papa.”
“Hmm,” Pa said. “Enjoyment is sweet, but wisdom is sweeter.
You see, Bai, I once had a friend just like Junior, sharp, loud, full of life.
But when his party ended, there was no one to carry him home.”
There was a long silence.
That night, Bai lay on his mat, staring at the zinc roof.
For the first time in months, he heard no traffic, no music, no shouting, only the sound of crickets and distant waves.
And in that silence, his father’s words rang louder than any song.
"When the party is over, the guest will leave."
The next morning, Bai didn’t rush back to the city.
He stayed.
Helped his mother cook.
Helped his father at home.
And for once, he listened—not just with his ears, but with his heart.
Moral of the Story:
Live wisely.
The party of life may be loud and exciting, but in the end, only
those who live with meaning will leave with peace.
Thank you for reading.
Please share with others.