January 12

I have started my IT in a clinic in Victoria Island. So far so good; I’ve been having an okay time. The place is alive with constant barking that fades into the background of your mind after the first day. There’s a steady supply of customers and cases to keep me occupied. They tend to come in waves. For an hour, there’d be a period of relative calm, and then the next thing you know, dogs are trooping in and out with owners. It also doesn’t hurt that I get to see exotic breeds too.

There’s also a fine-ass mixed-race fella behind the counter. I try not to ogle too much so I don’t give myself away by staring. His sexuality is out to the birds, but I try not to think about it because, well, (1) Le boo; and (2) there’s no point.

All in all, I like it there. Does it make me feel better about my choice of course? Perhaps. It’s so much better learning this way without all that pressure of exams and tests, and the doctors here are friendly and willing to guide me and my classmate, both of us who are interning there.

So on Monday, I was fiddling away on my device when I realised that one of the doctors and this person who works at a pet shop were talking about me, and the doctor was saying I’m Yoruba. He then gestured to me, asking in Yoruba if I understood what was being said, and I responded in English because I can’t speak Yoruba but I understand plenty of it.

Of course they went into the expected tired rant of how it was criminal for me to be unable to speak my mother tongue, and I shrugged and smiled sheepishly, hoping they’d drop the topic so I wouldn’t have to say I don’t really care that I can’t speak Yoruba. So far, I’ve been fine without it. The only reason it’s an issue is because other people make it an issue. It used to bother me before, but now, it’s like meh.

Anyway, what they wanted was for me to man the pet shop while the person that was supposed to be there wasn’t around. And I, as politely as possible, said, “Ko le werk.” Lol. Not in those exact words sha. I explained that how could I be in the pet shop and ignore the clients and patients (that are my primary concern) coming in and out.

However, because my parents raised me to be good shide, I said I would however man it whenever there was a quiet period in the shop. Simpu!

The person who was supposed to be there was however yarning dust about how running a pet shop was part of the veterinary business and it’d be important to learn. Tori! Learn what? How to write receipts? Mtcheeew! I’ve decided I don’t like him very much.

Later on, a lady who is there (I dunno what she does but she is just there) commented on my tab’s case. It’s very battered and worn out. She asked why I hadn’t changed it and I said I hadn’t seen the need to. It still protects my tab adequately and that’s what it’s for. Not for aesthetic purposes. She responded that I must live a very simple, easygoing life. I laughed in my head. She had no idea that sometimes I can be very self conscious and anxious and stuff. And I think maybe I have been trying to put up that front a lot lately, you know, self assured and stuff.

There’s stuff I’m pretty sure about, but there’s plenty I don’t know about. I think however that I’m getting less volatile and I’m settling, getting a bit hard. I guess life does that to you. I however wouldn’t want to get hard to the point of being unfeeling to the plight of other people.

I have seen it happen a lot – where people develop an “I don’t care” attitude or try to be so bitchy they begin to lose sympathy for their fellow humans in suffering because they feel like they brought it upon themselves because of things they could or could not control.

This might seem like such an open-minded view, but I think nobody deserves to suffer or be harmed. They might have it coming to them, but for another human to suffer… I feel like it shouldn’t be a thing of joy.

Of course my sensibilities are fighting against that notion. ‘You reap what you sow’ is a common aphorism. But just because someone is reaping what they have sown doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t sympathize.

A person gets kitoed and probably because he is a slut and in your eyes you are not, or he isn’t rich enough to afford the luxuries that you can afford that can indirectly proffer some protection, you feel like you shouldn’t sympathize. I’m not buying it. The heart shouldn’t be so cold.

I remember when a newly built church building fell and an atheist peep I follow on Facebook started to ask where their God was in a bid to prove his atheism. It annoyed me. People died for heavenssakes! Save the argument for later.

Speaking of religion, New Year’s Eve found me in church watching people pray. But I couldn’t connect anymore. I felt so cynical about what they were doing or what was being prayed for. So I decided to deviate a bit and prayed for what I actually cared about, and I finally felt that connection. And I must say: it felt good.

I was worried. No, ‘worried’ isn’t the word. More like anxious that I was becoming an atheist. Anxious because atheism is a bit of uncharted waters for me. But I don’t think I am. I am still very cynical about religion in whatever form it comes, but it just ends at cynicism.

This is all I can muster for now. Have a wonderful week up ahead.

Written by IBK

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