My Musibau Bag: The Bag That Carried It All

It’s been four years since I landed in Canada. I arrived with three bags: a carry-on luggage, a black and white striped Ghana-Must-Go bag containing foodstuff, and a large black ‘Musibau’ bag that had everything else. Of them all, Musibau was my favourite.

There was nothing fancy or unique about Musibau; it was just a plain, large black duffle I had bought inside the Eko market from an averagely tall middle-aged man for whom the bag was named. Musibau, the man, was popular in every travel group as the vendor of choice. His name and number floated around, so it wasn’t a surprise when everyone started to refer to the bag as the Musibau bag. I quickly found out why he was so popular when I met him at the market. His shop, tiny and located in an obscure part of the market, was impossible to find; constant phone communication and meeting halfway was the only way to locate him. He was kind and treated me better than most vendors I have met.

But this is about Musibau, the bag, not the man.

The Musibau bag, although unimpressive looking, has a lightness that could easily be mistaken for weakness, but it is sturdy and dependable. It took almost all my belongings with space for more, except for the airline’s weight restrictions.

I left my home, bags in hand, face fresh, blemish-free, having finally won the years of war against acne. I was determined to make a fresh start and build a new home, away from the prying eyes of the nosy neighbours and the questions of the sometimes ‘well-meaning’ church aunties and uncles. I had it all planned out; I would be me, but new, the kind of newness of fresh laundry.

Within a month, I had gotten a job. It was remote, just like I wanted, having been spoilt by the remote work culture of COVID-19.

Everything was going as planned. All I needed now was to somehow trick my ambivert brain into going out more and meeting new people.

Then acne returned, but this time with a ruthless vengeance. By my third month in Canada, no spot on my face was spared from the big and painful acne that was strange to me and defied every solution I knew. It was bad, to the point of depressing, and if I wasn’t so sad, the failed attempt of my friends and family to cover their shock and sympathy would have been funny.

So, I ran to the dermatologist, who took a quick glance at me and gave me a six-month prescription for a medication that he claimed would help my severe acne. He then handed me two papers: one listed possible side effects (front and back🤭), and the other was a requisition for monthly blood tests to check pregnancy and liver function.

Pregnancy was not a concern for a single Christian lady, but liver? My one liver? The acne was bad, but not ‘gamble with my liver’ bad.

I already had years of deep-rooted distrust of doctors and a habit of researching every prescription, and this ‘alakoba’ dermatologist did himself no favours. So, I thanked him and left with my precious liver intact.

Everything was not going as planned. I could barely put my face on a pillow without feeling pain. Nothing I knew or researched worked. Leaving the house was the last thing on my mind.

Then, one Sunday, in the middle of a boring pity party and listening to worship songs, it finally crossed my mind to pray. I didn’t pray a serious prayer, just a short conversation with God from my bed. And as if he had been waiting for me to turn to him, I felt him tell me to stop all treatment and simply wash and moisturize my face for a while. So, I did, and everything changed. No, my face didn’t clear up immediately; in fact, the journey ahead was long (so long that I’m still on it), but there was a new sense of peace, direction, and a liver that was still intact.

With the acne that defied everything I knew at the time, God taught me that he could take all my burdens. Like my unimpressive but sturdy musibau bag took the things I packed for a new life, God can take all my burdens with space for more. And unlike the airline rules that limited my musibau bag, He has no baggage limit. His yoke is easy, His burden is light, and He is willing to take every burden that I bring to him and even give me rest.

Matthew 11:28-30 says:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

So, when doctors could not figure out why I was bleeding, I brought the burden to him. When I resigned to take a new job offer, only to lose it in 2 months and be jobless for 10 months, I wailed at his feet and gave him that burden, too. Through the storms, too private to share, he took those burdens too and replaced my fear with peace that didn’t make sense.

And then the bleeding stopped. I got a better job than the one I lost. Scary storms were silenced. And as new storms roared, God says he still has room for more.

So, what do you do with your burdens?

If you are not already taking them to Him, I hope you consider it. What better deal is there?

Unlimited burden in exchange for unlimited rest.

With Love,

Tee