FRIDAYS!

by Amakeze Michael Chigozie

I love Fridays!

Sometimes I wonder why it takes so long to come.
It is a day I take time to touch the portrait of this world, melt into its beauty, and be a part of its soul. I know its darkness, its pain. Maybe a word, a thought of mine could push it through those long, dark tunnels, and maybe I could give it the strength to stop falling apart. Or maybe I can’t, but I can’t give up.

That Friday, the night was promising. Cool, crisp winds beckoned for arrival. The moon shivered with anticipation. Whispers rustled through trees, ready for the rampage. Soft crunches of dirt told that they were coming, and bright lights broke the stars that shined with dreams. There would be no sleep tonight. So I told myself.

I was headed to my favourite corner, a place I hide away sometimes and just breathe. Occasionally too, I take what Chimamanda Adichie beautifully described as ‘a bottle of liquid peace’. Noah Sweat, Jr., a young lawmaker from the U.S. State of Mississippi described it as “the oil of conversation, the philosophic wine, the ale that is consumed when good fellows get together, that puts a song in their hearts and laughter on their lips, and the warm glow of contentment in their eyes”.

The generous company of Obinna Obidiegwu makes it more enriching, himself an accomplished banker. I have a permanent chair. Not those plastic stuffs. It is actually a wooden chair, beautifully crafted. I touch it, close my eyes and feel the spirit of a carpenter who loved his work.

He approached me with a tray containing some bunches of bananas. For one, his clothes were too big. I didn't see his face clearly because it was night. It looked like he was swimming in them rather than wearing them. He should be about 11 years. Maybe 12.

“Brother, please follow me buy banana. My Mama need am to pay my school fees”. He told me, with pity in his eyes.

I love bananas but wasn’t keen on taking some that night.

“Please brother, Please”. He said repeatedly.

“How much is this bunch”? I said, pointing at one.
“N300”. He said.

“I don’t really want to have some. But I will give you N100 to encourage your education. You can keep the bananas and sell to another person.” I told him.

“No Brother. Don’t just give me money. I want to sell. Buy my banana”.

That statement stuck me. It captured one of the flaws of modern Africa. That kid needed trade not aid. But Africa keeps scrambling for aids from western nations instead of asking for equal opportunities in the global market without knowing that there are no free lunch anywhere in the world. Not even in Freetown. They send the aids and they dictate how Africa should be run. It is purely political.

The truth about aids from western nations to Africa is that it comes with a lot of strings attached. It is a vicious cycle of dependency that leaves Africa gasping for more aid and stifles creativity. But with more trade, Africa can earn her dignity instead of perpetually becoming a white man’s burden. You see, work is redemptive and work equals trade. It is a better and more sustainable way of lifting Africa from the throes of poverty.

I kept on wondering the wisdom of this kid, hidden from the ‘learned and the clever’ . It is not rocket science after all.

I eventually patronized him and his face lit up with smile while he was thanking me profusely. But I do know that I didn’t change his fortune. He changed mine.