by Bolade Ogunfuye

When I was young, I learnt something about myself. I learnt that if I was speaking with you, quite often it was to know how much smarter than you I was. This was a semi-conscious effort to prove to people that I was smart, really smart, maybe the smartest guy in the room. This was not hubris per se, it was just a reflection of who I had grown to become. Safe to say, I had to stop when I grew to an age when I was obvious that it was not cute or cool to do that, or be that guy.

That was not the only instance where I lost friends, and it bothered me enough to try to fit in; I eventually chose one guy from my circle of friends and acquaintances and tried to become him. I considered him the coolest dude ever; he was all smart comebacks, cool anecdotes, snappy clothing and an aloof disposition.

So, one day he said, “hey dude, there’s these cool big-collared shirts I think you should get into. I think they’ll suit you.” One day we were out together, we went to this pool party and I heard some girls saying: “That’s him! That’s that guy I told you about.” And someone said, “Who’s that other guy, the one who looks just like him? That must be his brother”. That day I took a look at myself and didn’t like what I saw. I said to myself: “you’re not dressing like this because he does it anymore. That’s not you, that’s him.” That singular thought helped me find my reality again.

I also quickly learnt that when you don’t have a lot of money and you don’t get a lot of attention, you tend to get drawn to people who seem to have both. You also learn that that attraction can quickly hand over influential control to the other person. In my younger days, I often allowed the attraction to grow into submission, wherein I’d let the other person walk all over me till I’d snap and just react. These reactions would often go to the extremes, lashing out at the person with words and actions designed to crash into their consciousness and hurt them. I derived a certain pleasure from doing this repeatedly, and often.

That being said, I was as much to blame as they were.

Eventually, I found my space in the “grand scheme of things”; somewhere between wolf and sheep, somewhere on the spectrum with a frequency that’s all you. You need to find that spot that works for you or get swept in the chorus. You ever seen an orchestra? Every instrumentalist knows their chord, or they have no place on the team. Even if your spot is out of sync with everyone else, recognise that that’s your spot and own it.

I learnt that best when I lived outside of Nigeria. I’d found myself in this mish-mash group of guys who were formed of a history different from mine; different culture, different accents, different upbringing. I learned to understand their context and therefrom form my own.  Out of chaos comes order, and all that blah blah.

Despite all my rambling, my evolution has taught me one thing above all: we must always remember this in all we do, say or think: at the end of the day, a million-dollar diamond will rot into nothingness unless you figure out your own space in the ethos and mark it as yours well enough to leave a legacy. And when you pass on, know that the only thing they come to take out of the room is you, that’s it. They come in, wrap you up and take you out. Roll credits.

At least, with a legacy, you can leave an imprint behind.

---

Bolade is a writer and multi-media development professional. He began as a writer, and has since expanded his repertoire to include media content design and development, brand strategy, new media, advertising and PR with a career spanning the last decade. He is addicted to caffeine, sartorial excellence, sarcasm, true crime and media content of the highest quality; and is very fluent in double-speak.