By David-Chyddy Eleke
If you want a more detailed meaning of the above headline, you can consult an Igbo man, but let me drop a clue by saying that – all men are truly born equal, but if you look deeply, all men are not equal. Some of course are more equal than others.
An experience I had today just reminded me of a recent encounter about a month ago in an event.
I drove into a hotel in Awka, Anambra State, and parked my jalopy of a car at the car lot. I walked under the scorching sun to the hall to attend an event which I had been invited to. I was sweating profusely. I wiped my face with my hanky as I walked into the quiet, cosy and well arranged hall where the event was holding. It was a small but classy event, and lots of big men were in the hall, and there was no definite seating arrangement, so I walked to a certain table and sat down.
I was already enjoying the very cold atmosphere that the AC in the hall provided, when a guy who sat close to me politely beckoned on me, saying that he had reserved the sit for a friend who was yet to arrive.
I replied too by telling him politely if he could let me sit until the person came, as I couldn’t stand, while an empty seat was being reserved for someone who was yet to arrive. The guy apologized to me and said I was right. We sat and gisted about the event until it was time for launching.
The MC announced that the chief launcher was a young and unassuming multi-millionaire who has made the young generation of persons proud. The name of the chief launcher was mentioned, and my friend stood up and walked to the podium. He spoke a little and donated an undisclosed amount of money.
He walked back to his sit and we shook hands and he sat down. Then the MC took the mic and announced that the chief launcher has made a donation of N10million, and had transfered the money immediately.
The entire hall was ecstatic with joy, and the truth was that I was awed. I took a second look at his shoes, then his dress. That was when I realised that we both wore same cloth and colour, same kind of simple slippers with different designs. We were even of same height, complexion and maybe age.
You needed to see the level of attention that was given to our table. Many big men came to our table to shake hands with us. Ushers concentrated on our table, serving us exotic wines and food. We were four on the table, I and the guy, and two other ladies. The general belief was that we were both multi-millionaires, and I confess that I loved the attention.
But come to think of it, how did I pass for a multi-millionaire? How could all those people have believed that sitting with this guy on the same table qualified me as a his fellow multi-millionaire?
Before the end of the event, we both stepped out, we shook hands again, and his driver beckoned to him, and he stepped into a Mercedes Benz AMG and off they went. I walked far away again, under the scorching sun to the car lot and entered my thoroughly beat up jalopy of a car, without AC and drove home, while sweating all afresh again. Who knows, if not for the poverty that is tormenting me, I would have just been a multi-millionaire, as I already looked like one, dressed like one, and already sitting on same table with one.
It is not for nothing that I try to wear my Christmas dress everyday. Indeed, nwoke na Ibeya ra but na onu.
