SIR: Life is full of packaging. We live in a world where appearances have become currency, and the shinier the wrapping, the more value we assign to it โ forgetting that the real worth lies inside, not outside.
That man with the charming smile, poetic campaign jingles, and sweet promises? Might also be the reason your road has been โunder constructionโ since Obasanjoโs first term โ and will probably still be a muddy swimming pool in your grandchildrenโs time. He will attend every church harvest, wear the same jersey as your football club, and dance with the market women when cameras are rolling, but the budget for that road has travelled more than you ever will.
That lady who looks like Proverbs 31 on Sunday? Could be running a private ministry of betrayal โ offering prayer points while sending midnight messages to your husband, and fasting for โyour marriageโ while feasting on the very man. She may even counsel you about โkeeping your homeโ while sheโs secretly rearranging the furniture of your peace.
That โHis Excellencyโ in agbada? Couldnโt fix a borehole in his own village but will cut ribbon for the same project ten times before the election โ with the national anthem playing in the background. The same anthem the villagers now sing with a mix of hope and sarcasm because they know the ribbon-cutting is just another campaign season costume drama.
That pastor with flawless English, miracle flyers, and shiny suit? Might be richer than his entire congregation combined โ not from selling Bibles, but from selling hope like sachet waterโฆ and yes, also โlaying handsโ on every single and married woman in the choir. His bank account is anointed, his investments are speaking in tongues, and the only demons heโs casting out are the ones threatening his luxury lifestyle.
That traditional ruler, dropping wise proverbs in public? Could be quietly selling ancestral land like itโs Black Friday โ complete with โBuy One, Get One Freeโ deals for developers. In the daytime, he is the custodian of culture; in the night, the custodian of property sales receipts.
That philanthropist on TV, sharing rice, wrappers, and smiles? Look closer โ he might just be laundering a battered reputation, positioning for political office, or clearing his warehouse before the expiry date makes the rice smell like regret. The cameras love him, the crowd chants his name, but the real beneficiaries are his political ambitions and storage space.
That teacher, always quoting moral lessons in the classroom? Could be the same one inflating marks for โgifts,โ humiliating poorer students, or preying on vulnerable ones under the cover of mentorship. His chalk may write wisdom, but his conduct writes warnings.
That professor, draped in academic robes and Latin phrases? Might be exchanging grades for favours, hoarding research funds, or intimidating students into silence while preaching โintegrityโ at convocations. The Latin phrases sound noble, but the reality smells like hypocrisy.
That business owner, boasting about customer service? Could be the same one who cheats suppliers, underpays staff, and adds โspiritualityโ to their brand while spiritually draining everyone around. They may pray before meetings but prey during negotiations.
That civil servant, buried under files and protocol? Might be deliberately delaying your documents until โsomething for the weekendโ appears under the table โ and yet, will complain the loudest about corruption in government.
That security officer at the checkpoint, all smiles and salutes? Could be the same one who waves through a truck of smuggled goods for a brown envelope, while making the poor trader unpack every grain of rice under the hot sun.
That journalist with a โfearlessโ reputation? Might be publishing the truth โ but only the truth that fits their sponsorโs pocket, killing inconvenient stories before they ever see daylight.
That NGO founder, armed with hashtags and photo ops? Could be collecting foreign grants meant for widows and orphans, while the actual widows still canโt afford soap and the orphans wear the same torn uniforms.
That bishop who preaches holiness and sexual purity on the pulpit? Could be the same one indulging in sexual exploitation and molestation of young girls who come for counselling and help โ turning the church office into a private den of abuse.
That imam or Muslim faithful who preaches peace and self-restraint? Might be the one inciting followers to violence while secretly sipping gin from kettles meant for ablution water โ drunk in public righteousness, intoxicated in private hypocrisy.
That young girl who swears undying loyalty to her partner? Might be sleeping with any man who gives her attention while maintaining regular contact with her ex โ calling it โjust friendshipโ with a side of selective memory.
That parent who constantly preaches family unity and love? Might be the same one who shows open preference for the wealthy or well-to-do child, while ignoring or mocking the struggling ones โ making inheritance a function of bank account, not birthright.
We fall for the shine because itโs easier. The applause. The Instagram moments. The โwowโ factor. We live for the filters, the hashtags, the carefully curated image. But when the glitter falls, youโre left with the glue โ and glue tastes terrible. It sticks, stains, and reminds you that you paid for packaging, not product.
Real beauty? Itโs not in the polish. Itโs in integrity that survives temptation, loyalty when no oneโs watching, and love that doesnโt need a press release or a photoshoot. Real character is quiet โ but its results speak louder than the loudest self-promotion.
So before you buy into the sparkle, pause. Ask yourself: If I peel back the wrapping, will I like whatโs inside? If the applause stops, if the cameras leave, if the titles fade โ will the person still shine?
Because nothing cuts deeper than realising youโve been clapping for a performance, not a person โ and the โstarโ was just acting all along. And the worst part? You bought the ticket, cheered through the show, and only realised at the end that the script was a lie.
In this world of mirrors and masks, choose discernment over admiration. Donโt lose your soul chasing shadows. Be slow to clap. Be slower to follow. And before you fall for charisma, check for character. Because when the applause ends and the lights go off โ what remains is either the truthโฆ or your regret.
Credit:The Guardian