The periods when I get into the full creative roll can best be described as the summers filled with sunshine and the sweet scents of flowers. On the other hand, I feel desolate and coarse when I fall into periods of empty canvases and untouched white screens.

It’s not unfamiliar territory, but it is frustrating territory.

I find myself evaluating the contrasting output of early 2025 with the last quarter of 2025, and I realise how uninspired I was. As someone who has long since abandoned motivation as a creative spark, I also saw sheer will and consistency abandon me in my creative journey.

Truly dark times.

My year has started on a lighter note after taking the time to be unshackled by responsibility throughout most of December. I let loose. Late nights with friends, family functions, concerts, game nights and a few trips to the club. It was like I was 30 again.

Have I set targets and goals for the new year?

Yes.

Do they scare me?

Absolutely.

But what I can’t get out of my head is the question of my place in the larger project that is our humanity. And I don’t say that as someone who believes he has main-character energy. It’s more a function of my fear of being overwhelmed.

Maybe this newsletter is a bit self-indulgent.

I have watched the world change over the past few years, but most especially over the past year. Realising how the choices of a few powerful people impact the lives of billions has driven me to near nihilism. Bringing myself from the brink has required a lot of self-evaluation alongside re-inforcing bonds with some of my favourite people. The next most important thing I have had to do is (like I mentioned a paragraph earlier) figure out what my place is in this human project.

And that’s what I believe will define my year.

I admire people who have it figured out, or seem to have begun to figure it out. Being able to find a calling bigger than yourself, which isn’t primarily predicated on self-gain, is quite the feat. I hope I get there.

What are your plans this year? What’s the personal goal?

I would love to hear. Overall, I hope you all have a wonderful 2026. Let’s get it.

Take care, and love yourself.

On the positive side, I’ve taken more time to journal, to sit still, and to simply observe. It feels strange to say, but this has become almost alien to many of us. It sometimes feels as if the unthinkable thing to happen to you is to be without your phone while scrolling through an app. Even during conversations, I’ve seen people try to scroll while talking. Maybe I’m guilty of this too, which is probably one of the reasons I felt a break would do me good.

Social media has become an inevitable part of our lives, but I wish that weren’t so. I fear that many of us are subconsciously living according to standards we see online, standards that are curated, filtered, and edited. These ideals often push us toward hyperconsumerism, which in the Third World is far more harmful than we think. In countries without strong ecological protections or proper consumer regulation, the cost of imitation can cause environmental and economic damage that lasts generations.

It’s not only about aspirational content, though. It’s also about content created to provoke. Lately, especially on Twitter and Instagram, I’ve seen comment sections turn into cesspools of xenophobia and misogyny. People are leaning into ethnic or gender supremacist ideologies to invite outrage, turning harmless posts into arenas of hate and discord.

Then there’s the mental health toll. Social media makes it easier than ever to compare ourselves, our bodies, our relationships, our finances, even our faith, to others. From religious extremism to manosphere content, people are being drawn into darker, more dangerous spaces online. Simply talking about it doesn’t seem to be enough anymore.

Empathy, which has always been what brings us together, is now often considered weak or naïve. You can see it in debates, in comment sections, and in how quickly kindness gets mocked. Advocacy is dismissed as “woke,” and calls for inclusivity are branded as sinful.

I think everyone should try taking time off these platforms. I’ve done it before, and I’m doing it again now. The idea is to break the constant urge to scroll and reclaim time for things I’d do if my phone weren’t nearby. Sometimes, I take a month. Other times, I’ve gone as long as three.

I’m not saying you need to disappear for three months. But I do believe spending time away from your phone, even for a few days, can help you feel more present. Sit still. Read. Walk. Talk. Just exist without reaching for your phone.

Take care of yourself. And love yourself too.

You can’t pretend not to know because the streets your expensive cars drive on will tell you. The news will tell you. The dread you sense when you fear an undiagnosed illness or you are faced with a health or family emergency will tell you. You can be rich for your stomach and for your expensive outfits and those moments when you do the things most people around you can’t do, but deep down, you know you’re simply treading the same poverty waters everyone else is.

To be wealthy in Nigeria is to be blind and opportunistic. To believe yourself exceptional when all it is is truly luck. The privilege or good fortune encountered might give you glitzy nights or sheltered mornings. But does your faith agree with all of this? Is this truly what your holy book teaches? To separate yourself from the collective/community and deem them beneath you? To choose not to use your position to fight what worries all because you fear you might lose your comfort?

And don’t get me started with that haggard word, ‘philanthropy’. A cosplaying of generosity. Charity is a close second, a stepchild of greed, shrouded in faux-good intentions. A society that uplifts all should never have people who need charity or have a person describe themselves as a philanthropist.

Take care, and love yourself.

Of course, there are no Coursera certificates to show for it, but you do walk away with a slightly boosted ego. And if you get the answer wrong? No harm done. It becomes a short, teachable moment where a new nugget of knowledge is added to your mental archive.

Good trivia questions offer simple, non-complex sentences that almost hint at the answer. The options, typically multiple-choice, don’t aim to confuse but instead provide a narrowed range that allows even random guesses to feel informed. Trivia is meant to be playfully fun. It doesn’t apply pressure to get it right, but rather says: “Hey, just in case you didn’t know this, now you do!”

Trivia is more about what you know around a subject than within it. It doesn’t dive deep but skims broadly, often anchored in titles, names, or dates. Ultimately, trivia is made up of those odd little facts that may seem to carry little practical value. But don’t take it the wrong way. You still want to know them.

Take care, and love yourself.

July marks the beginning of the second half of what has already been a momentous year. Maybe it hasn’t been your best so far (and yes, I know how clichéd this might sound), but I urge you to reconsider the potential the remaining six months hold. With the right mix of effort, support, and timing, a lot can still change.

Perhaps you’ve been putting in the work consistently, but progress feels invisible. If that’s you, don’t give up. I say this not to sound like a pulpit preacher, but because it’s true: meaningful things take time. And while that truth may seem out of place in an era obsessed with instant gratification, it's still valid. In my experience, no effort is ever truly wasted. The lessons, the discipline, the resilience, they build character. Sometimes, the knowledge you gain in one season becomes the very edge you need in the next.

Still, I understand how hard it is to hold on when you can’t yet see the light at the end of the tunnel. But I encourage you: try. Try to believe there’s still something good ahead.

One of the strongest pillars we can lean on in difficult seasons is love; both the love we receive from others and the love we extend to ourselves. Often, the difference between merely surviving hard times and growing through them lies in having people we can be honest with, people who care and are present. And just as vital is being able to extend that same honesty and care inward, knowing when to push yourself, and when to be gentle and forgiving.

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We live in a world that can be harsh, where finding a partner or people who truly show up for you feels increasingly rare. But if you do find that kind of connection, be it romantic, platonic, or communal, I hope you remember: it’s not about what you can take from each other, or, as the red-pill discourse might frame it, what anyone “brings to the table.” Maybe there is no table. Maybe it’s time we choose empathy, emotional intelligence, and shared humanity over ego.

Community is another form of love. As we grow, we often find ourselves part of situational or interest-based communities. If you haven’t yet found yours, I might not have the perfect solution, but perhaps start by noticing a need in your immediate environment. Meeting that need could be the seed for something greater. Love can grow from there.

This may feel like a tangent, but it’s not: I believe we must collectively rediscover selflessness. The world has drifted toward hyper-individualism, where love becomes a commodity, something celebrated only on specific dates or exchanged for what we gain. But real love, the kind that binds people and builds lasting change, isn’t transactional.

It’s the kind of love found in neighbours who look out for one another, in communities that raise children together, not always literal children, but ideas, movements, and causes that uplift everyone. I think of that old saying: “It takes a village to raise a child.” And I believe in it deeply.

Growing up in Magodo in the ’90s, I watched this principle come to life. My dad and a few other homeowners would bump into each other at local stores or in the city, often discussing their shared frustrations; security issues, power outages, government indifference. My dad travelled frequently to Abuja for work, and at one point, he decided to take up the cause of our failing transformer. Our part of the estate hadn’t had power in five months, and there was no sign of change.

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It took two months of effort, persistence, and advocacy, but we eventually got a new transformer, and with it, light. That single act sparked the formation of what is now known as the Magodo Residents Association. In the early days, it brought neighbours together. There were meetings, end-of-year events, even health walks that deepened the bonds between families. We began looking out for each other. Since then, the MRA has gone on to do even greater things. But its roots lie in one selfless act.

These acts, these choices to show up and care, are different from philanthropy. They often come with no recognition, no tangible reward. They cost something personal. But they matter. Many of us raised in Nigeria benefited from this kind of communal love. I know I did. A group of people, not just my parents, were responsible for large parts of my upbringing. I’m a product of that love.

Community works. And in a world that’s increasingly fragmented, perhaps it’s exactly what we need to return to.

Take care, and love yourself.

Relationships play a huge role in how we navigate life; the ones we have with family, the friendships we build over time, the partners we choose, the relationships we develop with our children, and everything in between, healthy or otherwise.

Lately, I’ve found myself feeling encouraged to make new friendships. That desire came into focus while I was sitting with the slow ache of what felt like a lost friendship. It didn’t hit all at once. It took days. Waves of emotion kept coming: sadness, regret, confusion. And in all of that reflection, I started to wonder if I might have been the architect of the distance between us.

Maybe I leaned on them too heavily. For months, they were the only person I felt close to. And if you know me well, you’ll know I can get intense sometimes. I won’t lie, I’m not always the easiest person to deal with. So maybe they needed space. Or maybe I’m wrong, and something else entirely came up.

Whatever the case, the conclusion’s the same: I need new connections, new friends, maybe even a new relationship. And not just anyone. People who feel aligned with the version of me that’s growing.

Let me ask you something:
What makes you truly attached to your friends?
Do your relationships support your mental health, or do they quietly chip away at it?

I never asked myself these questions when I was younger. But now, they feel urgent. I wonder sometimes if it’s too late to go looking for lifelong friends at this stage. Still, I like to believe there’s enough charm and amiability left in me to make meaningful new connections. Not so I can dump emotional baggage on anyone (I’ve learned better). But I do believe there are people out there who see the world like I do; who want to build something better. And I’d love to meet them. Maybe even work with them.

I’ve got longtime friends scattered around the world, people I grew up with, shared memories and laughter with. I love them. That will never change. But there’s a whole side of me they don’t know. Or maybe just can’t understand. That’s the side I want to share more of, with people who get it.

As for dating… that’s another adventure.

Approaching women has been, well, interesting. But I’ll keep this part brief. If you’re thinking about shooting your shot, here’s one thing to remember: just because you’re the one making the move doesn’t mean you’re doing her a favour. That’s something men need to be reminded of often.

I sometimes miss the old days of pick-up artistry, long before the red pill/manosphere culture took over. Back then, for me at least, it wasn’t about manipulating women or scoring points. It was about learning how to handle rejection, build confidence, and carry on a conversation. I watched an expert recently talk about male loneliness, and he said men should be encouraged to take classes that help them learn how to connect and to initiate. I agree. A lot of men have not been given the proper tools to approach women in social situations or made to understand that women aren’t simply things to objectify.

I learned a lot from those early lessons. Most importantly, rejection is rarely about you, and connection requires presence, not performance. It was never about asking what a woman brings to the table. It’s about curiosity, about trying to find common ground, it’s about showing up with good intentions and being at your best, not materially, but mentally and emotionally.

So here I am, trying again.

Maybe all I’m looking for in friendship or love is presence. Someone willing to see and be seen. Someone who believes, like I do, that a better world is possible and worth working toward.

Remember, don’t forget to love yourself.

The past decade of my life has been spent watching many people around me change their lives. Impressively, a lot of them have gone from the uncertainty we all shared to varying degrees of self-actualisation and fulfilment. Thanks partly to social media, I’ve stayed updated on some of their journeys and cheered them on quietly from the sidelines.

Then there’s me. A grateful-to-be-alive, almost middle-aged man with significant life experiences, but little physical evidence of an upward trajectory (unless you count being able to bench 95kg). I wouldn’t say I live in uncertainty, but I doubt any social psychologist would call me successful. At least not yet.

Neither of these realities are tragic. I like to believe the people I’ve watched gradually self-actualise are genuinely happy. They have kids. Homes. Businesses they look forward to building. They hold responsibilities in their communities. They’ve seen the world in one way or another.

As for me, I’m still finding my path. I’m creating a business. Getting to know myself better every day. It’s slower, yes. But it’s mine.

The uniqueness of our paths has never been clearer. I recently had the opportunity to counsel an acquaintance going through an existential crisis. Interestingly, it mirrored the same one I experienced three years ago. Different journeys, same question: why do I feel stuck?

As much as I hope I was helpful, I’ve come to realise that the path to actualisation and purpose is deeply personal. It’s a lot of work. But the least helpful thing we can do is waste time comparing ourselves to colleagues, relatives, peers, neighbours, siblings, or anyone else. You might have started together, and sure, it’s romantic to think we’ll rise with our old friends. But life doesn’t always follow that script. More often than not, it’s a mixed bag.

Change is an interesting thing. People often approach it with discomfort or anxiety, but change itself is just proof of movement. It signifies action or inaction. You can work hard to transform your financial situation and still feel stuck. Not realising that, while the money hasn’t come, you’ve built strong networks. You’ve learned resilience. You’ve discovered something about yourself that can’t be unlearned.

Comparison can steal the realisation of that growth. While you’re focused on what someone else has, you might miss the fact that you’re building something too.

You’re doing the work. You’re making the sacrifices. You’re crafting the vision.

Change will come. Keep going.

Track pairing:
🎧 "Someday" by The Strokes
A clean, nostalgic reminder that the road might look winding, but you’re still moving.

Take care, and don’t forget to love yourself.

Getting to write about the 3rd anniversary of my newsletter has built up an appreciable level of anxiety within me. I started writing almost three years ago today, and piecing my thoughts together has taken me on a trip through the memories and experiences that have formed and continue to shape the essence that keeps it going.

Are You Reading This was born out of a desire to share my experiences and thoughts while working through a depressive episode. I realized there were limited avenues and mediums for a man like me to openly speak about the struggles he faced while navigating a largely patriarchal society daily.

People get uncomfortable with vulnerability and often struggle to navigate it when it is exposed around them. I recall the first couple of times I spoke to groups of friends about my mental struggles. I was met with indifference and silence on different occasions. It was almost as if I hadn’t said anything in those moments, and soon enough, someone else brought up a topic everyone was comfortable talking about.

I wasn’t seeking pity or sympathy—I simply felt the people whom I considered my friends deserved to know what was happening to me, and I believed such conversations needed to be normalized among us if we were truly friends. As much as that didn’t go as planned, it was the push I needed to start Are You Reading This—a space where I could share the ways I was navigating my thoughts relative to how I perceived my society.

The results have been encouraging. The fact that I have crossed the three-year mark of putting my thoughts out into the world is indicative of how well this space has been received. Interestingly enough, it was around this time last night that we managed to cross the 100-subscriber mark. I am truly grateful for everyone who has decided to join me on this journey, and I look forward to creating more thoughtful newsletter editions that will keep you engaged for years to come.

As I have done my best to keep this newsletter going, I have also evolved, finding my beliefs and principles tested or reinforced. This has led some of my writings to contain political or social commentary at times. That is not going to stop anytime soon. While I will try to balance it, I would be dishonest if I tried to dissociate myself from what is happening in the world, especially what is happening around me.

My hope is that as I share my thoughts and how I navigate the challenges this world presents, I can help others who might relate.

Unfortunately, after three years, over 100 subscribers (and counting), and 70+ posts, I have not been able to monetize this newsletter. To create sustainability, I have launched Wordsworth, a merchandise line inspired by Are You Reading This. The goal is to extend the essence of this newsletter into wearable art—thoughtful, meaningful designs that reflect the ideas and perspectives shared here. Through Wordsworth, I hope to create a sustainable way to keep this newsletter running while offering something of value to those who have supported this journey. If you’d like to be part of this next step, stay tuned for more details on how you can get involved. (I mentioned that in a previous post).

For now, we’ve created a few amazing designs and chosen quality cotton T-shirts, which we believe will make a statement in any place you wear them to.

Also, I got admitted to Bournemouth University in the UK for a Master’s program in Project Management. Proceeds from the sales of the Wordsworth Merchandise will go a long way in helping me to pursue this program.

Thank you for rocking with us. As always, take care and don’t forget to love yourself.

Given the past couple of months, I typically would have a lot to say but I’m not trying to be preachy to the mandem.

You must have seen most of it if you are active on social media platforms; over 28 cases of femicide in Nigeria, the sexual harassment and subsequent suspension of Senator Natasha Akpoti, just to name a couple.

I need us to stand up for women in every space of influence we occupy. We should not simply wait for a woman to be a victim before we raise our voices; we need to be examples and teachers. Women can’t be the ones fighting all these battles by themselves.

This is a thankless job I’m talking about, not one meant to be used as a tool for self-promotion or virtue signalling.

The women you fight for do not have to be your mothers, sisters, girlfriends, daughters, relatives or colleagues. Fight for women simply because they exist, and if you feel a bit of resistance within, push past it for a better future for all. We all will be a better society if women had equal say in national matters, bodily autonomy, access to better healthcare, equal economic opportunities, security, a reliable and efficient justice system and quality education.

Happy International Women’s Day once again.

A former dictator’s return to the spotlight forced me out of my self-imposed exile from writing. I found myself bitter and glib because the General who ruled this country when I first witnessed democracy in action now believes it’s the perfect time to sell his story, one he has undoubtedly stretched and contorted.

It’s not worth the effort to dissect the disgraceful spectacle of his book launch. But the symbolism, the eagerness of our so-called leaders to celebrate him, speaks volumes about why Nigeria remains trapped in a leadership vacuum.

I no longer have the energy to argue or persuade the elites that they have, once again, failed to sever ties with their cowardly past.

What enrages me is not just the spectacle but the underlying disease: selfishness, moral bankruptcy, and a preference for excuses over confrontation. We accommodate what is killing us, and this man institutionalized that very habit.

Over the past few months, I’ve come to understand why resistance is so difficult. To challenge a system, radical thinking is required, and such thinking is born in those unwilling to compromise. But Nigerians compromise too much. We kick the can down the road. We wait for someone else to solve our problems.

I am tired.

I am tired of discussing Nigeria with my peers because, when they speak, all I hear is excuse after excuse, proof that they, too, have become part of the system we once condemned. There’s this sense of belief they carry that implies that the disaster which will inevitably happen or some avoidable misfortune will not befall them because of maybe their faith or their privilege, and that mentality is the most unfortunate evidence our psyche is irreparably damaged.

I’m not going to preach today. Like I said before, I am tired.

So, as you were.

Let’s continue playing this damn game.

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For decades, Africa's relationship with Western countries has been shaped by a complex mix of aid, trade, and geopolitical interests. But how often do we pause to question the underlying intentions behind these interactions? Are we viewing the West through a lens of dependency, or are we critically evaluating their role in our development?

When we consider the beginnings of this relationship, we inevitably reach back into history to evaluate the early European traders and missionaries. As trade between African kingdoms and exploring Europeans expanded, the sovereigns from their countries increased their interest in this vast new continent that showed promise. European monarchies have historically been famous for conquering, pillaging, and massacres, so it was no surprise they extended that courtesy to the African continent. To further spread their influence, their missionaries followed closely, considering the taming and conversion of the ‘African savage’ a worthy and selfless cause.

Before this new frontier became a point of interest to Europeans, Africa had its own political, cultural, and societal context, with hundreds of kingdoms across the continent. Despite the differences, city-states existed, empires thrived, and trade between these entities flourished. By the time colonies were being formed, all of these dynamics were upended. The ways we traded changed, and the value of our monetary systems was discarded for those introduced by the colonialists, radically altering the lives of people in ways we might never truly be able to measure.

Significant parts of our respective cultures have been wiped out. Some tribes and communities have gone extinct. All we know today is what we have been able to learn in school, which is where the problem begins to take shape. Our education does not significantly factor in our unique situation because, as countries, we had little say in our formation, geographical concepts, and developmental pathways. The post-colonial economy and society in which people participated were still dominated by colonial influences.

Citizens of most African countries have been made to believe their countries gained independence through agitation and struggle. In truth, many colonial powers that granted independence were reeling from a costly world war and a struggling European continent. Despite the semblance of independence, they ensured their interests in Africa remained significant. The companies they established to extract resources remained dominant, and whenever that arrangement was threatened, a convenient change of government often occurred.

Today, Africa has largely embraced a Western disposition in multiple facets despite the instability experienced on the continent due to Western interference. This is mind-boggling, considering how often these interventions have led to negative outcomes: Libya is still reeling from the unseating of Gaddafi, while Egypt merely traded one dictator for another. Nigeria’s territorial stability was compromised almost directly due to Libya's instability. Countries like Mali, Chad, and Niger continue to struggle due to the presence of ISWAP insurgents, indirectly armed by militants from Libya.

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This doesn’t even account for the actions of other Western nations and corporations with vested interests in Africa. The long-running conflict in the Congo, for example, is driven by corporate interests in the region's rich mineral resources.

Africa must begin to act seriously as an entity not defined by aid or as a collection of countries leaning West or East for loans and favourable policies. Our potential as a continent is limitless, despite the immense diversity that spans it. We can’t be a formidable people if we refuse to look after ourselves, and that cannot be done by outsiders. Over four centuries of history serve as proof.

I won’t conclude this piece by ranting about corrupt politicians or flawed systems. What I can say is this: We need to raise better people. Better people become better politicians and leaders, and better people create stronger systems. We might be too late to experience a drastically different continent in our lifetimes, but as we raise children or plan to, let’s not leave them without the knowledge of what could be better. Let’s teach them how to be better.

Our descendants deserve better.

I’ve seen a lot of 2024 recaps on Twitter and Instagram, and I have to say, a lot of you are doing amazing things. Well done. I’m constantly astounded at the capacity we show in bursts and fits: creativity, selflessness, ambition, and desire to make our lives better and more enjoyable. I wish for more wins for you all and more people to find this capacity and freedom.

2025 is here and I have to be honest, it feels different. I don’t know how to explain it, but I think we are in a new period of humanity and this year probably marks the beginning. This is 5 years after the pandemic and mindsets have shifted, cultures have readjusted and we see ourselves even more differently. So, it isn’t out of place for me to suggest that a few drastic things might be headed our way (not on a global pandemic scale) that will encourage us to adjust how we see the world again.

I feel this way partly because the future is beckoning. We can’t continue assuming every change that will come our way from this point on will be gradual and gentle. From AI to widening wealth gaps, we need to become conscious that the opportunities we have to seize will require unique skills or specific approaches.

Heck! I don’t know it all but I felt compelled to share my thoughts with you today. The world is changing way faster this year than it has ever done in five years so I encourage you to think about how you’re going to be prepared for the things that come our way.

Maybe this isn’t the kind of positive messaging you were expecting but it behoves me to lay it out like this.

Have a wonderful and happy 2025. Welcome to the future.

Every other day, Nigeria gives you a reason to ponder what could have been. I spent some time wondering what an alternative timeline would look like if Nigeria made the needed sacrifices and things worked. I mean, they worked efficiently, and there was healthcare, security, optimal commerce, and strong institutions that held people accountable.

Have you ever done that kind of mental imaging before? Sit down and picture as many aspects of Nigeria working as possible. 

Imagine an international airport with working facilities, no Immigration or Customs officers trying to extort you and an efficient transportation system at the exit that isn’t run by some airport cartel. 

Imagine a police force set up to serve the taxpaying public, with professional officers, an efficient and up-to-date database and 24-hour emergency services like ambulances. 

I want you to imagine suburban and rural towns with functional local councils with true representation from within the locals, people not having to identify with the villages their mothers or fathers are from but rather where they were born and where they have grown up knowing. 

I usually imagine a State actively seeking ways to educate and advance the cause of its people, with efforts to create a citizenry who aspire to a higher standard of living by creating value for both the local population and people outside the state. I imagine a country with politicians dedicated to true legislation, written to advance the cause of the collective, one that introduces efforts designed to build deeper bonds between the disparate ethnicities and religions in the country. 

Usually, something shakes me out of this fantastical world of make-believe, it’s crushing and gut-wrenching as I realise my reality is far from that fantasy. A reality filled with uncertainties and things that don’t work. Nigerians have experienced double-digit inflations every month this year, we’ve watched the cost of essential goods and services go up relentlessly with no clear sign ahead of when it will slow down. Medical personnel and other skilled workers and professionals are abandoning the country at an alarming rate. 

We’re seeing a society extol the virtues of people with wealth authorities can’t easily trace. Citizens are crowdfunding to treat life-threatening ailments while kidney and liver diseases are on the rise. What have our leaders and politicians done in response? They have created a means for themselves and their cohorts to be increasingly insulated from the hardship the average Nigerian faces daily.

It needs to be said that in between and around all the things I have highlighted above, many other governments have stepped aside for less. Our’s resorts to the monopoly of violence to ensure it continues with its imagined mandate. In most instances, violence does not need to be deployed. The mere idea that families can be plunged into poverty and uncertainty ensures silence. The path of least resistance. As a people who pride ourselves on being brave, no-nonsense and daring, we do have our limits, and it is demoralising. 

I imagine a dutiful and dedicated media/press informing the public of the government objectively while the government accepts criticism and feedback without resorting to witch-hunting and victimisation. What happens when governments engage civil society organisations and advocacy groups to raise awareness about marginal groups without the prompting of foreign embassies or missions? 

I would think a proactive government looking to produce results based on campaign promises would galvanise a civil service which is notorious for simply existing to create world-class solutions that are both cost-effective and sustainable. Is this too ridiculous to imagine? 

Why have we not demanded these things of our government and public servants? Are the rumours true? Are we simply awaiting our turn to take our piece of the national cake? I hope we know that’s not going to be beneficial for the larger populace. Or it truly is all man for himself/herself? We are all afraid of the true sacrifice of standing up for what is right. We have all seen the price paid by people who stood up during the #EndSARS protests. We saw what this government is willing to do to people in broad daylight and now we question if agitation is truly worth it. 

So, I have to ask, what do we do next? We all can’t leave. We can’t get cushy government jobs, and we can’t turn to crime. So, what happens to the rest of us who do everything we can to survive but can’t make ends meet and continue to fall further into life-threatening poverty?

I have tried to think of an answer, a way that takes advantage of our numbers against theirs and the answer leads me back to a handful of options that are met with our inaction, and I’m led to ponder, maybe we are afraid.

I’m not in the most inspired headspace at the moment. I have this quiet rage with the world that feels like it is trying to stifle the positivity I attempt to reach for. 

I want to be a creature of habit, one that notches up incremental improvements as I repeat the processes I commit to. I have seen the effects of that in my physical fitness journey, and to a significant extent (at least to this current level of my writing) I have seen the benefits in my creativity. But, writing this Newsletter sometimes causes me to realise I may need more than simply consistency and talent. 

I want to make sure I am helping out, adding value and ultimately building a community of like-minded people who understand that despite the darkness, we must find light. To do that I must be able to be honest with myself and not present a false personality to people who deserve better. 

It was a trick 3rd quarter ending, but it has been a decent 4th quarter. I’ve notched up wins but I’ve also felt the world grow cold and unfeeling in crucial moments. I would rather not dwell on the issues in-depth today. 

I don’t want to condemn or criticise people but it gets difficult these days because of Social Media. We can easily put out our thoughts in seconds, sometimes without giving said thoughts enough consideration. I know I’m guilty of this sometimes, but still, these days it’s increasingly getting me worried. 

It worries me how we comfortably scroll past mutilated bodies and bombed-out cities to focus on things that are largely fleeting and banal. How did we get here? Who am I trying to reach or impact if what I want to write about is the need to find out humanity and rediscover community?

So, here I am. My thoughts and the words I want people to read are about positive outlooks and accountability while the focus of my would-be audience is para-social relationships with people they are better off not knowing and behaviour that is exaggerated for the camera or books. 

I definitely will continue to write my thoughts, because experience has shown there might be that one person who my words might keep rooted or urge to stay the course, neither are my words necessarily an outright condemnation of people’s preferences. In honesty, maybe I am not the writer for this audience, and that is fine. Continuing to write is part of the writer’s journey to find their audience. 

I hope you all have a wonderful week, and don’t forget to love yourself.