Shame of My Day!

Category: Relationship 19 0


Are you free? Yes you saw right, I’m actually challenging your freedom. How I wish you were really free! An attempt to look at your present geographic location checking for any restricting bars or perhaps your hands and legs to check if they’re in chains will not help. Freedom as defined by the Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary is ‘the state of not being a prisoner or slave’. Some are serving a light jail term while for others it is a long sentence, worse still, for some; it is a life imprisonment, check, if fashion has not imprisoned you. Fashion transcends your wardrobe; there are ‘fashionable’ foods, language, mannerism and even religion.

Permit me to say I abhor fad, not when today it depicts everything but sane. In the days of yore, bad means bad, but today, people grin from ear to ear when described as a ‘bad boy’, it has actually become a compliment, a ‘fashionable’ language. In these my days, a lot of ignoble acts earn public square applause and societal admiration. Boys now refer to themselves as dog, “Hello Dog!” how despicable! No thanks to the over- bearing influence of the American rap community, a ‘wonderfully’ made man now accepts the tag of a dog, I bet, it was not so in the ‘beginning’.

Even though I’m not a proponent of evolution which propounds that man evolved from beast to Man, I’m beginning to rethink the “evolution of man to beast” because in my days, shamefully, the body parts christened ‘private’ has suddenly metamorphosed into being public and the garments called ‘underwear’ now refuse to be under and has suddenly turned ‘viewers’ pleasure, that’s the shame of my day!

The wedding day of all days has become a good opportunity for the bride to show the world the colour, size and shape of her bosom. It is still in my day that a lady will close the bathroom’s door to take a bath, the rooms’ doors will remain well shut while she’s dressing up, but to utmost surprise, the same lady ends up on the street a quarter naked or half naked and men in turn will begin to dignify them with ‘cat-calls’ and sex motivated compliments. Some will tell them they’re hot and I begin to wonder if they’re both preparing for hell (surely hot place). Others describe them as sexy-being sexually attractive-this in my opinion is an insult to any lady who’s worth her salt. So, who’s responsible for where we are today, don’t look too far, the men are as culpable, just like the giver and the taker of a bribe.

Chide me for not being ‘dynamic’, but it is in my days that the oddest eye-assaulting colour combinations are permissive under the guise of ‘colour blocking’, isn’t the whole place turning into one big theater for “Egungun” masquerading? You think it’s no big deal? Thesame way the little misdemeanor of yesterday was no big deal, the same way the ‘fashion’ of lesbianism is spreading, the same way being gay will be no big deal tomorrow if allowed to fester today. Little drops they say forms the mighty ocean, a Nigerian proverb says an Iroko tree that wasn’t pruned will in no time be requesting for sacrifice as appeasement.

Was it not here that the intertwined hair was an ‘exclusive’ of the outrightly mad and deranged? But in my days, superlative euphemism has turned that same intertwined hair into ‘fashionable’ dreadlocks for guys. I know you no longer look at a guy in earrings a second time, simply because the abnormal is becoming the norm. Trousers sag even in the face of a waist belt, a trend that started from the American prisons. Isn’t it amazing that royalties in the western countries we’re struggling to copy don’t dress these ways?

It must have been since the Mosaic era that human dignity was priceless, in my days, heck no, dignity is spelt as ‘M.O.N.E.Y’, dignity is so ‘worthless’ that we throw it to the swine in exchange for a stinking and poisonous plate of porridge. In my days, painfully too, mothers compete with the children and even out-do them wallowing in the ominous mire of ‘fashion’. Are such mothers not failing us? Far more painful is the failure of the fathers who sit back watching in admiration, docility, perhaps in utter haplessness, better still, they watch with ‘hidden fantasy’.

A lie told often and long enough begins to take the similitude of the truth, entrench abnormality and it becomes the norm. Obviously fashion is good, provided it’s within the limits of decency; a step out of that limit leads to bondage though. I agree with you that decency for A is not same for B, so it brings us to the question begging for answer: what is the barometer for measuring decency?                                        The gauge of measurement is a heart void of offence to God and Man.                                                                                   Where do you stand in all these? When are we going to stop believing the lies?                                        This is a splash in the mud, if it has hit you, please do the cleaning. THINK!

‘Dapo Omojola, an Author and Life-Coach writes from Lagos.

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