It was seven in the morning; I was less busy on this particular morning so I decided to take my little nephew to school. On getting to his school, I noticed a neatly dressed little girl being dropped off by a girl of probably ten years old. The two caught my attention for some reasons – while the neatly dressed little well fed girl who looked like a primary two pupil was crying to be in school on that morning, the older girl whose uniform looked faded and out-of-place (one would easily ascribe the uniform to one of those government-ignored public schools) with a cracked skin was happy to be in school that morning.

Everybody has his or her own place where joy is sought and found, I thought. It may be that for the little girl, she’s happier at home because the teachers are “wicked” and for the older girl, she’s happier at school because her madam is “wicked”. Yoruba will say “eni l’ori o ni fila” (the person with the passion lacks the chance).

There’s this part of a prayer point I will never forget in my entire life. It was one of the pastors in my church that said it while rendering that prayer point on a particular Sunday (almost five years ago) and it went thus, “Give these women their own children dear Lord (the women were at the altar), this is going to be their pride in their homes…if those small girls on the streets that are committing fornication in the boys quarters and uncompleted buildings can have their own babies, why can’t these ones be blessed with the fruit of the womb?”, he lamented. I used to know a family, a very happy one. The couple had been together for more than eight years with no child. They had tried everything available to them yet the wife’s stomach had refused to swell with babies. The whole was turned upside down the morning the wife discovered that the maid who had barely spent six months in the house was pregnant for her husband’s driver.

Now, who do we blame? That’s the life we live in – a world where irony must play a role in making the world we live in an irony. It may be interesting or sour, but that depends on many things.

Life is a mystery and irony is a tool of life.



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