And, to me, Lagos is a country

And, the story goes thus: An old farmer got up early one morning, stretched his ageing muscles, picked up a hoe and a basket and he started out to his farm. As he strode, quite close to his farmstead, he came across an eagle’s egg along the roadway. He elected to pick it up. After admiring it for some countable seconds, he dropped it in the basket. Seeing an eagle’s egg for the first time, its unusual size left him lips apart in awe. At the close of business, he took the egg home. Fortunately, the farmer’s wife kept a miniature poultry farm. After discussing with his wife for a few minutes, the farmer left the eagle’s egg in her care. The egg – as nights gave birth to days and vice versa – hatched, presenting a very robust-looking baby-eagle to the world. The eaglet found himself surrounded by many welcoming chicks. As time flew by, the eaglet grew into an adult, having arduously perfected the ways of the chickens rather than the inherited manners and behaviours of an eagle. Instead of screeching, the eagle learnt how to crow and coo; as an alternative to the typical royal and inspiring long voyage of an eagle, he learnt the characterless and shabby short flight of the fowls. Turning up their noses in ridicule, it however thrilled the chickens unlimitedly.

With the changing months, the connexion of friendship between the eagle and the chickens only grew, becoming strongly ionic, as they did the whole shebang together. One day, as the birds strolled about, clucking and cackling their way around the neighbourhood, the eagle suddenly had an urge to look up the sky, because a shadow was cast over him. Puzzlingly, he saw another bird that looked so much like him in every way. For some moments, he paused, taking a squinted gaze, he was astounded by the bird’s elegance, candour and grace. Its flight pattern was some wholesome delight to his eyes. With smile mixed with loads of wonder holding sway over his mien, he called the attention of the chickens. Pondering aloud to them, he pointed out the grave and unbelievable likenesses between the bird up in the sky and him. A few seconds noiselessly sailed by. All the birds were lost in thoughts, with the chickens stealing glances at one another, brooding if they had at any time given the eagle a modicum of belief he was some bird else. All the while, none of the chickens called the bird up in the sky its rightful name – eagle, fearing it might signal something to their pal. The eagle sensed the chickens exchanged some messages amongst themselves, which he couldn’t untangle. He however questioned why he could not be like the bird up in the sky. Not so unexpectedly, the chickens, in one united, stout voice rebuked his wish, informing him he would never be like the bird up in the sky for he had shacked up with them for too long. Therefore, he was now more like one of them and, they urged him to accept his fortune as his new and lasting reality. With head slumped, the despairing eagle agreed with the chickens. They all walked on. Sadly, for the rest of his days the eagle led a chicken’s life, dying as one.

Views can present some awesome or awful expositions depending on which side of the divide we rest on. On the surface, this four-lettered word appears simple, defining sight but it just doesn’t completely spell it. It is a lot more than it exposes. Views can shape perceptions, understanding and giving bent to relationships, as well as serving as some of the first planks, leading to deeper meaning. Views offer vent and strength, even shaping our missions and visions and their follow-through actions. Views can give bizarre definitions to ordinary things, ideas and thoughts, making them really complex whilst masterfully influencing even more things around us. It is just in the view if only we take a closer look, peep through a different window. Views can spell distress or calm depending on which side of the wall one is leaning. When we look through the eastern window, we put up some huge and impressive defence of all the sights of our eyes, more often, completely discountenancing what the viewers of the western opening see and it goes the other way too. It might be a struggle to live in denial, appreciating how powerful views are because they truly are richly potent. To some extent, views have got some really tight grip on us. Their power to unite/ disunite individuals across many circles (religious, economic, political, social, tribal etc) is, however, just not in the view. It is quite constant, strong and pervasive. A wrong view of a wonderful friend might posit him as a deadly foe, just like an innocent gift can be viewed with suspicion, as is more often the case. When siblings in a supposed close-knit family cross words, letting out devastating emotions, it just might be in the variations of their views. Martyr or villain, right or wrong, good or bad many a time, it is only in the view. Strange but true, in more of the cases, these differing views are driven only by bare ego, sentiments and arrogance and they are too far away from commonplace facts. More often than not, it is a case of the stronger the emotions and haughtiness, the sturdier and quicker the acceptance of the expressed views and, nothing more.

Quite like the introductory anecdote of the ill-starred eagle, Lagos, at various intervals, views itself as a chicken when in fact it is supposed to be like the king of all feathery fellows. It’s the tale of my dear Lagos – a country that views itself more from the booth of a state.

•To be continued in a fortnight.

Tony Monye