Edima Usoro

I saw a man in a forest yesterday. He wielded an axe. With this axe, he struggled to fell a tree. Tree to tree he went, looking for a small width tree, one that he could easily chop with his axe. Having found none, he flung his axe on his shoulder with the sharp end facing the ground and walked away.

I saw a woman on a road yesterday. She had a baby on her back. The sun was at its peak determined not to spare anything in its path. She walked around looking for some form of covering if not to shield herself, the baby on her back. None was available for the harsh sun penetrated every form of shade.  Having found none, she stood in the open with her baby on her back.

I saw some teenagers in a school yesterday. Lectures were long over and they stayed back in a class to study. They read and read and read but no understanding came. They went in search of the lecturers but found them not. Having not found them, they closed their books and went home and on the day of reckoning, failure awaited them.

Behold the harsh tales of months gone by; of efforts wasted and courage lost. How painful it is to put in all your time and energy, like the man who tried to fell a tree and yet no result to show for it.

How painful it is that life is unfair and denies you of certain privileges and fortunes like the woman with the baby on her back for if she had an umbrella or maybe a car, the sun and she just might be friends.

How painful it is that you want something so bad, give up certain comforts for it, put in basically all you have just to make it work and at the end you wish you didn’t even bother like the teenagers who failed their exam.

The harsh truth you must accept is that life can never be a smooth sail. Just like the tide, you must experience highs and lows, crashes and turbulence but one thing you forget about is the calm. Let go of the past failures, let go of the past months and focus on today for each new day should be greeted with fresh hope and fresh determination. May the months ahead be kind to you.

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Can you show love to someone you don’t know? Can you help someone who isn’t related to you without expecting even as little as thank you from the person? Can you give your time and resources to someone who in future may become ungrateful?

I watched a South African drama film, “LITTLE ONE” yesterday. Movies hardly move me emotionally (after all everything is scripted and acted) but this one tugged my very soul until I vowed to share it with you. Often times, we are faced with difficult choices. What if I do this and it turns out bad? What if I help and it backfires? Watching Lindiwe Ndlovu made me realize that it’s OK to take risks. It’s OK to worry but that shouldn’t stop us from trying.

Imagine this: You’re driving one evening or strolling and suddenly you see a battered child of about five years by the road side. Not knowing whether she’s dead or alive, you rush her to the hospital. Not caring whether the police will accuse you of being responsible for harming the child or the hospital will accept the child.

Let’s say you get past all these hurdles, the child lives. You again go out of your way to find out why the child became a victim of violence; all this while the child is staying with you. Alas, you must return the child to her mother knowing you’ll never see her again having gone through a lot to keep her. Well, that’s what Lindiwe did.

You might be faced with something different from the scenario above; perhaps not as extreme as this or even worse.  Try not to walk away from every opportunity life gives you to lend a helping hand. The last time you made someone smile, how did you feel? I am so sure that whatever it is you felt was nowhere near sadness.

Don’t let experiences overshadow the goodness in you. Learn from them and see better ways to work around them. Make a vow to help at least one person every week. Mind you, it doesn’t have to be monetary; there are many more things you can do.

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Growing up is still one missing part of a puzzle I have either not found or simply couldn’t solve.

Mother always had a way of sounding the alarm every time I acted ‘Childish’. Though her voice was tiny, it was firm enough to pass the message.

My pride was slaughtered many times, much more than I can even recall, yet, I still never grew up. I headed out to college at 18 and tried not to fidget in my MAC 121 class. Perhaps the lecturer was just mean or I simply ran out of luck for out of 51 students in the class that morning, it is me he picked to answer the question; to give an answer to a lecture I barely listened. ‘You have a lot of growing up to do’ he said, as my mouth parted but no words came forth.

Four years through college was enough for me to learn and grow. ‘Can Miss. Martha come forward to give her valedictory speech?’ I could visibly read the envy on people’s faces as I made my way to the stage.

The rest of the hours went by sluggishly as we impatiently waited for our Chancellor to give the closing remarks. ‘Now, ladies and gentlemen, you have allowed the school to pass though you, it’s time to pass through the world. The time has come to grow up… Ermmmm… is it just me? Did I hear him say ‘the grow up’ thing again?

I turned 25 yesterday and my colleagues at work threw a surprise party for me. My boss was called upon to say a few words. ‘Martha, it’s good to know you’re still growing. I wish you many more years’.

Tis then I concluded that growing up knows no bounds and has no limit. So, never be afraid, worried or upset when you’re told to grow up or you’re still growing. *WINK*

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For the first time in a long time, she picked up her pen to spill her usual thoughts on the straight line of a white page and none came. The ink simply refused to flow from the pen, so she scribbled on the plain papers but no one could decipher that which she had written.

For the first time in a long time, she held my hands to dance our usual ritual dance but she could not tango with me. She got all the steps wrong and tripped a million times with a dazed look; one lost in a world with no thoughts of finding her way back.

For the first time in a long time, she smiled an unusual smile with such pain in her eyes; one only experienced by hurt and betrayal. The animated smile coated with deception and lie; not to the world but to herself that everything within was fine on the outside.

For the first time in a long time, she spoke; not in the usual manner she speaks. Words about a man she loved, more about a man she felt she never expressed enough to but did so much for her. A man who loved her unconditionally and made her think he’ll always be there.

For the first time in 3 years she turned her back to the world, not in the usual manner she turns but to shield herself from all the noise and sorrow.  And so her back was turned and no one noticed for she always was the defender and inspiration to many.

For the first time in a long time, I set out to look for ‘Bertty’. Not to ask for anything but to see how she’s doing. ‘Bertty’, I whispered, as I put my hand gently on her shoulder. ‘Are you ok?’ I asked. Tis then Bertty turned and whispered: ‘Father, I miss you’…

Little wonder for the first time in a long time, she alone could decipher her writing, incapable of tango, with a pained smile and her back to the world.

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If you don’t have anything nice to say, shut up! The seemingly harsh words of a woman I called mother echoed in my head as I sat staring at the woman who I was made to believe held my fate in her hands. In front of me was a supposed harmless being born of a woman; her little pieces strung by the careful act of a man. The corn rows on her head couldn’t be missed for they kept getting in the way of her pen as she scribbled holy knows what even after I had explained my purpose for being there.

Her hazelnut eyes batted like one of those characters right out of a children’s book distinctly highlighted by eyelashes that appeared not hers. Her long claws for a nail annoyingly tapped on the glass table as her mouth yapped away.  Her fine tailored suit appeared expensive or could be #MadeInNigeria as social media has gone crazy about #BuyAba.

All that didn’t matter to me now as I smiled sheepishly wishing she had a sneak peek into the melodrama slowly playing out in my head. Then, she would have found out she was the only active character none befitting of a ‘Juliet’.

At this point, I had to ask myself, why should I speak only when I have something nice to say? How do I even determine what is nice when my fair lady was cruel to me: not a chance to yet again explain the purpose of sitting in front of her. Why can’t I speak when I don’t like the way I’m being treated? Why can’t I say not so nice things when I’m angry? Why can’t I express my true feelings and give my candid opinion in every situation I find myself? Why can’t I give advice, solicited and unsolicited whenever it pleases me? Why… ‘Madam, you may leave now’. Those words brought me back to reality as I briskly got up and headed for the door with a deep sense of relief I didn’t have to go through some more torture!

‘Madam’, I turned with fire in my eyes, about to lash out and give her a piece of my mind. Is it a crime I came to look for a job in her company? ‘When will you like to start work?’ The words I heard sounded ridiculous and unreal. ‘Did you ask when I can…?’ ‘I did’, she cut me off and the rest is history.

This morning in my office I sit again and rock the chair as my usual ritual which I have been doing for the past two years. This time, I remember my mother’s words and laugh at a question I posed in my head that ‘evil’ day; waiting for the perfect moment to unleash. One that could have changed the course of my destiny: Shall I speak now Madame?

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I dare say that you are mad!!!…Yes YOU!!!

Cast not a look at the man beside you for he too is mad. Who says a prodigal son is a saint because he returned to his father on bended knees? Who says Adam was evil because he had no control of the hunger pangs that threatened to re-define his very essence; a mere mortal?

Will you dare to mock David who got weary of battle fields and sought for a little amusement somewhat a bit cruel ending? Or is it Samson who unforgivably, wrapped in the arms of a pretty mermaid paid a price for his locks more expensive than the so called ‘Human Hair’.

When shall human kind see that in life, everything is defined with a clear purpose; some glaring and others daring?

So, we justify Esther for saving her tribe unaware of the incomplete truth told to the king of her true identity. Likewise, Abraham who for the love of safety denied knowledge of his wife and you hate when I say life is madness?

Pray, you do know that you agree with what seems transparent and discredit what is opaque. Does this then in its true meaning mean that that which you disregard is evil? Does it mean that you absorb only that which concerns you; uphold it and ridicule other things, the society and even family?

Life is for the rich I hear. In my perplexed state I wonder: what then is the heritage of the poor. Where then is their place in life when we care not for matters which war against their very existence? Wait a second, I see something!!!… What is that look in your eye kind sir? Why is your chestnut colored pupil turning a sudden pale? Have I upset your soul? Have I made you rethink life over again? Did I make you realize the rottenness of the society caused by poor judgments and selfish tendencies?

I deeply apologize kind sir, for I had no intention to do these; only to trouble the waters a bit, for now you agree that life itself is madness after all.

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