Just a while ago, I was off; I was away in a different land. A land so tender and sweet. In that land I was free. Free from all cares and worries. Free from all troubles of my present life and the characters that had made it so. I saw beautiful flowers dancing to the breeze that accompanied the rhythm of the sea; it was a land of bliss.  Then suddenly, I saw a man running and shouting towards me from the horizon, just at the point where the evening sun was seated. At first, I couldn’t make up his words as his movement seemed to run contrary to that of the sea. Only until few steps after that I began to make up the content of his words. Panting, he shouted, “Your soup is burning o! Oga Imisi, I say your soup is burning!!”
Instantly, like a surge of nuclear reaction, my eyes popped open and behold, I was gazing at the cobwebs in Room E106 of Fajuyi Hall, of the Obafemi Awolowo University, with my roommate standing beside me. Until then, I didn’t realize I had slept off waiting for the soup to be ‘warm’ and now, was almost burnt. I ran half asleep to the corridor.

But then, I had two things to be grateful for. One, it was not mummy’s soup, for we both wouldn’t have been able to sleep. Second, I am a Christian, so what can be worse than  not having eternal life; I knew ‘whatever happens, he causes everything to work together for my good’ for I am the apple of his eyes.

(Alternate ending).
But then my mind couldn’t help but calculate the cost of the miniature èfó-rírò as my eyes caught the fufu, looking like helpless orphans, as they peeped from the nylon that had brought them from room B104 of the same hostel.

I opened the pot to see if there could be a remedy and I saw four brown things buried in a sea of darkness, staring at me. “How did meat enter my pot?” I wondered, looking around to find answers to the mystery that was unfolding before my eyes. And suddenly, I saw my own pot, carefully placed beside the hot plate, cold and untouched. “Thank you Jesus” I mumbled, as I finally woke up from my sleep. It was Mulumbu’s soup- the guy next room, that got burnt and not mine. Apparently, I had laid on the bed waiting for him to finish warming his own soup, and may have lost touch with reality on return from dreamland.
Sure, heaven rejoices over a sinner that repents. For this my soup, I thought, was once burnt, but now is alive. God had overturned and overturned on my behalf.

But then, did I care if Mulumbu went to sleep hungry that night or not? Didn’t God love him and care for him too?

Yes, God loves him too…because he met me on his journey back from the fufu joint, still rejoicing over my soup, and demand that we share mine.

#IamImisioluwa, and living a life of Love is actually Lovely.

I love you maskusckly.

Enjoy the rest of your day.