The Awakening

I

What thinking man can respect himself? I certainly do not respect myself. I am a mouse, a speck in the universe. I am very insignificant. I understand these facts well and no one but me realises how l think of myself. The facticity that I think this low of myself makes me sink even lower. I am my worst critic. It goes against the very laws of nature itself, such self-loathing. Like trying to swim against a strong current or trying to pass through a wall. Might as well give in to the obstacles that life throws at you. What is the point of fighting? Do I even have a right to fight? I have mired in this funk for twenty-one odd years. Twenty-something years is a long time to be messed up. These twenty-somethings will probably be the death of me. For as long as I can remember, I have always had depressive episodes. They seem to occur more frequently as I aged. As I left the comfort of my home for school, they got worse. It feels as though I am forever suffocating in the Bell jar which I have been locked inside. Always pressing my nose to the glass, watching others have fun and living life while I am stuck inside myself. Sometimes, the lid opens, most times it remains closed. What little ray of sunshine I feel on my face is soon obscured by the dark clouds hovering above. Truly, I have no reason to be sad. My parents are the usual average Nigerian parents. They work hard to give me the life I live. Yet I am ungrateful. How else would you explain this apathy I feel towards life and everyone but ingratitude?

I have always believed that there are two kinds of people on earth; the unconscious man and the conscious man. The unconscious man is well adapted to his environment. He fills his niche properly in society. Existential questions never faze him. He lives life as it comes and never searches for a meaning to the meaninglessness of the world. Structure, society, and religion supply his light. His one true God is comfort and pleasure. He is a contented man and life is good. For the conscious man, he is fucked, cursed with the knowledge that would only prove to be the undoing of his happiness. He ponders on the very meaning of his existence. He can barely live with himself and in extreme cases, he cannot accept his insignificance in the grand scheme of things. Our man is in constant agony as his ennui denies him the path to finding his true elan. However, in some cases, he finds true meaning and he supplies his own light in this dreary world.

Needless to say, I feel as though I belong to this second demography of people. I don't think I'll ever find my true awakening. The proverbial third eye remains closed in my case forever. Obviously, these are only my assumptions and there are no clearly defined categories such as these. It would make a very interesting study for Anthropologist though, wouldn't you agree? It is, as they say, it takes two to make anthropology, the student and the studied. That being the case, it is time for the studied to examine the student and to evaluate its own self.

II

I have always known that my stay in this dreary world would be a short one. It is only this knowledge that keeps me desensitised from the immutable misery that is my mind. The route through which to cancel my existence had always stumped me. Shall I jump in front of a BRT bus? Nah, too messy. Hang myself? What if the noose snaps? Can I bear the physical pain of strangulation? It seemed poison might be the least painless way to go. Ricin? Cyanide? Perhaps an overdose on opiates. Yes, this seemed like the most pleasurable way to go. Perhaps I might see colours as I slowly slumber into the abyss. The reaper bestows his gift upon me with his sweet loving arms wrapped around me. I shall gratefully welcome oblivion.

Today seemed as good a day to die as any. The sun was out and the skies were extraordinarily blue and clear. Too beautiful that it almost dissuades me from doing the needful. Alas, I shall not fall for the ruse. Beneath these cloudless skies, I took a walk towards the zoological garden on the campus to appreciate the beauty of mother nature one last time. It seems only right to say goodbye to my one and only true friend. Strangely, I was awfully chipper for someone spending his last day on earth, happy even. Perhaps, it is because I know my misery would be over soon. I spent hours gazing into space while the elements surrounded me. A butterfly landed right on the bench I was seated. I reached for it. Strangely, it did not flinch nor fly away. Perhaps it knew I would not hurt it. Perhaps I was simply over-analysing mundane facts. Perhaps the butterfly was simply oblivious to its environment. Perhaps it was lost in the rapture of the beautiful scenery as I was. The beautiful mosaic of colours on its wings gleamed in the sunlight and I was enraptured by its magnificence. How could such a delicate and beautiful creature thrive in this dreary world? I could see the proof that beauty exists right before my very eyes. Have I been so self-absorbed not to have noticed the beauty all around me? Am I the only one to blame for my misery? Were there no extenuating external factors contributing to my malaise? As it is with a lot of things, the truth probably lay somewhere in the middle. My lot in life was certainly a lot better than most, yet I was miserable. Misery's spawn, this is what I am.

I laid down on the bench and looked to the sky. Where is the bearded man in all this? Does he not care for my plight? Are my problems too insignificant? Am I insignificant in his eyes? Had he gone off to save hungry children in Somalia? Or is he too busy stopping a tsunami in Thailand? I really should not be thinking these thoughts but a thought is a hard thing to control. I wonder how those Buddhist monks clear their heads during mindful meditation. Perhaps it takes time and practice. Oh well, time is not what I have and I can't seem to make the effort practice requires. 

III

I found myself on a motorbike at night. The cold wind was especially cruel to my eyes tonight. It flapped around me with venom as though it was trying to keep me from my destination. No sir, not tonight. The bike man reeked of alcohol. The sharp stench assaulted my nostrils each time I had to lean in towards him when he applied the brakes. He, however, seemed to be concentrating really hard on living. I guess even a drunk motorist riding at a high speed cared more about living than I did. He turned back and shouted at me. I could not hear anything over the din of the noise around us. The other motorists blasting their horns, the city lights rushing along as the wind flapped around my ears all created an illusion of me being alone in this concrete jungle that was Lagos. It was sensory overload. I leaned in closer to him and the stench of his day assaulted me once more. Gin mixed with sweat and dust was not a good combo. My reverie was pierced by his sharp voice

"Oga where you dey go?"

I vaguely remembered not giving him a destination. I suppose I just told him to go. We were on the Ikorodu expressway.

"Take me to any cool joint you know."

"U wan go beer parlour?"

"Yeah, take me to a beer parlour."

Might as well drink my sorrows away, I mused to myself. He took the next exit and we soon found ourselves in the streets of Lagos. We rode in silence for about five minutes before he pulled up in front of a dingy looking joint. Shots rang out in the air and a loud voice boomed

"You, stop there! If you move I will shoot you!”

My bikeman made a sharp u-turn, the likes of which can only be found in the fast and furious movies. The bike moved with such acceleration that it jerked my head back and I felt the whiplash effect radiate from my neck down to my spine. Bullets were whizzing past us as deafening shots rang out behind us. My heart was in my mouth and I could neither breathe nor think.

"Baba, do you want to kill us? Why didn't you just stop?" I remonstrated with him

"Oga, dem be SARS. Dem fit kill us sef if we wait for them. Na why I japa like that, no vex. Hope say u dey alright."

“Yeah, I'm fine." I answered

The irony of the situation was not lost on me. For someone who claimed to be ready for death, why was I so afraid to die? Why was I angry at the Okada man? Why did I not embrace the sweet kiss of death? I could not help but laugh and snot at my cowardice. He turned back and stole a glance at me. I am sure he must have thought I was crazy to laugh in such a situation. What did I care for his thoughts?

"Take me to a strip club" I said after I found my voice.

"Nothing dey fear you o. You still wan enjoy after wetin happen now? E good sha. I sabi one place for Ikeja."

"Okay."

I didn't want the trip on the bike to end. It felt good to be moving at such speed that you felt invincible. I was one with the road. The cold sweat created by the fear which I had experienced earlier was drying off. I felt so cold but contented at the same time. A short while after, we pulled up in front of an establishment with muffled low thumping sounds emanating from the building. In big bold letters written in neon lights, I could make out the words "PYRAMID". I pressed into his palms two one thousand Naira notes as I dismounted from the bike. He thanked me and zoomed off while I watched his coats flapping in the wind knowing that I may never see him again.

Flush with cash, I entered the club. The lighting was subdued to give off a cozy sense of security about the place. I counted three stripper poles and on each, there was a half-naked girl dancing. I settled into a corner with plush red leather seats to make myself feel more comfortable. The earlier events of the night had already drained my juices, if I had any.

The speakers were blaring loud music. A Wizkid song was on, I can’t remember which, and softly crooning about bursting a whine for him. The ladies on the pole responded to the energy of the song, displaying acts of dexterity with their bodies, their waist moving rhythmically to the tempo of the song. This all helped to create a sensual vibe about the place. It also helped that they were half-naked.

My phallus responded to the smoky allure of the place and was engorged within seconds, pulsating and straining against the fabric of my pants. I had barely sat down when a scantily clad waitress in a playboy bunny costume asked me what I would be having. Overpriced Heineken was brought and I began to feel a slight tingle in my fingers as the night wore on.

It was then that I saw her. She took my breath away. Tall and stunningly beautiful, with skin the shade of recently oiled mahogany. She was wearing high heels with stockings and black garters to go with her sexy silky lingerie. Full bosoms led to a small paunch of a stomach. Her body was curvaceous in all the right places with ample buttocks. She maintained eye contact as she sashayed towards me from across the room. She bent down and I could feel her breath hot on my face.

"Do you want a lap dance, big boy?" She whispered sensually to me.

Oh, she knew she had me. Straddling me, she rubbed her body into mine and it was all I could do to keep from bursting a load in my jeans. Her body was soft and yielded to touch easily. She bumped and “grinded” on me for the better part of ten minutes. My body was on fire as she applied the tricks of her trade on me. She had succeeded in working me into a horny frenzy the likes of which I had never been. Filled to the brim with desire in this cave, this cesspit of moral decadence, my hedonistic propensities came to the forefront. I had to have her.

"You gotta finish what you started." I said.

"It's gonna cost you."

"How much for the night?"

"Thirty K"

I did not bother negotiating with her. Agreeable and horny, I acquiesced to her demands.

"You will have to wait for me to close for the night."

"How long?" I asked.

"Forty minutes."

I nodded. I had no reason to be hasty, after all, I was not going anywhere fast. I watched her butt jiggle as she walked away from me to go into the arms of another customer. The beer tasted better as I eagerly anticipated what the night might culminate into. It was pregnant with possibilities. Feverish with excitement, all suicidal thoughts were pushed to the rearview. Life had never felt so good.

IV

Her musky scent filled the small dingy room she led me to. A bed big enough to accommodate three people was the prominent piece of furniture in the room. Opposite it was a TV set. I could see her personal effects all over the place with handbags hung on nails across the wall and a shoe rack by the door. At the opposite end of the room was a door that led to the bathroom. I watched her remove her articles of clothing. Such a show she put on as she was aware of my eyes trailing her every move. I soon heard the water rushing after she disappeared behind the door. She came out a short while later and encouraged me to take a shower as well. The cold water running down my face was a blessing as I scrubbed away the funk of the night.

I had barely closed the door of the bathroom before she pounced on n me, a predator waiting for the kill. This was an age-old dance of sexual desire. Every thing she did was sensual, even the way she kissed my lips; slow and methodical. I had never had a woman cater to my needs that way before. Oh, she definitely earned every kobo of her money. Ecstasy was where she led me and lead, she did. I orgasmed a few times and I was spent. We climbed the mountain top, well I climbed. I could not tell if she was faking or not, not that I cared. My self-absorbed, depressed ass was just glad I got my rocks off and it had nothing to do with my right hand.

All of my energy spent, I collapsed on the mattress expecting the sweet release of sleep. Strangely, my eyes would not close off their own volition. Tried as I would, I could not sleep. She must have noticed my restlessness for she asked.

"You smoke?"

"Yeah." I lied.

"Here."

She passed me a half-smoked blunt with a lighter.

"What's in this?" I asked as I took a puff

"SK."

We sat in silence for a while, passing the blunt back and forth. I could not tell how long we sat there for just basking in each other's vibe, grasping for anything to say, I blurted out.

"That was some great sex. You were amazing."

"I had fun too. Just doing my job. Pun intended."

I could not help but laugh, she laughed too. She had a gap-tooth. How strange I hadn’t noticed that before. Her body was distracting enough.

"You have a gap-tooth."

"No shit, Sherlock."

Her sarcasm was incredible. Biting and cynical yet harmless. I laughed again. Soon enough, my laughter dissolved into a coughing fit.

"Pele. Here, have some water."

"Thanks."

Gratefully, I accepted the bottle of water which she offered.

"What's your name?" I asked

"What does it matter? After tonight you probably will never see me again."

"True," I said as I pondered on her words. "You've made such an impression on me."

"Huh, thanks." she shrugged.

"And how is it that a nice girl like you found yourself at the PYRAMID?"

"And why don't you mind your business. You're just a customer. Keep it moving."

"I'm sorry. I should not have said that." I replied.

Her face softened as she heard the remorse in my apology.

"It's okay. I shouldn't have snapped at you either."

"I really should learn how to keep my nose out of other people's business."

"Yeah, you should." She replied, but this time, she was smiling again.

Her gap-tooth really gave her a youthful look and, at that moment, I saw her for what she really was. A girl with insecurities and doubts just like the rest of us. We conversed rather easily after, with the ice broken. She told me about her life and I told her about mine. There was a familiarity and understanding between us. We told each other things like we had known each other for a long time. I suppose talking to a stranger was easier. No judgments and even so if they did judge, what did it matter? We are strangers who will part at dusk.

"You ever smoked DMT?" She blurted out of nowhere.

"No."

"Wanna try some?"

"Sure."

I had my misgivings but I figured why the hell not. You only live once right? It would not matter anyway in the long run as I was going to end it soon. I swallowed my inhibitions and the rejection of the offer died on my lips.

She made a phone call and it was not long before we heard a knock. A tall, gaunt-looking man with deep-set, brooding eyes entered the room. His dreadlocks were packed up in a bun and he had a satchel across his chest. So, this is what a drug dealer looks like, I mused to myself. Out of his satchel came the white crystalline product which he dispensed to her. She looked at me expectantly and I realised I was to fork over the cash that funded her habit. I gave the mysterious drug dealer the requisite amount.

"You're about to go on the trip of your life." She said.

I merely nodded. She emptied the white crystalline product into a small bong which she must have produced from somewhere in the room. Her eyes remained closed as she took a hit from the bong, a vision of concentration. I was eager to try it for myself. I merely repeated her actions as I took a deep drag just as I had seen her do. The fumes went right to my head. Every blood vessel in my body constricted and I felt like I was being slowly lifted off the bed. Gravity could not hold me down as I escaped its clutches. My sound and vision became distorted as time-warped and curved around me just like in Einstein's theory of relativity. A kaleidoscope of colours exploded before my very eyes. I collapsed with ecstasy and everything was right with the world. It was all I could do to control my breathing. No wonder people got addicted to this stuff. Sleep came rather easily after as I rested my head on her bosoms. We were entwined in a loving embrace. I was cuddling a stripper.

V

I could not move. My entire body felt heavy as though it had been set in plaster, I was paralysed. Fear coursed through me and I could feel the sweat break out on my back. Was this the end? Someone placed a piece of cloth on my face. A sensation of dread radiated through my being. Try as I would, my eyes would not open. Slowly but gently I could feel my body being carried. An eerie feeling came over me. Was I dead? It could not be. I felt my body being placed in a wooden sarcophagus. The ringing of a hammer on wood was deafening. I was being nailed shut into a coffin. With deliberate movements, I was being lowered into the earth.

The first handful of sand hit the coffin with a thud. Gradually, the sound died away. Utter darkness ensconced me and I realised I was in dire straits, a dire situation indeed. Paralysed and entombed but I could hear and feel. This was what it was to be buried alive. I could not accept this was happening, yet it was. I had hoped for a quick death, this was not what I envisioned. What did it matter, to be buried alive or to take one’s life? The outcome was the same. Why did I fret and fight so much against the darkness that threatened to take me so? Why do I rage so? Why not go quietly into the lonely night? All I had was time to ponder these questions.

An eternity seemed to pass in my little prison. I could not go out like this. Every fibre of my being revolted and I found myself crying out.

"Whomever or whatsoever devised this method of torture, know this, you cannot cause me more agony than the misery which my existence has been. You cannot possibly imagine the arduous journey every day has been for me. If this is the afterlife, spare me the suspense, I have had enough!"

After this outburst, I relaxed. A low hum began to reverberate about the sarcophagus. It grew until it became unbearable and threatened to burst my eardrums. Suddenly it stopped and there was stillness. A dim light grew brighter behind my eyelids. My eyes were being pried open by some unseen force. It grew brighter still and it became a dull ache at the back of my head till my eyes fluttered open. Slowly, feelings came back to my fingers and I realised the paralysis was dissipating. I, however, forced myself to lie still for I would have panicked if I realised the extent of my movement was a few inches. My shoulders were completely hemmed in.

Soon enough, I found myself above ground and it seemed the coffin was naught but my imagination, an illusion. I felt the cold with my fingers, lifting it and watching it drain through them. Sand had never felt so good, not even on the beach. Praise be to mother earth. Without warning, I felt myself floating farther and farther away from the earth. What sorcery was this? A few minutes passed before I could bring myself to look down. The buildings that made up Lagos dotted the landscape. They looked tiny like ants. Lagos was pretty from up here. My city kept receding before my eyes as I ascended farther into the heavens. At this point, I was numb to the indefatigable surprises that would not end. Strangely, it was quite peaceful from up here.

Some enough, I had left the earth and the vacuum of space was all that surrounded me. I could see our solar system and the planets as they worshipped the sun. The blazing Sun, small Mercury, brown and arid Mars, Saturn and its beautiful rings. There stood Pluto on the edge of everything; An outcast, watching the other children have fun on the playground. I am Pluto. The pale blue dot which inhabited all that I had ever known was fading fast. I felt a pang of longing for my world. Strange, all I had ever wanted was to escape earth and now that it was happening, all I felt was pain.

Time took on another dimension and meaning. It felt immaterial and it did not matter anymore. Aeons or seconds may have passed as I was suspended in the cosmos and I would not be able to tell the difference. The juxtaposition of eternity and the immediate precipitated a confluence of energy within me that made me feel tranquil. I had accepted my fate.

Slowly, I felt myself being immersed into the atmosphere of an Earth that was not mine. This land felt alien for though it was a direct replica of my world, an innate sense within me knew it was foreign. The ground rose up to meet me as I touched down. A young boy with ebony skin that glistened in the sun ran through me. A phantom, no better than a ghost, that was what my existence had devolved into. I was saddened by this realisation. It, however, meant I could observe these people unobtrusively without having to communicate with these beings. They looked like humans sure enough. They were shaped exactly like us. Their skin glistened and shone in the sun as though it was made of light. They had an iridescence about their eyes and to look into it was to see their soul. So beautiful these magical creatures were. They were in every sense ethereal and diaphanous, these sun people. Amon Ra paled in comparison to these children of light.

VI

Elegance pervaded the atmosphere. The very air which they breathed was laced with stardust. I was mesmerised and enthralled with the ambience that surrounded this world. The sun people had an aura about them which was quite different from the strife that clung to the spirit of humans on earth. Even the adults had a childlike joy which was unrivalled by anything I had ever experienced. It was all so very beautiful to me. They went out of their way to be nice and kind to one another. They turned their world into Nirvana. Always, they never sought to abase the value of each individual life. Here everyone was equal. I desperately longed to be a part of this world but I could not. I was an immaterial being only here to observe. A pang of sorrow gripped my heart and I cried. I cried for the boy I was, for the unhappiness I had felt. I cried for my world, for the endless wars and the hunger and the strife my people had only known as a way of life from the beginning of time. I cried and lamented at the injustice of it all. Why could we not have this heaven on earth? Always and forever a dystopia, that was what my world was.

These people had cracked the code and I could feel a true sense of community and connectedness about them. Their love for one another was astounding. Here there was no tribalism, no racism, no religious bias. They were one with each other. No victims, no crimes, no suffering. Everything was done for the collective good. Such selflessness broke me. It was truly a utopia. As I spent longer in their midst, I began to ponder on what made them so at peace with one another and themselves. These alien race had managed to crack the code of existence. These sun people with a lightness of spirit confounded me. They gave without compunction. They gave without any selfish interests. I began to notice a pattern. When they gave time or material things to one another, they created good karma. This had a trickledown effect such that they received in the future. The old maxim “givers never lack” popped into my head. Could it be that the old religious sects on my planet had been right about one thing? Perhaps they were. A good deed is like a drop in the ocean. It creates a ripple effect that reverberates around the world. Karma was not a bitch after all. Here she was the kindest, and gentlest and most tender of mothers.

My philosophical musings only made me realise that I had been conceited and self-absorbed all of my life. I had also been quite unhappy. It is only in giving all of ourselves that we ever truly find happiness. Eureka, I had found Eldorado. A switch went off in my head and age-old secret wisdom was being imparted on me by the very universe. The weight was lifted off my shoulders and a sensation of bliss radiated through me. My third eye had been opened.

I woke up in her arms and I disentangled myself from her. She stirred from sleep.

"Thank you" I murmured with passion as I kissed her on her forehead.

"Umm, sure" she answered confused. I reached for my wallet and dropped her payment on the dresser. I dressed up and felt happy like someone with a new lease on life.

"What is your name?"

"Cleopatra."

I smiled, Cleopatra working at the PYRAMID, clever.

"Bye, my Egyptian queen. I hope I see you again.”

I walked out into the morning sun. It was exceptionally beautiful today and the sky had that deep blue hue. Today is the beginning of the rest of my life.