A Visit To The Gladiators

  I strode elegantly into the arena to witness the most insidious city. I was welcomed with wine and mad kisses and given a place amongst the elites of this great city to watch from a graceful view. Offenders were brought out for persecution and their throats were slit to warm the ground and prepare it for a bloody day. I nauseated from the sight. When I asked them the offenses of these offenders, they merely replied, “Who cares what their sins are; it is more like a warning to potential law breakers”, their faces warped and lips twisted to one side in despise, “and also to wet the land for the event of the day”, they quickly added amidst roaring laughter and ecstatic shouts. I was yet to witness even more nauseating scenes. Now the gates are opened and men (slaves) trooped in to the arena; broad chested, arms mighty (I’m sure a grip will kill the highest commander in my dear country), faces scary like monsters and their growl loud like a lion’s. These are the gladiators, men who fight for honour that’s hardly theirs (I’m amused at their sense of entertainment).
First were the eliminating rounds where freshmen were put to test to determine their masculinity. Every one of them fought ferociously to gain the praise of the crowd. The less fortunate ones were slew, their blood saturating the ground; arms, legs, heads rolling on the ground, bodies badly battered and beaten, being dragged away covered in dust and sand (I think I’m going to throw up anytime from now).
The noise had increased; I guess we’ve finally come to the come to the main event of the day. This was the time of the gods of the arena. The champions of each house trooped out once by one. I scrutinized every one of them; their faces a scare to behold. I bet a little child will scream on beholding their faces at night. But then I saw someone; someone different whose heart didn’t lie with the glory and honour of being a gladiator. His eyes held dreams of a saner world and a life of better purpose. It’s relieving to behold, in this mess of a city, a fine gentleman with a heart and a difference.
In no time the tournament ensued. Swords were flying. I saw for myself the finest display of battle skills – now I know why they are called gladiators. They fought as though they’ve become one with their swords. I’ve never seen such mastery of swords. More blood spilled. More bodies dead. Someone among the crowd sitting very close to the battle ground even lost his fingers. The crowds were cheering and shouting for more blood. What a city! Secretly I prayed for the safety and victory of him whom I presumed was different. It was as if God answered my prayer because He began to fight with ease and attacked with the efficiency of an ancient master of the arts. “This is really cool” I thought to myself.
After what seemed like an eternity, the tournament finally came to an end and him who I presumed to be different emerged as the winner. He became the champion of champions, the god of the arena and to reward him for his bravery, they granted him freedom. He was all smiles. At least he can live outside this whole madness and lead a normal life. Now that’s a fight that was worth it. I was glad it was finally over. Without much ado, I excused myself from their mad merriment and set on my way back home. What a day! I heaved a sigh of relief and drifted to sleep in my cab.
“Janet, wake up. Its past 7” my mother shouted.
I opened my eyes to see my mum staring into my face and wondering what has come over me. Gosh! Still in Naija? So this was a dream.

Gallantry

 

Arms strong as iron

Broad shoulders and chest
Flaunting developed muscles
Eyes glaring red
Legs firm and well balanced
Displayed in every vein
Is strength, absolutely
Like a monstrous savage
Let loose from the pit of hell
But far it be from gallantry

It’s been thought amiss
To be rogue, cruel, hostile
But in real sense it
Denotes nobility
A sound mine of landed gentry
Portrayed in the confidence
To fight for a just cause
Willingness to reason
Than follow blindly

It’s not of the muscles
It more of the heart

Man’s Wickedness To Man

 

The city is painted red

Awash with the blood of the lowly
Innocent, slaves, servants
Lives of war and sex
Maidens defiled by monsters
Their pride, a prize for the savage.

Wickedness in high places
The departure of freedom
The emergence of woe and foe
Bloody sacrifice for bloody freedom
Freedom, even as it is noted
Never is free at all.

Crowds cheering at the prosecution
Of yet another slave, servant, offender
Forgetting these ones were at a time
Fellow citizens and free.

In the craving for power
The lower citizen suffers
The ones atop have nothing to lose
For whether you win or not
They keep themselves
And their lives.

I have yet again
Seen the nature of man
Through many glasses.

I Got A Story

My life sucks
Everything about it
My effort I see
Fizzling away
My dreams I see
Dwindling afar
“Sky is the limit”
They all say
But I wonder why the sun
Has gone beyond my reach
Many times I hit it close
“Not good enough” I hear.

Never, I seem
To do a thing aright
I watch others
As they flaunt their skills
Their boldness, I envy
Their poise, I long for
“How come they are so good?”
I ask myself
Humans, they are as well
Why am I different?
Maybe I can never be like them
I give up.

My dreams are intense
My vision keen
But they say to me
“This is not good enough”
Oh! I sink deeper into misery
They I’m a loser
I try to burst a little
They say I’m frenzied
The future I hope
Will be brighter
I know this story
I must live to tell

Forgiveness

To err is human

To forgive is divine
A grudging heart never know
Itself it has imprisoned
Dark it has become
From the smokes of hate
It is hurt and broken
From grief deep within
Sorrowful from not letting go
In the stance, many blessings forego

But forgiveness
Is something else
It frees you from the grasp
Of hate and regret
It eludes the darkness inside
With colourful rays of sunshine
It brings with it boldness
Self confidence and unearthly happiness
At first, it might hurt badly
To let go of a wrong so heinous
But revenge at times is regretful
More importantly, it makes you
Not so different from the culprit
Yea! Forgive those who hurt you
But most of all
Forgive yourself for letting them hurt you

Cold Sun

I shiver from cold I don’t seem to see My lips shake and rattle from deep within
My teeth are clattering
My body quivering
Is this not sun
From the east rising?
Why then do I tremble
From cold while its shining?

Oh cold sun!
Why art thou so cold?
You’ve made my day gloomy
Thus making me moody
Can a salt of its taste lost
Still be worth a thing?
If thou art cold
Of what use, then, is your shine?

There’d better be no sun at all
Than to make do of a cold one

WHAT YOU GIVE IS WHAT YOU’LL RECEIVE

“What goes around comes around”. I’ve been thinking of the meaning of that sentence for sometime now. I remember one Sunday when I was going to Church; I came across this little girl on the street crying. Immediately she saw me, she walked up to me and pleaded with me for N50. “What do you need N50 for?” I asked her and she replied that she lost the money given to her by her aunty to buy something from the market. I took pity on the poor little girl and took out the only money left in my purse and gave it to her. Later in the Church that same day, I was not able to give offering because the money I gave the little girl was the only money I had on me.

Days have passed since that incident when I found myself in a very difficult situation. I can never forget that Tuesday evening when I closed for work very late and was in a hurry to get home that I forgot my purse in my office. I already boarded a bus and we were nearing the bus stop when the conductor started collecting transport fare, I opened my bag and to my utmost bewilderment my purse was nowhere to be found. I searched for it in my bag thoroughly before remembering where it was. I pleaded with the conductor to help me out but he was adamant, he was about embarrassing me when a young man sitting behind me in the last row intervened and offered to help.

That day as I climbed down the bus, the picture of the little girl I helped on my way to Church flashed in my mind and I thought to myself, “What you give to others that is exactly what will come to you”. Even the Bible says, “whatever you sow, so shall you reap,” whatever you do in life just bear it in mind that whatever you give, will be given back to you, whatever you do will surely come back to you, one way or the other, either now or in the future; they call it karma. If you give love, kindness, compassion that is what will come back to you. If you give hatred, wickedness, etc, that too will return to you. Life is like a vast field and we are all farmers. A corn planter will never expect to reap groundnut, a yam cultivator will not expect to harvest cassava, what you give the earth is what it will give back to you. If you sow bountifully, you’ll reap bountifully; if you sow sparingly, you’ll definitely reap sparingly. You cannot compare the harvest of a farmer who sowed a healthy yam setting with that of a farmer who sowed with a sick seedling. Cain in the Bible offered bad sacrifice and he got bad appraisal from God but Abel gave a healthy sacrifice and he received a good appraisal from God. Maybe if I hadn’t helped that little girl, I wouldn’t have gotten any help that very day I was stranded. You may never know when you helped an angel so make it a point to reach out to people in every little way you can.

If you are to live your life with this consciousness every day, giving your all and doing what is good and right in the sight of God and of man, you will definitely receive good returns and you’ll never have the cause to regret any day in your life.