The Journey to ‘I Am’ with Tolu Falode: Enemies of Progress

They never expected her to survive the sharp edges they had used to thrash her sides with their words, their actions and even their lies-they had left her in a heap of broken cries. She was wounded, unsure of what had changed their natures-why where they no longer her friends-they no longer returned her favors.

All that time she spent sacrificing herself to enable them to move forward-to step ahead-and yet, they sat comfortably in her excrement-of fear, uncertainty and pages produced in incessancy-writing and weaving and waiting and working-to get out of this mess, this extreme stench of shame that had suddenly descended on her head and changed the power in her name.

She was ashamed. She was filled with fear and wherever she looked eyes watched her closely in excitement. As if they were always anticipating this disaster to fall on her head. As if they had prayed vigilantly for this moment. And what terrified her the most was-these were her friends. Or so she thought until this particular moment, when their cold smiles met her ugly cries; when she grasped out for help but they stood by watching her roll up into a ball of broken tears as they shivered their spines in silent judgment.

Why was no one here helping her through this pain? Why where they all watching her suffer without extending a helping hand like she had done in their own shame? It was as if her pain was their gain. Dare she say? It was as if she had gifted them the richest possible experience through her own urgent shudders of failure-her own unique stench of disruption. She was confused because she remembered how she suffered to help them through their own painful moments – how she was always there ready to extend a helping hand even if no one else cared. But here they all were watching together like friends, converging on the crime scene of her most painful moments; eagerly praying for her not to be able to live through the leech that sucked away her desire to receive strength through this weakness, confirmation through this very confusing moment, nutrition from this cancerous environment.

And somehow something was let loose from within. It must have been an answer to a silent prayer birthed in this pit. Slowly she got up, and moved, inch by inch-she was able to feed on the refuse of what had nearly killed her-the experiences that had nearly made her mute-she silently found her voice and echoed words-one by one-to be able to commune with her views once more.

The lenses had changed in her views. So she moved differently and she was more protective of those she called friends, and watched closely exposed enemies.

She was more determined, more wise, her steps no longer wobbled when she started to find her pride-not pride in who she used to be but who she had become-not really pride in her personality but pride in her form. It enabled her to stretch forth, to birth life in the place of dead dreams, to speak visions in an environment that was polluted with defeat, and this was how she wandered out of her own shameful exposure to a more focused prosperity.

This time she was wiser about who she chose to share her secrets with, this time she watched more carefully to make sure words did not escape her mouth to eager ears who may be planning her defeat-she was stronger in her faith and built her foundation on the rock that does not change because she realized she should have been destroyed in those dark days but she had survived to be able to speak strength into another person’s pain. And hopefully they too will walk out of their current caves and begin to speak once more the language they learned in that space; echoing prayers of progress when sleeping so close to decay-during those unfortunate days they will learn a language of survival birthed through their pain-and they too will stand up and walk away-changed but still the same. Defeating enemies of progress in their wake, they will remember the power in their name-and find sanctuary in realizing they were birthed from defeat, to recognize the true faces of masks that once smiled with deceit.

And that revelation will mark their pain-turning it into a scar of victory that testifies of the presence and power of faith.