RitD

I’m rambling in the dark again. It’s silent, save the droning of the fan, a sound that fades into the still, dark night. A sound I’ve barely registered until now, when the usual chatter ebbs as even nightcrawlers take their rest, hoping to rise yet again for another day’s work, hoping their rest was sufficient. A sound I’m only vaguely aware of when I pay attention, much like the beat of my heart, the rise and fall of my chest, the occasional swallow of saliva, that sorta thing.

I’m paying attention. It’s what I do, because I’m awake at this time, staring at nothing in particular, though my eyes are fixated on the ceiling. My roommate is on call, so no body heat emanates from beside me, no sleepy murmurs tickle my fancy, making me chuckle and shake my head; no foot randomly kicks me, forcing me to readjust time and again. And no, no light rays radiate from the bathroom, beckoning the pesky shinge flies away from me. Even those critters have taken their leave, abandoning me to myself and my thoughts tonight.

I’m paying attention. It’s in random moments like this, I find myself thinking about everything and nothing, sorting through the files running in my mind’s drive; archiving some, deleting a couple (well, trying to, at least), replaying others as I judge my actions and inactions. It’s in moments like this that I imagine the days ahead, also recounting the week so far; skimming through events and interactions and encounters on and offline. I realize Friday is almost here; I think of the poem I had previously scheduled, but then I remember a couple of tweets I’d read earlier. I recall the chaotic undertones brewing, and I know that that poem cannot go up. Not this week at least, not because I wouldn’t prefer it, not because I want to stir the shit pot, not because I don’t have anything else to do but ramble…

Not because of any of that, but because I’m reminded once more that we seem to be stuck in a never-ending cycle. And I don’t know whether we have selective amnesia in this country-

Scratch that, we do. I mean, we clearly do, considering the fact that we keep complaining of the same ineptitude over and over. We clearly do, when the same issues we blame the government for, run so deep in us as a people, that I wonder if we can ever truly break free of the downright wickedness engulfing us. Someone said, “Life is like a fan, e go soon blow everyone,” to which another person replied that Nigeria’s own has been wrecked such that it no longer rotates, and the focus is on getting in front of it, rather than fixing it. And ain’t that the truth?

“…if only we all believed in our common humanity, that we are human beings first, before anything else: before race, before tribe, before religion; just a bunch of flawed creatures making a continuously clumsy attempt at being human…

Perhaps life and society will be a little less chaotic.”

-Arthur D.

I remember that quote. I remember posting it two years ago, and last year (see post), and two nights ago, and I’m posting it again. [Sidebar: Arthur, run me my PR cheque.] I don’t know that there’s a time it wouldn’t ring true, and I worry about that. I worry about the passive aggression. I worry about the deep-seated pain and anger no longer willing to be belied by the “we go dey alright” covering of jokes and yabs and supposedly ever-present resilience. I worry at how dangerously unravelled we’re getting, but sure, a name change is exactly what we ought to focus on, what we need at this point. Wonderful.

With an incoming text on a patient update, my worry lasts only for a moment and my attention switches to something else. I recall the 101 other things bothering me and once more, push this worry to the back of my mind. I shall revisit it tomorrow perhaps, or the during the weekend. Yes, at some other time that is not now, lest I be sucked down a path that would render me drained and useless tomorrow. I can’t afford to be drained; I owe it to my patients to be as near 100% capacity as possible. I owe it to myself, first and foremost.

Me first. Me, myself and I. Isn’t that what is killing us – this self-centered need to be like, “to hell with everyone else” and instead, focus on securing your future and maybe that of your family? Isn’t it this myopia that continually perpetuates these lines of discord amongst us? On the other hand, is it without cause? Is it not self-preservation in a society that belittles whatever sense of honour and integrity you might still have? Isn’t it a defense mechanism keeping people wary when gaping wounds which were never truly addressed, never truly healed but festered into distrust spanning across generations? And is there actually a point in dwelling on all this, carrying it like Atlas with the weight of the world on his shoulder?

“Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,”

-William Butler Yeats, The Second Coming; Chinua Achebe, Things Fall Apart.

I’m personally at a point where I consistently feel the need to unplug from any source of news, for the sake of my sanity. Another friend put it more eloquently when she described it like finding herself ping-ponged between the need to know and the need to run away from the weight and toxicity of knowing.

I guess my RitD collection doesn’t just include a bunch of poems, after all.

.

Rambling in the dark: a collection of thoughts in a dark place, from a dark place…