These people who share themselves to the whole world— in the end they have everybody but nobody.
On lonely cold nights, help will come from above but the superman will be stuck on his pedestal like a god— Being worshipped but craving the touch of love. Who dares caress gods and what is a divine assignment if it doesn’t drain the mortal man?
There’ll be days when the man says he’s tired, drained, but in his heart, he knows it’s a lie. The end of one strength marks the beginning of another. He knows. Still, on some nights, all he craves for is to be hugged like he hugs others. But, again I ask, who dares touch a god mounted on his pedestal. He will be loved in reverence, received from and looked at in awe. That is it. Let him live with it or abandon his assignment and step down from the pedestal.
To whom it may concern, Don’t lose your powers to love.
So, I spent a long time over the last few months, trying to build a friendship but struggling with the unreciprocated energy. I thought I was ‘crossing boundaries’ or being ‘too free’. I’d talked about it too many times already.
I recently observed this person doing the same things I’d do to them to another person and vice versa and it was okay. So, it dawned on me that it wasn’t about me. I just didn’t mean that much to this person. And it’s okay.
I’m just a little confused. Why open your arms wide if you don’t want a hug? Why not just extend your hand for a handshake? I really don’t understand.
“Let it rest, Girl.”
Okay. I’ve heard. I really like(d) her sha.
There’s one Aunty that I’d have really loved to spend some time with and talk to in this funny phase.
She has come to Ibadan twice now but I’ve still not seen her. My chest is paining me.
I want to ask her if she loves me and who I really am to her. Let me just know so that I’ll stop hoping. Tears are even coming to my eyes sef. Go back joor.
They’ve shifted Batch B biometrics to Tuesday. Me, I’m still not going to work tomorrow. Anything that wants to happen should happen. To Jesus be my Glory.
Two weeks at my NYSC PPA(Place of Primary Assignment) and many things have happened to me. I’m not seeing this country in the same light I used to. I’ve been over exposed to the rot in the society. It’s not even about the failure of the Transport Union, the drunk drugged drivers, the terrible roads, the irregular pricing and spacing. It’s not even about two brake failures and narrowly escaping a trailer crash and waiting five minutes on an express road for the bus to stop on its own accord. It’s not about a smoke filled bus entering into the bush and climbing over logs and chasing policemen into the bush. It’s not about the headaches and fatigue.
It’s about the helplessness. It’s about having to be ‘strong’ everyday. It’s about entering a shed called a class to teach children sitting in the sand and on broken wood joined together in the form of chairs and scribbling with chalk I bought with my own money on some black-painted flat nonsense while the chalk dust dares to wift into my eyes and nose, blur my lens, irritate my skin and decorate my dress and shoes.
It’s about how little power and big power are used anyhow. It’s about how my efforts will do something but not enough. I know. I’ll do my best but it won’t be enough for these children. Even if I renovate the whole school, I can’t renovate the system. Maybe, one day but it won’t be for these ones, it’ll probably be for their children.
I’ll keep telling them to say, “I will succeed” even when I know that they can’t spell “success”. I’ll keep checking each note line by line and using my red biro to correct spellings and writing “amazing” “well done” “excellent”. I’ll keep using my eyes to silence them even when I know that what they really fear is a cane. I won’t punish them for their lack of privilege. To kneel in the sand is bad enough. This “schooling” is enough torture.
And I never wanted to be here. I chose an air conditioned office I’d go to once a week. Shii happens. This is shii.
On days when I’m feeling really bold and ready to preach, I say in my mind, “Woe be unto me if I don’t preach. I’m a preacher girl and I must not fail in my assignment.” On days like this past Thursday, when all I have the strength for is to just be, I say, “Woe will not be unto me in Jesus name. God loves me. I’m still a preacher girl.”
Woooo… Bye for now.
Please where should we start commenting from?🥺
Splendid!!....as always. 🤲