FROM MUSHIN WITH LOVE

I slayed with an uber to my destination and after keeping up that packaging, common sense said when coming back home, be humble.

It was worth it.

The rains came like a thief in the night, unprepared I was like a virgin raped on the eve of her wedding. It completely finished my beautiful shoes and I had to walk on my bare feet. My legs enmeshed in the murky waters of Idioro-mushin environment.

That sinful water. Full with shit and hate.

Mushin is NOT from God. Never a place to be if one have got other better options. No bathing can ever wash this stain away.

It is very likely that no-one living in that zone would make heaven. They specifically dump all the plastic items they can find which includes bottled water cans on the road such that it blocks the drainage systems.

When it rains, like it does now in Lagos. Pouring out like the miracle of the upper room where the comforter was sent and they began to speak in unknown tongues. All the remnants and debris barricade the roads like a warzone.

Mushiness is Mushin.

It is the ghetto other ghettos go to learn new tricks. Boarded a tricycle at this point of no return, thinking about the body damage I have undergone in the past few hours. Horrifyingly beautiful to say the least.

My Italian shoes already smiling like it's counterpart in Aba. The hurriedly made fiasco prototype. At this point I noticed the man by my side. An elderly man with age in his eyes. He was trying to start a conversation and I was lost in my own world of buffetting pain.

"My wife finished me... " He begin.
The pain etched in the creases on his forehead.

".. She used the business as sports. Everything she gave to her family. I singlehandedly stocked the shop with everything needed. My sister works in NNPC depot and brings back Kerosene in bulk, she sells everything and uses the money to play baba Ijebu... " Baba Ijebu should mean gambling/ small bet games.

For a tiny moment, I was lost in deep thought. This man with three children as he said deeply frustrated with life and marriage sharing his nauseous story with me,an unmarried young man and expecting me to feel his pain and say something back either in validation or consolement.

"I will drop at the next bus stop... " I said to the tricycle driver.
"..You didn't say anything to me" he said with a longing eyes filled with pain and regret. I tapped him nicely on the shoulder and said with a deliberate calm and seriousness.

Every disciple must see what Paul and Barnabas saw...

"That woman wrecked me". He concluded.

A man is a man because of his many challenges. A boy/man is one of the most beautiful creations of God. He starts compromising at very tender age. He sacrifices his chocolates for his sister. Later he sacrifices his mischief for just a smile on his parents face. He sacrifices his health for his wife and children by working late nights. He builds their future by taking huge loans and then repaying them for the life time. . . .

A man is many things in one.
A man is many things to many people.