Beyond A Broken Bar
It’s the way the judge sighed at my answer to his question that day.
Just a few hours before that, I was telling my Man, Chris, that the Origin Bitters Drink now taste too watery. So we kept on drinking.
It wasn’t like I didn’t know my Body would remind me the next morning that the drinks wasn’t water. But for the time being, I could afford to feign ignorance. And so I did.
One thing I’ve been somewhat glad about is how I’d be sent to Court without any supervision within a month into my venture into Courtroom Advocacy. And the catch-up was more like an Attorney who moved to a new state to practice, and not one who was doing so for the very first time in his life.
It made me glad the only times I’d thought of it. But I believe my confidence would have lessened a bit, if my first few encounters were with harsh Judges. It wasn’t so. Apparently, I mostly appeared before Judges who looked like they’d just smoked some tobacco with a cold glass of Whiskey. Judges like me.
But now, even in spite of the rookie mistakes I make, with some competence gained in constant learning, I suppose I’ll be confident to appear before and around anxious, uncouth, arrogant, sex deprived, unbearable, greedy, corrupt Judges; and senior lawyers (whom I get dopamine shots by merely ignoring).
One day, if I go against one of these types, my hope is that I’m not drunk of Origin bitters. I hope I’m not drunk of my youthful arrogance. I hope I’m simply gracious. Like the days I leave the neighbourhood Chapel for work, reaffirming to myself why my strong will isn’t just what protects me.
I think, casually, one downside of litigation practice in Naija, is the pretentiousness of too many lawyers in their belief in the Nigerian system. These lawyers who only care about getting by the day, and paying their bills. These lawyers like me.
Nigeria is a funny place. A place I’ve wholeheartedly tagged “A never-do-well.” In recent times, two elderly men got annoyed at me, as they tried to speak to me about Nigeria. As though nature’s reality paid respect to whether they spoke blessings or blasphemy to Nigeria as an entity. I’d been laughing too frequently in the conversation.
To me it was like:
Who gives a shit really? — for all these opinions and takes. Nobody cares about your boring talks about "where we’re headed". It’s not like you’ll pay the people you owe some debt. It’s not like you’ll to compensate your employees adequately and reward them with respect. It’s not like you’ll stop your wife from hurting the house help. It’s not like you’ll stop cutting queues. It’s not like you’ll stop intimidating people. But you think I’ll use my psychological resources to masturbate about "where we’re headed"? These same resources which are exhausted by my experiences in living in the same country. Look at you!
But shit! Later it occurred to me: maybe they’d just wanted to bond with me. Maybe, they too, were genuinely frustrated by the state of things in our societies, and their relative powerless. Maybe they need too relied on my youthful energy the way I’ve searched for genuine elderly guidance. Damn! Is this what being too self absorbed looks like?
It’s a bit depressing, this thing, we’ve all become: injured souls searching comfort formlessly.
And here I am trying to break free — trying to assimilate ancient wisdom, with the carefreeness of a child: a form I take to keep my own heart at peace. So I’ve decided I might as well dance through life.
You know life is a dance, yeah? Like romance, it’s sensual. Like a girl’s hip moves when she walks in a long dress. A slim girl, I mean. I hope to enjoy my dance even; and where hope is scarce, we shall dance together.
Hi!!! I’m Enyinna.
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