How Much Have You Changed?

On my way to CMS, the bus stopped briefly at Victoria Island—a bustling spot where passengers typically alight and board. I was lost in thought when I saw a familiar face at the bus stop: Anthony Monye. Startled, I called out to him. He responded warmly and asked me to get off the bus so we could reconnect. Intrigued, I decided to interrupt my journey.

To my surprise, years had barely altered Anthony’s appearance. His youthful looks defied his age, while my own had visibly changed—grey hairs and a protruding belly, which I often found myself unconsciously patting, perhaps like an expectant mother. As we exchanged pleasantries, Anthony observed my transformation and teased me gently.

Our conversation was filled with reflections and candid observations. Anthony reminded me of my importance in his life, explaining that he wouldn’t have bothered to engage if it hadn’t been me. His sudden reappearance felt surreal; he had been off the radar for years.

Anthony, ever the insightful thinker, suggested I pursue a career in writing. I was skeptical and dismissed the idea, replying that I might consider it only if it involved religious topics. His demeanor had evolved—his speech was more refined, his knowledge expansive, and his composure admirable. I recalled reading his articles back when he wrote for Business Day; his creativity then was as striking as his intellect now.

While his external appearance bore the inevitable marks of time and environment, the essence of Anthony remained unchanged. Ambition still drove him, and his determination to succeed was unmistakable.

We exchanged contacts and continued our discussions over the weeks that followed. Religion became a hot topic; Anthony had encountered diverse perspectives that reshaped his worldview. He was vocal about his disdain for what he called the “scams” of some religious leaders.

However, as abruptly as he had re-entered my life, Anthony disappeared again. My messages went unanswered. When I reached out to his brother, he speculated that Anthony might have traveled. It was baffling—after all, this was the same man who claimed I was significant to him. The situation felt like an unbalanced equation.

In those reflective moments, I wondered: how much do people really change? For instance, Yemi Emmanuel looks far better now than he did during our days at Ojota. Tokunbo, defying expectations, hasn’t joined the “Baba club,” and his youthful looks are enviable for someone his age.

Yet, outward appearances are merely surface-level. The real transformation lies within. The truly beautiful person is one whose inner being has undergone a profound overhaul—someone who has cast aside selfish ambition and greed, allowing love to guide their actions.

Love is a transformative force. It disarms enemies, draws the lost back to the right path, and possesses the power to change people. But true, selfless love is rare and divine. Look around—broken marriages, troubled children, and fractured relationships often point to its absence.

So, I ask again: how much have you changed? Do you love your spouse more deeply, or has your relationship become mechanical? Are you kinder with your words, or do you look down on those outside your social circle?

Everything we have comes from above, including the ability to love genuinely. True love requires sacrifice and often brings pain, but it also enriches life in ways nothing else can. Only a divine touch can empower us to love fully. This is the true and invaluable change.

Uwem Sampson