THE PATH OF TIME

         “Four fufu .” Bayo felt his stomach rumble for the hundredth time that afternoon as the aroma of good home-cooking wafted through his nostrils.

         “Whish obe you want wit it?” The serving lady spat out in obvious impatience.

         “Egusi and...”  Bayo paused as he longingly eyed the fried meat at the corner of the counter.

         “Eh hen..? What es again?” The serving lady was fast growing irritated. Bayo quickly made a mental calculation and reluctantly gave up the idea.

         “Just pure-water.” He said with a sigh. With an angry thud, the thick-set woman set his food on the table. He quietly picked it and sauntered to an empty table at the far corner of the buka. As he hungrily devoured the food, his mind wandered back to the result he had just seen. Although he’d managed to scrape through, the grade did nothing to help his GP. Taking a gulp of water, he sat back. Nothing was going right in his life. Everybody seemed to have at least one thing happening for them. Those that were struggling academically either were making it in business or something sha. He? Nothing.  Was it academics? He was barely pulling through and now an extra year to show for all his efforts. Was it business? Every business idea seemed to land him in debt. Was it even ministry? He was the transport secretary of his fellowship, a fancy way of saying he was the fellowship errand boy. None of this would have bothered him much, I mean, he had always considered himself a very optimistic fellow and had a reputation of never letting anything get him down, except that God had given him enough reason to believe that he was destined for great things. How on earth was he supposed to reconcile a 3^rd class degree, little business and organizational sense, driving bus all over the place, with statements like ‘you will be a pillar in your generation and a succour to many’ ,  and ‘I will give to you the wealth of nations’ ! For heaven’s sake, was it asking too much to at least know he was on a path that led to destiny? Shebi human pikin sha look like human being? As for him, he had no resemblance whatsoever to the man God told him he was. Maybe I mistakenly hacked into another person’s prophetic database and thought it was my own, he thought dryly.

         Having finished his meal, he got up quickly...or a little too quickly because he upset the table and its content fell to the floor with a loud clang, the ceramic plate shattering in the process. The whole restaurant had their eyes on him in an instant. The cross serving lady, fuming and swearing in Yoruba marched angrily to pack up the mess.

        “Ntori ounje N60 lasan...” She said a little too loudly. Bayo wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. Muttering apologies, he virtually ran out of the restaurant, the eyes staring after him like fire to his skin.

       “Ah ahn,  Bayo...take it easy. Where are you running to?” Bayo looked up in time to see the familiar face of Temidayo smiling inquiringly at him. He was always happy to see her but today it was all he could do not to hug her immediately. Sensing immediately that all was not well with her burly friend, Temidayo led him to the wooden benches supposedly intended for a ‘park’ by the school management.

“Oya...ki lo n shele? What’s the matter? She asked worriedly. True to the nature of the male sex to be self-sustaining and involuntarily believe he could brave anything that came his way,  Bayo was instinctively about to answer “Nothing”, when somewhere deep within, he felt the strongest urge to just pour out his heart.

Call it the dire need for a friend, or the effect of feminine compassion, or simply the emptying of a weary heart; whatever you may, so strong was the effect of the ensuing discourse that big, strong Bayo actually felt a tear or two escape his eyes as he emptied his heart to his friend. And true to the nature of the feminine sex, Temidayo couldn’t bear to see her friend’s heart so burdened without shedding a sympathetic tear or two. Eventually,after Bayo felt he had completely shed himself of his burden, he fell silent, feeling rather exposed and self conscious and half-wishing he hadn’t said anything. Meanwhile, Temidayo searched her heart for what to say to comfort him. Her mind suddenly flashed back to what she had written in her scrap-book that very morning. Digging through her large hand-bag filled with fashion magazines and all manner of odds and ends, she found the small worn note-book. After frantically fishing through pages and scraps of paper, much to the puzzlement of Bayo, she held up a rumpled piece of paper in triumph and handed it to him.

“I heard it on someone’s laptop and I just had to write it down. This was the only thing I could find.” She said apologetically when she saw the sceptical look on Bayo’s face as he collected it. Still not fully convinced, Bayo reluctantly read the hastily scribbled note

Time is not a series of short periods like days and hours

such that next year is a completely separate entity from

this one, but is a continuum; a long winding path leading us to eternity.

Tomorrow is simply a continuation of today and though

today may not look like tomorrow, who says it should?

Every point along the path of time is as important the next.

So, fasten your seatbelt and enjoy the ride...

for the future is only a little way off and the Word of Prophecy

is strong enough to get you there.

“Wow.” Was all Bayo could say. Closing his eyes, he leaned back, letting the words course through his mind. Sensing that words were not needed at this point, Temidayo silently held his hand and prayed with him. And true to the nature of the One who dwells in eternity and created time itself, He breathed strength and new hope into the tired, restless young soul.

Time stood still

Temidayo trudged listlessly along the road back to her apartment. It was 8pm and the end of another gruelling day at the office. Usually, she mindlessly went through the boring routines of her day: wake up, prepare for work, go to work, work, come back from work, eat, watch a movie and sleep...and the next day was just the same. For five years, she had been doing exactly this with no complaints, just simply floating through each day. But today was different. Blame the old scrap-book from her university days she accidentally found, containing all her ambitions, plans and ideas; or the poster that she mistakenly came across, publicizing a seminar by her old roommate...or simply by the plain fact that today was her thirtieth birthday. Either way, it had been a pretty depressing day.

She unlocked the door to the tiny 2-room apartment and put on the light. Throwing her bag languidly on the floor, she sat down on a small couch and put her head in her hands. Unwillingly, her mind travelled back to her university days, when her whole life seemed to stretch out enticingly before her. She had been so excited about the future, determined to pursue her passions and give expression to all the potential God placed inside her. She was all set to take over the world and had enthusiastically been making plans, writing her ideas, reading about it and all. Every day, she day-dreamed of her future, saw herself taking over the fashion world, speaking to thousands of young women, being a financial giant and of course, standing beside a great man and actively supporting him as he pursued his own destiny. And now, six years after her graduation...was it really six years already? It still seemed like it was only last week...she could still see it vividly. The crowds, the parties, the strained nerves from attending to irritating people who unashamedly demanded for food, the tears from saying good-bye...she could see it right there. But after that, all she could see was time floating by, each uneventful day flowing into the next...NYSC, getting a job, working at first 9am – 8pm, then after two years and a promotion, 9am – 6pm every day. Church maybe once in two weeks, when she didn’t have to work on Sundays. She hadn’t even been able to keep her relationships...two very unpleasant break-ups and she simply stopped trying. Now, her world consisted of a few friends she still saw every once in a while, her apartment and of course, her job.

Then, the tears came. And boy, did they flow. Age-long bottled up tears of pent-up frustration, and disappointment came gushing out as if a dam had broken. Deep, guttural sobs raked through her small frame as the pictures kept flashing through her mind. She wept not so much for the time she had wasted but for the future. To her, there was nothing to look forward to except an endless climb up the labour ladder, a rat race for better pay and living conditions...all for what? Her faith had long lain dormant and along with it every passion that had once excited and energized her. Now her life was simply an idle river, floating lazily on and on without an end in mind. Time would keep floating by, she knew and so also she would continue to trudge limply along this path called time, every day the same as the one before.

Then suddenly, like the soft harmattan breeze blowing through her window, a small voice spoke softly to her heart, “Time is standing still for you now. What will you do?”