God is Still Good; so I Will Manage it Like That
Ever had one of those birthdays where the spark just… fizzles out? Welcome to mine. But don’t worry, this is a rant piece — with a twist.
For as long as I can remember, every year on my birthday, I try to do something small that is special to me. One year, I went on a thanksgiving spree on Facebook, appreciating all my friends, enemies, and umunna for being there for me in trying times. On another, I used the day as an excuse to splurge and get myself that MacBook I’d been eyeing for some time. Another saw me use the opportunity to break my Instagram drought by sharing a peng photo I’d taken many months back. There was one year I penned this very nice piece. I liked that year. I’d been experiencing a severe case of writer’s block that didn’t want to go away, and hitting publish finally did the trick.
I know these things seem small in the grand scheme, but they all meant the world to me at the time.
My birthdays are like that. The one day when the world felt truly magical, and I could do and get away with anything.
Good things mostly happened to me on them. The signs are there in the days leading up to the big day, and I embrace the wind, allowing it to blow me however and wherever it likes.
This year, however, I’ve been struggling. In truth, my special day has been losing its spark two birthdays in a row, but something about the days leading up to this year’s seems to have the least sparkle so far.
Nigeria is becoming harder than ever, and I feel my youth passing me by uneventfully — this might explain part of it, but there could be more sandwiched between these. I feel terrible most times, and it hits even worse on special days like today.
I feel like there’s more to why I feel this way, but you know what? This year I am shaking that feeling off. I’m reminded that God is good, so I have decided to manage things like that.
Rather than a cake with candles to blow out, bring out the unending phone calls and buzzing timelines filled with generic messages. I will manage it like that.
There’s no need for gifts either. I can barely afford anything nice this year but do not worry. I’m still alive, and when there’s still life, there’s hope. I will manage this one like that too.
Before The Black Book, some six years ago, Editi Effiong wrote about how “virtually impossible” it was “to have regular interaction with Nigerians over the course of 24 hours without interacting with this phrase (Manage It Like That), either verbally or in action.”
You might instinctively want to disagree with him, but he makes a lot of sense. We manage a lot of things like that, even when we ought to speak up, fight, or push back. I’m not even sure if it’s a cowardly thing or one of self-preservation, but over time, the default move for the Nigerian (wo)man when faced with a crisis of any sort is to stay silent, cast their burdens on God, or proceed to manage it like that. In no particular order.
Do not weep for me today that I have decided to follow in the ways of my forebearers. Do not judge me either. It is my special day, and I can get away with anything.
God is still good, and for today, that’s enough. So, I’ll manage it like that — but tomorrow, maybe I’ll start demanding more.
Happy birthday to me.
