When I was seventeen years of age, I had a journal and wrote down a couple of things. I found this one and thought it was interesting to post it here. It’s fairly long though so take your time. Have tweaked it a bit to cover my bad English then…lol
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the king’s horses,
And all the king’s men,
Couldn’t put Humpty together again
That was my favourite nursery rhyme, and the only one I seem to recall every time I look back to my kindergarten school days. The picture on the wall that accompanies its recital in class was particularly striking and a great visual aid in keeping alive the imagery in my little heart. An egg with a black suit and a bowtie wearing a top hat and sitting on a little wall, Mrs. Nkuda will point her very long ruler at the picture, and occasionally tap at it as we all screamed out the lyrics line by line. But the most interesting part of all was when we were made to act out the wall sitting of Humpty Dumpty. When we get to the part where he falls, we all collapse on the ground, and then stood up to gladly repeat it, except for Emmanuel who was the class “puff-puff”. He had a problem standing up, so he never bothered hitting the floor like the rest of us.
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I am sure you heard this statement before: “There is no true love.” I have heard it so many times that I wonder how people came to such dangerous conclusions. But on a closer look, one will find that such statements are made by those who have tasted the ugly side of relationships, or have been knocked off the mountain of adoration into an emotional roller coaster. It is normal that after bad experiences you begin to ask yourself questions of self examination. Love also has had its take by all those who have claimed to encountered it at one point or the other, and what they make of it is usually a result of the kind of experiences they had in their past or present relationships. Whatever the take on the matter, the truth is that love cannot be qualified or quantified. It is what it is. It cannot be greater or less, it comes in a static form and has no superlative. So one cannot have more love or less love, you simply have ‘love’. So the question of whether there is true love is off point, because the most sensible thing to ask is whether there is love at all. But since that cannot be disproved, then the issue must be dropped. There is love and many will and are encountering it.
When the rich oppress or kill the poor it is understandable because there are probably huge differences in interest. When the rich kill the rich we may say that there was a clash of interest so one had to bow to the other. But when the poor kill the poor, how do we understand that? Are there hidden violent tendecies provoked by hunger or does poverty reduce men to brutal forces of darkness. If they killed and ate the bodies, I may say that they needed food. But when it comes to the point that poor people, with no education and forseeable progress drop their food bowls and pick up arms to destroy one another all in the name of religion, then I have to consider insanity.
Thoughts of a Calabarboy. 