What I am here for

When I see what I feel is wrong,

I sometimes want to speak

Other times I want to act

But I would be the first to move if I did

And if I am, what does it mean?

The one who stands against what we have learnt to believe

What we have been told is right to love and hate

The elders have reminded the people holding contrary opinions, to shoves those thoughts aside as its hold no water in the scheme of things

So everyone act normal, based on their definition of what being normal is

They have been schooled in how things should operate and strive for perfection in climbing the corporate ladders

In this quest for success, they take actions that stands against what their very essence tell them is right,

Denying who they truly are,

Denying humanity of the beauty they can release from within their soul

The enforcers of how we currently live have forgotten that the current order was birth from rebellion

It was birth by people who questioned the system of things and decided on better methods of doing things

And it is from this travail that civilizations were born

Civilizations rose and were conquered by men and women who decided that normal was not enough

They experienced something within that became such a reality, that contrary circumstance could not convince them otherwise

Such experience made them decide that what they saw much be established

I think I will speak out and give voice to what I believe- Even careless words and questions could be a source of lesson for me and those that listen to my words for inspiration

I think, my actions will be motivated by my convictions rather than peer pressure-My actions may not change the world, but they may inform those who can, to do so

In all, I think I will just be myself-My reward may not be material, but by my actions, I will satisfy that deep longing within my spirit to follow the instruction of that timeless still and small voice

I think I will fulfill what I am here for, as this is the essence of my life

Interpretation of a Dream

I am one of the few people who enjoy traffic in Lagos. I enjoy the moment when I get on the 3rd mainland, crossing over to the “fast” lane (which usually turns out to be the slowest). It might be a survival instinct, but I have learnt to savour every moment of that ride.

But what is there to enjoy?

Well for one, my Nigerian siblings are calmer. Everyone is very aware of the metal restrictions all around, forcing a more orderly behaviour than they would normally have. And in this environment of tranquility, I am given that rare opportunity to put things in perspective: to see things for what they are and build up a desire of how things should be.

To my right is a Toyota Corrolla, and seated at the back seat (or the “the owner’s corner”) is a light skinned man (most likely of the Yoruba extract). He was driven by a young lad in a white shirt and a red tie that kept a straight face and tried too much not “to upset oga”. The “owner” kept a straight face as he glossed through the dailies, with his head up and an attitude of accomplishment. His appearance embodied the Nigerian delusion of success.

·         Possibly just flew down from a meeting in Cyprus and is on his way for a meeting with some senators (on some contract that no one would feel the impact, but he would get awarded for)

·         Possibly lives in Victoria Island.  His wife owns a store for kid’s ware in Pees Galleria and is currently setting up a  crèche in Old Ikoyi for her children.

·         He is an icon of respect and EVERYONE WANTS TO BE LIKE HIM!!!

As I observe the likes of “owner corner” baron, it occurred to me that this man could have desired something else. It seems such a trivial thought, but how we overlook such powerful consideration in the quest for survival.

Maybe, he always wanted to be a gym instructor. Maybe he was considered a strange child, one with an obsession on weight gain and loss. He might have excelled in Physical education and joined all the clubs passionately promoting health education and fitness in his small community. But when he got older, weighed down by the pressures of life, he sought the route most travelled. To gain the approval of his family, and fend for himself, he sought after the roles that appealed to all his contemporaries.

So even though his heart desired something else, even though he knows he his better equipped to handle something apparently trivial, what I observe is a man that fit a definition of achievement.

And this is what caused this traffic!! This is the result of a generation blindly aspiring after a definition of success; chasing to do what they are not equipped to do. All this is fueled by a lie:                         

“Success is only achieved against all odd, it is only achieved when you follow the paths of our successful fathers”

But what if he had chased his dream? What if he remained in Akure as a gym instructor? What if he married Kemi his childhood sweetheart, not Biola, the mysterious girl? What would his life have been like? Would his focus have being to “buy with money what has been created”, or “creating what money can buy”? Putting things into perspective, who would he have become?

I believe a society that functions is a product of many dreams. Every functioning society is beyond doing what is right, beyond learning from the best teachers. Rather it is rooted in the something more fundamental. Communities that soar are those who can desire and in this mist, articulate their essence in the grand scheme of things. Their essence results from everyone chasing personal desires, and by this, crystallizes a reality that can nurture the skills required to sustain the next generation.  

And these desires are results of personal experiences; they are personal responses to challenges the environment presents, changing with every new generation. In a sense, a society that will survive is one that can accurate capture the dreams within their environment provide the environment to harness it; in other words, societies that can accurately interpret its' dreams.

Not until, this dawns in our consciousness, not until we are able to glean this reality, we would be stuck in traffic, on this crowded road to success, (dying inside, revolving against the establishment, angry with the next man)  at the expense of who we truly are; at the expense of the real Nigerian Spirit.

Form

There is a part of me that is physical
It is my form
Found in my face and my stature
Tall, Brown skinned, sleepy eyes, long finger, soft palms 
All set to remind you of my roots
And to the simple minded, that is all I am


But there is more to me than what your senses can observe 
There are secrets and experiences unknown to those that observe
 There are hidden talents that would be uncovered over my lifetime
 But all that is cage within this form


In a world overloaded with information, 
that sacred part can be lost 
Where I am told to overlook my instincts and follow the popular path 
Because of the fear of the unknown, I conform


But even in my crowded walk,
I am drawn to the word of that still voice 
I am always reminded of His timeless words


“You are more than form, you are spirit
Don’t rely on every information, rely on Me, your inspiration”

Patterns of the Stereotype

I once saw them at a distant
I cringed as they performed their rituals
They made sounds that had a rhythm I couldn’t understand
And a melody that held no resonances with music I was familiar with
But all that was at the beginning of their rhythm
Cos at the tail end, I led the chorus of the song

I once saw them as a primitive people with strange idiosyncrasies
All caught up in doing things that had no bearing to what really matter
Till I sensed it
That moment when it all crystallized
My purpose, my essence and how I had been positioned to make known what is within me

All journeys like this one starts out with us having obvious differences,
It always starts out with us trying to mix like oil in cold water,
But with time and the pressures of living, our differences become less apparent

It was here I found my calling
It was here that that I began to engage my senses and began to blossom from within
And as I continued in purpose, outsiders found it harder to know where I start, and where they begin,
Cos in our harmony, we spoke with one voice

I had become familiar with their ways and what they stood for
I had began to appreciate the intelligence in their gatherings and the logic behind their chaos
I began to know that it is in their mist I can matter
I now see how I can become their anchor
How strangers would soon begin to refer me as the incumbent; the one that defines the pattern in their stereotype

Me

It is not uncommon for me to secretly lust after his achievements
And be green with envy as he talks about his accomplishments
In our gatherings, he is the man about town
Controlling the atmosphere and pulling everyone to his presences
There is just something about him that I want to be

As my mind races about looking at what I am not
I sometimes overlook this simple truth;
there is something that is essentially me
And the world would be empty without

There would be one less aspiring poet
working to convey thoughts on everything in words
laced with wisdom of the simple,
I won’t be here to question ritual behind traditions
and review our presence in the time and space
There would be no me to rank everything in a mathematical order
and quantify every emotion
Or approach topics with a childlike nature that yearns for the logic behind everything there is
I would be trying to be someone else

The essence of who I am must have been coined up by the divine in His desire to fulfill a purpose And in this desire, he decided that I must come,
Experience life as this being,
Battle with personal weaknesses
And appreciate my mortality as a steward on a mission to fulfill that directive set before me
The content of all will be revealed at an appointed time
It is only in with this realization that who I am is someone unique,
can I achieve fulfillment and be satisfied in the work of my hand

My soul beamed when I realized this truth,
I no longer see the need to ascribe his winnings to luck
Or join as the crowd in mocking the source of his wealth
Nor do I develop methods to measure our individual achievements and grade them (on that selfish quest to test the fairness of life)
This revelation became clearer when I explored his source and discovered
he is a man who built his life on one simple principle:
“All that is beautiful lies in being me”

Becoming

Who am I?
I ask myself that question,
‘Cos who I am is not static,
It is an evolving experience,

I know who I was,
I know who I have been,
But I am not sure who I am.

It is not written what I am yet to experience
And how my reaction would affect my version of reality
How it would open a new part of me
Revealing hidden strengths and weakness
And with that transformation,
The manifestation of a new me

So when I tell you this is who I am,
Be sure to know that I am referring to who I was,
Cause I don’t know what I am becoming

Whisperer

The loudest words are heard in the silence,
At that point when nothing else can be heard,
It might be a whisper,
But it is capable of charging the atmosphere
And making men act with an objective in mind

To a passerby, all statements appear to be a mixture of vowels & consonants used to create words in sentences
But we know better
The ears of the observer interprets statement that resonates with their core belief system
By testing the use of words and the underlying logic
His eye looks at charm, the charisma and confidence
The brain fuses within us what these senses noticed,
A belief system is formed,
The observer imagines,
The observer is convinced
The observer acts

The average person overlooks what lies in the heart of the speaker
People forget that behind those words lie internal conversations
Lies individuals dealing with mundane person issues, common to everyone alive

Men dealing with depression,
Asking that age old question: “What is the point of my life?”
He tries to improve the state of their health, his weight & work life balance,
In secret he punishes himself for the failures of his children
And boast about his wife’s beauty,
With a fair yardstick, he gives judgment on himself for actions that go unnoticed

Amidst these trivialities are great ideal designed,
Men are refined to synchronies words with demeanor
This is how value within is born
And it is from this value that, earth changing words emerge

But in a world lost to its own values and warped belief,
It is only a whisper loudest in the ear of those that can hear

On Spoken Words

I have noticed something about us, Nigerians; and I find it in spoken words.

During conversation with foreigners (someone speaking a different accent of English, most either of the Americans or the British), pronunciation of words change.
The average uncouth Nigerian begins to speak in what he or she assumes is the accent of the other person in the conversation.
Immediately a fellow Nigerian appear, the normal Naija accent for spoken English returns.

But I noticed that the accent of the person the Nigerian is speaking to, is maintained no matter where he/she is (that is at least until he acclimatizes to the environment; by then, the subconscious takes over and he speaks in the accent of the locals).

This has left me pondering:
1. Maybe we think they our versions of English are different languages; “this foreigner doesn’t understand what I said; I must translate to his language”.
2. Or could it be that we believe that our language is Pidgin English? Therefore, we must speak formally (which is the foreign way English is spoken) when a stranger is around.
3. It could be due to the mouthy way we speak English. Subtly we think this is an inferior way of communicating.
Could (3) be the right answer? Could that be why?
· Is this what make some of (obviously less sophisticated) elders sound funny in their effort to incorporate “being there slangs” in their spoken English?
· Maybe that is why the average Nigeria adjust quickly to foreign lands with ease and face a tough challenge re-adjusting back to “hot” Nigeria “after so many years” (2 years; and this dude traveled when he was over 25)”.
· Or why the media retains foreign accent speaking (or "fonee" speaking) presenters?
· Maybe that’s why this “never being there” presenter is trying to ruining my afternoon… (using words like:
> “twenny”(for twenty)
> “innit” (for isn’t it)
> “nigga” (black man)
> “big up” (Sign of respect))
…in the most awful ways?

Before you ruin my day,
just listen.
You can’t forge an accent.
Takes more than just twisting your mouth or saying "cool" words.
It describes where you are coming from,
signaling a history you have experienced
Any effort to belittle it will only be an open mockery of everything you stand for
…and noise to my ear (as you successfully done)

You accent shows generations of individuals interacting with their environment in a particular way.
It reflects how the previous owners of a land viewed the earth,
their socio-economic/ legal struggle,
what they understood by all they sensed,
And how this understanding forced them to silently the pronunciation of certain alphabets (and amplify other) the way they did
Such different use of vocal chords created different accent.
In line with the saying of the holy book that “the fathers have eaten sour grapes and the children’s teeth are set on edge”

Hey Mister,
Please do you were employed to do;
Develop qualitative & engaging contents.
Use every opportunity to speak justice, the truth and what you truly stand for.
Because, that’s what earns respect.