I am going through a feverish period. Since there is no one with me, I just started toying with various things which my illness might result into.
If one is going to meet his God, he should not lie.
OK!
I was thinking of the grim reaper, death. The Yoruba even celebrate death by referring to them as, ‘Iku Dede Igbo’. Even though I served in the rural area of the North, I hardly understand any Hausa word now.
But I understand that if the Hausa say, ‘Yamutu’, there is no hope for the person on this part of the universe anymore.
O ti ku tehintehin!
So, back to my thoughts about death. I know I am a disciplined alcohol drinker.
Does it stop one from going into heaven? If it does, the Catholic priests would have refrained from it.
I believe in God, in fact I may not be a good boy to Baba God. But I believe in the blood of the Lamb.
And I believe religion is a very personal affair. After all when Gbenga Adeboye first died, he said he saw some Babalawo in heaven. He also said he saw some Pastors in hell.
He apparently went on excursion!
I used to keep malice. However, that has stopped.
I used to smoke. But that stopped since the year 2000.
I don’t steal. It’s not as if I’ve never stolen. You know, as a child, the occasional piece of meat winking at you and begging for liberation when you thought nobody was watching you. But on a day my mother discovered me, she beat me blue and black. You know, all days for the thief, one day for the owner.
In fact, I was not able to eat that day!
Talking of my mother, there was a day I just didn’t feel like going to lesson. She had enrolled me in a private class which we normally attended after school. On that particular day, I just felt like lazying about at home. She made sure I was within the house and in a corner where I couldn’t escape from.
I didn’t know where the pankere cane came from. She beat me till we got to the lesson.
In fact, I used to wonder whether I was actually her son. I could still remember her words of warning, ‘Ma pa e bi ejo aije’. That is, she would kill me like an inedible snake.
And if I failed to behave, by the time she had finished dealing with me, I would’ve started seeing stars.
With the benefit of hindsight, however, I came to the understanding that she hardly had a choice.
I realised it wasn’t easy bringing up a boy from the streets. When I say the streets, those who lived in Itire, Lagos as kids about fifty years ago ought to understand.
Wherever she is in the universe today, my thoughts remain with her. She was a mother in a million!
I’ve stopped womanising. Agba ti de. I’m getting old. May be the ladies should organise a send forth for me.
I’m waiting on the Lord, the author and finisher of my faith.
If I die now, it will be a burden on my dependants, both nuclear and extended. So, dear Lord, I’m praying earnestly for longer life!
Please Lord, don’t let me miss Paradise!!
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