WRITING about My People.

by | Aug 2, 2013 | Editor's Muse | 0 comments

….Some days back, Dad went to work late because we had to thrash some topics at our usual morning family prayers… The constant controversy in church on “should trousers be accepted as women’s clothing” and “the culture of respect we are losing”

It should not be news anymore to my readers that I am a Nigerian who has found a passion for writing. I just felt I should post something about a recent event that got me thinking about the war of cultures. with you all one

It was just another one of such my journeys, we had just finished children’s long vacation camp and I needed to go from Ibadan (the Largest city in west Africa) to Osogbo (another yoruba city, literally meaning the demon of the forest)…..

A family friend had dropped me half-way the journey to osogbo and I needed to board another vehicle to reach my destination. The bus station, typically flocking with peddlers and hawkers, the car looked like it would still be sitting there for some hours because the only passenger I met was a woman who had been there with her baby for hours. So it occurred to me to hitch a ride, which in Nigeria is not a safe decision. Yet I went a little way ahead and saw a private vehicle which was likely going my way and so I approached the woman.

She was not the typical good-looking or even safe-looking Nigerian woman, in fact she had the right looks to be tagged a witch in this parts and trust me, being a witch over here isn’t a lucrative business. However, I had already started the greeting before she fully faced me, so I had to finish what I had started. She also on the other hand was suspicious of my request which only stands to reason. The same way I expected the worst from her based on her aged and wrinkled looks, she also expected the worst from me for my youthful looks.

Long story short, she said a lot of prayers, countering any devious plans I may have if any, and prayed for a safe trip and so I got my free ride. Obviously the world is full of its evils but one prime proverb from my people goes thus ” a ko ni diju ki eni buruku koja, eniire naa le koja mo ni lara” meaning that we don’t shut our eyes so the evil person can walk past without our noticing because the good person may also walk past without notice too.

Stories from my parents and generally the generation before ours were less bedevilled by such suspicion and fear. People lived for honest gain but then civilization came, with the guns and the rule of MONEY and more atrocities filled our streets. Then were our fathers sages and our mothers Beautiful and noble ebonies, when again will our thought and culture, our pride, when again will they be sought as treasures in earthen vessels?


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