THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE

Such a Big Deal getting turned on...

Relax...

it’s just a metaphor.

For days, I’ve been wrestling with the perfect spark to pen these thoughts. It feels like fumbling for a light switch in total darkness.

You know it’s there, but where exactly?

I tried my usual ritual: a 7km jog to clear the cobwebs from my mind. Kaestrings’ Rahama played softly in my ears, its melody beautiful yet somehow not striking the right chord.

Maybe a blunt? Nah, too cliché.

What I truly needed was the kind of soul-stirring serenade only African music can offer. The beats of the balafon and the kora, threaded together with a voice so raw it makes your heart hum. Eventually, I landed on Salif Keita’s Were Were.

Although, if I’m honest, Sam Mangwana or Franco Luambo would’ve been my first choices.

You see, as a Nigerian with an eccentric taste in music, I owe my unconventional playlist to my mum and uncles. They adored Congolese music, and I guess I caught the bug.

So there I was, headphones on, my brain bulging with inspiration like a dam about to burst.

With Salif’s voice weaving magic in my ears, my thoughts finally began to align. The ideas in my head, pent up for too long, were ready to spill out like water breaking through a floodgate.

But as always, life has its interruptions.

I recently returned from Ghana, and my girlfriend keeps saying I’ve changed.

Me??

Changed?

Apparently, I’ve become “uncaring.”

“Women and their wahala,” I thought.

Then, during one of those midnight, head-on-chest, back-stroking conversations, I realized she wasn’t entirely wrong.

The job I took in Ghana demanded a rigid demeanor—something completely alien to me. I’ve always been the easygoing, friendly type. Diplomacy has always been my tool of choice, not an axe. Yet, this role required me to wield one, and so I did.

It made me question: does work truly change us, or does it merely unveil parts of ourselves we’d rather not confront?

Life doesn’t come with a manual. It thrusts us into its arena, forcing us to adapt—or perish.

Policemen, for instance, are trained to mistrust. Their skepticism becomes second nature, shaping their view of the world.

Nurses and doctors witness so much death that detachment becomes their armor. It’s not that they don’t care; they cannot afford to feel every loss deeply.

We all navigate life's labyrinth in one way or another, striving to keep our heads above water. But do we lose touch with who we truly are in doing so?

Back to my midnight tête-à-tête with my girlfriend. She argued that if my softer qualities could so easily vanish, were they ever genuine?

Ouch!!

Her words hit like a sledgehammer. It made me think about soldiers, ordinary civilians transformed into battle-hardened warriors. How much of their original selves survive that transformation?

The challenges in life never truly end. Every mountain conquered reveals another looming in the distance. The heat intensifies, forcing us to adapt and morph into versions of ourselves we might never have envisioned.

Perhaps this explains why some marriages fail. Beyond infidelity or financial struggles, could it be that people wake up one day and think, “This isn’t who I married”?

The real question is: when does transformation become too much? At what point do we lose sight of the rabbit hole we’ve fallen into??If we’re unaware, who’s there to pull us back?

Or maybe this evolution is necessary? an inevitable part of survival?

It’s a complicated conundrum!

In a world where only the loudest and wealthiest are heard, our character is like clay, is shaped by life’s heat and pressure. But is this reshaping the cost of moving forward?

These questions run deeper than the Mariana Trench.?

Perhaps, like Salif Keita’s haunting melodies, there isn’t a clear resolution. Just the rhythm of life urging us to adapt, reflect, and keep moving forward.

Life doesn’t stop. Neither should we!!

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