“Feel honoured—yes, honoured—that in their moment of darkness, their hearts reach out to you like a candle. You are light. You are warmth. You are hope in the middle of their confusion. And not everyone is called to be a candle.”
Don’t feel bad when people remember you only when they need something. No, don’t take it to heart.
Only a few Nigerian politicians remember their friends when they are in power.
Your call irritates them—not just because they have more money or connections than you, but because they believe they are in power and next to God.
May God not let our next meal depend on the table of Nigerian politicians.
Instead, feel honoured—yes, honoured—that in their moment of darkness, their hearts reach out to you like a candle. You are light. You are warmth. You are hope in the middle of their confusion. And not everyone is called to be a candle.
In this fast-paced world—especially in a country like Nigeria, where survival has become the full-time job of the average man—people will forget birthdays, promises, and even names.
But the moment your life begins to shine with uncommon blessings—when grace begins to speak louder than your hustle—watch and see.
Dead friendships will rise like Lazarus from the grave. People who once swore they didn’t know you will suddenly remember that you were their classmate in JSS3 at Government College, or that you once shared suya under the mango tree behind the hostel.
Ah! This is the paradox of success. When you are broke, you are invisible. But let a little money enter your hand—suddenly, everyone becomes a historian of your past.
The same people who ignored you during your rainy days will start telling others how you used to fetch water for them from the community borehole. It’s funny, but it’s real.
My brothers and sisters, learn this truth and keep it in your heart: silence is golden—but in Nigeria, silence is also protection.
Many great men—men who carried fire in their bones—have perished because they couldn’t hold their tongues. They talked too much in a land where every wall has ears and every compliment may carry envy.
Absence gives value to your presence, just as fasting makes you appreciate the taste of food. Learn to step back. Learn to disappear sometimes. That’s how mystery is created and value is preserved.
Be yourself. Be authentic. Say what you feel—but choose your audience wisely. Those who mind don’t matter, and those who truly matter won’t mind.
There is no need to impress the world. Be like the Iroko tree—it doesn’t need validation from the bush before it grows tall.
And please, I beg you in the name of ancestral wisdom: never go back to what you vomited. A dog may do so, but a human with dignity—a Nigerian with honour—will never stoop that low.
You cannot despise a thing in the morning and embrace it by noon—unless, of course, you have no sense of honour or direction.
Let your light shine. Let your silence speak. And when they remember you only in their darkness, smile—because even the moon is only visible at night, yet it is still one of God’s most majestic creations.
•Mogaji Arisekola writes from Ibadan.
