The Whole Shebang...Mental Malaria

          A lot has happened since I last posted a blog! I turned 23, I made up with some enemies, I made new friends, I slipped and fell and I picked myself back up. In fact I have been so preoccupied with my own internal and external battles for much of the past month or so to do much about BMIC but something has really crystallized for me today so I have been able to finally put down my thoughts on ‘paper’. I was writing everything down at a really furious pace until I just ran out of things to say – I got a mild case of “writers block” that robbed me of my ability to blog. I have sat down over and over staring at my computer screen not really knowing what to say. Even now I feel as though I am waking from a dream; a dream that was filled with much more of what I used to be and much less of what I am trying so hard to become. The question that I have been battling with is simply this; how do I motivate and inspire others when I am running out of steam, when things are not going right, when The System is succeeding against me in this endless struggle called life. After much melancholic deliberation one thing became crystal clear – I am up against insurmountable odds and at present I am inadequately resourced to fight the battle much less win the war. But forge on we must because once the ball has been set rolling things must be seen through to the end no matter what.

            One of my neighbors in my hostel is a member of BMIC, and for the past 4 weeks I have been rather ashamed whenever he asks me if the blog is up yet. I would immediately assure him that it was imminent, as I would assure myself and alas it would all be for naught. Nobody requested that I form BMIC on Facebook, register it or begin a blog. I took on this responsibility myself therefore I have only myself to report to, blame or congratulate. Truth is there is a certain pervading sense of pride I have in my work when it succeeds on the one hand and disappointment when I can’t meet my personal deadlines, or when deals keep falling through, or when bright business prospects just simply fade in the face of constant failure. My Godfather called me not too long ago asking about business and I found myself ranting about how terrible things were going so he listened, laughed and said that it is only when you are rewarded for your efforts that you feel motivated to continue; no matter how much you love what you do or are good at it. And perhaps it is this lack of any tangible extrinsic reward that has sapped me so much, and in the face of such a bleak reality I must concentrate on the intrinsic rewards I get from what I do to – and sometimes my personal satisfaction from writing seems trivial and unsatisfactory, a feeling akin to eating a lot of Fufu with little soup and having no meat to complete the experience.


            I feel as though my mind has been suffering from Mental Malaria: a situation where one’s mental, emotional and physical reserves are almost completely depleted. I dug incredibly deep, far more than I have ever done in my short life so far but it is just not enough. Sometimes I feel as though I have taken a load heavier than I can carry – but how else are my ‘mental muscles’ going to be stronger if I don’t keep surpassing the comfort of those responsibilities that I can do easily. That I am up against incredible odds is a fact, that I don’t have adequate resources is a given but if I want to achieve my goals I must face these odds and locate the necessary resources, be they internal or external. The only other option is utter failure and I decided a long time ago that failure is not an option so now I must bear my load with grace and resolve. We all have our very own loads to carry, but the question is never how heavy the load is but rather how well you carry it. So I will continue to eat my raw fufu chaperoned by puny soup and entertain a temporary proclivity for vegetarianism, for now. It shall be joyless, it shall be unsatisfactory but it is necessary in the meantime because there is always hope for the future, a future filled with the whole shebang; an incredible assortment of exotic meats. The cure for this Mental Malaria is self-evident, I need to take some Mental Chloroquin, and that my friends is a bitter pill indeed!