The man at the gate

It was a Tuesday Morning, a Beautiful day, though not all could see it, but all could appreciate. I sat comfortably restrained at the passenger's side of the shuttle- like it was my private car, no one dragging the space with me, except the driver. There he stood at the gate, Shades over his eyes and cane in his hand, the tall man aging just fine, flagged down the car, asked to be taken to the bank. The driver agreed and just as the man was getting to the car, he drove off. I could only ask why, 

 "why did you leave him?"

" I no fit go that side"

 The man from the gate obviously needed help. I wondered what composite was the driver's heart made of maybe a mixture of stone and carbon fibre,  maybe  graphene and copper, maybe steel and concrete or maybe a composite of all of them. Then it hit me. I kept on thinking, fuming, pitying, but I never took a step, I had the option of giving the driver a bitter pill of words but I didn't, I would as well have insisted he picked the man, I didn't, I would have dropped and offered my assistance, but I sat there and did nothing. I definitely got over it but not without a thorough beating from my conscience.

How often do we feel without acting, what load of unexpressed feelings do we carry, how do we get through d night knowing we should have said something but kept mum, knowing we should have reached out but held back. Most times, we never get the chance again, and opportunities slip away because we didn't act according to the desires of our heart or according to rightful thinking. How would that man have known I felt bad, I wanted to help, that I wasn't vain, if I didn't reach out. Sometimes it hurts us forever, sometimes we can't retrace those steps. But we can begin afresh, to declare our love, to declare our support, to give a helping hand and to speak words that reflect our thoughts.
I got my chance back, not with the man at the gate, but with YOU whom I tell my thoughts exactly.

I DON'T WANT TO BE BUHARI

I said it will be ‘less of politics and more of life’, but who cares , what is life without politics anyway, they are married to each other.

A day after the elections, I pondered to myself and came to the conclusion that “I wouldn’t want to be Buhari, I wouldn’t want to be the president.”

Why wouldn’t I want to be the president? Nigerians were obviously not having the best with Goodluck Jonathan, but they were definitely not having their worst of days. Eyes were beginning to open, people were becoming more aware and enlightened, everyone was becoming more involved in leadership happenings and happenings all over the world, the social media aiding Nigerians more than ever, and so they wanted better. They wanted CHANGE, the wanted SPONTANEITY, they craved political REVOLUTION. Something new, something unusual, something far from the norm, someone other than Jonathan, they chose Buhari.

Buhari wanted the seat, maybe to create they so much needed change, maybe to fight corruption, maybe to satisfy his long term lust of the democratic corridors of power, maybe for some other reasons that I can’t think of, and he got it.  Jesus Christ was quick to dissociate himself from the thoughts and expectations of people, he was definitely a messiah but he knew he was not the kind of messiah the people thought him to be, he kept on letting them know that he was a spiritual messiah and not a political one. He spoke and acted like a different messiah and constantly exonerated himself from their expectations (John 6:15, 18:36). Buhari wasn’t as wise as Jesus was, he submerged himself in the paintings of people, maybe I would have done same too, if the ends and not the means mattered more to me.

Even without the now orphaned “MY COVENANT” document, Mr. President had and still has mighty shoes to fill,  the problem is- those shoes are imaginary, they are not like the proverbial big shoes left by one’s predecessors, they are shoes created in the hearts and minds of his followers, shoes not made by ‘Sachs’ but by limitless shoe makes. I didn’t want to be Buhari because it is not difficult to meet the insurmountable expectations of the masses, it is IMPOSSIBLE.

I thought that after sometime, my  fears will be allayed and I will wish to be Buhari, but with the score cards coming in and reports of failure after 100 days, I still don’t want to be Buhari. I don’t want to be Mr. President.