Here…

From bulgy eyes of a small child in public uniform came inherent curses that I could not pick sense of. This was to my bike rider as he almost grazed the small child. Bringing me to the realization that, damn, what the society can build up someone as can be so…amazing yet scary. This child could barely be up to 7 yet he had learnt the art of scary cursing that even a 30 year old self of me can never comprehend.
Moving on the bike man waved at a fellow rider across the street as we were moving as if they had not met that day. Bringing me to another aspect of society. It defines who you are, how you behave, and what things you consider importance. I could bet that these people had greeted 3 times already in a row today. But in that society it is stated that for every appearance before each other, you must greet. Simple. So we do it.
This brings me to the term Ego.
Please let us not mistake Ego as money if you are thinking Igbo, today I am not talking money. I am talking about what makes a higher percentage of ages 4-6 who live in the Western world to already have a website that produces money than a office job man in Nigeria when in comparison, a child of my world is still breaking ceramics all about the house even till age 12. I am talking about the mentality we have built ourselves on based on what the society has given to us to build. I talk of great Ego.
According to psychology, Ego is the most central part of the mind, which mediates with one’s surroundings. It is a means of self importance. So, this means things you consider important or you see yourself doing or that you feel others should do or not do is based on your surrounding.
This means as a guy living in the crazy, lovely, black Nigerian world, as long as you are part of the street boys and a girl with all the nice assets is passing. Being a street boy, you count it important to just whistle. Make your presence known to her presence is your slogan. As the girl, you believe you have to get more flesh to your skin( when in the Western world they would die for your body) because the Nigerian boys are all putting pictures of butt and boobs on their status and as a girl you were built to impress the boys. This is not a lie because, whenever the girl graduates what do people start asking? “Where is the man” they say. So tell me, how you won’t want to just impress. To even make it hilarious, there was a film produced called “fhat girls” which portrayed the fact that Africans just loved ladies who were more “favored by God”
So, ladies and gentlemen, when you see a child, a “man” or “a lady” doing things like playing daddy and mummy or breaking a girls heart repeatedly or saying no to a guy because he has no cash respectively. Remember, it is their Ego.
It is what their environment has built their importance on.
It is not only boys that have Ego, theirs might be more intensive than the females because of criminal responsibilty but let’s us make it clear for people to hear, every single individual has an Ego to protect.
So, pick your struggle.
Change the people around your environment if possible to get your importance straight unless your Ego will be worth nothing to others when it is everything to you. Which is not supposed to be.
Set your Ego right.

…Here.

MONEY!!!
This guy…
He is our nemesis and savior! Our sorrow and happiness! Our problem and solution! And even though money answers to our basic needs, money can be a bitch(Apologies) especially for Nigerians. The thing with this guy, money, he is meant to move a lot. He should be collected and given. But, in Nigeria, those who are legally meant to give are deeply in love with him. He has taken their soul and without him, they are nothing. So, they cling to him like one-sided lovers… Obessed lovers… Fanatics. Then, there are the receivers who work to own him at some point. But, his one-sided lover, no matter how they try, is determined to only bring him out for special holidays and occasions. He is theirs and theirs alone.
Then, there are the middle-men… What exactly is their role?
These ones found means to lure money from the lovers. Sweat, blood and determination have been their weapon. And when they win, they give. Doff the hats for them, please. Let’s be like these gentlemen. I want to be one… I need ti be.
It is hard, very hard; to be the number seven on the acid balance or the zero point on the number scale. Anything can push you to the ends( “giver” or “receiver” end) but you’ve got to be determined to keep balance. I want to be the middle-man, where money is my love but I know… Love isn’t neither blind nor stupid, love is either kind or lovely, love is mysterious and wonderful. So, money, I love you but at times you have to go out. Put a smile on faces and a giving shield for me. Make more happy people.
So work hard, read hard, save hard,
Invest hard, love hard, give hard.
Nigeria, become a better place.

Hope lost.

Early Sunday morning, I didn’t do the norm a family head did. Go to church or just rest, instead I woke up six am to go hear from my best friend. She told me “ASUU strike might hold for up to ¬†three months or could be ended tomorrow, if and only if the federal government answered ASUU” she said, saying she got it from an ASUU official.

Now, you wonder why this abnormality?

I was once the breadwinner, my wife loved me like no other and we had 4 children. We lived in the big city and we were busy people. Getting the cash daily like water, until calamity struck.

I was told that I was not of enough relevance again. I needed to go they said. I felt pushed into a pit. I told my wife and I felt sadness creep into her beautiful face. We were given a two month notice to leave the house.

Two month! Imagine, after using years of my life to serve them, I had just two months to gather myself. We were able to scrap up some change, we believed not in savings. We never thought we will ever be laid off.

We moved. To a small town, rough, dirty and so not our class but we had no choice, did we?

Three years gone and no sign of the family we once had of luxury. The HD was replaced by “box TV” that ¬†showed just a station. That box TV was now my best friend though, I never got a new job. I started some farm work. No one wanted to employ someone above 50.

I got so close to my best friend, forsaking and neglecting my wife and children. I was now a shadow in the house, I was of no use.

O TV, let us talk about life from morning till night. I need thy comfort.

It was until my wife spoke of divorce that I felt a nudge to my brain. Without family, what will I be?

Will my best friend always be there for me? Should I make life come back? Or just lose hope of love and life coming back? What will happen?

I wonder, for now did I hear them say the President is back from overseas?