For more than a decade in my life, one saying I have heard severally is; man proposes; God disposes. Well, if like me, you live in Sub-Saharan Africa, the saying is probably not new to you. My folks in the abroad might find it hard to relate to such statements. Wait a minute. Talking about abroad, I and many other of my countrymen, can’t wait to jand. For the records, we are tired of praying for light and water. It is with deep pain that we see those men who have refused to pay the salaries of our parents, wear their babariga and cruise in luxury cars. They will chop money and chop money and once in a while, provide some comic relief. Sometimes, they dance, at other times, they are singers. They even go the extra mile at times, fainting and convulsing. Enough of the talk jare. My country-people (in high pitched Ibo) seem to have made a blood covenant with their oppressors.
In what seemed like man’s proposition, was our lofty agenda for 2020. Many great and brilliant ideas now lie in the bin. Never in my life have I had a 7-month break. No thanks to the pandemic. While we put pen to paper and stained those pages with ink, God was watching. He had his hand on His chin and smiled. Once or twice, maybe thrice or perhaps four times, I had to wonder if God is good. It was that bad. My broke ass had loads of nightmares and; whenever the day was bright, my soul was lorn. I was mad. It was unbelievable that the ‘good God’ could be aware of all these. Sundays came and; it was all “vexation of spirit”. Not again! I was tired of the whole show.
Unknown to me, the wind will blow, and my dim eyes will see. I will see tombstones in their numbers, the destitute and beggars. I will see the hungry and naked. I will see boys and girls, a lot better than myself, roaming the streets. Then will I realise; what a blessing it is, to be alive. How often, do we neglect the small things? The gift of a shelter; befitting or not. The grace of a meal on your table; miserable as it may taste. The blessedness of clothing; designer or nay. How about the gift of a family; funny as they may be. How do we even begin to count our blessings; a sane mind, eyes that can see, ears that can hear and bums that can poo. Above all, is the gift of hope – the assurance of better days to come.
So, when next you receive a call from ingratitude, smile. Get yourself a garment and make room. Blare the music on volume 100 and keep the monster at bay. It’s been a tough year, no doubt but look inwards and find a reason to be grateful. You can go right, left, front, back, up, down and; repeat. It is time to shake your body! Gbe body e!