A ‘Blue Clip’ in a School of Lines: ATM Story

The University of Ilorin is a school of lines. The prevalent situation in the school compels you to queue up practically at every instance to get any service whatsoever. You have line for all sorts of things; to get on the bus, to use the ATM, to get your final year passport, to get into the auditorium, and even to use the toilet (sorry for blowing it up just a little bit, but superfluity is my forte, a trait am sure you’re not unfamiliar with).

But then, hold up just a little bit, – just before you start thinking the UNILORIN students have a rich history of being civil – the lines started only very recently. Until recently, it was always a fisticuffs breeding huddles that lined these places where you now have lines of all sorts; curvy lines, wavy lines, straight lines, zig and zags and all other ones that simply cannot be conveyed in words. I still wonder what now started the queuing culture within the campus.

Well, I may have been a tad off-beam when I said the huddles were fisticuffs catalysts. They actually never go as far. Most of them never morphed into a full-blown free for all, usually, people just put forward their sane faces and bottle down their raging emotions. After all, it’s Unilorin and Tanke is never short of spaces for those that are ready to “face it”.

Oh….”face it” is quoted; of course, it is a culture specific concept of which the effect of its prevalent meaning is the nightmare of any sane Nigerian student.

In UNILORIN here most especially, expulsion – the whole concept of Tanke facing – haunts students at every turn, especially when all you need do is drum up a little storm. The school takes it up from there. The natural pattern is, the school dubs the little misdemeanour a gross misconducts and e-mail you your departure coordinates from the campus.

Ergo, as opposed to the concept of the UNILORIN students being civil, the silence of a UNILORIN student – or restraint from violent outburst – is not a result of an internal mechanism that preaches “cool it”, it’s actually a fallout of an higher motivation – Tanke.

Well, don’t I digress. Back to the lines, on one of which I had gotten the spur to write on the school of lines.

It was the traditional Ilorin afternoon, the sun was at its highest and the blistering heat rebounding from the paved floor was warming up all of my extremities, or perhaps grilling my very little body fat would convey the real picture of the intensity of the galactic yellow ball.

I had been standing on that spot for circa 15 minutes revising my grocery list and other miscellaneous things I am to do with the dough that will be spilling into my hands in few minutes when I finish my quick inter-dimensional chitchat with the ATM.

I am not sure if you are starting to get the gist here. While being grilled by the big vindictive sun, I comforted myself with the thoughts of the potentialities of the money I am about to withdraw, that, which I do not consider a bad deal anyway.

Well, that didn’t last long, someone was going to open my Pandora’s box. Oops, was going to? He already had. From somewhere that cannot be determined by the most efficient map-making machine, a burly “blue clip” came clomping into the line.

“Excuse Me, Thank you”, he said with a smug while getting right in from of the next person who by the principles of queues has the dibs to use the ATM.  

By the way, “blue clip”, which until the very recent regime had been a “blue tag” within the screwed UNILORIN cosmopolis, are the members of staffs, who regardless of the market value of their certificates or the purchasing prowess of their paycheck can speed up your trip to road 7 – right into “face Tanke” boulevard. I know, it’s pathetic, but that’s what we are stuck with and still are stuck with.

So, our “blue clip” friend cut into the queue right at the mouth, did his business like his fada installed the ATM, while most of the guys there just gaped like poor Popeye short on spinach – aside me of course, I was boiling, literally. The guy who was shoved off spot by the “blue clip” just stared like he had a duct tape over his mouth – he obviously thought this was crap, but dare he speak?

Well, I was not going to settle for any of that. I could feel little vapour starting to radiate from my head; my boiling point has peaked. I waited for the man to finish his business, took a deep breath, composed myself, ridding myself of the basal tantrum reaction and delivered my first zinger.

“So, who died?” I asked with a blank innocent stare embedded with subtle you-know-you-are-wrong look. A look of consternation assorted with mild confusion and bewilderment played across his visage.

“Excuse me” He ventured, re-enacting his earlier smug demeanour.

“Well, I was just wondering what made your withdrawal so important that it automatically overrides the need of every other person here to withdraw.”

He seemed to catch my drift there. He was probably trying to process the semiotics of the statement, because it took him a while to give a response.

Well, he responded, after a long while. He rambled, droned and singsonged, and the summary of it all; “I have the right” capped it all. And that was all the tinder I needed to blow up the Twin Tower, of course, I still pounded my basal instinct of tantrum into solitary confinement – I have had a good run for three years, I better not blow it up in my final year. 

He seemed to me like a reasonable fella on the long run, I didn’t know where it came from, but I practically “stood him up” (alternate sat him down) – “respectfully” – to lecture him on how global citizens behave.

“As a member of staff with all due respect sir, established social protocol does not allow you to advocate ‘shunting’, if anything, you should condemn it. But pity, even you have fallen for your very crude Nigerian instinct of line jumping which am sure does none any good.”

He ventured to speak. I held up my hand – I am still talking.

“You are expected to set an example of civility sir, but alas, even you! I must say, I am really disappointed, not only with you but also with the system that can employ a being so shorn on civility.” He ventured again, I still held up my hand – still talking sir.

:) Alright, I didn’t take it that far. But then, I really did gave him a piece of my mind. I will not give you the details of the rest of the conversation. That is assured to bore the life out of you. But after a while, he seem to concede, he could not match the veracity of my argument, so he backed off. Until later.

He came back to tell me my approach was wrong, and for the fact that I am studying Law does not give me the latitude to address him in the manner I did. I just shook my head to suppress my urge to say really really awful things to him. Law my foot. I really still do not realize how better I could have approached him; perhaps he’d have preferred a punch in the face as conversations starter.

I find it a little repulsive; some petty functionary because of the privilege afforded by a nifty little “blue clip” ride roughshod over us, who possess incalculable potentials. Granted he is deprived of enough civility to properly seek an injunction to use the ATM before every other individual on the line, he could at least seek the potentials radiating in the atmosphere and respect that.

But pity, some are not robbed of civility but also of perception.

As last words, I can beg, but I won’t. I will rather just tell you. Never be short on civility, never think you are smart and act on it. Most people just think you are stupid when you try jumping a line. Be a world citizen; observe the queue – especially when you are “blue clip”. 

Sidenote: I know I didn't complete the Burial Tale, I dunno, I didn't get the muse. No apologies, there really was nothing much to relish anyway.

THE BURIAL TRIP AND OTHER TALES (1)

Ok. I must admit – just in case it’s not apparent enough – it has been a very long time I blogged about anything, schoolwork has just been overwhelming and funny thing is, they are still mounting. It’s quite impressive – or disappointing? – how most survive this hellish reality in the four walls of the University only to get out there and start tussling on a whole new level to get gainfully employed. But, won’t that be a discourse for another time!

Thing is, we had been on break for about two weeks now - inter-semester break - and I surprisingly haven’t felt like I was on any break. Why? I can hardly figure out. But then, the culprits are not far-fetched, the final year project for one has left one with no breathing space at all with the deadline looming like death.  

Over this break, lots of things have happened which I can’t possibly clump into one post, but then, I’ll just have to give it my best shot. It’s been event filled; three friends and a brother have had their birthdays, which I had all but forgotten were it not for Facebook that saved my head.

Over this same break, Valentine’s day had been celebrated, the one I celebrated by ducking in my dorm all day buried in literatures, diverting calls and waiting for the one call that didn’t come until late in the evening. I guess I was the least of her priorities. But then, the call came and we both watched the sun set together with a bottle of water between us. No artificialities and dinner tables with candlelights, just both of us gazing into the endless darkness of the sky with the wind whispering and we sipping from one bottle of water, quipping at every chance. It was funny, weird maybe but it was fascinating. It’s funny why I had not blogged about that.

Well, the next day after Valentine’s was Friday, and there came another break defining event for me. And that is what this post is about. My friend’s grandpa had decided to buy a one-way ticket to the kingdom beyond, and we are setting out to the country home to see to the final rites, basically, we were going to funeralize.

The Aweda’s country home in actual sense seems to be all the way outside the country. As we drove through the dirt road that leads to the village, I kept thinking of how a path along the road might actually lead to heaven. There seem to be no end to the stretch of dirt that lay ahead of us.

Meandering through the jagged dirt-road in the scalding February 15^th Ilorin sun was not an envious experience, and the fact that we were riding in an old Nissan hatchback with no functioning air-conditioning system did a lot to amplify our already hazed experience. All the windows were rolled down for air, which came with grits and sand fumes in tow, clogging our lungs, blurring our vision, painting us in a form of brownness that only a dirt road can produce, even as Jeremy – the one with the dead grandpa – sped on in the mist of that blinding dust.

The gravel kept growling under us and we kept on bumping against the tiny rocks that lined the road. Jeremy was being a speed-demon, even in this haze, and we all knew why; we have about thirty minutes worth of lost time to cover.

On the tarred stretch from whence we veered onto this rough road, Jeremy, myself and three others that included Jeremy’s prospective *winks* had been carried away with whatever we were talking about that we forgot to turn off at the right point. Jeremy had gunned right past the junction to his village and it was not until 15 minutes of mad speed later when he eased on the accelerator and declared as a matter-of-factly , “were are lost”, that we were made familiar with our state of lostness. The shriek that followed his declaration didn’t seem to faze him, he expected just that. We all had good laughter over that.

Well, we had to double back. After about fifteen minutes of intense and constant examination of the vast stretch of the uncultivated lands that lined each side of the road, we finally found the junction where we should have turned earlier and with a sigh, Jeremy eased into it, to begin the second phase of the journey.

We drove in silence for a while, noticing more of the uncultivated countryside and each of us, aside Jeremy ofcourse, hoping we will be home any moment. We kept hoping for forty five more minutes.

Roughly thirty miles of grinding, growling, dirt-road later, we finally took our final turn that lead into Okaka – Oja, the village where the man for whose reason we had endured the troubles of forty five minutes past would be swallowed up by mother earth. 

Abuja Chronicles: Lesson 1; Expect less, Everytime and from Everyone

So I was in Abuja recently, by recently I mean about two month ago. And, getting back I wrote this Chronicle which I had not found the time, or the nerve maybe, to put it up online. But well, I eventually got my way around the fear, and I am putting it up now. Some things I am not really proud of in here. 

Well, here is my first day in Abuja. *pinched nose* Like seriously? I am 20 and it's only my first time in Abuja?   

GETTING STRUCK

After waiting about twenty minutes at the Area 10 Garki, accompanied by 20 minutes of pensive pacing on the extremely dark sidewalk, he finally showed up in his blue smart car. He was finally here to pick me up.

I had had enough for the night, 13 hours on the road is no joke. But then, regardless of my blurry sight and the groggy spell that has befallen me due to the long hours in the car, I knew something was wrong. Maybe not wrong in every sense of the word, but I knew something was amiss. Oh, just then it struck me, I was in the capital city. Yes, I was in the freaking capital city of Nigeria that looked nothing like the capital city I had imagined.

I had spent about 11 months in school with no break whatsoever to my home in Ogun state. Even when I get to leave school and travel outta the radius of our very own Alcatraz of a school, usually, it’s about some assignment or something of sort, so, as I planned to leave Ilorin after my industrial attachment, I had planned to have the fun of my life in Abuja. Tha capital city must know say I don show. Well, here I was, and I’m not sure any if my daydreams which I had intentionally decided to leave out in this post will be taking flesh anytime soon; maybe never.

I was in Abuja. 2 days earlier just before leaving, my supervisor at my IT place had coated Abuja in the finest of shades. “You’ll be proud to be Nigerian”, he said in his signature guttural tone. And oh, I was looking forward to getting blown off of my heels, I was looking forward to seeing the wonders my supervisor had gingerly wrapped in those 6 words.

All Black Everything

Oh, I was looking forward. But then, as I stood in front of the Cyprian Ekwensi building where the car from Ilorin had dropped me off at Area 10 Garki, I knew I had expected too much. There and then, I made up my mind, “if you want to enjoy Abuja, you will have to lower your standards” I thought.

So, I was in this really small Toyota hatchback and we are headed back to Asokoro, Area 11 where I will be putting up for the next 6 days; 6 days that I have now concluded might just be as disappointing as finding a Nintendo^TM console in a traditional X-Box pack (you know how that feels right?). Ok.

AT THE GATES

Just like I said; it’s all pretty screwed up. We got to Asokoro after a few too many wrong turns (It still baffles how he misses his way with such dexterity), but then, we were at Asokoro in “no” time, and soon enough, we were knocking on the State House’s gates.

Though I didn’t particularly come to terms with the fact that I was going to be staying in the villa just in time, but then, getting to that gate and confronting that throng of security, I knew just then that the person behind the walls must be a really important person. And it actually dawned; this…is …Aso Rock.

Well, he said some things to them about communication centre yadaya, and we were let through just in time for me to let out a sigh of relief. Finally we are in.

IN THE VILLA   

We were in the villa. “Hey! You are actually within the walls that house the most important citizen of Nigeria”, the thought came flying in like an RPG shot with wrong coordinates, just that it didn’t come with the same shattering effect you’ll expect. It actually looked like a big deal, feel-good-about kinda thing, but then, it burned through without an effect; just like a dud dynamite.  

Of course, it’s definitely a big deal; it’s just that, I was not being driven by a presidential aide with an armed convoy, but instead, it’s only my brother in this extremely small coupe.  

And one more thing, I won’t actually be staying in the state house, but instead, it will be one of the very many government-built individual-owned condominiums that lined each entrance of the state house.

So, now you see how much of a dud that thought actually was. I am in the state house, but then, am not actually in the state house, crappy. So, in an instant, I expunged that thought and hinged it toward the fluffy king-sized mattress waiting for my tired self in one of those condominiums that lined the western axis.

CONDOMINIUMS AND A KING SIZED BED

Sorry. They were nowhere in sight. Oh, of course, the condos were standing right there, all painted in dominant white, just as I had seen them from far away. But for the king-sized beds, nope, they really were not to be seen. Instead, my brother had set up a retractile camp bed, specially for me. That left me shaking my head and cussing under my breath; “pathetic bachelor”.  

Well, now that all my hopes of a king-sized bed has been dashed, I made straight for the bathroom, showered, sauntered out, took the mal-cooked dinner and headed straight for the bed; freaking camp bed. And as that camp bed begins the staggering task of keeping me comfortable all night, my first day in Abuja gradually fades, all shadowed in a gloomy kinda sense of relief.

Curtain Falls

POWTER’S CENTRAL: THE ONE ABOUT MY JUST CONQUERED CRUSH

Long and Boring Post, reader’s discretion advised.

#Nickelback plays in the background#

I am so ecstatic I can’t believe myself. I just got back from the shower, an expected fallout of hours on the Tennis court, courtesy of my Uncle; adopted Uncle, who drilled me in a 4 set game, the result of which I am not really willing to share right now.

Take it or leave it, I still can’t believe I just got back from the sports pavilion less than 30 minutes ago and am still as strong as  a horse – seriously, literally strong enough to run the Third Mainland from end to end.

However, as the idea may have started to take shape in your mind, I am sorry to disappoint you; this post is not about the ecstasy attached to being this strong after all I have been through today, it’s actually about the mystery attached to the whole affair – which I swear on oath is even a more interesting topic.

Ofcourse, get rid of that quizzical glare creeping onto your face. I really had been through a lot today, and you see, if anyone had told me I was going to end the day on a high, God knows I would have gladly given the dude a psychiatrist’s contact – a little tick check maybe.

It started on a bad note. There is no masking it; it was bad, really bad. You know that kind of bad where you think all the forces of nature are beefing you all at the same time? Yep! That kinda bad.

Think Again

I did not know where the vibe was coming from. But just somewhere deep inside, I knew the day wasn’t going to be a good one. I am not a psychic, don’t even nurse that thought. And my name is Gbenga, if anyone knows me at all, s/he will know I am not the bloke who walks around with random chains of premonitions forming a halo around my head. But you see, even I felt surprised at myself. There were no signs; just this persistent snowballing hunch that keeps whispering into my hear, “bad day ahead”.

I braced up for it, and lo, the first jab came; the studio-broadcasting schedule had been reorganized. Alright, you may think, what’s the big deal in that? Well my dear, it is a deal, not just a big one, it’s colossal.  

So there I was, gazing at the schedule, thinking, boiling, seething and finally, I couldn’t help but vocalize it, “holy crap”, I said without giving a thought to it. My mind was racing, how am I supposed to compensate myself for the early reveille I had to grumble through this morning? Who changes a schedule without telling the parties involved anyways? I really was boiling now, I could feel vapour effervesce through my hair follicles.

But well, when life gives you lemons they say, make a lemonade of it. So, guess what I did? I bent over, picked my lemonades off the tiles, got the juicer, and sooner than I had thought, I was sucking away at my cup of lemonade soon enough, even though I had to play the wingman on the Show that was supposed to be mine, I still didn’t lose my cool – round of applause for me. Yaay!!

So, what happened next? A whole lot of things. But I will go on ahead – spare you the Rango story, and tell you the kahuna tale; the one that convinced me that, truly truly, I had bargained for a bad day, and I was getting it with all the aftersales service. What happened? The talk about “crushes”.

Not the kinda crush that involves a pestle and unlucky pieces of Yam in Mrs. Aweda’s mortar. It’s the one where a boy and a girl are the main players. You can shut your mouth now. The truth; every guy in the world had had a crush, currently has a crush, or will soon have one. So let’s face it, it’s a talk about a crush; a mistake maybe, I just hope I make it more often.

I am going to tell you a little bit about this crush. Because believe it or not, the event with her toppled my day – I told you it was the mother of them all. So, take a good listen (read maybe), this promises to be long and boring.

This crush was the most persistent one I have felt in all my life, it lasted about two years – it’s sick right? I think so too. The girl we are talking about is smart, according to my estimation. She was the only crush that made me bit my tongue at any attempt to make a joke around her. Why? ‘cos she doesn’t get them – I think that’s dumb, but what could I have done? This crush was the only one I could not make any sense of because it was fetish in outlook to me. Why? That will be a story for another day.

This crush….is the only crush I can’t find the words to describe because the words don’t come. *static recall*, am sorry to disappoint, but that will be all you will know about that crush for now. But overall, there is this detail I will like you to know about her. Our friendship status – which ranges from a passive “non greeting and talking” to a superficial “hugging” everytime determines the outcome of my day. So, depending on where we fall on the scale for a very long had been the measure of my mood and the general productivity of my day. (You are gonna have to pardon the past/present tense mix-up, am not sure just yet, if am over the crush).

I know it’s pretty complex and hard to connect with. But usually, because crush is not something you can just toggle on and off like a power switch, I try to always be on her good side, ‘cos to be on the bad side, is to bargain for a really bad day. Moreover, since choosing sides is something I can easily control – relatively, compared to the mode of the crush, I usually choose to work on what side I find myself.

So, since you’ve taken out your time to guess. I actually did found myself (which in all honesty isn’t my fault) on her bad side today. And it all went plummeting from there on. I snapped at everyone around, like I’ll do anytime this happens, believe me, I don’t have any idea why this happens all the time, but it does every single time. I’m thinking she knows she has that effect everytime. But ofcourse, by writing this, I just cleared all the doubts.

Enough of my sappy crush tales. After all that, my day went from bad worse, even as I was invited to host a programme I was not given an official letter of invitation. What were they thinking? Like seriously, I was going to walk in there and look like a fool to potential crushes? Am sorry. No.  

Now, what’s the morale of the story. In all sincerity, I dunno anymore. It’s 23:31, and my eyes are flickering shut. I am just going read this over, and press, “upload” – errors or not.

But just so you know, tomorrow is going to be a really good day, ‘cos though today threatened to be bad one, it turned out better than a date with Bukola Elemide. All thanks to ‘Beth, Pia, Stephie, Aretha (who were soft cushion ladies) and Kay who kept me on the court till 9.00pm. You guys shamed my crush. I had a blast of a day, hope to partner with you guys more often. 25 gbosas to you guys jare.

P.S Please ignore all my bloopers, I really was half-asleep and torpid while posting this. Moreover, about that crush…#am walking away, Graig David#, let’s just say, am done with crappy deals. *winks*

The Question of Faith

Faith is a very interesting concept. And just like any other concept, it boasts of so many definitions, and as sure as heaven, all the definition boils down to one single fact; faith is believe.

Perhaps, saying faith is equal to believe may be rather simplistic, but nevertheless, the word faith etymologically is traced back to the Latin word; “Fides”, or more recently, to the old French word, “Feid”, in which case both means trust, or belief.

 I may have been let off the hook by tracing it all back to the roots and hiding the shallowness of my conclusion in the heap of proof provided by the ancient languages. But then, how do I quell my own conscience?

Faith is indeed similar to “believe” in more ways than one, but in totality, we cannot equate faith with believe. Nevertheless, who is to be bothered by a single word trying to get us to open tomes after tomes in search of meaning?  I will tell you who will; those who believe that there is more to life than the physical; the ones who understand that the visible was made out of the invisible (Heb. 11: 3). And the ones who realize truly that light is a product of darkness.

Well, I happen to be one of those. And that raises so many questions about faith in my consciousness and otherwise.

In my quest for answers, the combination of Oxford advanced learners dictionary and the Encarta dictionary provided a soft landing; they collectively defined faith as “a religious concept signifying devotion to, or trust in somebody or something, especially without logical proof”. Yes, “logical proof”, the whole concept about faith seem rather all too baloney sometimes to be swallowed wholesale. A quick one, how do you explain the belief of more than one third of the world’s population in a man dying for the sins of more than 6.5 billion people across the universe? It does not make much sense. And that’s where it comes in – faith.

Faith is the only culprit that can be convicted for making people believe in something that cannot be logically proven by human standards. And that leaves you really wondering; faith must be a brazen trickster.

Faith as it is is a very interesting theme, but writing about it is a different ball game. Especially for someone still trying to figure out how far down he is it with the faith campaign, it is not only humbling, I feel rather out of place writing about something I am trying hard to grapple myself.

Checking up faith in multiple dictionaries sure provides a soft landing, but what it truly fails to provide is an “explanation”. If those dictionaries have done anything at all, they had succeeded in convincing me to mistake faith for belief.

Well, looking up faith on the internet wouldn’t do much help I supposed. So I consulted the longest surviving book of human facts in history – the bible. The word faith was mentioned for about 270 times in both Old and New Testament, perhaps that does not make a very important topic, compared to “God” that was mentioned over 3, 000 times. However, that does not change the fact it –faith– is our sole ticket to eternity (Heb 11:6). And that’s where the distinction comes in; faith isn’t just any kind of conviction or resolution, but one that buys you the ticket into eternal life. Usually, I like to look at believe as a conviction based usually on a justifiable truth, but not faith. Faith requires the least of justification; it’s deep in heart, non-questioning and without compromises.

Paul is one apostle that won’t be forgotten easily, aside the fact that his conversion to Christianity would have been hashtagged then (if there had been Twitter); Paul aggressively propagated the faith he once openly persecuted. And When Apostle Paul mentioned the importance of faith to the Ephesians in the 6^th verse of the 9^th chapter of that letter, he was not joking about it. It is through faith that “we” have been saved, it’s not earned through our efforts or labour, but by grace – through faith.

The thing is, it’s easy to give a drop down list on what faith is and how to be faithful, with oceans of scriptural references to tag along. But youth to youth, I know it helps better when we drive the facts down. Being faithful is not a fun thing to do most times, and I have never seen it as a hobby in any of the thousand CVs I have seen in my lifetime.

But then, just like you, I am a victim of this. Faith is a concept we discuss passionately in bible studies and just when it comes down to it, we scamper off into the valley of fear and build a mansion in the city centre – all comfy.

Faith is not comfortable, either as a verb or noun. Looking it up in the Bible, we are exposed to the most sagacious (perhaps not the most acceptable) definition of Faith in Heb. 11: 1, it defined faith as being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. Well then, I guess that sums up all that we’ve ever had to talk about. But how can we ignore that faith’s hall of fame?

Imagine God telling you to leave your home, your family and everything you know and to follow Him to a new terrain, without telling you exactly where you were going. This is what happened to Abraham (the father of faith). Or imagine He told you to build a huge boat in the middle of Sahara, because a massive flood was coming. Would you do it? That was the decision Noah had to deal with. These are only two out of the many dumb propositions God presented to many people in the bible and still presents to us today. Now it takes faith to defy all reasoning and take the first step. Even though you can’t see the rest of the way, just move on up and like Abraham, God is sure to light up the rest of the way for you.

Human minds need hard facts to function. Why? Our answer is summarised in the words of the Swiss Psychiatrist; Carl Gustav Jung who said that “Faith is a charisma not granted to all; instead man has the gift of thought, which can strive after the highest things.” In my words; not everyone has that grace. Now it boils down to us asking God to keep us faithful. The faith that we will make heaven does not lie in how self-righteous we are, but by the grace God makes available.

Most of us like to plan our lives ahead of us, and make dooms day predictions. We like to plan out our agenda for the next 10 to 15 years. But pity, God does not work by humans’ timepiece, he usually like the surprise factor. When God challenges us to have faith in Him, He won’t let us down. Why? Because he is not a man that he should lie (Num. 23: 19). Pray for faith, it’s actually a rare gift you can’t have on a platter. 

Endnote: Hmm, I know it's been a while I have been here. I really do not have any excuse, but then I must say, time and chance has not really been smiling with me. Am sorry.

I actually sent this for publishing in a Christian Mag. and I thought I should share with you guys. Thanks for reading. I hope you it blessed you.