In utmost sincerity my friends, life is an irony of itself, and this I say with every bit of justification in my body. Everyone who belongs to the Middle Class and somewhere below that line would understand the true meaning of those words – or those who have crossed over to the Privileged Class and have stories to tell. It lies somewhere in between and all it takes to decipher it is a look at the reflection of your own self to see it.
It seems as though the ones with the best of ideas have no financial backing to establish them while the privileged ones with so much to throw around see no reason to leave their comfort zones as they have and always will flourish in abundance; basking in the wealth of their parents, arrogant as usual and intimidating, at every opportunity given, the one who has less than they do. Often times drive their rides not cars or moto as some lecturers have around campus picking up the finest girls or their rich friends but then theres the poor child who gazes at every airplane (aeroplane) flying across the ghetto visualizing himself as a pilot but with little hope of getting into school; the female child who longs to wear the doctors lab coat but whose father insists school is for boys alone that girls should learn from their mothers how to be good house wives. That continuous day dreaming of success, the imagined air of satisfaction inhaled at the dusk of the morning and the stream of hope that one day, a big man will one day come their way and sponsor them through school are the things that keep them connected to the future.
Or Nnaemekas father who has recently lost his job due to a cut in workforce in his company and cannot but sit in his arm chair daily hurling curses at Buhari, Abacha, Babangida and other former heads of state for destroying the country, leaving it in ruins with no hope of being fixed by the ever agitating and erratic-headed youths of today waiting to tear down the country at the slightest provocation; his only source of happiness and pride being his daughter who performs exceptionally well at school and has maintained her dignity through the years with hopes and aspirations of bagging a law degree in the nearest future, sources of funding unsure but hopes high is the very thing that keeps him connected
How about Bayo with his First Class degree and a failing mother looking to give up any minute? He would, many years ago, smile at his mum and promise to buy her the biggest Jeep like that of the Army General who lived down the road. He was willing to be the man who would make up for his fathers cowardice of leaving them when he was just born with no hope of surviving. He would rise very early to be one of the first boys to be picked as conductors for the typical yellow Danfo buses that characterize the streets of Lagos. His loud shouts of Oshodi! Oshodi! throughout the day would leave his voice cracked by night but fetch him enough money to buy his mother drugs to keep her for as long as she will last till he finally meets good luck to buy her the Jeep he promised.
A True Follower – a term I have began to use more frequently to refer to sincere and devoted Frandela readers – would agree that dormancy has taken over our online space with cobwebs littered all over the place leaving no reason to type comments, no questions to ponder on, no stories for entertainment, no Random Thoughts for digestion and no competition for those who see it that way.
Truth be told, the craving for the soothing notification tone of my WordPress app, the new comment/follower email in my mailbox or just the encouragement to keep up the good work has been on the increase like a recovering child longing for sugary candies and chocolates. Not that these are the things that make me blog or define the writer in me, no, but they keep the fire burning. A lot has happened during my blog sabbatical, things not pleasant to the ear, yes, but those are the very things that keep me connected
You know, every time I visualize that dream of becoming one of the most influential youths in my generation through the words I write, the actions I take and the moves I make, and progress trickles in, something just seems to get in the way! The type that makes my ever religious cousin shout “I bind you devil!” at the slightest disappointment. And trust me, when challenges come, they all seem to come all at once and in full force but for some reason, I scale through.
With God on my side coupled with hard work, determination and perseverance, I find myself scaling those walls of obstacles and swimming successfully across oceans of troubles so effortlessly. I decided to mention explicitly God being on my side because of those who make sharp comments when they ask me how I do and I reply “By the Grace of God”. I do hope to do this more often and join the PepperDemGang for promoting my stronghold – The Almighty.
It might seem odd asking you to find the source of your inspiration and keep pushing, especially in the face of many obstacles recession, school (trust me, this can be sometimes), personal and family matters that all fight for a share of your time yet, I encourage you to see your current situation, no matter how bad, as a stepping stone to your destined heights.
Special thanks to the Chimamanda of ThoughtsbyTrey, – Chiazor – who keeps encouraging me to push my writing limits, and for some reason, I feel indebted to. Do well to check out her blog by clicking here. There are many others who keep pulling my strings to take another step in the right direction but for today, I choose to mention only her.
In summary, locate the broken cords – family, desired success, hope that has been placed in your hands, the God factor and more – that will keep you connected even when you think you are losing your mind.
God bless you!