DOWNLOAD MP3: Kayode – Okay X4. The cracked phone screen swam with colors, mirroring the dizzying swirl in Teniola’s head. The beat throbbed from her cheap earbuds, Kayode singing, “Okay, okay, okay, okay,” a mantra against the chaos of her life. This was her escape, her five minutes of sanity squeezed between a dead-end job scrubbing toilets at the shopping mall and the constant pressure of her family back home.
Teniola was supposed to be a doctor, not a cleaner. She’d dreamt of it since she was a little girl, poring over her mother’s old textbooks. But life had a way of twisting dreams into knots. Her father’s sudden illness, the mounting hospital bills, the unspoken expectation that she would shoulder the burden… it had all led her to this, a world away from textbooks and stethoscopes, her hands raw and smelling of bleach.
The song ended, and the jarring chime of her phone shattered the illusion. Another WhatsApp message from her mother. “Teniola, did you send the money yet? The landlord is threatening to evict us.” Teniola sighed, the weight of responsibility settling heavily on her chest.
She looked around the dimly lit break room, a tiny sanctuary carved out of the mall’s bustling energy. The fluorescent lights hummed, a constant reminder that she was just another cog in the machine.
That evening, Teniola trudged home, the “Okay, okay, okay, okay” looping in her head. The rhythmic repetition was both comforting and mocking. Was everything really “okay”? Her dreams felt further away than ever.
She opened the door to her small, cramped apartment, the air thick with the smell of stew her neighbor was cooking. She forced a smile, plastering it on her face like a desperate mask. She had to be okay, for her family, for herself.
Later that night, after sending the last of her paycheck home, Teniola stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror. Her eyes were tired, the sparkle dimmed. She picked up an old textbook, Anatomy and Physiology, its pages dog-eared and worn.
She opened it, tracing the diagrams with her finger, remembering the thrill of learning, the ambition that burned bright. Then, she saw a small, folded piece of paper tucked inside. It was a note from her father, written before he got sick.
“Teniola,” it read, “never let life steal your dreams. No matter what happens, remember the fire inside you. Always strive for what you want.”
Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the words. A new kind of determination began to simmer within her. She couldn’t give up. Not now.
The next day, Teniola went to work as usual, the Kayode song echoing in her head. But this time, it sounded different. It wasn’t just a mantra of acceptance but a declaration.
She cleaned the toilets with renewed vigor, her mind racing with possibilities. She would save every penny, find a way to take night classes, and maybe even volunteer at a local clinic. It wouldn’t be easy, but she wouldn’t let her circumstances define her.
As she scrubbed, she hummed the song under her breath, not as a resignation, but as a promise. “Okay, okay, okay, okay,” she sang, each word a step towards a future where “okay” meant more than just surviving. It meant thriving. It meant becoming the doctor she was always meant to be.
The journey would be long and arduous, but Teniola knew, deep down, that she had the strength to make it. She had the fire her father spoke of, and the rhythmic beat of Kayode’s song reminded her, Okay, she could do this. Okay, she would.
Listen and enjoy Kayode – Okay X4 below!
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