Children love to play. It's as if they have the right to play. In play, they find happiness. In happiness, they find their soul. This interconnect of innocence makes them the children they are. They find happiness even in squalor; they are no less happy when gastric juices pour out inside their empty gullet walls. Under a spot-holed shantytown shack, they can find happiness in every tiny droplet, rushing down from heaven to kiss their lips. In Makoko, my eyes caught them happy even when my own heart was heavy.
I realised we have lost the spirit of happiness. We, the adults; and we, the privileged. We have left behind the joys, that gave us happiness in our childhood. I fear, we are spreading this mutable virus among the generation we have procreated. It's time we start finding joy in the simple things of life. I have. If you can't, walk over to the Makoko near your home. There, you will find joy in abundance. Breathe it. Set your soul free. If it comes back, it was always yours. If it doesn't, it never was.
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