Let’s look at it this way. What makes man quieter the older he grows? Wasn’t she that girl who at 7 smeared yam powder all over her face and laughed still? Wasn’t she the girl who would not see rain fall and remain indoor (to ignore a bath)? Just like me, the boy who loved to play football in the rain, talk to unseen play mates and mimick Michael Jackson before a mirror for hours. But we grew up and became Frowny Jones, bitter and careful, didn’t we? Oh the good old days when if I slept in the parlour would be carried to my room! I got punished for my misdemeanors even though my sins I never regret, my choices I still admire, my life used to be fun.

I was singing the other day while I walked down a road, friends said I was too loud, I behaved like a child. And it rained yesterday, I wish I could run in it, but what would a student say, seeing his teacher run in the rain like a child? Don’t behave like a child everybody says, and by implication, don’t be free; don’t be happy. I mean for real? Is it forbidden for adults to be as happy as the kids? Or am I only allowed to drink ogogoro if I want to feel lightened in the heart? Why mustn’t I be like the children, playful, careless and happy? Am I you? Are you me? Are me you? Me you are? You are me? Or wait… You I am? Is it your childishness I wan to do? Is it your body? Is it your play?

So today I closed the door on myself, shutters down, lights off, music in my ears, one of those things I did in the past that made me happy, I danced. I danced like marriage isn’t daily preached into my disinterested ears; I danced like my salary isn’t below my standard and I am content with it; I danced like the fuel has returned to its previous prices and Nigeria is a place with unlimited opportunities for the ambitious. Hot weather, boiled congos, animals in human skin, idiots in wisdom camouflage, I danced anyways and perspired I did, forgetting my worries, sorrows and fears. I danced in the dark. I danced like a child. You are not me. I am not you. I am you not. I want my freedom today, I choose to be young.

– Lord eBay (and his random ruminations, 2018)


8 Comments Add yours

  1. A. G. Moore says:

    How many of the chains we suffer are self-imposed? Great piece, well-written

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Lord eBay says:

      Thanks. We choose freedom, don’t we?

      Liked by 2 people

  2. V.J. Knutson says:

    Bravo! Although, I have to say being a grandparent does quite a bit for unleashing the inner child.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Habiba says:

    I am glad I read this post as after reading I feel myself as fresh as I would be as a child. You are right, how strange is it that we apply restrictions on expressing ourselves as one would like to no matter it is like being a kid or the other way around.
    PS I choose freedom too!

    Liked by 2 people

  4. gaia0132 says:

    I have been exploring quite a bit around the lack of initiation in most modern cultural models and how that leaves each of us, well me, as I can only speak for me, and perhaps for some others who have entered into this dialogue, women. And how bereft we are, robbed of even having the bright exuberant, dreamy, dewy state of youth or maidenhood. So, not being experienced by most and therefore not understood, it is looked upon strangely and with judgement. A judgement that rises from the hole that has been left in each of us who did not have the privilege of growing up in community, a village, that celebrates the passages of life we all go through. One where children can be so and maidens and youthful men can feel their oats and be celebrated and so on. and with that carry the joy of it within them, so they can then model it and dance in the rain and show the way….to the next generation… ah I hope you can catch a glimpse of what I mean to share. Thank you for writing this.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Lord eBay says:

      I got you, friend. I got you perfectly. Thanks for the contribution.

      Liked by 1 person

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