THE STORY DOES NOT END…
I am awake, lost in thought and ferried through times listening to Beyonce’s “1+1”. You see, there are moments in one’s life that shapes the core of who we are. I like to think I have had so many of such. Life is not a puzzle. I don’t think so. It is more like snakes and ladders — very fast highs, very steep lows, and cuts here and there. Sometimes just steady pace.
Life can be likened to music in a shuffled playlist — discordant tunes rhyming with the intention of a careless universe in motion.
How you can go from “Bounce” by Ruger to Whitney Houston’s “I look to you”? This was how Abuja was for me. One minute I was brooding over NLS result and the next minute, I was at this party hosted by whom I had no idea of, with ladies bouncing their ass like they would be bounced out if they did not. Nneka, whom I barely spoke to during our time in Kano was wiggling her ass across me with a certain kind of ill intention of getting my hormones fired up. She succeeded. Beyond that, she struck off her bucket list “sex at a party”
Ed Sheeran’s “A team” reminds me of her. Let’s just say I had a `nightstand with the smartest lady in my set. I want to fantasize about it, boast of it and fill my ego of this conquest. I know she enjoyed it because she is now in my DMs acting all nice and willing — the deluded passion only youthfulness can offer. I can’t enjoy this feeling as much as I want to. The uncertainty of my future keeps intervening rudely. This Buhari train is the one thing I am grateful for. I can’t imagine going to Kaduna by road. Nigeria is a mad place. You can’t even enjoy road trips because you are worried about a thousand premonitions of how the trip can go wrong. Somehow, these train trips are the ideal. Comfy seat, good window stare, good toilet and so far, as safe as can be. Ironically, the settled air has brought up my worries to the fore. I do not know what exactly is going wrong with my life. I am uncertain about a lot of things I had wished to be certain on.
No, I do not like NYSC nor the camp, but I will rather be here. Another three weeks to run away from my fears. My friends seem to be doing just fine. Collins called yesterday; he got an offer from a top law firm in Lagos. He has earned it. He is smart. I cannot say he is riding on luck. No one who knows him can. Nneka, got an offer even before making a First class at the law school. These guys seemed to have hacked the process. Their lives seemed to have taken fine shapes. I admit I feel unlucky. I do not think I deserve my grades but there it is, haunting me for only God knows how long.
God, do I honestly believe in Him? Religion is complex. When we cannot explain our misfortune, we look up to the hills in desperate need for help but when the edges get smooth, we remember how much human effort we have put to deserve the greener pastures of life. That boastful feat eludes me. My eyes are to the hills looking up to God with endless promises of faithfulness to Him. Promises I know I won’t keep but I will say anything to break free from this fear — this impending misfortune. It is ironic how Nneka has never missed sending me link to this morning prayer sessions since our knack — since she made it obvious that a nightstand was not enough. Maybe it is the sex, maybe she likes me. I am not sure what it is these days. I know I am not ready for any. I am less trusting, and it shows. I don’t tell people the stuff going on with me because I am wary of people. Perhaps why I find the needless testimony people give on these morning prayer sessions less believing. Like some special kind of commercial celestial gimmick to make me believe in God. In the hope that my resulting believe would lead to me sowing to God’s ministry in man made account. I do not understand why churches should have accounts in almost all the banks and banking platform. Our God must be reached even on CashApp. Honestly, I feel “Ole ni everybody” A man once advised me never to speak against a man of God, but the church has become so worldly that I do not know which is influencing the other. The battle is indeed the Lord’s.
When you try your best, but you don’t succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can’t sleep
Stuck in reverse
- Coldplay “Fix you”
Now Your Suffering Continues…
7 years of academic stress and my post academic welcome to life is NYSC??!! Nigeria does the most with suffering. Kaduna is unexciting. I was hoping to serve in Abuja and after paying 50k for a move, I still find myself in Kaduna. Are there even law firms here? What sharia law do I need to know to survive here? What if the Taliban conquest of Afghanistan influences an uproar? I had resolved to make applications to firms in Lagos and Abuja and once any of them clicks, I will ghost the service. My applications have been firing blanks. The most I got were automated replies. The unrecognized firms are weirdly the rudest, they don’t even acknowledge receipt of the mail. They just air the oxygen out of the mail. The whole shit is getting to me.
LinkedIn notifications have now become PTSD triggers “Congratulate Steve Odeku for starting as an Associate at XYZ” Genuinely, I am tired.
A part of me lives in regret and another wishs to blame the society, but I know I could have done better especially at the University. My aspirations seem so unreachable, and I feel so left out.
Choice is when you have options, life is what happens when you don’t.
Here in the north, it is quite different, still traditional, and quite manual. I am in this chamber where I did not even submit my CV nor did I have a proper interview. I simply walked in and got hired for being a lawyer. As dreamy as this seems, it is the comfort of rock bottom, the willing acceptance of the lowest cadre. Everyone has a place here because it takes nothing to be here. Half of my day is spent chatting with lawyers who are badly dressed and unprofessional in their speeches. I often wonder if they genuinely attended a university. Life is dealing unfairly with me. I have friends in top firms who have dinners at Hard Rock Café like it were a daily routine and for heaven’s sake my woman is Nneka a fine red scroller with sweet puna. How am I here?
Two days ago, Daniel called to tell me about some exciting investment he made and got good returns. This is an addition to his already handsome salary. He advised me to consider forex and crypto. He mentioned how profitable cryptocurrency can be once you hack it. Daniel and I have always been aspirational, but we now exist in two different worlds. What used to be our aspiration is now an ambition for Daniel. For me, I do not know. He works in Lagos and earns over 150k per month as a corper. I am basically surviving on the 33k the Federal Government pays and any other stipend that comes in. Here appearance fee can be as low as 1,500. It is hard to live when you live in penury. You are barely surviving. The thing with poverty is that it comes with handcuffs. You will need to break more than the yoke to be free. Often, it takes a miraculous intervention to escape — explains why there are so many churches in slumps and poor areas. We are looking for breakthrough. Those on the greener pastures do not need these. On their tough days they have one friend who can come through for them, they have the wherewithal to invest in businesses. Wealth is a leverage to more wealth. Something life has now denied me of.
“Gradually, you get into a sunken place. A deep-seated feeling of defeat. You want to give up, you want to escape this world. It is suicidal but you don’t realize it.”
I no longer hope for a win, I just want to have my humble pie.
7:00 am
My mother’s call intervenes. I want to tell her how frustrated I am, but it would break her to hear me sound that way. She has a fine narrative of how I would become rich one day and buy her a car. Telling her this will ruin it and if it breaks her, it will break me even more. I share in my mother’s fantasy of becoming rich enough to fly her overseas and even buy her a car. Her laughter is the most pleasing thing for me. As she prays, I realize that sometimes, we must fight one more, not necessarily for ourselves but because our victory will inspire joy in the heart of those who matter to us, courage to others who are at the verge of giving up and because the story only ends when we stop writing.
Everything is fleeting, even this will surely pass.
To those in a sunken place, know this, you are the courage someone needs to try one more. Everything so far is a well-written scene of a beautiful plot, and you can only know this in retrospect. You owe yourself the beauty of finishing the plot and it does not end until you win. I pray that the uncertainty of tomorrow is enough courage to know that this plot has a turn where the hero begins to win. You have been at your worse and it could even get worse, but the story does not end until you win. You may feel defeated, but no one has the power to deny you a beautiful end.
There would be no better way to end this than the words of Possible “Let people motivate you. Compete with the courage that people have not the results or silver linings peculiar to them. Courage is how people live on their own terms. So, do it for you. You are you and no one else can be a better version of you”
Habakkuk 2:3 — For the vision is yet to be for an appointed time but at the end it shall speak and not lie. Though it tarry, wait for it, because it will surely come. It will not delay.
