Good day brethren,
This is not a regular write-up o. From the depth of my heart I wrote this one. LoL. Life events are actually burdensome with many not-so-well situations and trying to be a writer will increase your burdens (not necessarily opportunities). You are not to be deceived by creative writers saying they are introverts. I don’t believe that! I just want you not to believe too. Those people are executive extroverts. Some only make it corporately professional (if I am permitted to write English that way). They do not bring all characters from heavens or just merely imagining. It’s what/who/where they see, hear or ask from their environment, they write. They are heroes of observation. They watch your steps and your speeches. They ask you questions, most times systematically. They need you for their stories. Be careful of them. I’m not one, so we can remain friends.
Few months ago, I attended a book reading. The author was asked a question by someone in the audience. “Sir, do you think it’s a burden to be a creative writer? “. In the author’s argument, he pitched tent with the fact that it’s not a burden, since you won’t have to write about everything. You choose your own area. You can decide to be deaf, dumb and blind to issues that are not of interest to you (these deductions are mine). But, I was not satisfied with his response. I feel being a creative writer is a burden. A burden added to the generational ones one inherited or acquired.
Creative writers want to know why Baba Wale slapped Mama Wale in the middle of the night. And if truly an Oga appreciates corporeal assets of his new secretary and his strategies to have access to them. They want to think and think and think. They want to stay awake to read and read and write and edit and edit and read. They want to be bothered about details. They want things and events to have memorable colours. They want to show desirable and miserable things. Are those things not enough to be burdens or will those poke-nosesization still make one introvert? It’s actually not my business. Anyone can claim to be anything.
Few months ago, a big politician birthday was celebrated in an event center close to my ghetto. Yes, ghetto. He’s a big man from a state close-by. In fact, he was a sheriff of his state and of his party for years. I wonder why the celebration was not in his state. After all, almost all allocations went to infrastructural development. Maybe just roads, not event centres sha. Or maybe because we are in the position of asíwájú in our state. He was celebrated in the political way. Trains of tinted cars roughly driven, cries of sirens loudly disturbing, lorries of securities in different colours, big banners of Mókólá signatures, gangs of thugs singing bàbá àgbàlagbà and obviously the marching on the oppressed ones.
A security operative was visibly seen meritoriously gifting a mind-blowing, sense-giving, crystal clear ìgbájú olóòyì (slap with sauce of turnioniown) to a “poor man”, possibly an electorate in elections. The man was charged and judged guilty of crossing a lane, meanwhile no line was visibly drawn. But you know, his sense should tell him where not to go. Such degree of oppression is not actually novel. No be today.
Interestingly, another woman witnessed it. And in her subconscious mind, she made a statement in Yorùbá which I can translate as: These were done (the colorful atmosphere and the benevolence of slap) because of one head (person), Lord make my own children great too (so they can do such for them). I had some crazy feelings if all we conceive about greatness are these paparazzis and jamborees. If we directly oppress people or people are oppressed on our behalf means greatness. I don’t want to tell my parents I want to be great these ways. I don’t even want to tell myself. Maybe, I’m not there yet. But, do I really want this to happen to me or on my behalf? I know the politicians might not be aware.
I want to great without it affecting my freedom of driving my own car in streets. I want to be great but not a source of disturbance or nuisance to other millions of people. I do not want to be a minister and be miserable. I really want to be great but not interested in having houses and properties in all nations of the world. I want to be great. And I want to be simple. I do not want to be great and seek refuge everyday of my life in hotels and secret places. I want to be great but I do not want to be restricted from good friends and families.
I am not a writer but my thoughts are burdensome. And I always feel dropping some will help my journey forward. If you have a writer friend, love them. Give them gifts. Their minds are constantly working and they just need love and good things to stay normal, small. I do not want to be them. I do not envy them. They actually do not get enough love needed. Plus, I really need my mind to be straight. Life events are enough as a burdens.
The writer writes from Ghetto Reserved Area (GRA) in an ancient city.