The desire to go home burnt in the inner crevices of my heart. ‘I can’t wait to meet my folks’, I sometimes say to myself. I missed home a lot; I missed my mum, I missed my friends, and I missed the craziness of the rumble in the jungle even if it has to be in the ghetto. My love for Eko-Akete can never die. My hunger to
see Alagomeji will always remain paramount in my mind. There were times I have dreamt of visiting Molete, though not within my circumference of choices.
The hour came when I stepped on the soil of Lagos Island, full of life and a great message for my folks. I wanted to tell them about the revolution that took place with some physical evolution, but just as I opened the gate to enter, home was hostile. Home was in four stages; the flood, the momentary concert, the insensitive building, and the mixed multitude heading to unknown destination. As I lifted my eyes to look at Campbell Street, it was covered with flood. I couldn’t go to number 60 because there was no way to get there. It was devoid of life, though surrounded by Lion building. When the storms came, the Lions ‘ran fi cover’ guiding their lives jealously without considering the safety of those whose treasure they live on.
Unable to see Sam, I walked back to the hilly road for some respite. Suddenly, I heard a wild symphony filtering from the speakers of a Rasta man. As I went further to see the character trying to create fun in hostility, I beheld a young man gyrating like a larva in an abandoned pond. Like every excitement with no eternal basis, it did not last. People were streaming out from the ground like the waters of Orogodo River; some had clubs on their hands, others had knives and whips, while one was holding a locally made gun. They were all moving like sheep without shepherd; all walking on a broad road heading to unknown destination. They were like wild horses more interested in racing but no clue of their directions and destinations. I was afraid, but my heart was moved with compassion. As I stepped aside and watched, I thought about a generation with incredible speed but incredible end. ‘Speed is only great if it ends in divine
purpose’, I said to myself. Out of the crowd, no one asked a question about where they were heading to. Everyone was moving on the path that everyone was going, so, everyone will die when someone dies. ‘Mediocrity never asks questions’, I thought. ‘Mediocrity is where everyone is’, I said quietly to myself.
Entering into the building, I left my leather slippers at the corridor in order to feel the sense of the floor I have missed for so long. The floor was insensitive. It didn’t take much time for me to realise that the sensitivity of a floor is the sensitivity of those who step on it. The floor is only hostile if the inhabitants are hostile. A ground is as fertile as the people who till it. Hostility steals any good thing that is placed on it.
Home is hostile but home can be cleansed if we decide to cleanse ourselves from the impurities of greed that has held us down for so long. There is no purity without holiness. Holiness is not figurative but real. Realities bite, but they bite off any sludge that has no basis with divine treasure.
As I woke up from my dream, I spent sometime pondering on the interpretation of what I saw. I have come to a conclusion that those who understand the verses of eternal wisdom should stand at the mountain top and cry out to the foolish. Tell the foolish that they can’t walk on the road of ease; the broad road, and expect to end up on the throne of grace. The platform of beauty is only reserved for those who pay the price. To buy treasures, you cannot price them cheap. Any cheap treasure is only an imitation. Home may be hostile, but we have a chance to make it peaceful, if we pay the price to get the prize!