*EVERY FOUR YEARS*

You know they say, *absence makes the heart grow fonder*. So it means that *for your presence to be felt, you have to learn to be absent*. So you see pastors visiting church members who no longer attend crusades. You see customers calling customers and shouting: *long time, no see.*

So every 4yrs, comes a leap year. For whatever reason the year leaps every four years, we don't care. But we leap for a different reason every 4yrs.

*The world cup.* 32 nations poised for a bloodless battle. Each battalion fighting to defend the badge, the flag, the people.

You know it's just a game. But it is most times personal, don't be fooled by the handshakes, according to Playstation. Vendetta is sought, glories are at stake, fame and immortality is on the line. Bragging rights are most important for the fans. Expectations are high. A lot is at stake. Fans shouting and cheering their soldiers to victory. Displaying banners and banters. Chanting, cheering and jeering. Jubilant fans celebrating like salvation has been won and a new heaven created. Crying fans shedding tears, that sprung forth from a bleeding heart. Fans of different ages,even as below as 7yrs and even above 70yrs. Men don't cry slogan holds not in football. I have seen men cry. I saw the tears of Baggio in USA '94. Ronaldo de lima' s tears flowed like a stream in France '98. Oliver Khan was not to be consoled in 2002. Trezeguet wept in Germany 2006. In 2010, Arjen Robben fought without success to stop his tears. In 2014, Lionel Messi alone wept like the daughters of Jerusalem. So men cry every four years.

But the cries don't make it any less memorable. Infact, it makes it more nostalgic and more desirable. It bleeds the heart and makes it to grow fondest.

The world cup epitomizes patriotism. Soldiers praying for recruitment to fight for their nations. Battling Yo stay on the frontline. Politics divides us.

Religion divides us too. But football unites us. Ahmed Musa with football on his feet is absolved of ethnicity and religion. He becomes our Musa. Mikel Obi becomes our son.

It's One Nigeria. Together we fight the enemies. We support totally and without reserve.

*If football were to be a religion, everyone would worship together. Although Pastor Messi and Evangelist Ronaldo, would pull the biggest crowd of worshippers*

*Brother Suarez will be banned for biting brother Cheillini*

*Choirmaster Neymar will be renowned for his outstanding performances*

*Senior pastor Zlatan Ibrahimovic will be renowned for his ebullience and confidence*

*Judas may still be Karius with a pitiable concussion*

*MARADONA AND PELE WOULD STILL BE Gods, waiting for Messi/Ronaldo* to perfect the trinity

*I WILL TAKE MY SHOTS*

The decision to shoot is not always an easy one. First you decide to aim, then you decide to pull back the trigger, and then you decide to withstand the recoil.

But when you decide to load the gun, and place it onto the palms of a natural shooter, with you at a possible smoking end. Then you are taking a long shot.

That was exactly what I did, when I decided without coercion, to pay a visit to an eco-friendly, human-at-your-own-risk reserve.

The receptionists explained the risk of an unguarded terrain, and after consulting with my babe, I gave a lovely-informed consent: *I go shoot my shot*.

That was how we started a journey into a mangrove forest, with deadly animals lurking underneath a wooden pathway. Monkeys swaying and swerving in search of meal. Birds twittering and chirping away tunes of uncertainty. Pythons and cobras watching from distances. Of course the receptionist was clear on this one: *You may or may not see the python. But the python will see you*. I prayed the heavens to save me from this self-imposed trek with uncertainty and danger flanking me.

At each ripple generated in the dark waters, I incriminated the python and/or the crocodiles. A 15minute walk became a 40yrs exodus from the land of Egypt for me. The only difference was that why the Israelites ran from an unfriendly land to a promised land, I was freely moving opposite, towards a land flowing with snakes and crocodiles.

My assent to embark on the 401meters walk atop a canopy that peaked at 22.5ft above the ground, was a revelation that I was being piloted by some wicked village herbalists. Given that I might be 5% acrophobic, the decision to mount that swinging suspension was an enchanted one.

Every step on that unsteady suspension, sounded like a panic attack. The gait was unsteady, unstable. Every step was a misstep. Before we approached the second tower, I beckoned on my late grandfather to intercede on my behalf. He was a traditionalist before he came a Christian. So I believed his versatility on both divides, would make my case more appealing to whichever god that chooses to answer pronto.

But a sharp swing caused by a fellow tourist who mostly tripped, forced me into withdrawing my case from my grandfather. *I fight here, I die here*. But falling 22.5ft to your death, isn't exactly a good death. Especially given the fact, that a python might make a diving to (save) swallow you. So I changed my bravery slogan: *I fight here, I conquer here*.

The canopy walkway granted me the opportunity to touch the topmost part of a tree. It gave me a bird's eye view too, so I appreciated the view from the topmost. But denying me of strong winds to fly down, was like setting up the tortoise for a gravitational descent.

401meters and six towers, then we were down again. I blessed the heavens. Then through the jungle again and out.

*Nature is kind*, seemed to be the message being passed by the 95yrs old tortoise, calmly lying by the corner.

*You've got only one life to live.*

*take your shots*

You know you can visit Lekki Conservation Center later?

©BENCHUKISH