Mukoli

Positive Lessons I Learned in Times Like This

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You can learn from anything, my father would say, even from your non-human neighbors, living and nonliving. Like something as lifeless as a stone or metal spoon lying on the center table. Or something as minute as a sugar ant. Or something as big as the endangered blue whale somewhere in the Atlantic.

So I learned the art of happiness from a songbird that perches on the dead branch of the neem tree outside our compound and enriches the afternoons with some seamless melody. I learned persistence from the family of spiders living in our home rent-free. They would web the inside of the cupboards, under the chairs, and corners of the house. And I would clean it up, and they would web it again. And again. And again. They never stop.

I watched a wildlife documentary where a group of hyenas stood their ground and defended their kill and territory against an invading nomad lion. And that’s an allegory for Unity. The ignoble seed of tyranny can only thrive on the soil enriched by fear.

Seeing my father dance after he recovered from a partial stroke. His legs still hurt but he danced still. I learned that happiness is free for anyone to reach and touch ecstasy, even in the center of the universe of pain.

Many times I watched my mama make soup, and I learned how delicious and exciting one’s life would be if we learned to put the right amount of things (humor, rest, meditation, generosity, prayer, kindness, etc.) into it at the right time. And let the aroma of our goodness reach the ends of the earth.

I didn’t just learn from the good and pleasing stuff alone. I also learned from terrible experiences and occurrences. Like when I lost the nails of my two big toes from a track accident and thought they would remain ugly forever. But when another pair of beautiful ones replaced them, I learned that nothing is certain. That even the best day of your life can start on a bad note, but still end in joy.

I learned from suffering too. In 2016 Nigeria’s economy moved from bad to worse. I worked on a poultry farm in Offa, Kwara state—Dayntee. A poultry farm with over one hundred workers of different ethnicities–Igbo, Yoruba, Hausa etc. Underpaid, but I didn’t have a choice. The country’s economy was underwater, thanks to our corrupt politicians. So anything you find to do, no matter how unpleasant and hard, you do with all your might and without complaining either.

And one thing I have learned from suffering is that anywhere it goes, sorrow follows. And sorrow doesn’t discriminate. But with a little help from friends, neighbors, and even strangers, we’ll be alright. And who is in a better position to talk about suffering than a Nigerian? Than me who is living in the headquarters of poverty. In the republic of dystopia.

Inside the bus, I’d sit parked together with the rest of the workers like fish inside the freezer. Not comfortable at all. But I’m used to not being comfortable already in Nigeria. I’d giggle or laugh out loud as someone narrated a funny experience he’d had sometime somewhere inside this republic of dystopia. I have two choices in this hard life: be happy or be sad. And I chose happiness! I’ve learned that suffering may hamper happiness but cannot keep it underwater forever.

And if the farm bus plugged into some large pits, we’d hold on tight to each other, not minding the tribe or gender. Inside the bus those mornings, you would think we spoke the same language. But no, suffering has one language, pain. And I learned that pain can be shared through empathy. And through empathy, anyone can hold their neighbor’s hands for the 1st or 50th time.

Another lesson I learned in suffering is this: everyone has got to hold the hands of their neighbor to survive the great fallout. For in a place of shared hardship, the veil of inequality can be torn into shreds, and that great wall of unforgivable differences in the darkest corners of our hearts comes crashing down.

So the world may be falling apart. And the center may not hold for long. But I have learned that if we stand united like the hyenas we can win against any trouble (tyrant). I have learned that together we can hold the center pillar of this crumbling planet up for as long as humanity will last.

I have learned that more than religion or ethnicity, humanity will always thrive with Love.

When my father said I could learn from anything, he meant that nothing was a waste. Even spilled milk can be food for ants and many other non-human neighbors we don’t know exist below the earth and around us.

I’ve learned that we’re different. And that is good. That we can learn from each other’s differences and coexist on this mysterious planet.

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