Well am not Martin Luther King Jr.; we aren’t related, neither am I Bovi the comedian; am not that funny. I can’t really point out with surety what inspired this writing but I think its ‘cos my Mom spoke some sense into me the day I talked down a photographer at my brother’s party. After the intense scolding and ‘gidi’ counseling I got (u know how Moms are) I became calm and actually had to ruminate over some of the things she said, I thought that:
He (the photographer) did not plan his life to be that way and even if he had had a thing for photography, I mean if he loved his job and had a passion for it from the beginning, he certainly did not plan for it to be small in scope. He has mates capturing bigger functions, ‘doper’ scenes, more important and recognized personalities. He might have had bigger dreams for himself and he might have just dabbled into the business to earn a living-to place food on the table for wife, son(s) and daughter(s). Whatever might have made him venture into the art, am a hundred percent certain he didn’t want to be in that skin-wrecking sun, sweating like a chilled Coca-Cola bottle, trying with all marketing strategies in his head to persuade guests to patronize him, getting so carried away as to grab their arms or their bags, making frustrating efforts until they eventually ward him off, politely or rudely; the photographer has no choice, he does the same thing to other people over and over again, he’s got mouths to feed!.
Now let’s assume the photographer had his way, you and I should be sure he wouldn’t have been at that function capturing images, if he were to be there at all, it’d have been to come and blow some ‘bucks’, make himself known and bail out in grand style before the party had even officially begun ( we all know most big men don’t stay the whole of a function). Let’s assume life is a soothingly comfortable bed of roses, he(the photographer) should be having to deal with paparazzi and not be a paparazzo himself, he might have already acquired G-wagons for his children like Folorunsho Alakija (Mrs) the oil tycoon just did for her 4 sons, he might have been pronounced World’s Richest black man like our dear Aliko Dangote, not have had to travel from state to state in a commercial bus but in a private jet…..life would have been so much ‘rosier’.
But oh I dream of a world without oppression or depression, a world where all fingers if not equal are in the process of equaling, a place where there exists no stratification, where there’s no first class, middle class or the poverty-ridden mass men, a place where you become whoever or whatever you wanna be, a place where you live the exact life you’ve always wanted to live, a world where the word ‘celebrity’ has gone extinct; where you don’t have to be all grumpy and pouty, thinking of what next to devour after having an unhealthy breakfast washed down with raw, dirty and untreated water, a place free for all to live, where no one is truly above the law, where terrorism is a thing of the past, where there is freedom of speech, choice of religion and all other freedoms THEY claim we’ve got.
I dream of a time when you don’t have to carry other people’s crosses, bear other people’s blames and get jailed for doing right, a time when Mahatma Gandhi’s words:
“There are people so poor,
That God will have to appear to them in the form of bread”
will be laughed at and not reflected upon. I dream of a world free from corruption and the corrupt heads themselves, rid of influential shitheads who’ll go any length to get mates of their daughters laid. I dream of an impeccable universe-free from fault or blemish.
Gracias por leer!