Now, Who Cares?

Timothy Abegunde - Nigeria

I saw this on twitter some days ago;

‘20% of people don’t care about your challenges; 80% are glad you had them.’ In other words, no one actually cares.

I wanted to retweet but upon deeper thought, I did not. I never believed that statistics can be right. I mean, there should be exceptions; your family members, your friends and the religious ones, among other random good guys.

However, as I was on my way to deliver a message for my grandmother, I slipped through a path and fell into a mud. The bright-coloured clothes I put on were battered. I felt embarrassed. I decided to go back home (you could guess how I felt; like covering my face or having a compassionate companion all through the journey).

I met people on the way back. The first person that crossed my path was a ‘good’ friend. I was happy within and showed it without, thinking someone is going to pity and help envelop my embarrassment. My induced, hilarious hailing was complimented so coldly that I could read from my friend’s face that he had personal issues bothering him too.

The next two persons I met on my way back were my protégées. They just greeted me and pretended they never saw anything (now, should I guess they referenced my ‘batteredness’).

Then, I collided with some preachers (okay, I’m a preacher too, I am not about to rubbish them). I expected more than just preaching: like express sincere sympathy as regarding my unintentional grossly degraded appearance or walk me home. If they preached to me afterwards, I would be an ingrate not to listen. My expectation was however cut to pieces; they added salt to my injury. They ignored my largely stained outlook, gave me tracts and started explaining something I couldn’t even wait to fathom. I sped off. They actually created an unsolicited scene in that street and I felt I was being mocked.

Neighbours too pretended they never saw anything odd.

Now, at home; my grandmother, who was eating, saw me and continued her eating (no comment, perhaps for health purpose). My siblings invent jokes out of my appearance (I guess they were being creative, at the expense of my instantaneous happiness though). We are family after all.

So far, no one really showed that concern, that physical care I needed. It was painful. I went in my room, do some clean-ups and refreshed.

Now, who cares?

I would have done same if I were in their shoes. However, I gave myself the care and true concern I needed. Everyone shows that self-pity to themselves. If only we all see one another the way we see ourselves, the world will be filled with sincere care here and there; a home of peace. I care.