Published April 26, 2013 by EMMANUELLA ODUM

Nostalgia remains that emotion that best alludes to the analogical description of an unreachable pain or itch, which despite laudable efforts, you can’t seem to reach!
The persistent yearning for certain circumstances that once were …, the same circumstances that birthed your ideals, opinions and aspirations, are seemingly buried in the past, another victim of the never-ending evolution of the world. Childhood memories entangled in a kaleidoscope of heart-wrenching, bittersweet and unforgettable experiences always make me yearn for the comfort of the ever-elusive “good old days”.
The days when a bruise resulting from a hapless bicycle ride was practically the worst thing ever known to the world of orthopaedic medicine! , the moments when we somehow got the brunt of our elders for speaking out of turn especially when we were obviously the youngest in that gathering of old folks.
The Era of discipline and spooky tales specifically for the “girls” with barely laced threats of abandonment and the certainty of a hopeless future if she discarded the sacred advice of isolating or better still ,ostracizing herself from the opposite sex!
Sometimes I yearn for those days when life was a logical calculation …where, you get as good as you give; where staying obedient and adhering to daddy’s advice assured you that future with bright lights.
The days when an examination revealed the studious nature of an enthusiastic student. Days when young females who defied the rules etched by society itself, were assured a sorry nine –month duration in addition to heart-wrenching denial of the supposed “papa” and finally a future bleaker than the woods assaulted by an unmerciful winter.
For the little boys? Childhood memories will certainly haunt them, for they will surely recall days when “daddy” remained that awesome but somehow unreachable hero everyone wanted to be like yet couldn’t quite grasp his queer demeanour. Dreams of being a scientific bird in the skies or constructing a great ship for “mum” with probably those “Lego” games or better still , building that gigantic house she’s always yearned for with wealth ensuing from legitimate means ,just like daddy does…
Teenage years ushered in a change of dreams. A pseudo transformation of these aspirations into principles. No, not reality yet, just principles. Gone were the silly ways of achieving one’s ambition in life and blessed were the doctrines its departure brought forth.
Yes! We were going to be rich …get married to awesome husbands and wives, plus a doctorate in hand or something greater. Not to forget a brilliant job with fat pay checks and hotter than hell incentives …
But all these were going to emerge with lots of hard work; nothing will be derived the fast way. We had all imprinted daddy’s words about “boys” in our hearts and mummy’s warnings about “joining bad gangs”. The only way to acquire the good life wasn’t only to imbibe these sayings but to also be highly industrious and more illustrious than our understanding of resultant success. It was our Dream, thus it was achievable… we beheld our morning, for there lay our hope.
But then came the night and along with it a maturity beyond our years. In the wake of our mirage of staunch doctrines and principles, that imminent sense of foreboding finally revealed itself!
Alas! ’twas REALITY!!!
In our world today, getting by on stringent principles can be likened to a joke that promises a long-lasting mirth. The fast way is quite simply put, the only way!
Welcome to Adult-hood Airlines, the faster, the better…
With a flick of destiny’s metaphysical wand, went in a puff of smoke, all our virtues and notions of attaining our goals the saintly way. Our generation works smarter, not necessarily harder. No one cares, not even mum who warned about keeping pugnacious company. She merely keeps her well-founded fears of the resultant effect of such deviation from the once accepted norm, in a stony orb hidden within the vestiges of her heart. Her prayer? That society doesn’t chastise her once law-abiding child, who has suddenly derailed for the lure of quick wealth that surpasses his dreams!
And dad? His little girl need not stay conservative anymore; after all, his “partner’s daughter” whose future had been supposedly maimed by the endless stigma of society is “successfully” married to fame and that is a firmer guarantee for wealth than remaining the chaste little female; he raised her to be.
SOCIETY, the greatest betrayer of them all, will forever exalt the end product, taking no heed to the means used to chart that course.
In the midst of this secrecy that shrouds our once honourable standards … standards which symbolised our virtues, our dreams and aspirations, Standards which were in tandem with our firm resolve to attain impressive heights using the most principled and fairest means … lies the comprehension that this “standard” has mysteriously disappeared!
However, a “missing” concept isn’t such a bad fate; it indicates that there’s a strong possibility of discovery.
So there you have it, ‘’NOSTALGIA’’ as stated earlier seeks to remind us of this standard that has suddenly gone M.I.A
…and as the search continues, I remain THE AMAZON and my amazing quill loves you. *winks*


8 comments on “THE MISSING STANDARD…?

  • Another nice one dear 🙂 If it counts for anything, these standards are still etched in d mindset, attitude and actions of a honourable few. I believe these ones would lead us to the promised land…All hope is not lost 😀

  • Someone is thinking. Someone is writing. Someone is making us reflect. That someone is called the Amazon. Uche has once again struck a chord. Nice piece yet again.

  • I saw this link on Demi’s Pm. Out of curiosity, I opened it. That was the best decision of the week for me. I read all the posts and pls Emmanuella, keep being our voice. U are on a great path.

  • An exotic display of wit as this, stimulates a host of eclectic feelings; so firstly, euphoric cadences. The nostalgic essay has been scribbled into existence, all too explicitly, and let it remain there in its intellectual unit so that we can dip into it at will, nourishing our very selves with the rare truth and reality. Oh yes! and in continuation, it is much a thing of vicarious pleasure to witness an independent mind break free from that very deceptive silence of suppressed voices, falsely displayed by the feminine part of humanity. The words, the phrase things inexhaustible as things overflows the feelings that inspired and produced them. The talk of history shaping itself, evoked by Emmanuella, arouses that new feeling that has eluded humanity for years, which is a new voice bristling with wisdom, of which I have a suggestion: ‘You better listen and take cues.’ Emmanuella Odum, a feminist of insight, that reawakens snoring memories of Sojourner Truth, Hariet Thubman, even Buchi Emecheta, and who also spin words nostalgic and paradoxical circles is indeed worthy of eulogistic commendations.

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