A MONO-THOUGHT

It was on a Saturday morning, mama as I fondly called her, neatly dressed in her newly made regalia, very expensive native attire with her head gear wrapped on her head. The gele style was a conventional way of styling gele. I could imagine what a Saturday will be without Owanbe. We had experienced that before. Everywhere was so rowdy. Even my neighbors I barely see around, I saw them that Saturday clearing the bush at their backyard. I could remember the smile I wore that Saturday because mama has been complaining about what she sees every morning; a reptile crawling out from the small bush at their backyard. I got scared even though I saw none. My movement in the compound got limited and that very Saturday was the last time the bush was cleared. Their weekdays are scheduled for work, Saturdays for visitation, Owanbe and Sundays for church and the likes. What a week!

We were ready for the Owanbe. I hopped to the back seat just to run away from mamas conversation. She loves conversing with someone beside her when driving I watched through the side mirror to see the world on its own. My street is a world! I said. The rows of houses; the structure of houses on the street could tell its age, Im not surprised because this is somewhere in the heart of Lagos. I was only surprised at the people; the way they chose to live. The mothers gathered at a house for their gossip, the men leaned on their shop waiting for a miracle. I tried to listen to every conversation but I saw satisfaction on their lips. Im satisfied with where I am is what I could hear from their countenance. My mother drove slowly to the junction. The paintings, Mosiac, at the junction give an aura of a perfect picture of an African society. Looking at the beautiful artistic works, a crippled Hausa man wheeled towards our car. This man needs a serious health care. Money is not their needs right now. Mama said pitifully. I watched other disabled ones stationed, beside the road. They await a helper. I wondered why the government cannot find a better life for these ones. They are not meant to be here. Its risky. I spoke thoughtful. While thinking of how miserable life will be for these ones, a young girl in her early teens stretched forth her hands to display what she sells. She hawks on the road. My friend told me she hated buying things from them because they appear unclean. who will buy their petty goods then I questioned. I managed to convince mama that very day but she concluded on the note Health is wealth. Being careful of health, some lives are dying in hunger. Cant we reach out for these ones? We left some lives in pangs. I thought of this severally but nevertheless these ones have to eat, live and associate as well. We got stuck on the road due to the traffic jam. We waited for an hour before we could get out of the traffic web. While moving slowly, we saw potholes being filled up. Im not surprised because filling potholes is the only way to maintain our road. Mama could have passed the shortest route but the road leading Malate was blocked due to the carnival the street guys had yesterday. The soldiers scene is another series on the road. They wont stop flagging their pride to the civilians. A public driver was beaten blue black because he did not create a space for them on the road. At first, I pitied the man but I could hear the hums of people blaming the driver. Is he a stranger on the road. Unwise fellow! I analyzed those words. So, in the constitution, there is a lane partitioned for the government and its parastatals on the road. What a nation! We are gullible enough to be led by men of mischief. The cynical ones find it risky to agitate or voice out. Moving away from the soldiers scene I got enlightened about the irony in my country. We got stuck again. A gentleman in a well-trimmed trouser and ironed shirt, beside him is a bag resting on his shoulder his shoes were occupied with dust. Although he is tired from his looks but he looked so decent to beg. Perhaps, he is stranded. I thought pitifully. The gentleman stood beside a newly bought car parked at the roadside. He faintly knocked on the window screen of the car. Although, I could not hear what he said but I watched closely the way he gesticulated with his hands. The driver in the jeep, unwinding his car looked disdainfully at the young man. The countenance of the man in jeep was that of  a tout. His dread was unkempt and the number of chain he wore on his neck could tell his occupation in this country. I giggled when I remember what mum calls those who wear dozens of chains on their neck. Heap of prisoners. Watching this two men, I read a placard standing out beside the jeep; no parking, no hawking, no loitering. Keep moving. The cop stood not too far from these people but he acted like a flat character in a play. In the car, we quietly listened to the news to know the latest news about ASUU. To my surprise, the strike has been suspended. Mama wore a smile when she heard the news. ASUU suspending a strike is the joy of every citizen in a country. I said firmly. Our car moved slowly down to the venue. It was a standardized hall. Thats what brings cash to our pockets on Saturdays. Every associations and cooperative societies has a hall. I felt the glee, the joy that filled the hall. Nigeria is not smiling at us yet we live! The audience glee gave a rehash of how the wedding party will be!

We pretend as if nothing is wrong in the country. The corrupt structure of the country is not our pain anymore but we still hope for a better Nigeria. Our joy sprouts within because we still survive in the pathetic economy condition. We have God at the centre. We see Him and not Nigeria even though we cry for change. Our change is in our actions and not in words. How active are you in the cycle we have been clamoring or we are still hoping for change? Remember, Saturday comes a week and the nations realities we find everywhere.