There was a time when the criterion for enrolling children into school was for the hand to go across their head to touch their ear. It was deemed practical and the proper judgement for establishing a child old enough to get an education. Many of our parents experienced this because there was no documentation regarding age/birth certificates, so the logic was to ascertain a child's age by specific abilities. Take, for instance, Diana in 1985. The education standard for getting into school was from the age of 5. Diana's mother had painted beautiful pictures of a school's appearance and said that only sensible people were considered worthy of being a part of it. All Diana wanted to do was put on the new socks and shoes her mother had purchased. Diana dreamt of reciting the greeting the night before, 'Good morning, teacher; we are happy to see you; God bless you.' And so, Diana was taken to school that morning for enrolment. 'Fine girl, raise your right hand over y...
THE
EGYPTIAN OR ME?
On
my way back from a lucky-less interview I met an Egyptian man asking for
directions to a pot shop close by. He had on this sorry look like a man who had
just lost his job. When I think of it now, I think it was because I thought we
shared a mutual feeling that was why I even stopped to listen to him.
At first I could hardly understand him until I noticed he was holding a photo
of the pot shop in his hands. I pointed towards the direction, telling him the
easiest way to get there. Suddenly, this short movie became annoying when this sun-tanned
chubby looking man asked for my almost-emptied bottle of water. That bottle of
water was my first meal, friend and companion after my horrific interview- an
interview that I was made to wait for hours only to be told that the boss had
traveled and won’t be back any time soon. That bottle of water helped me hide
my tears as I drank it while I struggled with my thoughts of how I
would survive through the month and there was this foreigner asking for it.
“No!
I want to drink it so I can’t give it to you.” I said to him.
And
this was what this man had to say to me:
“Egypt good. Nigeria no good. I test
you to give me water. You say no. you, you no good at all. No like you. I only
test you and you fail.”
As
he walked away, I just stood there watching him. He looked worse than I
did; tired and disappointed. I couldn’t tell if his meeting me even heightened
his current state. I could only tell that he hated my country maybe even more
than I did. Was I really as bad as my country? Was I without compassion for the man? It was just water after all and I could not even share it or give it
out rightly. Why would he use water as a test? He must have not gotten over the
parting of the Red Sea. Yet, I felt bad for allowing my pains take over my
compassion, for treating another with such inequity whether I was being tested
or not.
I
walked home consoling myself with the fact that the man’s dentition needed
immediate deliverance. Only Jesus would share a bottle of water with such a
person. “If I ever visit Egypt. I will surely not share a bottle with anyone, I
thought.” However, the truth of the issue is that our country really makes us
who we are. Whether the Egyptian was right or not, deep down I know that nothing
should make me behave less of a human being but as hard as I try, my country
just wants to pull me down with it. It especially tampers with my goodwill. I
am afraid that I will lose it.
A
Shared Experience.
Interesting write up very educative and inspiring.
ReplyDeleteVery true. Sometimes we let the state of this country get to us so much that we lose empathy
ReplyDeleteWell said...
ReplyDeleteInteresting! This mood thing ehnnn....both the Egyptian and the Nigerian, in such, everyone is a victim of it jaare!!
ReplyDeleteNice one!
ReplyDelete👍👍👍
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