​It’s okay, for everything not to be okay

​It’s okay, for everything not to be okay

When I was a kid, one of the first lessons I learnt from experience and on my own was that something would always go wrong. I didn’t have to read a motivational book or the sayings of an old man, I just figured it out before I learnt the pronunciation of “bouquet”. 
In that tiny little mind of mine, whenever I was very happy or everything was working out well, I’d tell myself, “Calm down girl, it’s coming”.

It was always a pattern, a painful one. Soon after I get my dreamed 90% grade in school, I’d break my mother’s mirror. Or after getting a thousand naira dash from an uncle, I’d eventually misplace my new earrings. It was a pattern: good – bad – good – good – bad – bad – good. 

At first I was angry, especially at God. Growing up in a Christian family, I understood God controlled everything and he decides whether I burn at death or live in his beautiful paradise. I couldn’t hate him of course, who wants to burn for longer than they lived on earth? But I could be angry. 

Why the hell did you make me break those eggs? Why didn’t you stop them from falling? If you parted the red sea, you could definitely save my eggs and spare me my mother’s wrath!!! 

I think the annoying part was not being able to decide not to like God or believe in him, because you’d go to hell fire under the ground. So I’d swallow the anger, praise and thank him for the good because I had to go to heaven. 

Back to the patterns. I think the beautiful part was knowing it wasn’t forever. Staring at the broken vase and knowing after the punishment, something good was coming. Soon, it won’t matter anymore, even if it took months or years. 

I learnt to live through the bad moments, the disappointments and the frustration even as a kid (of course misplacing your school fees in primary school might not be as bad as losing all your investments now, but pain is pain and disappointment is disappointment). I didn’t expect ultimate happiness, or ultimate sadness. It was a pattern: good – bad – good – good – bad – bad – good. 


Growing up, I forgot this. From praying really hard and attending churches that promised unending joy, I believed I deserved unending happiness and good. Thus when the bad came, it hit me harder. I had prayed really hard, believed really hard, hoped really hard. 

So I’d hate life, fate and time. Life for not being fair, fate for not letting me decide and time for not going backwards. 

But like Bakar says, the breeze blows where it wants. I’d relearn the lesson and expect the pattern. My prayers might never always be answered, but God always gives peace and the good is always next 


Thing is, there are moments the bad looks like it can never end. How does the pain of carrying over a course end soon? Or getting pregnant in school and disappointing your parents? Or even worse, being kicked out of school? 
You realize even the pattern isn’t fair. The bad looks like it’s outweighing all the good you’ve ever had in your life and you just want to hurt someone or something in return for all the hurt you have to deal with. It might have been your fault or maybe not, it’s still not fair. Why must things go wrong, you deserve happiness 
I’m not old but what I know is 

It’s okay, not to be okay

It’s okay, to be angry and frustrated

It’s okay, to cry

It’s okay, when things go wrong 

But it’s not okay to forget that it’d eventually be okay. The good would eventually be next, it is a pattern: good – bad – good – good – bad – bad – good. 

It’s okay, okay? 

For Bakar, my friend with the beautiful heart. I don’t know anyone who lives as much as you do. I hope the breeze takes you to the top with ease, and life let’s you continue to live. 

Preshy Lala 

A little bit of reminder 

A little bit of reminder 

It’s been months since I last wrote something, anything. There are voices inside me sometimes and I hear them whisper what I ought to write. They live in my head, unrelenting, refusing to leave. So I abandon my head for them and live outside my body. Outside my body is totally different from the head. In my head there are rows and rows of cabinets and they’re all arranged by alphabets except not alphabetically. Someway, they never follow the natural order of A-Z; beside the P there’s the R and then the E. 

Yet my new home is a large hollow void. It has no beginning nor end, just darkness. I do not grope or struggle to find my way. I do not have any destination and instead I succumb to the darkness and become a part of it. We’re now one and the other. 

I know I should go home and inside my head but I cannot answer those voices. All they want is to be heard, for me to be their speaker, but I just cannot. 
I have to speak for myself first. And how do you lend a voice to the voiceless when you’re useless to yourself? 
However, today’s different. Or I think it is. I do not remember my dreams after I wake but I remember the emotions. So when I tell you I had a horrible dream, I do not know whether I was chased or what by. But the bitter taste of helplessness and hopelessness would always accompany me to the land of the living.

When I say last night’s dream was one of fulfillment, I cannot say how or why. But this I can know and feel – everything fell into place and I tasted contentment from getting all I wanted. 

So I told Niyi because I remembered he had a little feature in my nightly drama. He then asks, “What do you want out of life”. 

I stare around me at my dark empty not-so-new home. I cannot remember so much. I know I want a first class in the University and Law school and a lucrative job I’m good at. But that can’t be all. I cannot remember the rest. 

This time, I start to grope in the dark, as if the answers are right before me waiting for me to grab it. 

Who doesn’t know what they want???!!! 

I feel there’s a genie and a clock ticking. Time has gone, he was never on my side. My wishes are not horses, I do not get a ride. 

I’m indeed more lost than I had realize. The answer’s in my head, the home I left. I need to find my way home and remember what I want from life. 

Dear voices, May I be your voice? 

Writers note – Sometimes we do not write for the now but the morrow. Sometimes the aim is to look back and realize where we started from, the confusion we felt, the fear we dealt and admit that in a way, we have grown.