SANMI ADEKOLA BLOG

Good day guys, this morning I woke up with a story in my mind. Perhaps, I have read or heard it somewhere, and or even a product of my fictional mind.  Longtime ago, there lived a man in the countryside of one of the Africa countries. He was stupendously wealthy and benevolent to both the rich and the poor, the great and the small, the old and the young. No one comes to his house for any need without receiving measures of his kindness.  There used to be a horse race competition among the town where he lived and other neigbouring towns. It is usual for his town to come last in such a race at a time until he traveled to the far east of Africa to buy one of the best horses there. Ever since he bought the horse, however, his town came first in all the competitions for over a decade. As the years passed by, the man and the horse grew older. So there was this particular competition, the man and the horse went to, of which the horse came last in the race competition. The whole co

Play by play, A child is born, Play by play, The child is no more. We are here in the morning, Gone in the afternoon, A wet cloak Sun dry by sunlight. Our moon hardly come up Then it’s soaked up By clouds of life Of day and night. Life is essentially a quest for something and nothing, A sojourn in paradise and wilderness, A game of chess and chest, A riddle and puzzle Shrouded in mystery, Sown in secrets, Savage by fate and faith Serendipity of eternity. All we are we are, All we will be we will be, Angels in flesh and blood, Adrenalin of Almighty. 

This country is in mess not because of want of good ideas and good men, but because of want of good men and women to take the bull by the horn by doing the needful. Every time I reminiscence about my fatherland, 'water of salt freely flows through my eyes', most times not feasible to onlookers but overwhelming enough to encumber my innocent eyes. I wish I’m crying about the past, at least I would take solace in the present. Maybe if it were even about the present alone, I would hold my head high for faith and hope in a better tomorrow. The truth is what I see is shams and shambles as I speak to men and women of my generation, the young and old, the enlighten and the illiterates, the leaders and the followers.  My people would normally say if one cannot find enough courage and means to continue a journey, at least one shall learn to retrieve back. In our case, none is desirable.  Every four years, the men of Palace and provinces come cap in hand to beg for votes,