We Choose But God Decides

If our lives are what we make of it then what role then do we leave for God to play in our lives? Does God play any role in the people we become, the people we meet and the things that happen around us? Or are they all deemed to be destiny or fate? Sometimes I wonder, do we actually have the power to alter our destiny or fate? Or stop something bad from happening? Do we have a say in the people we become? God gave us the free will to make our choices, to choose good from bad or bad from good but yet God himself determines what we will be regardless of what choices we have made, that, is the answer to all those questions.
Let’s just say for instance, you have a meeting by 4pm and on your way to the meeting your car spoils and you end up late to the meeting which gets you fired. Or you miss an exam because you fell sick. The same goes when you think you are certain you are not going to get a job you applied because you think you are not qualified and miraculously you get the job. It is not like it is our plan to fall sick or for our car to get spoiled or get a job we are not qualified for right? This explains to us that there is a limit to which we can control our fate or destiny and that it’s God who designs our fate as well as our destiny.
So thinking that we could have prevented what would have happened in our lives or be certain of what our lives will be without seeking for God’s will is a waste of time. I like to put it like this way; a driver and his car. God is the driver and we are the car. God drives us. And our fate in life is in God’s hands. It depends on where God wants to stop and where he wants to go. Why then, will Jesus Christ teach us to say ‘thy will be done’ while saying the Lord’s Prayer (Matt. 6:10). This shows that as Christians, we have to pray for God’s will in our lives and believe that whatsoever that happens in our lives, God is aware. We have to let God control our destiny, He already knows our fate, there is nothing happening to us or that will happen that he doesn’t know of. All we have to do is we use our freewill which God have given to us to choose well and do the right thing always.
Sometimes people try to be like an automatic car that drives itself but truth is, as Auto car you never know when or where to stop, you never know when you run out of fuel. So why not let the ultimate driver to drive our destiny, let him take control of our destiny, He knows the best for us. In proverbs 16:9, the Bible says This shows us that we can only choose our destiny, but it is not up to us to decide who or how we will become that which we have chosen. It is God who decides our destinies, we can only choose, remember we can make our plans but God determines our step (Prov. 16:9).

The Interview

It was just 5:35am; his phone rang so intensely like it would wake the whole
neigbourhood. He was still very drowsy and reluctant to pick the call, because he
had slept for barely an hour. His phone was still making such a terrible noise that
he wanted to throw it away through the window. He grabbed the annoying phone
and arrogantly answered the call with such an aggravated tone, he said “Ogini”
(what is it) and the caller responded “Somutochukwu are you still asleep? Have you forgotten that you have an interview by 10:00am today in Asaba. The lady speaking on the phone is Nwanneka, his childhood friend and a very close and dear one. With these few words, he sluggishly stood up from his 6 inches bed where he lay. I barely slept for an hour Nwanne as he used to call her, I had to put things together, you knew I received the mail about the interview late in the evening yesterday and I had to take off from Nsukka to Enugu very late getting here, I have
to put things together my documents, suit, shoes. I just closed my eye around
4:30am to get a little rest. He was still on the phone when he heard a huge bang on the door of room, and with a loud voice, his mum called “Chiagozie are you still asleep? Did you forget you have an interview today?

“Nwanne I will get back to
you”

He said as he dropped the phone to open the door. Chiagozie as his mum fondly called him, what are you still doing, it’s already 5:43am and you are not yet
ready, from Enugu to Asaba is very far it will take roughly 5hours as his mum
continued talking, he left the room and rushed to the bathroom. He took a quick
shower then went back to his room and prepared for his journey. He came out of
his room carrying a portable bag. He met his dad in the living room and greeted
“Good Morning Dad” his dad gaze at him for a while and asked, “Are you going
for an interview wearing a casual outfit like this?. He hastily replied I will change
when I get there .You haven’t taken your breakfast, his mum screamed from the
kitchen. I am already running out of time, he replied as he looked at his wrist
watch and realized its 6:19am. He quickly grabbed the door, opened it and
hurriedly walked down the stairs out to the busy street. He stopped a tricycle to the park.

Arriving at the park he paid for his ticket and waited for almost an hour
before the vehicle was fully booked by passengers and they took off. The vehicle took off around 7:08am, he prayed meditatively for a traffic free journey, miraculously they only witnessed just 7minues traffic along Abakpa junction which usually delays people up to 2030minutes during the busy Wednesday morning. They had a really smooth drive in Enugu and the driver never stopped except where he had to buy petrol in the petrol station.
Getting to Amansea, a boundary between Enugu and Anambra State, there was a very horrific accident which caused a really terrible traffic from Oji-River to Amansea, they spent about 45 minutes in the traffic. His phone rang once again
from his trouser pocket, before he could get it out of his pocket, he had mistakenly
pressed the receive button, putting the phone on his ear, Nwanneka yelled again
“Are you there yet? No Nwanne but we are almost there, he lied to give himself a
little peace of mind if possible, but Nwanne is not a lady you can easily defer, she
persistently wanted to know his exact location. Nwanne, we are in a military check
point right now, I will have to call you back, he said as he pressed the red or
disconnect button on the phone. In the country you don’t answer calls while in a
military check point except you want to get the beating or punishment of your life,
either of the two or even both. They came to the military check point where the
traffic seemed to have declined, because the security agencies rushed in on time to
control what would have been a horrific impediment to travelers. While they left
the scene the passengers seemed relaxed and comported, but he couldn’t, he was
scared to look at his wrist watch because he knew looking at the time would make
him more uncomfortable. He tried to relax like the rest of the passenger but he
couldn’t, he kept on guessing in his thoughts, probably the time would be around
8:55 or there about and he still has about 39 km which would probably be a 2 hours
or more drive. The anxiety of arriving late to the venue of the interview was hitting
more on him every second that passed by and his cloth was already wet in sweat
while sitting on a well air conditioned vehicle. The passengers sitting close to the
driver started a conversation with the driver about the traffic and the accident that
happened behind them. In his mind, it seemed that the driver declined in speed
while discussing with the man. He wanted to lash-out his intense anxiety on the
driver and the passenger who were busy chatting but couldn’t because they were
both older men. He tried calming himself down by taking a deep breath but you
can still feel his restlessness all written on his face and via his body language. The
driver took a glance of him from the front mirror of the vehicle and he gaze back at
the driver who seemed to have felt his restlessness and understood perfectly
without him uttering a word by accelerating his speed. If I can control the driver
just through my gaze, then I might make the car fly with my mind, he thought
quietly to himself. Getting to Awka, the Capital of Anambra where the road was a
lot smoother then the dusty and degraded road, they had to go through some while
ago, their vehicle accelerated even more. The driver is not a bad one after all, he
consoled himself, but he can still feel the time flying so fast against him like an ice
placed on a heater. He promised himself not to look at his wrist watch, thou
severely tempted to as the morning sun shone so bright in the sky, I know it’s
probably past 9am, he guessed as his heart pounded so hard like a mortarboard
pounding yam.
They arrived at Onitsha by 10:00am dot; he was a bit alleviated when he
saw the time, because he was excepting a worse outcome. Onitsha is the nearest ttown to Asaba from Anambra State. The two towns were separated by River Niger
and linked by a bridge known as the Niger bridge. As he came down from the
vehicle, he stopped a taxi, please I am going to Zan-zi, he couldn’t pronounce the
name accurately, the taxi driver helped him, so he nodded in agreement of the
name the taxi driver has just said. Please I am late for an interview he added. The
taxi driver took advantage of the situation and his ignorance of the terrain and
charged him your price is N4,000, he screamed N4,000 that can feed me and my
family for a whole week. The avaricious taxi driver said Yes, that’s the price take it
or find yourself another taxi driver. He tried negotiating with the cuboidal l head
taxi driver, but to no avail. At this point he leaped into the car and told the taxi
driver to speed up as fast as he could, he knew the cost of the taxi driver was too
expensive and that he took advantage of this situation but he also knew that if he
was asked to pay more than that he would, he tried to console himself as they
drove on.
On arrival at the venue of his interview, he recalled he had some document
to be printed and photocopied, he rushed to the nearest computer center and while
he was being attended to, he was also changing from his casual outfit into his suit.
You total look different from the young man whom walked in here some minutes
ago, the computer attendant commended, he appreciates her as he looked beside
him and saw its ‘already 11:01am. He hurried back to the venue almost forgetting
to pay the services, Oga You haven’t paid me, the computer attendant called at
him, he rushed back, paid and quickly took off again like a mentally ill patient, he
rushed to the venue, praying in his mind not to be turned back. At the venue, he
met the staff in charge, Are you for the interview, the staff asked, the mail said test
and interview, he replied. He was asked for his resume which he submitted; he was
also given an attendance list to write down his name, qualifications and state etc.
He was given a seat where he sat for a while, staring at the ceiling with his head
laid up, he thought about his life. When he used to blab with his friends that by 27
years he would be a self made man but he is already 26 years and have nothing to
approve of himself. Once again, his tension grew as he recalled his ordeal with his
dad and elder brother whom he was dependant on as they yelled at him, Aren’t you
ashamed of yourself at your age, with all the money wasted on you, you have
nothing to show for it, you useless and Good for nothing being. Deep into his
thought, he heard a voice shout, who is Somutochukwu, the staff called out his
name, he rouse, “ I am, he said, follow me, order the staff, he quietly followed him
like a lamb about to be slain, they walked into an exam hall where other applicants
were writing exams. The staff gave him a seat in the front row. While giving him
his exam paper, the staff who is also the examiner shouted “Use of phones and
calculators are highly prohibited and you have twenty minutes left. He stare at his
exam papers for some seconds as if it were blank, its about 45 questions for justown to Asaba from Anambra State. The two towns were separated by River Niger
and linked by a bridge known as the Niger bridge. As he came down from the
vehicle, he stopped a taxi, please I am going to Zan-zi, he couldn’t pronounce the
name accurately, the taxi driver helped him, so he nodded in agreement of the
name the taxi driver has just said. Please I am late for an interview he added. The
taxi driver took advantage of the situation and his ignorance of the terrain and
charged him your price is N4,000, he screamed N4,000 that can feed me and my
family for a whole week. The avaricious taxi driver said Yes, that’s the price take it
or find yourself another taxi driver. He tried negotiating with the cuboidal l head
taxi driver, but to no avail. At this point he leaped into the car and told the taxi
driver to speed up as fast as he could, he knew the cost of the taxi driver was too
expensive and that he took advantage of this situation but he also knew that if he
was asked to pay more than that he would, he tried to console himself as they
drove on.
On arrival at the venue of his interview, he recalled he had some document
to be printed and photocopied, he rushed to the nearest computer center and while
he was being attended to, he was also changing from his casual outfit into his suit.
You total look different from the young man whom walked in here some minutes
ago, the computer attendant commended, he appreciates her as he looked beside
him and saw its ‘already 11:01am. He hurried back to the venue almost forgetting
to pay the services, Oga You haven’t paid me, the computer attendant called at
him, he rushed back, paid and quickly took off again like a mentally ill patient, he
rushed to the venue, praying in his mind not to be turned back. At the venue, he
met the staff in charge, Are you for the interview, the staff asked, the mail said test
and interview, he replied. He was asked for his resume which he submitted; he was
also given an attendance list to write down his name, qualifications and state etc.
He was given a seat where he sat for a while, staring at the ceiling with his head
laid up, he thought about his life. When he used to blab with his friends that by 27
years he would be a self made man but he is already 26 years and have nothing to
approve of himself. Once again, his tension grew as he recalled his ordeal with his
dad and elder brother whom he was dependant on as they yelled at him, Aren’t you
ashamed of yourself at your age, with all the money wasted on you, you have
nothing to show for it, you useless and Good for nothing being. Deep into his
thought, he heard a voice shout, who is Somutochukwu, the staff called out his
name, he rouse, “ I am, he said, follow me, order the staff, he quietly followed him
like a lamb about to be slain, they walked into an exam hall where other applicants
were writing exams. The staff gave him a seat in the front row. While giving him
his exam paper, the staff who is also the examiner shouted “Use of phones and
calculators are highly prohibited and you have twenty minutes left. He stare at his
exam papers for some seconds as if it were blank, its about 45 questions for just twenty minutes, he started sweating spontaneously and wanted to panic but he
comported himself as he quietly reminded himself, you have never been a dull
student and you will never be a dull examinee. The exam paper comprised of
English, Math, Verbal Reasoning and quantitative Aptitude. He began from the
ones he deemed easier and answered through to move difficult ones, as he was
reading and answering the questions, he felt empty and struggled with questions,
he would consider fragile during his high-School days. It actually occurred to him
that once you stop studying the memory of things you used to know will melt away
like an ice cream also your I. Q will decline. The staff came back and shouted 5
minutes more as he stood in front of him, this made him grew more wobbly and
wanted the examiner to leave so he could concentrate better, the examiner never
left, he stood there like an Iroko tree. He had no option but to continue with his
work. The staff shouted once more “Times is up” not even considering he was one
of the last person to start the exam, he was the first person the examiner collected
his papers, as he said to him, you can now leave, the test and interview is over. He
walked out of the exam hall feeling sorry for himself and some questions he left
unattended to. He felt like going back in there, grab back his exam paper which he
unwillingly submitted.
Walking down the stairs of the tall building, he brought out his phone to
goggle the answer to some of the questions; he ticked while in the exam hall. This
made things worse as he realized that he got some questions wrong, summing up
to this unattended questions, he began to vperspire, he tired to override the
pessimistic thoughts that were stuck in his head but couldn’t. The thought kept on
playing like a recorded tape. What if I didn’t succeed? I secondly am not getting
any younger because in the county the age limit for most entry level jobs is
26years. Bucked with his situation with his dad and brother and finally the words
of the examiner struck him once more “You may leave”. These sentences in
particular brought back many memories of his previously failed interviews. At point all hecould do was phray not to miss the opportunity.

By Chiagozie Somutoc

Love Takes Us On A Ride

Love takes us on a ride, a long long ride, far away where nobody can find us. And sometimes we get lost and, can’t find our way back. It is so beautiful, this thing we call love, don’t even know which one is more beautiful, loving someone or being loved. Loving someone who loves you might be beautiful but knowing that you are loved by someone who you love is far more beautiful. That was the case with me and Resa, the girl I love so much and I know for sure she loves me back. She is not just the love of my life, she is my life. I wake every morning like am in paradise, only her smile lights up my morning like the morning sun and her eyes, oh! How I treasure those eyes like they are diamond and gold.
I think about the things we had done together, always fresh in my mind like it was just yesterday. All the fun and foolish things we did, like going for picnic while it was raining or playing the wish game while lying on top of my car late in the night, I remember the look on her face when I asked her to come with me and she said “It’s beautiful under the rain”.
Under the rain, she laughed and we played like we are eight. And after she told me she is feeling cold and I asked her to pack up lets go and she said “No, I just want you to keep me warm”.
As I wrapped her in my arms, she closed her eyes, I can see the little droplets of water dropping on her face which made her face glow. I bent and whispered in her ears
“I love you. I will always love you I promise”. She smiled and I melted. I couldn’t say a word, I was speechless. She actually looks so beautiful under the rain, a different beauty from the one I know
Magnificent! I thought.
Droplets of water soon became droplets of tears. Am crying, she makes me cry. How I love the feelings, what more can I ask of her, her beauty simply makes me cry and her eyes makes me smile.
The night we played the wish game which was the last night we spent together, we were lying on top of my car waiting for a shooting star to appear. Facing each other I couldn’t help but keep staring at her face.
Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.
“Oh. I was just wondering which one shines brighter” I replied.
“What?”
“The stars in the night sky or your face, I can’t tell which one is shining brighter”. I replied and she laughed, so loud that I could hear the echo resounding in a distance.
She then asked me what I will wish for when the shooting star appears and I told her I would wish her to be the mother of my unborn children. She smiled held my hands and squeezed it. I asked her what she will wish for and she told me to wait until the shooting star appears to hear it. We waited for a second shooting star and none came and that was it, as we said goodnight that night I never knew that will be our last.
Even when I received the text early the next morning, I never believed it and still don’t believe until this morning I want to read the text one last time and then delete it and let it go forever. It’s been 2 years, yet reading the text makes it seem like it was yesterday I got it, with all the memories all rushing back. The last sentence of the text reads “I PROMISE TO ALWAYS LOVE YOU”. After pressing the delete button, I looked out the window picturing her face that night we were together, the last time I ever saw her face. I will never get to see that face again and I will never get to know what her wish was or will be. I looked at the phone again picturing the last sentence in her text like it is still there.
“I promise to always love you” I whispered to myself.

 

 

Inspired by the song PROMISE by Godwyn ft Di’ja

There’s Never An End

In what world do you get to leave the ring and declare victory without a fight?? I hate fighting, who likes fighting? I don’t think anyone does. But what are you going to do when all you have to do is fight. Fighting not just to survive but to Exist. Because, you can’t get out of that ring as a loser. There is nothing like being a loser in that ring. There is no loser. All we have is winners. Losers keep fighting. You’re forced (you don’t have a choice anyway) to keep on fighting when you lose. You can only leave when You’re declared victorious. So you keep on fighting knowing fully well that each time the bell goes off and the time starts ticking, You’re fighting to exist, fighting because you have to.

I see people who have been declared victorious and it keeps me going. It lit the fire in me to keep fighting. But something have been mysterious about the winners, once they are outside, they disappear, like they are taken to somewhere else. I always wonder what happens to those who got out. ‘Maybe there is another fight after this one’.
“where are they taken to?”

I ask myself a lot of questions and I can’t ask anyone else in the ring because am pretty sure no one in the ring knows. So I keep them bottled up inside me waiting until I get out. Maybe there is more to this fight than I thought.

It Takes Just A Question

Why is it that we learn things that are only been taught to us? What about things that are necessary we know them but they are not been taught to us? Do we out of our own shear ignorance, Ignore this things and see them as a total waste of time? Is it not ok we know a little about everything than the 19th century-style of knowing and learning everything about a particular thing? What differentiates us from lower animal is not actually talking but asking questions. Talking is for communication of which animals do too, in the sounds they make to each other except when you as a human teach them certain sounds we make to carry out our instructions. They don’t ask questions, they don’t ask why they exist at all, they don’t ask what happens to them when they die. And why can’t they ask questions? Maybe because they can’t ask questions or maybe they just want to know only the things they have been taught.

It doesn’t take your time, energy or interest to know something. It takes just a question. At least, you won’t embarrass yourself in public saying Venezuela is the capital of South-Africa or that Queen Elizabeth is the President of United Nations. Gosh! Atleast know that a queen is a monarch not an elected president.

Don’t be that ignorant or foolish like dogs who learn ‘catch’ or ‘sit’ because they are taught to ‘catch’ or ‘sit’. Anything more is not there business.

As John Mason said in his book an enemy called Average “An important way to keep growing is to never stop asking questions…the person who’s afraid of asking is ashamed of learning”.
It takes just a question, that’s all it takes to be a human and remember, only hungry minds can grow.

Mirror Line

“You can laugh but watch out, the person next to you might be laughing too”

I was reading this funny story the other day at the library. I go to the library only when am bored. The story was so funny that I started laughing, not LOL but really laughing out loud, I tried to conceal it so that I won’t disturb others but I was really choking with laughter. Then, I noticed the guy sitting next to me was also choking with laughter too. I drew my seat back to see what he was laughing at but it appeared he was laughing at nothing, infact he seem to be laughing with me because he was looking at me.
‘What are you laughing at, are you dumb?’ I said but I didn’t say it out.
The boy nodded his head still laughing.
‘What!’ I almost shouted really surprised.
‘Seriously? This guy must really be dumb’. I thought. What is he nodding at?
He looked up at me again still laughing, and said “At the story ofcourse”. ‘ofcourse not! How on earth is he able to read something beyond a wood used to dimacate the seats’. I thought. The boy swiftly turned to me and signaled me to pipe down.

“What the hell!” I wanted to shout but I didn’t. The boy drew his chair close to mine like he wanted to say something but I shifted away the boy then whispered gently “Stop saying hell, hell is real”. I freaked out almost Jumping off my seat.
Now almost at the edge of my seat. I said again to myself without saying it out.
“Oh yea, seems you stopped by there while coming to school this morning.”
He smiled and nodded his head again.

“What the f**k!” I shouted and jumped off my seat and took off. I noticed the librarian calling me back but I didn’t stop.

That same day, as I was going back home from school by bus, I was thinking about what had happened earlier in the day, how the boy was nodding his head like we were in a conversation and heard every single thing I said to myself. It really scared me. I heard a beep and brought out my phone to reply the text when a man sitting next to me inside the bus who had been reading a newspaper since I got into the bus suddenly burst into laughter and said “Did that really happen to you today?”
I froze.
I wanted to jump out through the window but the bus was moving a little bit fast so I brought out my earpiece, plugged it into my ears and started singing out loud.

Later at midnight, I woke up to finish the funny story so I got up carefully and slowly, because I didn’t want to wake my roommate. I went to the reading table and started reading the book again. My roommate was now snoring so I relaxed but then, I started thinking about what had happened in the library and in the bus. Are people now ‘reading’ my mind or something I thought well maybe they were both dumb or maybe it was a conincidence.

Then I heard my roommate laughing really loud, I shrinked. Then, I thought maybe he was dreaming.
“No am not dreaming” he said “Are you kidding? That boy must really be dumb to tell you he stopped by in hell”.

I wet myself and it was so hot that it burnt my skin.

Feel Something

I was about to go to bed the other night when something popped my mind, I wanted to just think it through while I sleep off but I decided to write it down. Here is what I thought that night.

I want to feel, I mean to actually feel something I have never felt before. I have felt love, hate, rage, happiness, sad, peace etc but I don’t think that’s all that should be felt. I want to feel the world, I want to feel reality in different way. I want to feel what the rich feels, to feel what the poor feels, the homeless, it’s ridiculously weird but that’s what I want.
Imagining what the rich feels or what the poor feels is no longer enough for me, I want to feel it, I want to feel their pain, their joy, every bit of it. Imagining a better life is always easy, good homes, big cars and house, happy family and all that. But what about imagining sleeping in the park, no home, no family, eating one-square meal a day, obviously nobody wants that, nobody wishes for such a thing (they say the universe gives you what you wish for). But people are living in that world, that terrible unimaginable life, maybe they wished for misfortune right? I wonder who will wish for such life.
Feeling what others feel will not make any difference, yes I know that, I’m not even sure what it will be like to feel what other people feel. I don’t know if it will make me feel any better.

I’ve come to love things that I think make me feel. Something reality can’t show me or make me feel and have come to use them as an escape from reality. I deep myself so deep into them that I wish never to come out, I feel it draws me away from reality, but gives me the security I need. I don’t know how true is that because I have come to realize that no matter how close a fiction story might be to a reality, its still not real. But what do I care, I still prefer to go to bed smiling with the memories of a novel I have read still fresh in my mind and waking up smiling that I will once again venture into this endless adventure. Books after books, movies after movies, I keep watching and reading, imagining myself as the characters in the movies or books. And when the stories don’t end well, I end up crying, little drops of tears which I can’t hold back roll down my cheek but it doesn’t make me to stop rather I would want to read more hoping it ends well and when it doesn’t, I can’t help but imagine the stories myself and make it end well.

Yet, non of those movies or books or paintings have actually made me feel. I don’t know exactly what I feel when I cried after reading a novel or become sad after watching a movie or become inspired after listening to a song but I know its different from what a boy with a brain cancer feels, or the little girl on a wheelchair begging for money on the street, or the woman with four children lying on the roadside under the hot sun. Am not sure what they feel, it could be pain, it could be disappointment, it could even be joy for you can never tell maybe its joy because they wake to see this beautiful world everyday. I wish I can change their world, make it beautiful to them, am sure some of these people have dreams and goals too, make their dreams come true. I wish I can do that but, how can I even do it when I don’t feel what they feel.

For we cry about a character in a movie or a novel because we become the character and feel what they actually feels. But in reality, we don’t want to feel what others feel because we feel we might be wishing ourselves ill-lock, except if the person is successful then I wonder how many people who’d wish to be like Bill Gate actually become like him.

But now, I want to feel not just a character in a novel or in a movie, or a homeless man who sleeps in the park. but to feel that which isn’t just in the imagination or even the reality but something more.

HAPPY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE 🙂

The Delegate

Hi everyone, I’m glad to be posting again. Its sad I haven’t been able to continue the series I have planned so well, I hope to get it back on track soon. But before then, I will be posting a couple of things I wrote while I was away starting with this one. Hope you Guys will like it.

************************

The sun was terribly hot that afternoon as I walked as fast as I can to get home. Usually I would have taken a tricycle but I have already spent all the money I have, so I have no other option than to walk.
As I turned into a street close to my own street, there was something unusual but normal. A group of people gathered together yelling on top of their voices at each other. It is no big deal to see people fighting or yelling at each other in the street. I take the street when I’m walking home because its shorter, so its either you stop and watch the drama or you go about your business.

That afternoon, tension was flaring high and non of them looked happy, they were sweating heavily like they just finished a marathon race in Sahara desert.
‘How long have they been standing there yelling at each other?’ I thought.
‘Or is it one of this jungle justice again?’. But they don’t seem to be yelling at one person in particular, it was like a group yelling at another group.
“What’s my business anyway”. I said to myself as I decided it’s better I just walk home and avoid the sun. But I have to walk past the group.

People have started gathering around to watch what was unfolding. As I got close to them, I could hear them clearly now, they were arguing about something about voting. I heard one say “Did you vote for him!?” “I saw who you voted for” “You are not included here, why should I give you money??”
I had no interest in what they were saying but one moment I was close to them, I felt I saw something, my heart raced immediately. Usually, this happens when I suddenly see something I don’t like, like a snake or a mouse. I know it has to do with something I had a glimpse of that came out from the cloth of the person walking next to me whom I thought was hurrying to walk past the group. As I turned in panic, I heard a very loud sound.

BANG BANG!!

Now I know what it is, but I didn’t think of it that moment. The sound was so loud that I thought I was shot as well. The closest I have been to such sound was when I was 11, I lit a banger and it exploded suddenly as I was still holding it. The first thing that came to my mind is run! Run as fast as you can! I did not know exactly why, maybe because I’m running for my life or maybe because I have just witness someone shot dead right in my eyes. Or maybe, because I don’t want to be ‘an eyewitness’ who will be taken to custody for murder rather than be questioned about what happened. I ran as fast as my legs can carry me ignoring every other person around who were also doing the same thing I was doing, Running.
As soon as I got into my house I locked up the door and lay down on the floor breathing heavily. I didn’t tell anyone about what I have just witnessed and later that night it was in the news and everyone in my house talked about it except me. I went to bed early anyway.

The next day, when I woke up feeling horrible, like I have had a bad dream, I couldn’t sleep all night. The whole incidence keep replaying in my mind at some point make me cry. On my way to work that morning I branched at a newsstand where I usually go to read the latest sports and entertainment gist, I have no interest in the big papers or in politics but sometimes I’d peep into the headlines to see what they have. ‘DELEGATES ELECT PARTY REP’ was the headline of one of the newspapers. Nothing of interest I thought, there usual selection I guess. But there was something that caught my eyes, something below the masthead that looked familiar. So I looked closer, it is a picture of a corpse lying lifeless on the ground. I remember him, that was the man shot right in front of me yesterday. Goose pimple ran all over me.
Below the picture was written ‘CULTIST SHOT DEAD BY FELLOW MEMBER’. I have never bought a newspaper except for sports papers and magazines. But I will buy one today, I want to find out the details about the incidence. I asked the vendor how much and paid him immediately and took the paper to a corner. I opened the page where the full story was and started reading.
“A man who is suspected to be a member of a cult group have been shot dead by a fellow gang member. An eyewitness said they were engaged in a heated argument when eventually one of them pulled a gun and shot him twice. “The police are on top of the situation and are currently investigating the case. Already two people have been arrested in relation to the incidence” A police spokesman said”.

I closed the paper and started thinking. There is something strange about the story, something untrue about it. The people I saw that day doesn’t look like a group of touts, they looked responsible, at least that is what I think. And the person who actually shot him wasn’t with the group in the first place. He came right behind me before he shot the man. There was no mention money or voting. And who might be this ‘eyewitness’? Because am sure no one who witnessed what happened will be there when the press and the police came maybe one hour later. I stood there pondering through my mind, finally I folded the paper, put it inside my bag and left. I will not tell anyone that I witnessed incidence anyway, I will be the biggest fool if I walk into the police station and tell them the report on the newspaper was wrong. They will arrest me and put me inside cell then tell the public that they have arrested the shooter. But I know there is something wrong with that report but its non of my business.

Two days later, I went to the newsstand as I was going to work as usual. I looked at the front page of the dailies, nothing special, just the usual, politicians who have won the primaries bragging how they will win the forth coming election. “I WILL WIN WITH A WIDE MARGIN SAYS DIKIM” One of the dailies captions it’s mass headline but I’m not interested in that, I’ve come to find out if there is any news about the murder. As I turned to leave I remembered the news vendor, the man who carries more news than the newspapers itself they say but he only talks when asked.
“Goodmorning”
“Goodmorning, you’re not buying paper today?”
“Yes, you know last weekend was international break” I said casually. “So I don’t think there is much news to read about”.
“Ok no problem”
I went closer to him as if I want to whisper
“Did you hear anything about the guy that was shot three days ago?”
He dimmed his eyes like he was trying to remember something before shaking his head in disgust.
“That one, they have closed the chapter”
“why” I asked surprised.
“Once the police mentioned gang shooting, they will no longer look into the case again” he replied.
I wanted to ask him why the police will try to cover up the crime before he continued.
“But the truth is that the man is not a gang member”
I thought as much.
“He’s one of those delegates who voted in the primary election” he continued “My source told me that he had collected money from different aspirants who were vying for the same position to campaign and vote for them and one of them had found out about it and felt betrayed and sent assassins to eliminate him”.
I was thrilled how he gather all these details, but wasn’t surprised. My town is a small town, its hard to keep secrets no matter how hard you try. News will always fly, some true, some just mere rumour. But this, I know is no rumour, the man was murdered, in cold blood. Someone at the top did this and used the police to cover it up. The politicians, full of bloody and greedy men who can do a lot of things just to get what they want. The police has no power and simply do what they say. Now the police only guides the politicians and police the masses.

And the delegates collecting bribes, why would they do that? They were suppose to elect the best candidate to represent the people well. The same delegates who collected bribes and voted a bad candidate will complain one year later about bad government. Ridiculous. I felt sorry for the man and his family for their lost but I was furious with the man, he wasn’t suppose to sell his conscience for money. Maybe that’s the price he paid for betraying the masses because if the delegates elect a bad candidate for the masses to vote for, then the masses will be left with no choice than to vote for the politician who is less bad which nonetheless make them a better candidate which they are not.

The vendor told me that his source said that they group which the police referred to as gang were actually delegates who had collected money from a particular candidate and the person who shot him wasn’t with the group in the first place which justified what I saw that day too.
“They would have killed anyway even if he was in his house” he said quietly.
I didn’t notice that other people there were listening to what we were saying until one said “The man was just unlucky they singled him out, was he the only person who collected money”? And then all of a sudden it turned into an argument on whether delegates should collect what one of the men there called their share of the national cake or not. I left as the argument went on.

I couldn’t get the whole story off my mind, if what the vendor said is not one of those rumours I wonder what the town is turning into, Police now protects murderers. well maybe to save their jobs but why should it be. And the poor man who collected bribe, I was angry with him for what he did but he doesn’t deserve to die in such a cruel manner. He wasn’t the only delegate who collected bribes from aspirants, he just turned out to be a scapegoat. I wished he gets justice atleast for the sake of his family he left behind but inside me I know he isn’t going to get it.

Super Hot

If science is beautiful because we go to space and make test tube babies. And technology is hot because it has made life easier. Then I will have to say that Art is Super hot. Because, it is why we’re existing at all. Art is what gives our lives meaning. Art is what makes us feel, It gives us hope when we have lost it. Art gives us a reason to Love our lives and that of one another, it gives us a reason to exist in a world where our existence is ominous and makes us believe in ourselves. Art consoles us when we’re grieving, it gives us reason to be happy. Art gives us a reason to appreciate the beauty of nature, it shows us what it means to be human.

Have you ever imagined a world without music, paintings, poems, books or movies? If you haven’t, I have and this is what I got; a dumb world, a world with no hope to exist, no love to share, no reason to love, nothing to believe in, ofcourse there is nothing to believe in because you don’t see why you should be existing in the first place.

Science was borne out of man’s desires and necessities, to discover why and what our existence is made of. But what about Art, How did Art began to exist? For me, Art began to exist just as the existence of man began too. It wasn’t out of necessity that man designed musical instruments or made sculptures and paintings in the first world.

Have you seen someone who doesn’t love arts? Like doesn’t listen to music, doesn’t like watching movies or even read books or poems. What does he do? He is always depressed, he doesn’t love the world or appreciate his existence. He sees nothing, not even the beauty of this world and most of all he doesn’t have hope. and when this happens, his life becomes like that of a grasshopper, just existing.

Art is beautiful and the beauty of Art lies in the fact that it shows us that everything is possible. That a blind man can listen to beautiful songs and appreciate the world without seeing it, the deaf can see the beauty of this world and love it without hearing it. You see, no one is left out, not even the blind or the deaf. And just like the saying goes, Art comforts the disturbed and disturbs the comfortable, because only through art we are able to express what we all feel.

Everyone got to love Art no matter who you are, where you’re from or what you’re made of because by loving arts, we get to appreciate the world and love our existence. And, that’s why Art is super-duper Hot.

****

I will like to say a big thank you to Cristen Mihal for inspiring me back to writing this piece. I have thought about writing something about Arts for a long time but needed something to push me and He gave it to me. Keep doing what you do best.

WHAT’S YOUR STORY: THE FIGHT (1)

What’s your story is a true story; my true story. It’s all about series of hilarious events that happened in my childhood and in my teenage. Going back in memory, I remember some things I did and some things that happened that make me want to die of laughter now, the pranks I played then, all the silly moments, all the happy and sad moments, the unforgettable moments etc. So here I am, remembering as much as I can and sharing with everybody my childhood story. As a nobody, I actually don’t expect anything from sharing these funny stories, it’s just for fun and for everyone to see how fun it is now remembering the things I did that shaped who I am today. This is my way of saying thank God for the grace of life thus far which I gladly appreciate.
I will also be sharing other people’s childhood stories on this page, so if you wish to share your own childhood memories, tweet me @brunotesoro or inbox my Facebook page.

My childhood wasn’t that smooth at all, I attended five primary schools and three secondary schools. So you see I’m always on the go. Born in the in city, I spent most of my childhood in the villa that is, I grew in the hood. I can’t remember anything that is hilarious about my life that happened between 0-10 years, virtually because I didn’t know they were happening unless someone told me and I didn’t even who I was then. But there is one thing I can remember very well about myself as a child and that is I PLAY A LOT, I play everywhere and every time. All my primary school teachers that taught me in all the five primary schools I attended complained of the same thing and it is always written well in all my end of term reports. This reports comes in different styles, some of my teachers would write ‘Good result but always playing in class’ or ‘Good result but he plays too much in class. Even some go extra mile to advice my parents that I should not be allowed to play during the holiday instead I should be enrolled in holiday classes. This resulted to my dad bringing me back from where I have gone to stay with my aunt for holidays after just nine days to attend lessons. Well that didn’t stop me from doing my thing as I got into secondary school, my playing woes continued.
Back then in school I was known with a lot of things ranging from being very noisy to always playing in class and playing pranks but fighting is not one of the things am known for. As much as I love playing, I didn’t really like getting into trouble, so I have very low records of getting into trouble that it is rare to hear I was in a fight. When I was still in JSS2, back then I was one of the smallest dude in class. In fact, I have always been one of the smallest in every single class I have been in. Because of that, getting bullied has become part of life for me though I hated been bullied and sometimes I don’t take it no matter who you are. Well on this particular day, I wasn’t ready to be bullied. We were out for break and I went into an empty class which is the usual spot for playing for I and my friends but they weren’t there (Probably they were serving punishment somewhere) so I went to look for them. As I was leaving, a boy put his foot for me and I almost tripped. I became angry, so I went over to him and he pushed me. I pushed him back and then we began to fight. The boy is older and bigger than me, to make it worse for me, none of my friends were around there to save me. Actually, we weren’t fighting, he was beating me. At a point, though the boys around there were mostly his friends, one of them came and separated us by then I was crying. After we were separated, they asked me what happened, I couldn’t talk because I was choking with tears, and the other boy now told them a different story about what happen. I was furious by now, I was thinking of what to do to get back at him. So as he was talking, something came to my mind and without thinking twice about it, I went close to him and suddenly, I threw my heaviest punch at that time at his face, it landed straight on his mouth. Everybody was shocked, I was shocked too because I had barely thought about it in a second. The boy held his mouth, he spat and there was blood. He looked at me and I saw fire in his eyes, at that moment taking off would be my best option but it was late. The boy had already pounced on me and was hitting me all over. This time around, nobody separated us including the boy that separated us earlier. While I was receiving the beating of my life I overheard one of them tell someone who was coming to separate us to leave us alone to fight because that’s what I want.
“He wants to fight, so let him fight” the boy said.
Honestly, I can’t remember how I was later liberated but I remember that I looked at myself once I was out of his hands to see if there was any trace of blood and there wasn’t. I declared myself winner in my mind though I was still crying. I saw myself as the winner of the fight because, back then fights are not decided by number of punches but by who threw the other on the ground and fed him with sand and also by who made the other bleed. It is useless to throw punches without making your opponent bleed. So by this judgement, I won the fight because he would have to explain to his parents what happened to his tooth while I would walk away just the way I came into the fight, CLEAN. I don’t know if he still remembers the fight as much as I do but I do enjoy remembering the fight.
Well I changed my reputation, the rate at which I was been bullied reduced and as for the boy I fought with, we never crossed each other’s path until I left the school.
The next day…………………………..
Please don’t ask what……………..OK FINE!!!
Well…..I didn’t go to school
Don’t ask what happened….because it’s obvious…..NOBODY takes that kind of beating and doesn’t fall sick.