A Quiet Symphony at the Ministry
It happened quietly – no fanfare, no anthem, no special ceremony. Just a regular day at the Ministry of Education, in one of those inner office receptions with beige walls and rotating visitors. I was seated in the waiting room, among strangers, each of us there for different reasons. None of us knew each other. We shared only the air, the ticking wall clock, and the silence - at least for a while. Then slowly, the room transformed into something extraordinary. To my left were three Indians, seated closely and conversing in rapid Hindi. The language danced in the air, fast-paced, musical, instantly throwing me back to those Bollywood films we devoured growing up. Their speech, though not loud, was animated, a soft flurry of syllables that seemed to color the room. Opposite me sat a man dressed in a crisp green native attire, topped with one of those Hausa-Muslim caps that seem to transcend tribes. At first glance, he could’ve passed for a Yoruba elder. But then his phone ran...