Yesterday, I rode with my friend to see his mechanic. A quick detour on our way to lunch. Something to do with brake pads and brake oil. He said it wouldn’t take time, and I could be busy with my phone the whole time, which worked for me.
So there we were, at Chigozie’s workshop. The guy wasted no time in going under the car, my friend looked like he would follow suit, sometimes pacing, sometimes bending over to see what Chigozie was up to. I only looked away from my phone a few times to smile imperceptibly at my friend’s ridiculousness. Twenty minutes into the exercise, a car pulled up. I’ll never be sure, because I only have eyes for cute guys and good books, but I think it was a Honda, and it was freshly purchased. Then the doors opened, and out came sixty young men. Okay no, only six. All of them simultaneously hailing Chigozie in loud tones, one Yoruba fuji man screaming from the car’s speakers. No, he was screeching. I cannot tell where they were coming from, but their overly shiny gold chains, big earrings and golliwog hair isn’t the kind of food you give to already tired eyes in the scorching harmattan sun.
In spite of the ruckus, I heard Chigozie the mechanic ask the guys how the magas were doing, and that’s when my friend walked over to where I was. We exchanged plenty looks and plenty smiles, him asking me in hushed tones if these were Yahoo boys that he’d heard a lot about. I answered with a smile and went back to editing my selfies. The young men went right on shouting as they conversed. About last night at the club, about the girls, about the magas. And it occurred to me that this is one of the many things wrong with society. My friend began to philosophize about the youth being the bane of Nigeria, and how the country could never progress with young people such as these.
But I saw different. Society has become one where the end justifies the means, so thievery is glorified and hard work is despised. What matters is that I have a Lamborghini, nobody cares who I robbed to buy it. The young people’s only crime is that they have bought into the lie. The lie that the end justifies the means. I added this to the food I chewed on at lunch, and by evening, as if the Fates wanted to prove to me I was right, I found myself in a mild argument on Facebook about the greatest rappers of all time, and encountered an individual who thinks JayZ is the greatest rapper of all time, only because he’s the wealthiest of the lot. Didn’t Olu Maintain say it’s all about the Benjamins? That’s another lie by the way. I’m not about to continue the argument on the greatest rapper ever liveth.
As the year grinds to a halt, and a new one unfolds, I would like to shout out to everyone who values quality over quantity, who would pick content over packaging, who works hard and would rather earn than be dashed, and who toes the path that society has abandoned. You have my respect, and 2016 is for you. Oh and it will all pay off. Every single droplet of sweat. I’d like to enjoin you to remember the world in this season. It’s shocking just how cold and dry the world has become, and it has nothing to do with harmattan this time. Too much is going on that my fingers will not type. So by all means have fun, relax, drink plenty wine, but offer prayers too. Be kind, please be kind to everyone you meet. And if you’re one of those who believe the lie, receive brain in 2016.
P.S. I’m going to churn out plenty of Halima and Ivory Sands, so help me God. Thank you for badgering me and being patient too.