30: Atlas did not shrug

As we all watched in disbelief, Barack Obama wrestled victory from a nation with a long history of delayed promises to black people. But win he did.

Before now, it was common place to hear people say he could never win, he was too ambitious, he was inexperienced etc. Obama himself harbored the unshakeable belief that Hope made not ashamed and he roused the nation behind him. He won because Atlas did not shrug, what does that mean?

The mythical story is told of Atlas, one of the strongest men alive in ancient Greece that was condemned to carry the world on his shoulder as punishment by the ‘gods’. Ayn Rand, the atheistic philosopher wrote a book with the title ‘Atlas Shrugged’ which played up the possibility of Atlas choosing to shrug, to refuse to play his part in the preservation of the world out of selfish interest. When Atlas shrugged, he would be pursuing self interest over the interest of the community. If he stayed the course, then the world had hope of survival.

In America yesterday, Atlas did not shrug. White, black, Latino and everybody else in between chose the common interest over self interest. They effectively pitched their tent behind a vision that compelled joint effort and shared destiny over their petty issues.

When people questioned me (and indeed many others too) for my rabid interest in the American election, with the sniggering comment “how does it affect us in Nigeria?”, I acknowledge their feeling of futility. Why get worked up over the success of another country and not mind your own?

The truth stands that for the inspiration value alone, it was worth supporting Obama from the NEPA-less streets of Ogba, Lagos. For within this campaign I see that our only hope is in the power of a nation of ‘Atlases’ who refuse to shrug.

Until we can shake off passivity and believe beyond a doubt that our efforts count, we may continue going round in circles. I look forward to the day when we no longer look at ourselves from the prism of ethnic groups but from the real bread and butter issues. Stomachs that rumble with hunger do not have Ibo, Hausa, Yoruba, Itsekiri, Ijaw or Fulani written on them. When a man is too hard up to send his children to a good school, he rarely cares if his President is from his own tribe.

The turning point for Obama came just at the time the economy went burst in the U.S. It suddenly became clear what unites all people is their economic state and fears. Without a doubt, I believe that our salvation may only come when we have politicians who in the same breadth demand for the rights of the oil producing areas to enjoy the economic benefits of their oil and also for the impoverished people of downtown Maiduguri to have qualitative health care delivered to them.

Let us not despair, for in recent years I have seen and heard of such men and women arise from different parts of the country. It may take a little while but we must not relent…there is hope in our future.

I celebrate Barack Obama, the American people and the millions of us that their selfless acts have inspired in the last few months. And for Nigeria…..Atlas must not shrug!

Volume 29: The Dam Will Soon Collapse

The day dawned with the eerie quiet of a desolate field. A little wind blew this way and that, confident but lacking force. The distant dam was stretched beyond capacity and so it had been for upwards of 5 years straight. Turbines imported from Thailand were the culprit. Third rate they were, pawned off an abandoned dam in the confusion that was Post-Yeltsin’s Russia.

As that country faced an economic meltdown, its nuclear reactors, missiles, turbines, jeeps and AK47’s trickled into the hands of despots and shady businessmen worldwide. A large number turned up in Thailand, pawn capital of the modern world.

Lest I digress, the dam will soon collapse. Even the bolts that held the worn out turbines were rusty and brittle. The relentless surge of the Shilenka River had taken its toll. Who would bell the cat? Surely not Ike Nzenwa. What good would that do? This was the last year before he retired from his job as the dams’ resident engineer and he wasn’t looking to rock the boat now, definitely not now!

Though he sometimes had nightmares of the dam collapsing and Shilenka River sweeping his family away, he could only do what seemed reasonable: he sent his family to his country home, faraway from the Dam.

He would wait it out, confident that God would not let his career end with the scandal of a burst dam on his watch. He had typed a report on his assessment of the strength of the dam but would not file it with the Ministry of Works till he sent in his letter of retirement.

Shilenka River snaked a mighty course, bearing water that ran at such velocity that the state government had found it easy to secure a loan from the World Bank to harness it for power generation. Tunde Magbesheranwan had won the contract through his company Flaky Engineering. How? Favor from above. He had hopped on a plane to Thailand to source the major materials to build the dam. He found many good deals; his profit margin was truly impressive. He built the dam in record time though with faulty materials. At least, everyone that needed to be ‘settled’ had been settled.

Lest I digress, the dam will soon collapse. The residents of Crambani settlement were oblivious to the danger. When the dam burst, they would be directly in the flow of the Shilenka River. On a cool night two years ago, the residents stayed indoors as a youth corper was dragged screaming into the night by the local masquerade, screaming for mercy. In the dead of night, no one would leave the safety of their homes to come to her rescue.

Even when the Federal government sent in a team to investigate the case of the missing corper, no one in the town recalled seeing or hearing anything unusual. They looked at each other and exchanged knowing looks. But no one said anything. Slowly but surely, crime began to leap in quantum leaps in Crambani. No one had the moral courage to point out wrongs anymore. Kids became insolent with their parents. Something had snapped in Crambani. They had institutionalized a guilty conscience.

Lest I digress, the dam will soon collapse…

28: Swagger

The confident stride melts into the dramatic twist, a pause before you say the next few words, a dramatic little spin on your heels: these are all telltale signs of the phenomenon called “Swagger”.
Have you ever noticed how great performers are so at ease when delivering the masterpieces called their work? Consider how Fela Anikulapo Kuti would start a song with 30 minutes of instrumentals before even uttering a single word! When he would finally start singing, he was never hurried in his delivery, he could say the same thing seven times without a care if you liked what he was saying or not.

Consider Bob Marley, there was always something so unhurried in the way he sang his songs, his confidence in the fact that the audience would wait for him sometimes bothered on arrogance.
Consider Michael Jackson and the way he walked up to a stage to perform and would have so many dramatic pauses as he built up the expectation of his audience before feeding them with what they came for: an out of this world performance.

All these guys have/had what I describe as swagger. But before I deepen my explanation of its relevance, let us consider non-musical examples. When Bill Clinton mounted a stage to speak, he did so with an assurance that he would convert the audience to his way of thinking not only by sheer powerful reason but by the little dramatic things he would do: rub his big nose, stroke his hair back, cup his hands in an oval and stand with his feet apart in a solid position/posture.
Or consider Adolf Hitler giving a speech, he was quite a study in swagger! He would start with his voice low then dramatically raise it, swinging his face this way and that, jut out his jaw, jab the air with his finger and generally just drive his people to ecstasy watching him bring their pride in the Aryan race to life….yuk!

Hate him if you would but Hitler knew something about this phenomenon I call swagger. Why is it that other men with purer motives cannot even get their dogs to sit still and listen to them? Why do more intelligent, warm and kind people fail to develop a following to their cause? Why do musicians who sing clean songs not have as strong a following as Eminem, Bone Thugs & Harmony and Amy Winehouse (the confirmed drug Rehab poster girl)? What do these people have that makes them more attractive to crowds of people that the clean and good people lack?
The answer is SWAGGER. I wouldn’t want to lose the fine essence of swagger by quoting its dictionary definition. I would rather give what is called an operational definition in psychology: a definition given as related to the particular topic at hand.

Swagger is doing what you do with ATTITUDE, going about your things with the cocky belief that you “should” be listened to. It is a confidence that says “hey I’m not to be ignored”. It is the fruit of an elevated sense of self. This is not necessarily a bad thing. The only bad thing may be what is driving that sense of self. For many entertainers and politicians it could be pride, drugs or hubris. For many other professionals in other fields, it is a sense of mastery of their craft that gives them swagger.

This really is the differentiating factor. Many people spend little time developing the mastery of delivery of their expertise. It is possible to have a strong case but if you have not built the ability to deliver it with attitude, with panache, with swagger then many times your pitch would be so ineffective.

For a lot of people it seems obscene to even contemplate refining their ability to deliver anything, to them it seems like something sacrilegious! Truth be told every great song, presentation, sales pitch, sermon, interview etc had first been played out in the mind of the performer.

They had travelled the road before hand and knew the curves, valleys and hills of their project. Hence their mastery, hence the attitude they could command, hence their swagger.

I daresay that anything you do without employing swagger (as defined) will not be as impactful as It could be if you had employed swagger as a willing accomplice. It puts just that little extra that takes your work from good to great.
I’m opening a School of Advanced Swagger Studies….want to register? :-)

27: The Page and The Book

The pages turn, leaf to leaf they rustle. Fine prints, small fonts, recycled paper, double space, and indented paragraphs: they constitute the citizens of a page. The parchments of old were rolled as one page while modern books are an aggregation of several pages.

Can one page in a book determine the total value of the book? Can the single page turn a new book to a bestseller? Can the contents of a page take a book from literary project to treasonable material? In the days of old the Bible was burned whole, not the pages that the reigning tyrant objected to but the whole book. These questions strike at the heart of the struggle between a man and his mission.

If we liken man to a page and his/her mission to a book then the struggle becomes clearer. A sense of mission and assignment endues many a mortal soul. You live with a sense that you are on earth to do something great…you know that yours is not a life of mere existence but should be one of intentional impact.

Then rises the dilemma when success follows your sense of mission, when the tide has turned in your favor and the justice of your cause becomes clear to all, what happens next? Is it a time for gloating; is it a time to be sunbathed by the praises of the multitude? Or should it be a time when you point the attention away from yourself and to the mission? Which is greater? The man or the mission?

This drama has played itself out throughout history: Achilles after storming the beaches of Troy, Julius Caesar on his return from winning the battles of Gaul, Jesus after feeding the multitude, Churchill when he was finally elected Prime Minister and Tunde Bakare when Obasanjo began to show his true character.

These were decisive times for all these people. They had bested the naysayers, those who said their calculations were risky, those who said they couldn’t deliver on their promises. They leaped forward, some with fear and some with confidence yet they all acted with courage because they could not see beyond their noses at that moment and had to trust their instincts. They knew they were born for the mission and acted with faith in the mission. Their courage paid off.

But this is when the true test comes…for Achilles he became filled with pride and turned the national battle to a fight to immortalize his name. Needless to say many lives were lost for the folly of his ways. For Churchill he graciously embraced those who had called him a warmonger when he clearly saw that Hitler was not a man to be pacified. His action united his nation behind him in the long and bloody battles for the soul of Europe and indeed the world.

But these were all men in the limelight, quite unlike the majority of us. We are not exempt from this dilemma. Those who are blessed with knowledge and jealously withhold its sharing graciously fail like Achilles. The worker who attains distinction at work and is suddenly elevated by the ‘powers that be’ but fails to use his/her new pedestal to plead the case of the not so gifted fails like Achilles.

She considers her elevation an endorsement of herself alone but fails to see it as a gifting that must be used to better the less gifted. Personal accomplishment is a poorly written page when compared to the bestseller that corporate success can become.

Again I ask which is greater, the Man or the Mission? the page or the book?

I beg to plead the case for the mission and the book. For without them, the man and the page would have no context for relevance. In all your posturing, never forget your mission and the strength you ought to show to preserve it above your own glorification.

Don’t be in a hurry to tear out the page from the book, the book would likely lose its total meaning. Its not about you, it’s about the mission. Never forget it.

26: Gasping for breath

Air is everywhere and everywhere is air. Fire and Water consists of air. You cannot escape from air except you desire nothingness, except you desire to cease to exist. Air has several components – oxygen, carbon monoxide and other gases in the atmosphere.

It is everywhere yet is not easily perceived because it cannot really be touched, held down or described to the blind. Yet the power of the air is almost God-like. From it, we glean the idea of the ‘breath of life’. Once taken away, all life ends.

The interesting thing is that you cannot take your own life by stopping yourself from breathing. The tension that would be created would force you to take a breath and thus suicide is prevented. No wonder those who commit suicide depend on other instruments to deny them of air…for their own bodies would not co-operate with such an alien concept as suicide.

I see the characteristics of air in the concept of relationships. Relationships fuel the locomotion of existence and support all life. Whether we admit it or not, we were designed for relationships. It is against the very constitution of our being to seek permanent exclusion from relationships with others. Some of the first signs of psychopathology is the excessive desire to stand aloof from all relationships.

Every good relationship is built on acknowledging our need to relate. When you believe that it is natural to desire to relate with others, something unique happens. You enter the circle of a privileged few. Why a privileged few? Simple, many people believe they are doing others a favor when they relate with them.




This thought drives them to play hard to get, to be rude, to leave things unsaid that should be said, to say things that ought to remain thoughts. They trivialize something that is so precious yet so widely misunderstood: the need for relationships.

Do you find yourself hissing when you see the Caller ID on your phone showing the name of someone you think you don’t need? Do you have a pile of mails, e-mails and text messages you haven’t replied to? I do admit some people are just a drain on your time and energy but that isn’t the point. This discussion is about you and not them.

Those two questions may just represent the ‘tongue test’ for your understanding of relationships. They capture how committed you are to keeping a conversation going. When you refuse to reply or initiate a question, you stall the building of relationships. You are practically sucking the air out of a living organism for every discussion is a living organism.

I once read the story of someone that changed his mind from committing suicide because a ‘celebrity’ replied a mail he had written to her. On a lighter note I remember a song by Eminem (the very definition of weird) called ‘Stan’ in which a fan of his called Stan kept writing him mails which he just never got around to reading.

Within the letters, Stan told Eminem about the ways he tried to be as weird as Eminem: mistreating his girlfriend, swearing at his mother etc. When finally Eminem replied, he tried counseling Stan on the folly of following his songs hook, line and sinker but alas it was too late, Stan had killed his girlfriend and had also killed himself ( I think that’s what happened, I can’t remember it all J ).

If only Eminem had replied earlier maybe two lives would have been saved. Though fictional, the song is heavy in its implications on the need for maintaining strong relationships.


The real reason many people don’t pay as much attention to relationships is that it’s a lot of work. Some people are born with this understanding instinctively wired into them. For many others like you and I, we have to build a desire for relationships like muscles, one sinew at a time.

Are you feeling constipated by all you have to share but have no one to share with? Do you feel overwhelmed by the challenges you are facing alone? Are you drowning in self-pity or false pride? When will you admit that you cannot hold your own breath and watch yourself die? Embrace God’s plan for humanity.

We are born to relate, stop gasping for breath.

25: Good Thoughts

Good thoughts, think good thoughts…, think...music, comedies, food...yes! food always works,...well, in theory. Gosh, not everything you read on the Internet is truth; I remember reading somewhere about occupying your mind with pleasant thoughts to overcome fear and what better time or place to test that theory than now, pushing my bicycle down Hilton walk at 2am.
Yes! , Ibidun, there she is, standing just beside the goods entrance to the hotel, good thing she closed on time today, we may get home a bit earlier and get more sleep today.
“My knight and his steed approach..” she announces to her colleagues,.
And in my head, I quickly count the cost of a sarcastic reply, no..”She who holds power o’er the Kitchen key”…no, just smile, I conclude.
We walk together down the pride park of southern Forth Valley, well, a pride in the day and hidden shame at night, where things we shouldn’t speak about happen every night, and yes, even tonight. Looks like we have a younger group living out their curiosities with alcohol and drugs, and more girls with them tonight,… boy, my little girl would be asleep now,..God keep her safe always.
“Hey you! You gotta light?”, a guy, 18 or 19 at most, coming up behind says, just when I have finally gotten my good thoughts flowing.
I walk on with Ibidun, completely ignoring this man with no manners. “You deaf or what, do you have a light?”…I turn my head without stopping, giving him my “Terminator” look…and then he whistles at us.
Whatever, whoever Shakespeare had in mind when he said “Frailty, thy name is woman!”, he obviously had never met anyone like Ibidun.
She stopped, and I knew from the look on her face, if I were to measure the anger she felt within on a scale of 1 to 10, it would be a 15.
I thought he was just drunk before, now I know he was drunk and stupid,.. you don’t whistle at Ibidun. He asked for a light but he was about to get a fire, “Look, we don’t have a light, ok?!” I said, trying to act quickly and steal Ibidun’s opportunity to give it to him.
“Well, you gotta have something I need then, you see..”, he said. One, he’s just one person, easy for me to deal with if it gets to…“Bud! Them funny people giving you some trouble eh?”..one of the girls drinking with this unruly man said to him, as his gang, all looking about 18 to 20 year old, walked towards us. Just perfect, emm, God, could you spare a moment and give me a hand here…
And Oh no, now it’s a macho thing, he has to look good for the girls and his gang. We stand and face them squarely, me, Ibidun and my bicycle,… you don’t want your back to these bunch.
“Me and my pals want to go for another drink at the pub, and we are sort of low on cash, you want to help us out there?, you could come along with us if you like.”..He says to us like we’re his bankers, even his bankers wouldn’t …..
And then I remembered the verse..”I.b..”..I said as I passed my bicycle to Ibidun and walked close to him.
“Kingsley, no..just leave ‘em”..Ibidun said.
“Don’t worry..” ..I responded thinking to myself, she thinks I’m going to fight them, me? Fight? No way! Am I crazy?!
“We’re going this way, and you, are going that way..we have nothing for you and we don’t want any trouble…”…I said, because someone needed to lead this situation, and give the final orders, and it’s surely wasn’t going to be them.
“what?...we’re going that way?..we wanna go with you, cant you see we’re friendly people and just wanna be nice?”..Bud said, well, guessing his name was Bud, that what’s the girl called him anyway and hold on a second, is he coming closer towards me or my eyes are just being tired and ….
“what the ****..I can’t believe he just said that to us,..like we’re his kids or something,…Bud, we’re just going to leave you with your new friends, this is so rubbish,..”..the same girl said again,..not exactly helping the situation at all..
Don’t step back, just don’t move an inch, I’m telling myself,..not fear, but power and a sound mind, that’s what I got, even though Bud’s so close now, I’m not stepping back.
More and more young people in Southern Forth Valley are victims of knife attacks, and gang fights. No knives or sharp objects, that’s the government’s new stand, but its not going to be easy with decadence already eaten deep, masked poverty, poor parenting, etc.
Back to Bud and me, before I could stop her from acting, Ibidun’s already by my side and I need to include this, ... Ibidun is a Lawyer, from the University of Ibadan, Cum laude and Queen Mary’s London with distinguished Honours, but I think what makes her the best is her voice, her accent, her eyes and their piercing search through your lies, and how she can communicate clearly even when upset...
“I have called the police and they will be here in 2 minutes, I advise you do what is best for you and that you do it now”…Superwoman Ibidun says.
“Bud, I don’t want no police trouble now, I already got 2 cautions and my mom’s not going to bail me out this time..”..one of the guys says and there are some other murmuring going on behind him, and I’m grateful it’s working out this way.
In a group they leave and Bud gives us the finger as he turns but that’s okay, they still lose.
“Thank you I.b, and thank God too it didn’t turn to something else o, me wey neva chop since today…wait o, I.b, when did you make the call to the police and which phone did you use?. I thought your phone batteries were dead?”.. I asked Ibidun as we walked home safely…
She just smiled…and I know that evil smile, ….lawyers! lawyers!! wetin dem dey do sef?!


“You ask a young person why he wears a hooded top and if he knew it scared people a bit, and he says,..that’s good, because that’s what he wants. People carry guns and knives because they feel threatened, and if we must change this, then we need to make our communities safer”
Liam Hannan, the Youth Parliament, U.K
http://www.ukyouthparliament.org.uk/forums/showthread.php?t=18

The Sting of Terror

On the 1st of April 2004, I was awakened from sleep by my aunty who played an April fool’s day joke on me, I fell for it and we had quite a good laugh.

Later on at night, precisely 9:50 pm, I was reclining in the comfortable arms of the living room couch when I saw my aunt walk past the living room door with both her hands placed on her chest and the look on her face was like that of someone who had just seen a ghost. I paid little heed to her and turned my attention back to the telly.

From the corner of my eye I then saw someone walk into the living room and I turned to see who it was. To my surprise it was a total stranger who was walking purposefully toward me, he had one hand placed behind him and he had the other hand close to his mouth with the index finger held across his lips, in that way motioning for me to be quiet! I was suddenly furious at this young man who had just walked into my house at this late hour and was demanding me to be quiet, the look of anger must have been evident on my face, for he then brought out the other hand from behind his back and it was only then I realised that he had a gun!

My voice died down within me and my senses went into neutral, prior to my sighting the gun, I had engaged my vocal chords in uttering some words of anger. But on sighting the gun, the only word that escaped my lips was, Jesus!

My attention then shifted to a family friend who was putting up with us, she was sitting across the room from me and was on the phone with her fiancé, I tried to catch her eye but she was lost in love world as she cuddled the receiver in her hand while talking with her fiancé.

This intruder (an armed robber obviously), walked up to her, gently took the receiver from her hand and yanked it off the phone box, it was at this point I assume, that she made a return to earth. While I was watching that scene, another assailant had walked in and was suddenly standing next to me. He held a shot gun to my face and told me in my native language (Yoruba), “See (thrusting the gun in my face), I will KILL you!!!.

From the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes, I had no cause to doubt this threat. But amazingly, my heart did not skip a beat nor did it beat double, I was simply calm, then he told me to lie down on the floor, which I did as manly as I could, without appearing cowardly, while also being careful not to provoke him into thinking that I was trying to resist “robbery”.

He searched my pockets, while yet another assailant came into the living room with the house helps who had been in the other living room ( I later learnt that the robbers were about eight in number, some were keeping guard downstairs ), we were all told to lie down facing the floor. Subsequently we were relocated from the living room to the master bedroom where we joined my aunty and my cousins. We were made to lie down facing the floor. While my aunty was being harassed to bring out all the money she had and other valuables

I had never spared a thought to think that I would one day find myself lying face down on the floor with the house maid lying down right next to me, so it happened on this day. In fact we were practically glued together, breathing in the same air. She was in great panic, and she kept asking me, “what are we going to do now, what are……..” to which I simply replied in a low but firm voice, “KEEP QUIET!”, and amazingly she kept quite after that.

They searched the house and took jewelries, mobile phones and a large amount of money. After which we were all herded into the food store. And this was a paradox of life for me, nine of us living in a large six bedroom apartment with two large living rooms, now being packed like sardine into a 4 x 4 foot sized store room! And we all fitted in quite well too except that there was no space left to take in even a rat.

I had to climb in through the ceiling and came out in the kitchen to set us all free. So did the ordeal end, of which we were all grateful that no one was hurt.

However all this was little compared to the actual sting of terror I experienced 4 days later when the luxury bus I was traveling in, ran into an ambush laid by armed robbers and we were greeted with a hail of bullets! Well, that story will come up another day, if you guys would like to hear it. Bye….

Picking Napoleon’s Gloves

The horse snorted and feigned tiredness but Napoleon egged her on. The battle had been long and weary but ride they must, if they would reach the safe point before dusk then ride they must.

As they rode, Napoleon suddenly stopped the horse and dropped his pair of gloves in a deliberate manner. The whole infantry stopped in its tracks. Napoleon’s Chief of Staff came down from his horse and picked the pair of gloves and handed them back to Napoleon. Murmurings stirred through the ranks as men pondered what they had just witnessed. An order was given and the march resumed until they reached the safe point.

The next morning Napoleon called his Chief of Staff and told him to drop their heavy cannons on the spot he had dropped his gloves the day before. “I have done so already sir” was the Chief of Staff’s reply. On hearing this, Napoleon was so pleased, he promptly promoted him for anticipating his command.

This is a slightly embellished true story J but the kernel of truth under girding the story remains relevant. The ability to read the mind of significant others is something that is very rare. It takes a certain level of detachment from our own issues to do it successfully.

It comes from an unselfish heart and attentive eyes/ears. If you don’t take the time to find out what someone likes (your boss, your friend, your wife, your God) you will find out that you will do things for them that they either don’t appreciate or barely notice. The ‘Wow effect’ comes from doing things that strike at the unspoken desires of people.

They want to have something but can’t say it, they want to do something but don’t have the means, and they need to go somewhere but can’t go there themselves. These and many of such situations provide the circumstances for you to ‘pick Napoleons gloves’. The kind of WoW! You will receive tends to lift the spirit more than money can ever do.

The act in itself becomes a memorial to devotion and friendship that can speak for you in future. I recall once observing my then boss go through a short financial dry patch. A millionaire without a doubt was suddenly in need of a few thousand naira to go and do a studio recording! At the time I had the good fortune of receiving payment for a debt owed me. I got to work the next day and gave my boss the money he needed to go to the studio.

He was shell-shocked! To me it was no-biggie but to him it was as if I had voted for his dreams to come true. He took the money and prayed some prayers that ‘change destiny’(as my mum would say) into my life. Without a doubt, those were not empty words for they were backed with all the gratitude and singularity of purpose that has made this man I speak of a worldwide success.

Herein lies the thrust of this message: that the act means so much to the receiver but may not really matter to the giver. This is what separates the boys from the men because many people only love to do what brings them pleasure. If they don’t like going fishing for example, they won’t give you a fishing trip even though that’s what you want.

It takes an unselfish heart to bring pleasure to others when the act may not necessarily bring you pleasure. Like everything in life, unselfishness can be learned. It doesn’t come easy because its not natural to be unselfish.

It’s a muscle that can be built when exercised over time but has its own rewards. In my case I not only got a prayer, I got a raise! Now you know what to do to get your next promotion, hit the ground runningJ!