Before You Conclude




Just this morning when I was in the Bank, I was busy handing in a check to the cashier before I overhead this man who wants his dollars to be changed to naira notes. He sounded rich; I was disturbed by his intonation. Was he forming that, I was disturbed, yet I didn’t look up to see him.

Well, I was annoyed enough to think he was full of himself that I had to look at him, lo and behold, he’s burnt. Man, he badly was burnt. And the intonation was the shape which the burns left of his mouth. A rich young bachelor, burnt at that age. And I had judged and crucified his person already, even without looking.

I once barged into a friend’s room and met a bunch of guys I had to greet them. You know, the normal guys handshake. This other guy was reserved in one corner of the room, not wanting to greet me I think. I’m a guy; I know when it seems a guy is playing levels down on you. Sort of patronizing you for no just cause. Okay, I had to still hand out my hands just for courtesy. He waved his limping left hand, behold he doesn’t have a right palm at all. I felt so so so bad that he even noticed it written all over my face. The silence in that room enveloped all the jokes they were making before I stepped in. But earlier on, I had accused this boy in my mind of trying to downgrade me.

Alright, we all should be familiar with this one, a small boy scratching the paints of his father’s Ferrari with a piece of shank. The father met him and angrily hit him with a staff on the head; the boy fell down and died instantly. Dad cried out and almost slumped when he came to face what the boy was drawing in his car, and it read – I LOVE YOU DAD.

So go ahead, tell me the beautiful girl on the street is a whore or perhaps a marine princess because she’s so beautiful and still got huge bosom and butts hanging out. Tell me she stood in the mirror and carved herself, tell me she was one of the suggestion teams in heaven when God was creating her that she had to say, “see God, I’ll want this kind of nose, and no no no, please add more flesh to my waist it has to be rounded more” and so on…. Go ahead to blame her of a nature she’s amazed to see as much as you are.

Now blame the gay boy again. You never knew he grew having a feminine attribute, perhaps molested when he’s not of age. You want to see what you want to see, so you only saw how disgusting it is to you. Maybe you would have a rethink if he told you how much he wants to stop being gay, how much he confesses his sins just to fell into it again toes and feet first. How much the words of people haunt him. And how much so much is going on and on in his head.

Go ahead to tell me that the lady with the sex business is a born slut and she loves her trade. Had she told you her life story or how she sell her body half naked just to dress decent and take home the money just so her mum and family will feed; had you known that her heart frowns as the family feeds and smiles, not that she ain’t happy that they are happy but she’s sad that they don’t know the source of their happiness. Tell me you also know how she kneels to God in supplication, crying all night just so the angels will take this cross away from her. And maybe, somehow or some way she finds a way to stop prostitution, or God finds a way to touch the heart of men to stop demanding for a profit margin before they could help a girl.

Tell me… tell me… go ahead and tell me that the girl who got premature pregnancy was only being sluttish about life and sex and landed herself an unwanted pregnancy. If she had a high libido, would you know? Would you know if that was actually her first ever time of trying new things? And would you not agree with me that she’s only different from most girls because either she wasn’t being too careful or she was na├»ve, would you now agree with me? Would you?

Would we even stop talking about the maggots in people and raise their guts? Would we praise their plus and ignore their minus? Would we love people because they’re human? Would we start excusing for others before hand? Stop talking about the junks in their closet and explore the jobs in their prospects? Would we start accepting them the way they are and make them know that yes, you can be a teenage parent and still join us in Sunday services, you can be gay and still walk to class with us as fellow guys at least, you might have been crippled but you’ll still join us in the games and whatever ‘HALVES’ you’ve got, we can still make it ‘WHOLE’ with us.

We’re passengers of life…

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