On Ladi’s face, all terrible messages were clear. On a four inches bed he lay his back on that fateful morning, he wished water could turn to wine for Nigeria. Many bad thoughts had filled his head since the night before but he kept hope high. He lived in a small room that looked like a cell in Kuje. The abnormal life in Lagos was not overhyped, but he had not for once imagined things would get worse as they were now.
When he started his youth service at a secondary school in Ojuelegba, a dollar was five hundred and twenty Naira. And his spending power was at the time struggling. His monthly allowance could not fetch him any good fortune and when he deducted this and that from the allowance, what used to remain is nothing to write home about. But he had told himself never to give in. He had told himself to stay strong as the country battles hardship and kidnapping. He had told himself that ‘the poor man’s dollar is endurance. When one allows it to rise, no one can flatten its curve.’
But that morning seemed different, as he steered at the ceiling. Now, he agreed that school was a big scam. As a young boy of 19, he had written Jamb four times and had sat for WAEC three times. He dreamt to study Medicine but fate would not allow it. Ladi was not as smart as many students of his age. He once believed that the smart ones are the nerds that lead the class. Now, his definition of smartness had changed. He had thought and accepted that the smart ones are those who earn illegal dollars and earn the honour of kings in the community. He remembered many of his smart friends. He remembered Tunji, Banjo, and Frayo. Recently, he heard Banjo had relocated to the United Kingdom with his wife while Frayo had bought a 5-star hotel in Lekki. He knew Tunji as a person who would do everything to oppress. He heard he had hired some University graduates to work on his pig farm. “What does it mean when a yahoo boy employs graduates to work on a pig farm?” He thought deeply about this and concluded that the poor graduates had no choice. He thought again but this time he felt weary.
He walked the length of the room. Ladi was a person who believed life was not fair to him. Although, he always believed things would change for good. But that morning, the belief had vanished and he felt the creature had left him with his burdens. He walked back to the bed hoping to do one thing. He looked around and found his diary. He plucked a leaflet and began to write. He put the message simply like every person who writes a suicide note.
By: Ladeji Popoola
