Image courtesy of ZcacheHow does one explain all the madness in this universe and life's amazing journey? Just as one thinks about surviving the hostile environment of the world, time equally flies at the same time with a hub of global issues, grand and small; and a crablike personal problems that spreads all over.
I must admit, I am thankful to God for coming that far and able to reflect on the past which happens to have been the backbone of survival and engagement, and which also could always be traced from the strength that I have applied to keep on keeping on -- taking it easy and moving on despite all the battle wounds. life is beautiful and the best out of it is knowing one's value and determining what one's contribution to creation would be, depending on the path followed.
The last few months, I have been wondering what would one say about playing some roles in society and how does that tell about the person in particular. Would it be mid-life crisis, old age or just beginning, since life now starts at 60? Well, my mid-life crisis started long, long time ago and I am still in the trenches trying to figure the whole thing out.
Every being, without a doubt, has contributed one way or the other to the functioning of society. When you make someone laugh, that's a contribution and when you make someone upset, that is also a contribution. Life is a journey as every beginning has an end. And like any journey, sometimes it ends well and sometimes it ends on a sad note. Nevertheless, there is a comedy in all of us.
So, as it goes, I am just glad to be keeping on and grateful my well-wishers did check to see how I'm doing.
First on board was my childhood buddy, Eugene Onyeji, who had called me on Sunday, September 13, reminding me from his Beaumont, Texas home that my birthday is around the corner and that life goes on meaning we must always do the best no matter what the situation is. I had done everything with Eugene growing up on the streets of Accra in the company of our Ghanaian fellas and homeboys, John Bull, John Satorji, Hillary "Ahidjo" Akabuilo, Mamma Sani, Zachary, Haruna, Emmanuel while playing double dutch and the tap of fine leather on the playgrounds of Ruga Park by Kanda Estate. I vividly remember the times. Eugene and I spoke at length when he called me on that Sunday morning of September 13. We talked about the days of the Roman films of the sword and scandal 60s starring Mark Forest in "Goliath and the Dragon," "Hercules against the Barbarians," "Hercules on Chain," and "Maciste." We talked about the tv movies and series--Bonanza, The Lone Ranger and High Chaparral. We also talked about the folks in Accra we idolized.
Among our discourses generated a whole lot of the past. Eugene had left the shores of Accra immediately following the end of Yakubu Gowon's genocidal campaign against the Igbo nation. He had settled in Lagos and had enrolled at St. Gregory College, Obalende, with his older sibling, Theodore. I arrived "Nigeria" much later on and was catapulted to my native Amazano to learn more about my cultural heritage and of course the significance of my native tongue which I grabbed before anybody knew what was going on. It was a wonderful experience, and for that, I am very thankful to my parents who made it possible my homeward bound for culture and a much, much better understanding of my forebears.
But that was not all. I learned. I met my cousins from both sides. The matrilineal and patrilineal descent. A family and culture being an entity. And leaving the city everything changed.
The village and the villagers becoming home. The egwu onwa, moonlight plays and the joy of culture being whole and not parts; that culture is indeed an entity and cannot be separated. The joyous festivities of Oghu Festival coupled with the enduring masquerades. The trek to the stream to fetch some water.
The learning of the pogrom and displaced persons.The fact that the pogrom was built on coercion and theft and on a propaganda that led to the abandoned property; and a deliberate rape on Igbo treasures and the more insiduous measure of a regime that justified the slaughter of infants, women and children. And so it goes.
And that's some part of history which makes the rounds as time passes for we are where we live based on our neigborhoods. I don't buy that very concept sometimes because there are many things to it even though where you live speaks volumes about what you eat, drink, drive and even the way you think. When ghetto kids move to the posh bedroom communities they will still act ghetto; just like when the white trash leaves the inner-city for the blue blood estate -- nothing will change as they will still act trashy. Like me dining at Lola's on Fairfax in West Hollywood which I did some few days ago, doesn't really stop me from my regular ofe olugbo, and the varieties of meat and dry fish that comes along with it at the various African eateries on the Southside. From my humble viewpoint, the blue blood estates, the bedroom communities and the inner-city ghettos are all the same depending on the way you carry yourself.
And for all you folks who kept record of my birthday and sending me all the wishes I say thank you and also wish you the best. For Eugene and speaking with Eugene Jr., he made my day with a thrilling fun. For those who think we are in competition, just drop it for life is too short. For all the airheads, never mind, we're all in the same boat. Let's keep chilling for life is too beautiful with the best yet to come, for sure!
Ain't time flying?!
