You know as you grow older, you find it very difficult to let go of some things. You see yourself holding on to words losing the ability to brush them off like the useless calluses that they are, especially if the words were spewing from the mouth of a carcass.
Well, the WhatsApp forums that today litter our ecosystem are filled with all sorts of characters. The level playing field it presupposes and the power it gives by the distance it forges on us, figuratively merging and allowing all sort of socio pathetic behaviour that usually flourishes as a result of the mere impossibility of control that comes with digital bullying.
So this last night, I struggled with my emotions as the words keep gnawing at my insides. I felt a certain hurt since I cannot lash out at the vacuous brain that manufactures such hateful words and I begin to fear for my sanity, my ability to hold on to the poison that this nobody threw at me some six months ago at the onset of my attempt at leadership.
The most painful thing is the eagerness to get blocked by self-appointing guardians of the emptiness that is the WhatsApp group. At the slightest mention of a word away from the meaningless dribble that comes from the faux niceties that line the group, some clay fingered titan with the powers of ‘life and death’ immediately blocks you and gleefully smiles at his housemaid while on top of her showing her that she had made the right choice, opening her scabies infested legs for a man of power. A man with the powers of life and death in his fingers by the mere push of a button.
Well, I am weak. I am the failed man here, who has allowed the minion get to me. Who has allowed the Lilliputian strike me in such a painful and hurtful way. I refuse to smile, for I have disappointed myself for I am a man of mission, a man going somewhere who should not be distracted by mere words from a mortal nestled within the rich oil belts of the delta.
He was quiet, but deep in his thoughts. He was far and ahead of us. He loved football in his youth and played to his heart’s content; he was not with us intellectually and we could not understand him. So he was not respected. He was chided and derided and he fought back with blunt and abusive language. He has gone, leaving me alone to face the ignorance of the Roman mob. Me without the strength of a thousand miles; me with a sensitive heart, me in the midst of bullies who hide under the supposed brotherliness of a youthful camaraderie.
The musings of a restless middle-aged scallywag. The mute rantings of a dreamer and the cry of an orphan nestled in a WhatsApp group he terribly needs to leave but imprisoned by the sheer love of his mates who will never understand him.
The contradictions of my life, the madness of him who has called himself the Duke of Somolu. The rhapsody of a madman. Sleep called me and I must leave ……