Kogiflame
I came to know Minabelem about two years ago. He often hung out at the Bakana Town Square. With his dirty hair and dirty clothes, one could hardly miss him.
On occasions when there were programmes in the Town Hall, organizers of the programmes would shoo him away with sticks and brooms even though he had no violent history. Never for once did I see any family member come to his rescue or give him food or money. Everyone drove him away or avoided him.
One day we had a programme at the same place and as usual he was around, probably hoping to get some crumbs and leftover to eat. I sat close to him and I could hear him talk about dimensions and drawings. I never had an inkling of what he was talking about. Maths and technical drawings were never my strong points in school.
However, I observed that as he spoke quietly and almost imperceptibly, his eyes lit up and a wide smile covered his face, showing his hidden beauty. Up to that moment, I never knew that Minabelem was a graduate of architecture. I never even imagined that he went through secondary school. He was the mad man around the town square; that was what I knew about him. I also knew that some folks fondly called him FIFTY CENT. According to one of my cousins, they gave him that name because of his love for Hip hop and rap music. And that was all the attention he got from his own people, the Bakana people.
And then like a chariot from heaven, his old classmates from Unijos came to Bakana looking for him. They had heard of his worsening condition and came to celebrate Valentine with him. They brought food, drinks, clothes, etc. But most of all, they brought love, selfless love, divine love. Propelled by this love, they hugged him, played with him and exchanged jokes with him. For once, he did not feel different. He saw himself in them just as they saw themselves in him. He remembered some names and welcomed them, laughing. They were his friends. Love broke all the barriers between them and without any form of resistance, he agreed to follow them to the psychiatric hospital.
His friends stayed with him until he was settled in a private ward they paid for then after taking pictures with him, they left.
They have done their bit. They paid N320,000 for his admission, drugs and upkeep. I don’t know how long the money will last but they have done their bit and life will definitely reward them for that kind gesture. It’s now left for his family, the government and men of goodwill to continue from where they stopped.
May God bless us all with true friends.
Gogo Iyalla
