The Good, The Bad and The Sad

This past weekend was probably my longest this year…(taking a minute to see if I’m exaggerating)…Nah, that’s about right. It was an incredibly long weekend. Grab yourself a cup of cold lemonade and settle down for the gist. It’s a pretty long one. For those living in Ajegunle, Sango or Ikorodu, zobo’s fine. All’s well that ends well (-_-).

One of my mentor’s sister had waited on God for about 15 years for a baby…and then...she had...wait for this ...TRIPLETS. O_O God can like to show Himself innit? Okay, so that’s where the story begins. She and her husband got this miracle, and my friends and I planned to go with my mentor to celebrate with his sister in Abuja. We also decided a road trip would be loads of fun. So we set out.

The bus moved off with us the passengers at a pretty okay pace. We were all happy and excited…Yaaay, right?? Well a few minutes after we left, we found traffic. There had been an accident. The ‘pilot’ had to maneuver his way around all the corner-corner in the area. We made a lot  of unfruitful turns. Street boys created several ‘toll gates’, each one, about 10 feet away from the next. Various cars and buses paid ‘toll-gate officers’ for passing the small corner streets. To divert a bit, the government needs to inform the people about temporary toll gates…so people can plan better ( ‘,‘).

Finally, we found a way out of the fracas and got on the free express again. We were excited again. The driver who finally had enough room to display his skills started looking for all the potholes on the road and then entered them with glee. He did this so much so that the guy sitting in the back, on the tire spot said, “I feel like nauseating.” The plenty bumps must have juggled his vocabulary around (If you don’t hear from me, be sure he read this post and kidnapped me, which would be sad, because my mum won’t pay). Several bumps and potholes later, I discovered that apart from our DNA and fingerprints, we have something else that sets each and everyone apart – Tummy growls. My tummy growled in hunger, as did all our tummies. Some in soprano, some in tenor, others completely off-key. However, the traffic had set us back a few hours; we couldn’t really stop and get some grub randomly. So we settled for gala and lacasera. I’m not crazy about gala…as a kid I would make my dad buy me like five and then eat half of one. It’s called ‘showing yourself’. Anyways, this day, I ate gala because hunger isn’t very picky. Some of the guys bought dodo ikire – dodo fried in some kinna gunky funny thing, I think – and I tried some, definitely not my thing.

The bus we went in was one that had a DVD player. Cool stuff, yea?? We asked the driver to put oyinbo film. He slid a Van Damne collection in the player. After the first movie, we all got a little tired of all the violence, but it kept going. Going that long made me wonder how Van Damne survives all of that throwing around and being thrown around.

We saw some incredible sights. Once, we saw clouds sitting on some hills. It was beautiful and I remember feeling sorry for those who don’t believe in God.

People got sleepy. One guy’s head ended up on another guy’s shoulder. I guess we’re most vulnerable when we’re unconscious (-_-). Being a princess and everything, I had to stretch my legs, so I raised them over the chair in front of me. I kept hitting the guy sitting there. If he looked at me funny, I would bat my eyelashes just so and everything was fine.

We passed Owo town in Ondo State. I saw signs stating the fact and claimed the state. After all, my father is from there. I was proud of all the hills and everything. We stopped over for a bit and someone wanted to buy recharge card. He said “EMU-TEE-EN”. I’m like “Why are you talking like that?” He said that’s how they talk. I sharply disclaimed the state.

It was a long journey, but finally, we got to our destination. We ate and slept. And there was night and there was day.

The next morning, we went to the church for the dedication of the babies. It was amazing seeing those beautiful big babies. The parents’ faces were beaming with happiness. I was astounded at how great God is. We danced. My friends and I sang. While we were getting off the rugged stage, I stepped on this spot that looked firm. And mind you, I was in one of them sexy heels you see around. I stepped on that not-so-firm spot and landed on the floor, in front of the entire church. My friend picked me up, shame and all and I smiled to my seat.

The pastor was a fervent man. I loved the passion and love he seemed to have for the church. His wife was really cool too. Had this amazing voice. Sultry. After the service, we moved to the rice and stew department. We left the reception pretty early because we wanted to go to the cinemas that evening. We got back to the hotel to rest up for a bit. I took a short nap, as did we all and woke after a few minutes. When I scanned thorough the different social networks on my phone, my heart broke.

 

Rev. and Rev. Mrs Ayodeji Cole

It was everywhere. The sad, heart wrenching news. There’d been a plane crash. Drastic. It was almost too hard to believe. Then a few minutes later, we were told that the vibrant Pastor we had encountered earlier that day, and his wife, were on that plane. The shock I felt is quite indescribable. I was stunned. Crying seemed too heavy too do. They had left three little boys behind. We heard of so many others that had gone down with the plane. Carelessness had cost many people their lives. Greed, wickedness. I wondered how horrible people with family and friends on the plane felt if I was feeling the way I was. Earlier that morning, several lives had been lost in a bomb blast. It was a sad day for the nation. Very sad day.

A few hours ago, I was talking to my dad and he mentioned that a politician also died and that he was a big big man. I told him… “When people die, there’s no big or small man.” We have to treat those around us, even if they aren’t as ‘classy’, well. We must learn to appreciate the moments we have and enjoy them. Love hard. Live well. Pray for our nation. It’s the only original home we got anyway.

Yours’ truly, Rantalot