A Sojourn through Self Discovery by El Osas Iyalekhue

The discovery of self is like a pilgrimage. I find myself perpetually driving in the holy land of my mind. It is like walking blind in a transitional void. No signposts in this abyss. The understanding of my own self appears far reaching and impossible as I try to decipher my own manner of man. No forth coming clues. It’s a dead end, and I’m certainly trapped in the spot.

Part of the reason for this mental lock jam is as a result of wanting to know why my flesh is constantly rising up to petty revolutions against my will. Yes my fleshly weakness races at a speed of light. So what I say I’ll do and what I end up doing are like strange bed companions living in a terrorized neighborhood. It’s a sinful irony and yes I hope to make heaven.

In another segment of my self discovery problems, I find it particularly metal hard to tell my true identity. Who the hell am I? The answer to this question is like a pin lost in the hay stack of my Edo-ness and my Northern upbringing. The unavoidable consequence of this a hausa speaking Edo man. Or if you like, a localized version of Nguigi Wa Thiongo’s fear in “decolonizing the mind”. But secretly, I bask in the consolation that I’m just one among the many suspects of this improper ethnic identity syndrome. My generation is burdened with such ethnic wastes. The recycle value is a shame; imagine who our sons will be. Yes, you guessed right, ETHNIC DEGENERATES!

At a certain bus stops in my life, I stand back to evaluate some of the shits I do that negate the good self image I have in mind of myself. And though, I subscribe to some sort of intra-eschew vices communication; I still fail woefully at supplying for myself a clean self image. The thing is, I have sworn to stop burning the hallucinatory plant, but I still can’t get my addicted fingers of it. Although I enjoy the flurry of activities it stirs inside my head, society frowns at its use. So I swear to myself eight times a day to put a stop to an experience I first enjoyed over fourteen years ago. But even right now I’m stoned!

The picture is quite clear; I’m like a sojourner heading to a city of vice free life, but find myself, inevitably trapped at the border because I keep looking back at the many pleasures of the village of irresponsibility from where I took off. If I was Lot’s relative, I would probably have turned into salt a long time ago.

Maybe a likely solution to this voyage of ending the self problem is in talking to a friend; someone who could listen, a warm shoulder to lean on, a heart that will understand. But in whom do I find solace? The truth, in all its bitterness, is that my friends are a hypothetical reference for all manner of vices. Symptomatic to this is that the self problem is number one on their problem list. Oh I almost forgot, show me your friend and I will tell you who you are. I’m nailed!

Since I have lost the battle and war, my immediate well thought out strategic solution to myself discovery problem is to do nothing. Like most losers, I have decided to situate myself in that territory where it’s comfortable. I’ll just let time tell, hoping things turn out fine. Meanwhile I’ll continue to seek God’s face, and trust heaven to offer a solution, instead of relying on my self–help antics to solving myself discovery problems.
PRAYER IS THE PERFECT ELIXIR.

El Osas Iyalekhue writes and directs for stage and screen. He currently spends time at Tholakele Productions where he is the Creative Head.