It was a busy Tuesday for me. I had just gotten back from representing myself in a tiring court case. I was weary. I was tired. I really was. While attempting to attend the remaining part of my affairs for the day, a call came in. It was from a friend of mine. I figured she must have good news for me because she hardly calls. I picked up the phone half-curious, half excited only for me to hear her shout 3 words that left me in shock: I AM TIRED!

Apparently she didn’t know I had picked up her call while she simultaneously blurted out those words. As the lead school counselor in one of the biggest schools in her area of Lagos state, she was dealing with a set of students that had recently gotten themselves into some kind of trouble that she was professional enough not to initially give me the full details. Apparently, she needed someone who has had a turbulent past (and whom God has subsequently turned around for good) to come talk to the entire boy gender in the school. The International Day of the Boy Child was to hold in less than 48 hours, and I was to be the one to address the school during their morning assembly.

I was excited. I was elated. I looked forward to every opportunity to address young boys and girls who care to listen to the escapades that got me willingly paying the transport fare to the Valley of the Shadow of….. She concluded the 2 minutes phone conversation by telling me the contents of what she’ll like me to talk to the boys about. I told her not to worry, that I’ll do justice to the matter as God’s spirit leads.

Thursday May 16 arrived. I was so prepared that I had set like 16 alarms to ensure that I wake up before 4:30am so as to leave my house on time. I arrived at the school by 6:45am and realized that I was earlier than 98% of the students.

Eventually the students and the teachers started arriving and I was eventually joined by my assistant. I had showed up prepared to record the 25 minutes speech using my video camera kit because a larger online audience would be blessed by the recording that was about to go down. This would be the third largest school audience I would be addressing, the largest being Faith Academy.

But before the assembly would start, my friend told me that it would be a good idea to meet the owner of the school. I was led into the office of the man at the top. As I entered, my host proceeded to make the introductions. What happened next would eventually go down in my short-term memory as one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.

As my friend concluded the introduction and mentioned that I was the invited celebrated speaker to address the boys for the day, the owner of the school looked at me summarily in 2 seconds and uttered words that were 93% similar to the following: NO NO NO, WE CAN’T HAVE SOMEONE WITH THIS TYPE OF HAIRSTYLE TALK TO OUR BOYS WHO ARE ALREADY GIVING US ISSUES.

I stared at the man for what looked like 59 minutes but was actually 59 seconds. Never in my entire life have I felt like saying the words that those people that use to want to show themselves when they want to fight or prove a point: Do you know who I am? But on a serious note, who was I?

The man then proceeded to ask my host for her account number so he could transfer to her the transportation fare for her to give me to be going back to my planet of the land of creative people with LOCKS. At one point while he was doing the transfer, I had to look at myself again and even in one nanosecond had to smell myself to see if I was smelling of shit. I was shocked. I just entered a court system that didn’t even allow me to open my mouth to defend beyond just saying my name.

I left the premises of that school feeling sorry. I felt sorry for the many boys in the school that would not have the opportunity of meeting and listening to a great man like Seun Akisanmi. Perhaps I should have worn a face cap before showing up. I felt sorry for my host who witnessed how someone she respected was disrespected yet maintained a stoic composure. I felt sorry for the very close relative of the man who may sometime in the not-too-distant future likely marry someone with dreadlocks or whose value system doesn’t align with his. I hope the experience won’t be too dreadful for the relative. I felt sorry for myself for having seemingly wasted a minimum total of 10 hours in preparation for my 25-minute speech. But then again, all things are working together for my good.

My host would later apologize, and I ensured she had no doubt that I had nothing against her. For me, I would do a better job in scrutinizing the speaking engagements I hurriedly accept regardless of who is inviting me in the nearest future. Perhaps, I’ll consider wearing agbada with a cap so that I can hide my hair while showing the audience that I’m a “made” man.

But jokes aside. While brooding on what happened to me that day, it dawned on me that I had just met a descendant of Apostle Peter who God gave a vision to kill and eat some types of animals and he was giving God a lecture. It dawned on me how some of us, me included, would miss out on reaching some people that need the message we carry if we don’t bring under the microscopic illuminating light of God some of our values and beliefs that needs to be addressed, changed or updated. It also dawned on me to research my audience well and be dressed accordingly next time, not necessarily having to cut my hair but to dress in a circumspect manner.

There are so many perspectives that may be founded in the hearts of some people reading this – including those that believe I’m no longer a follower of Christ because my hair is locked – but one thing I’m sure of without a shadow of doubt: to reach the new generation of humans that are living on this earth in this day and age, we need to relearn and unlearn some values that got us here.

Anyways, I’m tired jare. No really, I’m tired. I drove over 5 hours earlier today to visit my uncle in Abeokuta and I’m just so tired. I haven’t seen him in 2 years and his first comment when he saw me was “what type of hairstyle is this for God’s sake.” I laughed in Yoruba language.

I did not hesitate to let him know that for God’s sake, I brought a hat to cover the hair for the party I was about to attend with him. Attached is the picture I took with him earlier today. What do you think? Oh, by the way, after numerous feedback from a number of people about my hair, I’m glad to announce that I just came back from the barber’s shop about 2 hours ago. The session was one of the shortest I’ve had at the barbershop in months: I shaved my beard and artistically carved a mustache that will make me look more handsome than Denzel Washington. Don’t worry, the locks is still intact……for now.

I am tired. I need to go and sleep and prepare for tomorrow. (Gee Brain, what are we going to do tomorrow night….The same thing we do every night Pinky, try to take over the…..)

#seunakisanmi
#iWRITEiSPEAKiINSPIRE