I separate my head from hands and fix my heart on my letter. I listen to my heart’s troubles, fancies, fantasies, weaknesses, and issues. How I have admired my bandy legs for having my height limited like a data plan. I reflect at a height close to the earth in terms of distance, I see the creeping things that the tall man wouldn’t. A lot of heat from the ground leaving the superstition that a curse of the black man has come, remains as an untruth; except the curse hurls into the air at a distance favourable to the tall man’s nostrils. I do not pretend that the ground does not reek of overdue wastes but my intuitions are telling me that there is still hope. The mental picture that clouds me at wee hours remain a revelation where the air is fouled with retrogression that the entire black community spit on the ground – many spitting on the sewage, others trading fists when someone else’s spit reaches their foot. One blame on another; recent events, all blames on our black existence.
My country has accommodated me for two decades and more – some since civil war, some in thirties, a large chunk before her independence. I LIKE TO THINK that where I hail from promises the sweetest things life can offer continents of the world. Inasmuch as hypocrisy, corruption, a splintered system, and poor orientation cripples my fatherland; the pyramid of good hearts, smart and beautiful people that I see and keep leaves me daydreaming. Mitchel said the black brain can’t be toiled with i disagree manchi! and there is ever truths in it as world records have proved that already. I told my small circle that we suffer lack of visionaries. Oh easy to say! Mr possible could not have been wrong to say that what belies us is an influence of a mammoth juju. But where we choose to live by the words the past is history, tomorrow is mystery, then 2018 may work if we have a credo that given the scars our country endures, our image remains in ruins individually. Hence, we could speak into the coming year; work on self-development to avoid being like the vapid victims of hey bro you came out too early!
We are where we are because our leaders are filthy! – Why say things like this if there is no intention to pick a problem identified and seek solutions? “The young shall grow” is for 2017, “the old can relax” is next level. I see a sumptuous 2018 where the black youths stand up for something, remember the struggles of our forefathers, and revamp the society with voices and action. Being indigent does not necessarily mean your brain is not sophisticated; it is not our fault we are poor by default, but it will be if we do not change the status quo. HOW? is what should linger in our hearts. I saw the feed challenge and more – it tells some people have found how in their little way. I told Favour about the relevance of a visionary – ideas are found in books and we can start next year by proving those who said a black man never reads, wrong. WE CAN’T LEAD WHEN WE DON’T READ – oh of course I am taking notes from my few words.
Poco-a-poco it is. As Possible aired, if you cannot fly, run. If you cannot run, just keep walking. Whichever way, keep moving. It only gets better. I pray it gets better next year for us all. Primary priorities should be productivity and not a hungry pursuit over public attention.If we live in a mask one time too many, we never know what our face looks like — a priority of self discovery pays better than heaping faults on a brother’s head. Tonight should be a reflection from January; are we happy with ourselves? Nigeria needs clean hands and bright heads to make her the true giant of Africa. A dead child is better than a lost child because the heart remains in uncertainty as to the missing child’s whereabouts. But there is always joy in a mother when she finds her lost child. The burden is on us. A food for me; share in my thoughts.