I acknowledge the fact that
life is filled with opposites; that the clichéd ‘there are two sides to a coin’
maxim finds substance in life’s conflicting nature. Here I am, my ‘x’ (read about it here) is in its third month. Ours is a
drama that has failed to reach a resolve.And adrama that fails to have a
resolution is itself a manifestation
of the second side of the coin. It is no anomaly. It is just one of those
things. Take it from me, one gets to understand life the more when you are put
through its converse. There is truth in the converse. Always.
As it is, confessions
abound that I must make. First, I am not becoming devilish if I say I have
prayed enough, and that I am tired. That I have decided to stop fasting for a
divine hand to right things wrecked by mortal hands. Take it from
me or spit it back in my face, I am being man. And it’s all for good.
I must also tell you that I am being man, like the warring academic and Abuja things, if I say that I am now on the other side of the life I am used to. That I have ported. That I have migrated to a new living plan,on the other side of the classroom.
On this other side of my life, I have to wake between 4 and 5 am (notwithstanding when I sink my weight into bed after writing lesson notes), to avoid some proprietor’s spit-laced hot words. Doing that is not new though. When my wet dreams take longer to reach a climax and I wake an hour or so later than the usual time, I play the bad boy. I evade morning chores, and hang them smartly on my mum’s neck.‘She looks pretty ugly in them,’ dad reports every time I play the cruel game. ‘Her boss is a bit lenient,’ he would add, mum smiling. Then, I ‘Oh!’ and plant a kiss on her forehead. Don’t blame me; it’s me on the other side of life. Mum understands too.
On this other side of my life, it becomes more glaring what one
of the problems of the nation’s educational system is. It’s not all about ASUU
and the FG #dodgesclubs. It’s partly
about those on the other side of the classroom; the teachers. I have become
one, on this other side.
I chalk the board and my fingers every day, kids watching me
slug it out with English Language and Literature. They laugh at my jokes too,
but little do they know that deep inside of me, I weep for what may befall
them. I mean the unlucky ones. What does one say of a fellow teacher who finds
it difficult to express himself in simple English or who is in every way
incompetent? For me, he evokes reminiscences of my years under some university
lecturers who are his ilk. I am not making comparisons here. I am rather
drawing parallels from different levels. The fact is this, I just know a good
teacher when I see one. All it takes is a few minutes under such person’s
tutelage. I feel like rubbing this particular co-worker off the cosmos of the
school.That’s not all I feel, by the way. I feel like doing that which I have
no power to do: getting a replacement to step in his shoes; to take over his
subjects. Yes, subjects! That is what it is on the other side of my life.You have
to be hydra-headed; a combine harvester. You teach more than one subject, and at
least six periods of forty minutes every day of the week. Because I have to
mind my issues; paddle my canoe. I have left the fates of the little ones to
stick up for them #theguiltbites.
On this other side of my life,
writing has become an issue. That is why I am always keen on dodging the
‘writer’ tag. I can’t be one. Not now. Snips of unfinished pieces keep accumulating
on my phone and Tobby. The most painful of them is the
review of Saraba’s Art issue which I haven’t been able to get through with.
However, I have been devouring webpages like my life depends on them. Thanks to
avid bloggers, the entries for Etisalat prize for flash fiction and the pieces
of erotica that splatter the internet. Yes, EROTICA. Sex, not necessarily the
act but an apt documentation of it. Reading sex could be a good thing.You could read
an erotica piece I was made to write by a crazy duo here.
On this other side, life is not stalled. It’s like a moving
train. You have so much to say that time wouldn’t permit.You either throttle the muse’s flow or face the
consequences. I can’t tell it all, the pain, joy, lessons and all I’ve got here.
They may be hard to take in, but life’s fuller on this side. Trust me.
#getyourassoffthatcomfortzone
***
It’s a harvest of barkas this month. Barka de Salah to Muslims around
the globe #ramdeliverythingz.
And it’s barka de birthday to me, in advance. Last year’s was a Salah birthday. This year’s will be days after Salah. I’m
hyper-glad!
