Chronicles Of A Lagos Ajebutter‘Heroes Of Lasgidi’
I am an Ajebutter. Not by birth, or by formings, or by swag – I am
simply an unapologetic Ajebutter by default. I didn’t choose to be born
one. God, without seeking my opinion (because He’s God, I guess), gave
me the genes of an Ajebutter and a funny Bri-Merican accent . By luck
or some twisted work of fate, fortune, Karma (I might have killed ten
defenseless puppies in my past life) or destiny, I have found myself in
Lagos, crazy Lasgidi, and this is my story…
Last week’s episode of this dear column was filled with over 50
shades of despair, laced with a slight leaking ray of hope. That hope
paid big. Not in the way I expected, but man it was worth having. This
week, I’ll still stay deep in my thoughts, so if you despise the
original non-comical feel of good reasoning, then this month’s series is
not for you.
I speak about pain this January. Not because I’m
some junkie of sorrow. Neither am I trapped in some dark tunnel of
depression, struggling with all my being to find the light. I do it
because I want to keep it real. Come February, we’ll be all giggles and
hiccups of delight. Then we can smile.
Lagos throws up a number
of suffering. A typical day-out in the streets feels like a journey
through a labyrinth of pain. Everywhere is littered with various facets
of elemental human challenges. People missing body parts, the person
stuck in a dark place, with no help to call on.
Then there are
people who’ve lost faith in the goodness of humanity, who life has
thrown multiples curveballs, jinxing them with poverty and abject
penury. They go through each passing day with just a thought – mere
survival. Not a future in sight, not even a distant promise to hang
onto. But they pray for the unexpected.
A miracle, perhaps some gift from fortune, maybe a little love, or the ultimate: a hero.
Heroic
deeds abound in Lagos. Everyday someone goes out of their way to put a
smile on the face of a suffering stranger. They do this with a smile,
and a heart bursting with love. Heroes are not the chubby men in suits,
Cadillac, and Porsche, who do a good deed in passing, out of a desire to
be left alone. They are people, big or small, high or low, who take the
extra step to aid the unfamiliar suffering human.
But they are a
rare breed, a dying species of love. Their numbers are dwindling too, as
the suffering grows stronger each moment. Ask a hero why he does it,
and you’ll be sure to receive a smile, and then silence. You will never
understand, neither can words communicate the love in their hearts, from
which flows their tangible charity.
They do it simply for the
love. They do it for humanity, they do it for Lagos. They save souls,
they make the world a better place.
Save a soul today. Give out
some hope to a defeated man. Make love, not war. This is not me
preaching at you. This is Joey Akan, the erratic Ajebutter. This is my
Chronicles.
