Preamble
In life, there are a lot of things we do not plan that happen to us.
Some of them are exciting
Some of them are terrifying
Some of them are interesting
Some them create a spark, that ignites us beyond our imagination……
And most of these times, they came looking for us.
Why it started
I had seemed to turn the library to my new home. The dozing almost making my eyes almost pulling out my sockets. I struggled to keep them open, the new songs I had just downloaded were keeping me so calm within.
Cycles by Jonathan McReynolds, Aka Jehova by Gabriel Ezeshi.
Cycles most especially was the one thumping as I struggled to concentrate my sleepy eyes.
I wondered angrily why the sleep, as to my knowledge I had had a good sleep. At least sleep for six hours was unusual for me. My night sleep had a retained a constant of 5hours or less.
The Famished Road by Ben Okri was beside my microbiology, pathology and pharmacology. I had been reading the book for a week because I couldn’t take it out of the library and the book is a big book. I had searched the internet to get it for free but unfortunately couldn’t so I had to make use of my time in the reading hall to read some pages as a refreshing therapy when I got tired of reading the medical books.
After two hours of struggling, a prayer, my eyes began to shine; only that the aftermath of the dozing had left my eyes aching.
After some good hours of reading and enjoying the HIV talk. I stopped for a break with my big novel beside my other books.
It was an old book. Written some 29 years ago, I loved the old smell and the cover of the book, the title and the narrative. The book was so poetic, full of humor, magical, mysterious, real life tales. I put it down to continue with my medicals.
It was almost library time over. I didn’t like to be told to go. So I summarised my reading, happy for the meaningful time I had spent.
I decided to read another chapter, it made me laugh in muffled tones, I loved the puns, the writing style. I loved the book because it inspired me to be creative,more creative. It had been long I enjoyed an African book, it had been long I read one, it had been long I read a big book that was not Christian.
My music made me tap and almost shake, good I was in a far dark corner even though there were others there, I just loved the seclusion there. It was getting to the end of the chapter I was reading and my mood changed. It had gotten emotional and tears gathered in my sockets, I couldn’t cry, people were there. I wished I was in the confines of my room. My imaginative mind had gotten quite the picture as I still took photo shots of the pages.
I stood up to go home. My mind in full thoughts. It was always full whenever I finished my daily episode of the novel. I made my way to the public transport close to the school gates, my mind still thinking of Azaro the protagonist and his family and his father and his mother.
Public bus was not luxury, there was even a gaping hole in the floor of the one I entered. Men had to shift to one corner as I highlighted.
The Sun was so bright and it was already evening, I tried to capture it with my hands as usual because I felt it was boasting too much on my face.
I am creative because my mind was already bursting with ideas even as I rode the bus and even as I came down. I was always in tboughts, thoughts I wished I could replicate exactly on paper. They were so poetic thoughts, words carved so sweetly. Reading Famished Road made me feel it deeper, the writer was just too creative.
I tried buying Okra. I had seen it yesterday but pushed it to today. I wanted to buy it today. Unfortunately, just like last week,it was finished. I groaned. I had planned to make a pot of soup. I had already planned that. After recuperating from the thought of not seeing the green bud. I decided to buy bananas and groundnuts. I had been craving for more than a week for that. I had even eaten it yesterday. Again, banana was finished. I groaned again. I had potatoes and my mind had already planned it as a default in case any unwanted no-banana situation presented itself. I bought a bottle of my favorite bottled water and youghurt. They will do, my stomach was not a drum and thank God I had a three week old frozen fish in the deep freezer.
My time will come, I told myself. My creativity was not given to me for nothing. It is a passion and I will keep at it. My time will come, I will get the acknowledgement I deserve. I will just keep writing, singing, being creative. It made me glad, happy, fulfilled. It was a work, job I had given myself. To be keep my mind sane and my time useful, I was made of dust and one one day my breath taken away.
A Note for this part
There are moments when we are inspired to the point of feeling liking inflated ballons.
That book did that to me at the time I read it. It created a spark that affected my interest in poetry. It made me love and appreciate poetry more than ever.
But……
I am still learning. I have so much to learn.
If you observed any tone that seemed egostical, it was the euphoria that I was experiencing.
I believe and love my works but at the same time, I am still growing.
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