New World

That was what they called the Americas. It wasn’t really new. It was as old as Europe and had been inhabited for as long. Technically, Columbus didn’t discover anything. America was inhabited ages before his great grandfather was born. He just brought the attention of the world to America. It was new to the Europeans, not to the Native Americans who had lived there all their lives. And so it was that the New World was discovered. It was fresh, fertile and larger than little Mother Europe.
As necessary as it is that we leave our comfort zones and go on a spree of exploration, we need to understand that our greatest treasures are within and around us. The early Americans did not consider their land as valuable as the Europeans found them. They were content to live there that way. They walked the forests of California not knowing they were walking on gold mines. Many would have made their camps on those gold mines. Imagine how man gold mines you’ve made your bed on then walked away from the next morning. A Jewish patriarch had a similar experience. He woke up and told himself that he had slept at the very door of heaven and didn’t know it.
The new world is not a place. It is a mindset. While place is important, mindset is much more important. If it was about the place my country would be one of the most beautiful countries in the world. The mind rules the place. And there is no form of life apart from democracy. Democracy means that the will of the majority of the people is done. That is the form of life everywhere in the world, even in countries that claim to have a socialist, communist or monarchical government. Every place is a reflection of the dominant mindset of the majority of its people. If you want to change the place, please change your mind.
The new world is a mindset that sees and embraces opportunities unique to it. The world is a macrocosm of worlds. It’s big enough for the microcosms that are you and I. Live and let live. The onus is on you to find your new world. Don’t start with a place. Start with a dream. Dream of oceans and the shortest path you’ll take through them walking on feet. Dream of building space stations in the middle of the Sun. Dream of making ice creams in Pluto. The ice there is free and available. Dream of vacations in Atlantis (Yes, it is a real place). Dream of skyscrapers on Everest’s peak. That is the new world.
The new world is not discovering something new. It is letting something find you. It is answering the caller within. The end does not justify the means. The means is an end in itself. Let your journey therefore speak to you in soothing harmonies. Let it sing the secret words of your native tongue. Let those words lead you on, spell-bound to that clearing you see ever so often with your better eye. Symphony is the dream. Magic is the word.
The new world is faith. Faith is simple. It is putting one leg ahead of the other confident the ground under you will hold. Faith is closing your eyes at night because you trust in the flight that will move you to the planet of talking rivers and dancing mountains. Faith is waking up every day, getting up, going out.

Mending Broken Pieces

Just a simple thought. This is a very little piece. No exegesis. Little piece; huge message. Popular message, powerful all the same. I think common things hold the most uncommon messages. We really learn most lessons from the familiar. The mundane is more than we think. That is a matter for another day, tomorrow perhaps.

Tonight, I have a question. And I would appreciate answers. Speak your answer to the wind if you can’t speak it here. Let the winds blow our answers to us when our spirits gather at the great baobab. Speak your answer quietly before speaking it out. Who says speech is louder than silence? Have you endured the silence of the world? Have you ever sat in the midst of noise and wished someone would speak? That is a matter for another day.

Tonight, I have another question. My question is simple. That much I know. The question itself I am still trying to remember its form and shape. I know what I want to ask but I don’t know what to ask. It’s not a crazy world, in case you’ve been wondering. The earth is spherical, flattened at the poles. Antarctica is an icy world. The Sahara is arid. Lions are fast. Cheetahs are faster. Eagles are big. Ostriches are bigger. America is younger than Europe. Papa is 84 gone. Twenty-five. Big deal!

Why don’t we get back up? Why do we condemn broken bits and pieces to the trash? 

Crazy Idealist!

I understand pessimists. It’s the others I just can’t fathom- the realists! What stuff are they made of? It really beats me. Somebody please help!
My name is Chukwualuka and I am an optimist, an idealist by profession. I love realists but I don’t enjoy being realistic. It doesn’t make any sense. It’s crazy. Okechukwu Aneke thinks I am the crazy one! Ha! We shall see!
In 2016, against a 500-1 odd (put out by the realists), Liecester City won the English Premier League. They didn’t have a “single star.” Chelsea, the defending champions came tenth and Jose Mourinho, the Special One, was sacked again. In 2016, world number 772, Marcus Willis beat world number 54, Ricardas Berankis at Wimbledon. As if that wasn’t enough, Novak Djokovic, the world best, lost in the third round to No 41, Sam Querrey. The realists were pretty surprised. World best player, Lionel Messi missed a penalty against Chile at the finals of the Copa America. “Unbelieveable”, the realists exclaimed! Are you kidding me? He has lost more goals than he has scored.
Approximately 90% of the world’s all-time population is dead. That means 9 in every 10 people are likely dead. Being realistic is believing you’re 90% likely to meet a ghost every day, 90% of your friends, family, well wisher and enemies are ghosts and that you’re 90% likely to be a ghost. The mistake the realist makes is that he takes statistics at face value, forgetting the data behind the figures. If Edison actually tried 1000 times before getting the filament for the light bulb, he had a 0.001% chance for success. Was he crazy to have tried some more? Or were those who told him not to try anymore the crazy ones? The statistic behind failure fails to account for the innumerable lessons learned during the course of failure. Take this other instance; about 55 million people die every year. That means 1.375 billion people have died in the last twenty-five years. Realistically, all of China could die in 25 years. That means, births aside, if you are above 20, there is more than a 13.75% chance you’re already dead. That’s just how crazy being realistic can be.
Phew! That is why I am forever an idealist. Being idealistic is knowing that it’s not stupid waiting up for the moon. The fact there was no full-moon yesterday doesn’t mean there won’t be one today. It is knowing that the fact you don’t see the moon doesn’t mean it isn’t there. It might just be behind the trees in the distance. It is knowing that although there is a 100% chance clouds will cover the sun every now and then every day, the sun will still come out of those clouds. Being an idealist is looking forward to tomorrow, even if today doesn’t make sense. It is assigning tomorrow her own clean slate not judging her on the merits of yesterday or today. It is assessing tomorrow based on her own offers, not writing her off because of the colour of her skin or the look on her face. Moody sky or hard earth, tomorrow is still a gift. Being idealistic is sleeping out on the balcony, waiting for my brother who never came home.
Now that I think of it, I think in a sense we’re all realists. We just choose to be realistic about different thing. Some choose to be realistic about the imminence of defeat while others choose to be realistic about the fact that if defeat is possible then victory is also on the line. There are only two sides to every coin. The chances of throwing a head or tail are dependent on the spirit of the one who tosses. That’s what statistics don’t tell you- the spirit of the man behind the wheel.
I read novels and I don’t particularly fancy happily-ever-after endings. They are usually too simplistic.  They’re not simple, they are simplistic. They ring too much of Hollywood and too much of Hollywood can’t be good for an idealist. The point is, life isn’t fairyland, but life could be a fairytale. How will you tell your story? Life will throw you lots of rocks. That’s why you can build a rock-solid foundation. Me, I believe in happy endings. Tragic endings could also be overly simplistic. I believe in happily ever afters.

All the King's Men

I always wondered what falling looked like, till the day I fell off a tree. By jolly it was a huge tree and so it produced a huge fall. Falling is synonymous with climbing. Your consciousness isn't suspended. You’re well aware you’re falling. You remember everything you thought you’d forgotten, the colour of the cookie you just threw away, the taste of those hateful salads you now miss, and the stench of your excreta. You’ll remember your assignment lying at home and the leery eyes of the stupid bus driver. Forget the movies. You don’t get to shout when you’re falling. You’ll likely be too stunned, too busy wishing you’d run into Gecko the mad dog and he’d chased your life out of you, wishing for anything other than this slow, stupid and rapid fall. You get to shout towards the end of the fall though, but it won’t be Hollywood style. You’ll just scream like you were a chicken caught pants down, peeing.
Broken bones are easy to mend. That’s not to say orthopaedics is a piece of cake. You just compare it with what it’ll take to mend a broken spirit and you’ll understand why some risks can’t be insured. I’ve been there, both places, and I know what I’m saying. A needle to the buttocks is hell; now try getting a needle to your spirit. A broken spirit; who can bear? Call 911?
All the king's men helped with my bones. Then they wondered why they failed, I knew. It was because they couldn’t reach my insides. No matter how much help they offered with my stitching,  I’d never climb trees again. And that meant I’d never live in a tree house, never have a gang to hang out with in a secret hideout. Don't ever trust king's men. This isn't about spite but all they offer most times is paint and a lot of makeup.
When people fall, the first question they ask themselves is what they were doing climbing in the first place. That's not a very smart question. Then they wonder why they didn't play safe and take the easy way down. That's also not smart wondering. Its not about the fall. It's about afterwards. Questions should be about afterwards.
Isn’t that why the caged bird sings? Free spirits come in different packs. Some come in broken packs, others don't. That's why it's not really about the pack. Prisons are funny. They’re very much like celebrities. They don’t exist until you acknowledge them. I followed a squirrel up a tree today.

Three Humpties

ALL THE KING’S MEN- THOSE WHO FAIL US
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.
PLAYING SAFE
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty took a detour
Through the king’s mazes, knowing them all
Humpty walked down safe, unknown to the floor.
MENDING BROKEN PIECES
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
Ere the king’s horses and ere the king’s men
Olé broke Humpty limped to his feet again.

Ancient Treasures

The wonder of the Old World is not just a wonder of beauty. It would be condescending to look at the Pyramids of Egypt and wonder that it could have been made by those people. That will be assuming that our generation is a more intelligent one. I would rather say our generation is older. And age does not always translate to wisdom. That might be why historians tells us that the only lesson we learn from the past is that we learn nothing from the past. If that is true then the study history is a worthwhile development. Anything that can teach a man a lesson, any lesson, even if the lesson is that he cannot learn, is a dire needed blessing.
History is representative of the ancient. Although everything old isn't a treasure, the mundane will become a celebrity if it acquires enough sense to outlive its more accomplished fellows. Antique dealers and other collectors will do well to bear me witness.
""Since hunters have learnt to shoot without missing, I have learnt to fly without perching", said Eneke the bird when he was called to court." Igbo proverb.
The lesson this bird shared with his questioners was the lesson of adaptability. This is also the lesson from antiques. They weather storms and endure generational changes. It's only those who survive that will be celebrated. Eneke the bird found that out and decided to learn something new, adapt and survive.
This is the first lesson I would learn of history. It is the fact that some survive while many others do not. Those who survive are those who have learnt to adapt to the changes in the Ages. That is why Mona Lisa survived the industrial revolution, the Holocaust etc. Since Photoshop has learnt to create without clay and water, she has learnt to smile without ceasing. Although none of history can be written off, some remain with us while others leave us perpetually wondering about their identity and whereabouts. We appreciate those who remain.
I would rather be part of those who survive like Eneke the bird, those who choose to adapt for survival. Surviving asks different things of us. At times it asks that we be radically different. Sometimes it asks that we simply go the extra mile. Some other time it simply asks that we be like the coin that falls into the drain and there endures the kindness of humanity for 200 years when it'll be dug up in the building of a new subway. Those who survive, they are the heroes we know. If in the midst of a deadly battle a soldier hides only to emerge after both sides have all killed themselves off, he has by hiding won the battle for his kingdom. He is the survivor and hero.
History may not have been kindest to those who have sacrificed the most. That is a question for another day. But we ought to decide to remain and survive. Those who catch the world's imagination and never let go have that rare opportunity of whispering into the minds of generations. Their impact is more lasting.
The problem of every nation is the mindset of the majority of its people. Democracy isn't only a form of government. The minds of the people rule even where their votes are denied a voice. Those mindsets are imbued by the loudest voices from their history. We all can speak into our futures. We ought to.
The matter more pressing is the voice with which we speak. Every good dream ought not to be denied a place tomorrow. Those who do not dream well should keep sleeping till they learn the art. The shaping of the future started long ago. Some of it continues today. Those who will champion the future are those who survive, who remain relevant in those ages, those who adapt without aging. You choose how to.

For the Love of Jesu

I long to sing
With words I do not have
In no language I know
Seamlessly weave, string
tunes. Suave
like the staccato
of this songbird.

I long to sing
Of love that kissed
my face. Clapped
my aching cord.
Smoothened these lines
Carved by worries
fears, smiling ghosts.
Love that caressed
Like the fingered wind
My drumming t’mple.
Love that silently
Whistles my secret name.

I long to sing
Of this phantom
Grips my heart so.
I ache to sing
Of these feelings
And thoughts
I do not know
In this song I cannot sing.