These Beautiful People

I really ought to blurt out a lot, but I must remain controlled. According to that pleasant man I know, a man’s ability is not in how he can make a great display in calm times, but how he can maintain his resolve and calm in the storm, while ensuring the safety of his people.

I’m not one for great displays and fireworks. I know how bad I look when I lose my cool and some nuts up there come loose; I don’t like it. Recent events would have really caused me to explode but I want to focus only on the good. Only on the good, my friends.

To wit, the good.

So my father was finally laid to rest last Friday. I took a break from writing the Seven-Ten series. Not like I really had a choice; there was barely any signal in my tiny island-village in. Anyway, it would be the first time I would see my father dead. I mean, that once strong man was just lying there in the coffin, handsome and elegantly dressed, looking all glorious and angelic. But I could not attribute “lifeless” to him. Once, during the vigil (in my village, wake-keep means you keep awake, literally) I could have sworn I saw his chest move like he was breathing normally. I guess I was really drunk on coke and fanta. I took to dancing Biripo after that. I didn’t want anyone thinking I ought to be in Yaba left.

My father received a glorious burial and I received too much recognition from very old village people who stared at me knowingly and then ask if I was the son of my father (or how else can I put it?) to which I would answer in the affirmative and then proceed to wait upon the village personality while I receive explanation on who my father was in the village, what he did, and how we were both related. Seemingly, we are all related to one another in that village!

Now back in Lagos, I’ve left a river of tears back in Igbobini alongside a horde of beautiful girls who call me Boda Seyi and who probably expect me to return soon and pick one of them (chai!). And who knows, I may take up my cousin (who is old enough to be my father) on his offer, return to the village and join politics. I haven’t decided yet.

But here is really what is on my mind: I have the best family.

Reverend Victoria Mafolabomi, my mother and father
Mrs Yemi Adebayo, my sister and mother, and her husband, Pastor Abiodun Adebayo
Buoda Iranlowo, my brother and father, and his wife, Anti Taiwo, our wife.
Jide Mafolabomi Esquire (according to daddy), my brother and father, and his wife, Mrs Wunmi Mafolabomi. (we still talk about how Uncle Jide m’oju l’osoja till tomorrow. Woman!)
Mrs Bunmi Bamidele, my sister, my mother and my mother’s best friend (plus they look so alike, haba!) and her husband, Mr Bamidele
Mrs Tolu Odusanya, my sister and mother, and her husband, Uncle Niyi, the man of God we all should emulate (I mean, even his greetings carry wonderful prayers + he can dance the Dr Oyedepo dance very very well).

The Akinolas, particularly the Mrs who covers all the angles (I mean all); Uncle Segun, award-winning teacher; Mrs Ebunoluwa Eyitayo, daddy’s namesake and mother of my beautiful cousin and “temporary wife”, Damilola; Uncle Bamidele and his wife are awesome; Aunty Biodun; the Aiyerins and their mother, my mother, Mama Oladuti, great Apoi story-teller; the Amusans; my biggest and bestest sispal Tosin Popoola, fashion designer of life!; neighbours from Unity Estate, Mowe; members of The Destiny Trust Children Foundation.

Beautiful people.

These people are on my mind. They are in my prayers.

God has blessed me because I am surrounded by these awesome, wonderful and loving people.

The prayer is simple: God will never leave you nor forsake you.

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