THE POINT YOU WISH NOT TO GO ON…

It is said, ‘the harder the battle, the sweeter the victory’. But I tell you, if the battle becomes too hard, the sweetness of the victory would be lost. Same could be said about failures which many claim to be the definition of an individual’s strength and weakness. However, failures – especially those from parameters beyond our control – that comes in the wake of glaring success casts shadows on the authenticity and or validity of such quotes on failure.

I like many other ambitious and zealous Nigerian youth have failed, not once, not twice. In fact, I have lost count. More intriguing is that the failures am talking about isn’t in my entire life rather an aspect of it – my writing career. If I venture to compile the former, Guinness would be forced to create a new World in their Record Book (that is if I would ever complete such a mission).

From the inception of my writing till date, I have entered countless writing contests, still yet to succeed in any. I always approach all the contests as if it was my last chance; write-out my heart, de-ideating my brain in the process. Next thing I do is go through the rigours of getting close friends to read, review and spot typos and missing strings. The body language of a handful of my friends tells me that am already a burden to them. Some will give me a hasty reply, ‘LATER’, which more often isn’t delivered. Some am sure don’t even read but will reply in emphatic adjectives – and I warn that giving someone too much false hope is a grave inhumanity to your fellow man – that will make my head swell and up my confidence and aspirations,

“Ah! It’s very good”, “You are a great writer”, and so on to avoid hurting my feelings. In the end, only a few give me helpful tips.

Laden with huge confidence and the internal pride of self-accomplishment, I would submit these write-ups with unwavering optimism. When the results are released however, the story is different. My confidence and mental strength drains on reading those demonic lines,

“Dear Anthony, we are sorry to tell you that your story does not fit…” bla bla bla…

Some go ahead to explain their reason for rejecting your work probably to console or force the bitter lemon sweetly down your throat,

“being rejected doesn’t mean your story is bad but that it doesn’t fit into the working plan…”.

The very first of these sorts of replies – that would later be a reoccurring stanza in my rhythm – left me broken for days and weeks. Today however, their poisonous effect doesn’t get me bed ridden anymore because my mind has produced immunity against them.

Truly, nobody wants to plan and still fail or get disappointed. We all set goals – albeit at different levels – and aspire to reach them. The only enemy standing on our way is usually failure. It often succeeds but if you don’t allow it to hold you down, you’ll be surprised at how farther you’ll go beyond your initial target.

Today, I would write a story – even the smallest in word counts – and I’ll keep getting buzz and commendation from people I’ve never met my entire life. Most of them say I write so well they look forward to my new posts. At such times, I would look back and flinch, not in disgust but constant realisation of how I wouldn’t have become a better writer if I had listened to the loud voice of inertia and dropped my pen after that first wave of cascading failures.

Yes! That’s the point am trying to make obvious. The more you remain resolute in what you do, in your dream and aspiration, the moment you muffle all the voice telling you to quit, you set yourself on the path of excellence. This may not turn you into an instant award winner but one thing you’ll be sure of is that you’ll not be the same person you were, you’ll become a better you. I am a better writer, I know that, don’t ask me how. And I believe the awards and recognition will one day come.

This brings me to the pathetic tale of a friend of mine who for a very long time had stood by me, feeding me with unrivalled amount of motivation. Recently, this friend explained to me how one could draw inspiration from ones immediate mind state; joy, bitterness, depression, anger and so on. As I write, this friend is in dire need of solace and motivation. I guess even the motivator sometimes needs motivation and it would be thirty-third degree evil of me to sit and watch at such a time.

This friend of mine right from undergraduate days to post NYSC had strong in heart to make a mark in the world, to stand out, to be distinguished. Early this year, the friend applied for a Master’s scholarship and got it. I was all stressed up and angry that afternoon when I got a beep on my whatsapp. It was this friend and the message read,

“I have something to tell you.”

I quickly replied, “I hope it’s something good” – my current life is enough bad news.

“Yes” was the reply.

Much later that day, the friend broke the good news to me and I rejoiced deeply because of how much I knew this friend has struggled for this opportunity. A month later, the Korean government sent the visa and every other document required. All the while, my friend often told me of a premonition that something may go wrong, but I dispelled the fears every time it came up in our chat. In fact, I began to relay my fantasies and what I would like this friend of mine to do for me on getting over there – I think that was faith. Was it?

My friend was supposed to travel through Kenya to Korea republic. Barely a week to the journey, it was on Aljazeera that the Kenyan government has banned flights into its countries from Ebola hit countries.

“I am scared. The Kenyan government banned flights from Nigeria” was the message on my whatsapp that Friday morning.

“What? Have you contacted the Korean Government?” I asked.

“Yes but they won’t reply till Monday because today is their independence and tomorrow would be Saturday so it’s till Monday.”

“Ok. Don’t worry, am sure they’ll get you an alternative.” I said – maybe I was guilty too here of giving too much confidence.

“Am having panic attack”

“No need to, everything would be fine. Believe me.” I concluded.

The truth was, I panicked more than my friend but I said to myself that if both of us wept, who would console the other so I called up all the sangfroid in me to maintain my calm. Five days later, very early in the morning, I got the shocker,

“The programme has been cancelled because of Ebola” my friend had written.

I tried effortlessly to contact my friend but my friend would not pick calls. This development has left me also devastated. If my friend will have the heart to read this, know that I share in your pain and shutting me out only made it worse for me.

This taught me that aspirations are like steaming soup; we may smell the aroma from far away or even close but may never get to taste the soup. Just when the light at the end of the tunnel beamed so brightly, its rays was choked off suddenly from the least expected source. It’s weird how things that seemed not to matter would turn around and ruin our dreams.

How would my friend have predicted this fate the day the Liberian ‘madman’, Patrick Sawyer exported the deadly virus into Nigeria? Let’s leave aside the blame game because of the strong strings animosity it would wield likewise the healing wound it would chaff again.

Now this friend of mine is probably in a sort of trance; lonely, torn, depressed. At this point, the religious would often say, “God knows the best.” This is one phrase that vexes me the more and I would advise my friends never to use it for me – I think too much and this sentence may set me on a wrong path with my creator, my Dear God Almighty.

To my friend I would ask, “Do you think this missed opportunity is the highest you think you’ll ever attain in your entire life or do you think you deserve and can get a better one if you work towards it? If your thought resonates with the second part of my question, then you’ll have to get up, dust yourself and forge ahead. I have been in a trance before and I don’t think it’s what one will even wish for an enemy. One thing is certain when one is in a trance: nothing anyone tells you makes sense except that which you tell yourself.

Finally, beyond every disappointment is a lesson learnt, if you keep trying and refuse to quit, IT CAN ONLY GET BETTER.