03-05-2018
This day was quite an eventful day, not because things grand in nature happened but because of the
over whelming pleasure gotten from simple things. Most of the day was spent reading a book by
Rand Ayn “THE FOUNTAINHEAD”, (I’d be sure to give a review of this magnificent book once I’m
done). The events of the day that made me want to hold it in high esteem happened during the
evening hours, when I was on my way to church and whilst I was in church.
I boarded a taxi and we got to a stop and a woman with too little girls was about to board the taxi,
then she announced to the driver that she had 500NGN on her (It was necessary she did that
because the fare was only 50NGN, and Nigerian drivers have a flare of anger whenever passengers
fail to inform them of the amount they’re with in such situations). What made me want to hold on to
that memory was the fact that one of the little girls waved the money up like some sort of solemn
declaration, it made laugh harder than I would’ve ever imagined over something that seemed so
mundane. They got into the taxi and it turns out that the littler of the children wasn’t even the
woman’s child but her neighbour’s and the other hers. There was something about the neighbour’s
child that drew me to her, I think it most have been her innocence. She had the purest form of
energy that I have ever witnessed, how easily she got excited was quite astonishing and the things
that got her excited even more astonishing. Practically everything on our path filled her with an
enthusiasm so great and made her ecstatic, she was so full of life. The essence of her soul seemed
beautiful. While the taxi driver was driving, he drove past a mere wall that had cartoon characters
drawn on it, it made her extremely giddy and she shrieked with profound joy. Her existence gave me
a sort of unexplainable joy, even when she left the taxi the thought of her made my smile last
throughout the journey. Then I said to myself, I must write about her.
…
There’s this pew I always sit at whenever I go to church during the week, it felt a bit like an oasis to
me. The fact that I sat there alone held some sort of significance to my seating there. I got to church
on this day and it was occupied. It left me dishevelled. For a moment, I stood wondering where I’d
move to and I just settled for an adjacent pew. It didn’t bother me anymore until about an hour into
the service I glanced at the pew and wondered why I had attached great sentiment to a thing that
seemed so insignificant, a thing that seemed so mundane, a thing that had no effect on my coming
to the service.