My Heart Bleeds

As I sat behind my window one wet Friday morning after a heavy rainfall; the thoughts of how poorly managed our roads has filled my heart with lots of sadness. The downpour that early Friday morning had exposed the state of our roads and drainage systems. Though, I was not yet born during the early independence era; I know what we are experiencing in Nigeria at the moment run contrary to what the Awolowos, the Ziks, and the Sadaunas had in mind. My misery was made worse by the fact that I couldn’t help the situation on that very day even if I wanted to.

Here is a country blessed with loads of resources, we cant go out because the heavens opened up and even if you wanted too , you will be stuck in traffic for hours just to get your destination or end up worrying of not damaging your car .

Yet this feeling that usually paces through my mind since I returned to Nigeria continues to torment me. This feeling of not doing enough to alleviate the sufferings of people around me won’t just stop. My plight is even made worse every time I go through my lists of goals. As each day passes bye, the fear of what might have been had things gone according to plans scared me.

The responsibility of building roads and providing basic amenities for the citizens sure rest on the government; but who says I can’t speed things up by championing the course for quality living? Who says I can’t motivate people in my environment to turn the attention of the government towards our plight? Who says I can’t do more than I am doing; if at all I have done anything to brag about?

To be frank, I have had a couple of sessions with a lot of jobless people on the streets. I have spoken to and also encouraged street urchins; exposing them to the dangers and consequences of their actions. My life had been placed on the line a couple of times; but can’t I do more than I am already doing? Of course, I can do more; and that is why my heart bleeds. My heart bleeds each day I see destitute on the streets of Lagos. My hearts aches whenever I see homeless and mentally challenged citizens of one of the world’s most endowed nations sleeping under bridges in Lagos.

It is the dream of every young man to be rich, famous, and successful in everything he does; but where is the satisfaction going to come from when you live and work in the midst of people who lack? How is success measured? How do I measure success? Is it by the number of high-tech cars packed in my garage or number of mansions built and scattered around the Banana Islands of this world? Success or achievement in life should only be measured by how many lives were touched; and that is when the balance comes in.

The bleeding won’t seize until people around me can smile again. It won’t stop until young teenagers stopped selling their bodies cheaply, and mothers stopped looking the other way when their teenage daughters are being ferried away in classy cars.

They say you can’t give what you don’t have; but when is the endless quest to build a financial estate and empire for myself going to end so that I can start lending a helping hand? When will the chick come to roost? Is it when those I am supposed to render help to are no longer available? When they have been hulled into prisons for committing crimes just to survive? Don’t get me wrong, crime cannot be justified no matter what, but don’t we already have thousands of destitute in Kirikiri and Ikoyi Prisons awaiting trial for stealing and other offences?

I have personal goals that must be reached and achieved; but even that does not stop me from starting from those basic things. It doesn’t stop me from starting from the basics; doing those simple things that matter in the society we live in.

We are all individuals with divergent views, and your perspective about helping others might be different from mine; but did you think you will be too hard on yourself if you shared my kind of sentiment? You can at least visit the sick in the hospital, provide a quarter bag of rice for children in one or two motherless babies’ home, and do some nice little things to put smiles on the faces of people.

You haven’t done anything until someone somewhere is saying a little prayer for the nice little shirt or shoes or pencil you gave.

Remember, no one in that night club you visit once or twice every week will ever say thank you for the money you spent the week before; but someone on the street or out of job will be forever thankful for the love and care you shared.

Until those things have been taken care of, and until smiles start returning to faces of the poor and homeless; the bleeding continues. However, you can also help; yes you can also reduce the bleeding by lending a helping hand today!