MY THOUGHTS EXACTLY

Author Archives: Dan Jnr


Each day I found myself wallowing under the frangipani trees that clustered abreast the road counting each car that whizzed past. An act that had become a life style abruptly .
The surmise were so lucid as it unfold itself gently as days turned into weeks and weeks into months. My mind took a trip down the memory lane that was clouded with pain, betrayal and a chunk of it eaten by bitter lessons.

I found myself reminiscing on the priceless and golden moment I spent with her. Endless tears that knows no bounds thrust down to my cheeks profusely as though its biding passers-by goodbye.

My heart heavy and crying like a chirping of a cricket as I pondered on those lovely moments; there were so fresh as though it took place just yesterday.
The wound was far from being healed at the first few months. Loving her with all my heart, withholding nothing with my sense out of place was insane thing to do.
The love was never reciprocated yet, I got stuck loving someone whose heart was with another; it made me feel ‘Love is blind.’

I showed to her she was irreplaceable and she took advantage of everything; I was stabbed at the back with dagger of betrayal. Breakup text was wrapped in a beautiful and astonishing case and sent to me through whatsapp on that fateful day as rain abated profusely as though it hadn’t rained for years. That day seemed to be different as I laid on my bed helplessly gazing intently at my phone.

Moving on became so hard as though my destiny was tied to her. Months rolled on yet, I couldn’t let go; I opted to do something that seemed impossible to me: to let go of her . she wasn’t looking back why should I continue to hurt myself? Why should I continue to fix my gaze on someone that derives solace in her vomit? As months kept rolling, her thoughts fades away.

A sad thing in life is when you stumble on someone who means a whole lot to you only to find out in the end it was never meant to be.
I was determined to hurt myself no more; to let go and let God, and another door of happiness got wide opened.

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After Mayo had been beaten, battered, dragged to his knees by the turbulence that dines and tarries with mankind. The gift in her was able to mend his kaput nexus with God and invariably led to the emergence of his true identity. The voice came to him expressly and pierced into his heart. It loosed him as his heart tilted. The tears of captivity was sluggishly shed and fountain of freedom installed at the center of his heart. The chains of murder was riven and relinquished to its murky background and began to shine like a star he was or rather he was. 
Serenity…………….. 

We have been in this situation for so long I ought to have been changed,  muttered Matrass 

Mocachino who has vowed not to cease interceding  for his sole to be renewed gawked at Matrass thoughtfully as tears rolled down his chicks uncontrollably. Matrass shook his head in dismay as none  could console one another. Letters of frustration and disappointment printed in upper case at their faces seem glaring. Matrass became still instantly. Couldn’t fathom Matrass’s strange act until he sighted Mayo who tied towel round his waist. 
Mayo raised Matrass up, picked his clothes he left there to straighten. Mocachino gazed at him, shook his head in amazement and muttered “come to our aid Lord for we look up to you”. The helpless and hopeless Mayo shook his legs inside his  shoes as he headed out  with his file seeking for a nest to shelter himself. Mocachino could feel agonizing weight exerted upon him after  covering several kilometers in search of greener pastures to keep the body in conformity with the soul. 
The ramshackle Mocachino gave up at the center of the road. His sole got disintegrated, fell apart and the centre couldn’t hold anymore. Mayo collapsed on the tarred road seeing a vehicle accelerating at high speed. Many witnessed  the episode but Couldn’t intervene. The hopeless boy sighted  Dorcas at his impoverished state,unusual strength came  upon him and the wheel of  fortune from her eyes drove him into the culvert. None could fathom how it happened.
He got up almost immediately and started pacing about searching for his file. “did anyone see my file? so much value was attached to the certificate- “ordinary paper” more than  his life.Your file? Said a low beckoning voice that jilted him from the  crowd, you survived this instead of you to thank God, you opted to shout your file? A file  that has turned  it back  at you?. Hmmm! Take it, take your  life. Mayo clothed with shame casted  his  head downwards with tears gushing out of his eyes like a water fall. He made his way back home. A footprint was planted in his heart by those words of Dorcas. 
It took Mayo several hours to get to his apartment, walked sluggishly as though the ground forbade him from treading on it. The handwriting of frustration, rejection, disappointment, bitterness has transposed  its font size on his face. ‘This is unbearable’, he muttered as he clouted the door with his leg and fele to the ground immediately . ‘Am tired of living, take my life God for you have been unfair to me, I have been humiliated, despised and rejected where others were accepted effortlessly. Why is my case different?’. He increased the tempo of his voice as he lamented continuously. A voice came to him expressly. He couldn’t detect whose voice it was but he knew that it must be a divine voice Just like Angel Gabriel speaking to Virgin Mary about the birth of Jesus. ‘you always put yourself before me as though you own your life. Treated me like an outcast, failed to acknowledge me. you make enemy with me and peace with men. You have changed my agenda for your life to that which suits your taste. That’s why you have not discovered that which is in you. you are loaded son indeed, you are a star. I ought to interrupt your plans but you shut the door of your heart at me. you put all your hope in your certificate and knocked me out of your life. He got frightened and lost in thought. He shouted out of amazement “am loaded? A star? “ but stars are meant to shine…… 
The voice vanished Being more worried, he opted to end it all. He picked a rope, tied it to the roof and the other end to his neck. Just as he was to sway himself to the air came another voice…. ‘Life may have torn you apart , waged war against you. you may have been drawn in the ocean of stagnation, bruised and cobwebbed in the negative circumstances of life, rejected and reduced to nothing, engulfed with Shame and reproach. I beseech you to look up to him who is mighty to save.

In him was life and the life was the light of men. 

something stroke his heart as soon as he heard that of life, the rope was removed off his neck. 

He rushed to the door shedding tears uncontrollably fell down at dorcas feet. He confessed, ‘you made me live once more’. Why would you take a life you can’t give? Says Dorcas, She led him to christ and his life transformed. He became a staunch follower of CHRIST. Many souls were won through him. YOU ARE REDEEMED FOR OTHERS TO BE REDEEMED.



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Almajiri boy holding his invaluable plate

Seeing these indigent lads gives me nothing but depression. To keep body and soul together I had opted to perpetually navigate my ears to the sound of their drum beats to tranquil myself from the turmoil portrayed by these lads.The so called recession has dreadfully hiked the number of these boys. Trotted in a single file along Jos-Abuja express road, beating their fragmented plates, gawking at the sky intently begging to cater for themselves and their masters. The name Almajiri sounds mammoth but it’s meaning was unfathomable to me at first.
Almajiri as the lads are frequently referred to spring forth from Arabic word Al-Mahaajirun, which precisely means (a migrant). Fadan karshi, a Southern part of Kaduna where I sojourn is predominantly dominated by these Almajiri Boys.
At about 9.am on Wednesday, I stepped out of a friend’s hummer Jeep fully kitted on my NYSC regalia. It was one of those days we flaunt our military uniform for admiration and to stylishly solicit for people’s help especially for a lift. With only #300 on me I was waiting for a vehicle to covey me to gwantu for CDS. Was flagging down any car possible. As I stood with unwavering optimism, my attention was driven away by a pitiable sight. ISMAIL, a famous Almajiri Boy deserted under a scorching sun, piercing into his pores. Weeping uncontrollably with his tattered duds, in-sensuous hair and cracked lips filled with blood stain alluring flies like abattoir where Shanu (Cows) are being slaughtered. Flies fed vigorously on the fresh wound at his right arm and his broken plate which serves as an identity for any almajiri. As I stood lost in thought, he jilted me with his pity-beckoning voice. So shallow a voice like a suckling scrambling for the mother’s breast. ”Corper, don Allah taimake ni ba da kowa” (please help me I have no one).
I Looked at him with much disdain clothed with a little bit of sympathy. How do I go to Gwantu if I treat him with my transport fare? Pressing that I needed to thumb print for the month of January, even though December allowee hasn’t popped-out. An act we are accustomed to. Immediately I shook both of my hands inside the khaki pocket in search of my wallet, just like a dream I was rounded up by these lads. the tempo of drum beat has gone atrocious as they plodded towards me with frowned faces like a hungry lion looking for a prey to devour. they are being compelled by their empty belly and licking pouches that has vowed never to retain anything valuable nor gratifying. I already had unhealthy disdain for their parents and their so called Mallams behind this unlawful act with the sole aim of enriching themselves and at the same time denying these lads their right in the society as well as decent and sound upbringing propelling them to litter the road, endangering their lives and causing heavy traffic every seconds for the Travellers. Invaded with these thoughts in the mist of confusion as to whom to offer help to like MMM. Obviously, like the MMM ponze scheme, I have been merged with the ALMAJIRI’S by the turbulence that betide us which has transposed the language of many even the snug Nigerians. Just like a soldier sent to the war front without arms. The boys have been unleashed to the street neglected, metamorphosed to beggars from background. Undeniably, the essence of the Almajiri has been defeated. Weeping bitterly for the sake of survival, he deserves to live. A voice whispered to my ears, thrown to the ground by a whirlwind from an unknown source, my hands got injured amidst this scene. The boys in their impoverished state took the saddle upon themselves to raise me up from the dust. The cry of the poor lad sank deep inside my heart, stood up like a statue of New York. Gave them #50 out of the #300 which was almost torn into pieces by these boys out of excitement. Rest the poor Almajiri boy on my shoulder in an attempt to cross, we were both knocked down at the middle of the road by a motorcycle and the lad swayed from my shoulder. Found myself later at the hospital bed but the abused, neglected Almajiri boy “Ismail” gave up the ghost. My community development service was done on that hospital bed. Ward 2A, room 15. Will live to remember that fateful day in the course of my service year. My heart wept for Ismail, the Almajiri boy.



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