I’m sitted by the roadside, waiting for a miracle. Maybe I should be on my knees, praying and fasting. That is the supporting scene just before a miracle, isn’t it? Sitting by the road and watching passers-by go about their business seems like idle business. Doesn’t exactly feel like the best miracle-evoking recipe of all times.But who cares?
Here’s a little heads-up. I am not just a douche who enjoys views of roadsides. I am a little educated, you know. A little because when education doesn’t make you think differently and want to make bad things good, then you’re as good as a log floating on water. So far I have not made tectonic plates drift, I haven’t made any significant contribution (none at all) in the field of science or made people shed tears because of my art(not even a sniff) .I have not impacted on people like I would want to. So let’s say I am in school; when I become educated for real you’ll know. I’ll stop writing about boys and puns and the numerous narcissistic “I”s and “me” s will probably translate to something more ‘issue-based’. Can I get an Amen at the back?
Before we talk about roadsides, let’s talk graveyards. Isn’t life more fickle lately than ever before? Faith, in these days where someone is alive one minute and the next they’re dead, has taken on a new meaning. Faith is no longer the belief of things unseen. Nowadays you can see your future if you want to. You can see the Range you want to drive. You can see the corner office. You can see a warm white house in a gated community- roses and carnations in the backyard, butterflies flying around, a family. You see an ideal future in parts of other people’s lives but the only problem is, you may not live long enough to see it, to own it. Faith, these days, is the belief that you’ll be there to see those things.It is planning for a trip in September when it’s January. The harsh truth is that you might not live to see February. Ask Kanini, Ayeiya.
But let’s assume the grim reaper is too distracted on Facebook when it’s our turn and skips us for a couple of years.
Back to reality.
I’m sitted by the roadside, hoping that a miracle of sorts, maybe the proverbial chariot of fire sweeps me off my ambitions to my achievements. It’s a lazy thing to be a dreamer. It’s worse when some part of you is always unrealistic, fictitious; the ‘you can be anything you wanna be’ part. A wise person would say I need to get up my ass and walk, run, sprint- grab life by the neck (Ha!). A wiser one would say maybe I should take the bus or SGR? But these two people, they don’t know that there’s a system. You gotta come from some type of family, you have to know some type of people, you need to have some type of money. If you lack in any of these then you gotta work up the ladder extra hard. Work work work. Go to school and get a job and then maybe we can talk about success. You say you’re from Africa? O shucks, we might have ourselves a little conundrum. Wait, you’re a woman too? Ah, double tragedy. How unfortunate. No, It’s not you, you’re fine. It’s the world out there. It’s a stiff uncanny un-accepting world out there. That’s just the way things are…Hey hey, light-bulb!…here’s a splendid idea… How about you put a hold on your dreams a bit, relax a bit and maybe get a fine young man to marry a bit? Get someone who can pay all the bills so you can just stay home, cook porridge, paint your nails and watch the rest of the world make progress on social media and television. Isn’t that just brilliant?
For the love of tragedy, this can only end badly.
I’m sitted by the roadside, waiting for my turn. First, to die or live. If I die, I’m safe. If I live I wait for my turn-to conquer my fears or succumb to them. If I conquer them, I’m safe. If I succumb, and o help me God, I won’t have to wait for a turn.I’ll automatically join the long list of people alive today who are afraid to dare, afraid to risk, afraid to love, afraid to try, afraid to be different, afraid to be themselves, afraid to dream, afraid to even wake up.