Re-printed with the kind permission of the author (Pyemwa Deshi)

=================================

Many years ago, I got a call which sounded like a prank call or a fraud attempt. Let’s call the caller Jake.

Jake admitted he didn’t know me, had never met me, was not even sure what I looked like but he had heard about me and he wanted to get to know me…date me… and, yes you guessed right marry me.

Weird right?

Very.

I was curious though; I always am so I asked a few questions.

He lived in Minna or so and had been listening to two guys who knew me discussing how wonderful I was (yay!) and my marriage split. The two guys apparently said I was a sweet, wonderful person and he got intrigued. He stole my number or something and called. Asked about my son, said a few things that weren’t public knowledge.

The snag was that he could not remember the names of the guys in the discussion as he admitted one of the guys was his casual acquaintance. I asked him why he called an absolute stranger in Jos to make a serious proposition like that and he told me he was just drawn to my story. He had lost his fiancé in a car crash and she was such a wonderful person he wasn’t sure he could ever meet someone like that again until he heard the guys discussing me.

He asked if it was okay to come to Jos and meet me and I said I needed to find out more. When the long call was over, he forgot to hang up and I used to remember that Helen Ebhaleme taught me in etiquette class never to hang up if I didn’t make the call. He must have forgotten to hang up because I could hear the conversation he was having on the other side. (Don’t ask me what etiquette class said about eavesdropping).

He was telling someone who had just walked in his desire to meet a good woman, love simply and settle down. He sounded like a nice enough person but I wasn’t convinced. I checked him out; I’m FBI like that and everything said he was a decent guy. Still I refused to see him because I wasn’t sure he wasn’t a heartbreak waiting to happen. I did not give myself the permission to dare.

We became friends for a season in a distant way; he congratulated me when I had my daughter, I congratulated him when he got married, when he had a child and that was it. I think we are still friends on social media. We may never have clicked even if we met but I remember thinking I was not even going to try.

It is funny that often, the villains we create exist solely in our heads.

Too often, we are our greatest enemies of progress.

Where do we draw the line between caution and crippling fear?

When do we decide a venture is just too risky because we won’t even allow ourselves to try?

How often do we anticipate rejection and then choose sanctuary because disappointment is too crushing?

Why is the safety of the shore the option we would rather pick than the adventure of the open seas?

Why am I talking about guys when the nation is in turmoil and people are being axed, hewn and bludgeoned to death in such confounding ways? Why am I talking about love when my timeline has gory photos capable of robbing me of sleep, food and clear thinking?

I think I am because there is a relationship here.

A BBM friend contested for office in 2015 and his DM (back when DM meant display message was “We must dare”.

I read that line everyday: We must dare.

I think about daring as the killings go on. I think about daring as we spent another Christmas and New Year under the siege of evil greedy men who hoarded our fuel and hoard it still. The levels of hardship we currently experience and our collective dismay and loss of hope makes me think about daring. Evidently, this time around, again, we have been unlucky with our choice of leaders and when I think about it, all I see is that we failed to dare.

We have failed to dare… to run for office… to vote differently and opt for the angel we don’t know. Hence we recycle and recycle and recycle; beyond a lifespan of usefulness, at the edge of senility, past the prime and still, we recycle.

We have failed to dare… to be the dissenting voice and air our conviction.

We have failed to dare… to risk our comfort for the sake of conscience.

We have failed to dare…to go on an adventure and trek mountain trails because the beaten pathways are safer.

We have failed to dare… to swim deep waters when we can wet ourselves in bathtubs and basins.

I have failed to dare because cowardice is safer. At best, I would rather display a brave sort of cowardice.

Surely, I could fool myself into thinking that I am brave when

…I hide behind an “It is well” and a “We are praying” (I am praying but what am I doing after I pray?)

…I sign a petition online (I am still doing those but please, can someone tell me what happens to those things?)

…forward a WhatsApp message whether I verify or not or post a gory photo. (I rationalize and say I am a foot soldier and I am spreading awareness)

But I want to dare.

In 2018, oh how I am desperate to dare!

I’d like to be a woman of passion and conviction, I would like to raise my voice even if I have to stand alone and do so, I would like to look at the mirror and like the person I see, I would like to fight…and fight to win for no, I do not want to be a martyr. I want to display courage and take my place on the stands of life.

No I am not running for office but I want to make a change in my corner.

I give up on a Nigeria that can be changed by the quality of leaders we have on ground but I have hope. I have hope that there are some among us who would dare.

The price we have paid for our cowardice is the place where we are.

I pray that in the matters of life, of leadership, of patriotism, of love, in 2018, we would all have the courage to dare.

Have a daring 2018 dear friends. I hope you dare.

count | 302

The price of cowardice and why I choose to share by Pyemwa Deshi