Love the one you’re with

2006
It was the eve of his wedding. She had been ignoring his calls. After the 12th ring she was fed up. With annoyance, she picked his call and all but shouted. “What is it?” “Please” he slurred, “just say it. Give the word and I’d call the whole thing off. I love you and want to be with you. You, not her!” She rolled her eyes although she knew he couldn’t see and spoke with a sigh. “You are probably drunk mister, your big day is tomorrow, you should rest.” With that she disconnected the call, threw her phone away and cried herself to sleep.
He got married the next day, relocated and went to pay her a surprise visit 4months later in his old town.

2007
He uncurled her legs from around his waist and went to the bathroom to answer his call. This was unusual. She thought to herself maybe it is from the office. Throwing on his shirt and barely pulling on her panties, she picked up the half eaten can of cheeseballs and snuck into the bathroom. She was going to jump on his gorgeous naked back and give him the fright of his life.
“Baby, I said I don’t want to talk about it. You are not pregnant. We’d see later and we will discuss.”
She blinked; a chill took root in the pit of her stomach and worked its way up her spine. Did she just hear him call someone that was not her baby? The can of cheeseballs slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor. She stormed out of the bathroom tore off his shirt and shrugged into her clothes. She grabbed her bag, bundled out of the apartment and started walking away, not knowing where she was going but sure she wanted to be anywhere but here. She got to the street junction, saw a two-way signpost and realized her vision was blurred. She had been crying.
Looking disheveled and windblown, he caught up with her and forced her into an embrace. “Shit you scared the hell out of me baby. Why did you leave like that? What if you got lost, kidnapped or worse?” She eased out of his embrace. Looked him straight in the eyes and asked. “How long?” he stopped trying to hold her, let his shoulders fall and spoke. “Two years.” She readjusted the straps of her bag, cleared her throat and spoke with a voice devoid of emotion. “Take me home.”

2009
“Not all men are bastards you know.” The other girls stopped their man lashing chatter and stared at her. They knew about her unfortunate history with men. She of all people deserved to call men bastards. She smiled at them, flipped her hair away from her face, picked a brightly colored corsage and spoke. “I like this one.” She was on the bridal train of her former roommate. She was getting married to her ex. He came to drop her off one night after a date and would you believe it? Met his future wife.
She felt betrayed, disillusioned, damaged then she felt free.
She finally understood.
She made up her mind to stop living for society and decided to live for herself. She was going to struggle, achieve and succeed. If she ended up alone but fulfilled and happy then so be it.
She insisted on being on their bridal train – it was the least they both could do. Forgiving as she was, she couldn’t hide the delighted tic she felt when he squirmed and stuttered around her. It didn’t help that she had a ‘rocking’ body and oozed panache.
She was seeing someone who worshiped the ground she walked on. Sometimes she felt overwhelmed by his actions and public display of affection but pushed aside the feeling by saying to herself she deserved it and more. Her phone rang, it was him. Dropping the corsage, she hurried out of the room to answer it and slammed into a moving wall. Her phone fell and hit the marble floor. She was crossed. The wall wasn’t a wall after all. It was a man he stooped down and picked up her phone without a contrite note in his voice he teased. “I usually have that effect on women but I guess your phone would do.” He handed her the phone. “I am Tonye by the way, I believe you are mine. I mean my date”



2013
She bit back tears as he held her hand under the running tap. She closed her eyes and prayed the wound wasn’t deep. There was blood on her wedding band and she really wanted to scream. They couldn’t afford to go to the clinic because all his money and hers were tied up in deals, loans and investments.
They were broke.
He led her to sit on her favorite chair. His usually smiley face was lined with worry she couldn’t help but love him more.
He placed her phone beside her it was blinking; there were two new messages. The first was from an unknown number. It read simply;

“In everything give thanks.
- For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? "Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they? "And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life?”

The second was a bank alert.
They were going to be ok.
She did not marry when ‘her mates were getting married’, she didn’t marry the most popular, wealthiest or romantic man. She got married when the time was right for her to her friend, ally and lifetime companion.




* This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Dear diary II

7am to 11 am: Christmas day, yeay!
I woke up to the welcome caress of the harmattan breeze which usually heralded the advent of the holiday season in Nigeria but for some reason was missing in Lagos state for the past weeks.
Next was the reoccurring bursts from a church speaker coming from a location I could not pinpoint doing a god job of making sure no one slept in on such a beautiful day (I guess they were turning it up for baby Jesus) followed by sluggishly getting ready to face an uncertain Christmas day.

12pm to 3pm: Fun! Fun!! Fun!!

After staying up till 5:30am to bake Christmas cookies as a surprise gift for family friends, saying that I was sleep deprived, cranky and annoyed could not quite cut the way I felt initially when I realized I left the very obvious container filled with cookies by the door at home.

This emotion was soon replaced by holiday cheer and warmth as new friends were made and old appreciated.
(erm and bellies filled with mixed goodies)

4pm to 7pm: death by consumption!
I don’t know if it was the smoke from the barbecue grill or fascination with the precision and technique used to create the mouth watering spread or just the thought of freshly grilled meat subduing my ability to say “no thanks, I’m full” but what ever it was, it kept me saying “okay, just one more” each time I took another helping of assorted meat knowing fully well that I was stuffed. The image of animated cows and pigs flying out of my ear could not get any clearer.

8pm to 6am: bleh

7am to 11am: A cappella Christmas!
Watched Pentatonics Christmas videos and was amazed by the talent of the lot. They are an amazing group, great for syncing the Christmas spirit.

12pm to 3pm: Boxed Day!
Just after I pondered the origin of ‘boxing day’, I got a resounding wham on my face to teach me that not everyone who can ‘walk and chew gum’ should ‘walk and chew gum’.
In one instant I was standing on a stool reaching for the pot on top of the cupboard, in the next I was under said cupboard wondering what became of the stool and if that blood on the floor was mine.
That is how my meat eating frenzy came to an end. With a face to make an excited blowfish envious, I stumbled about the kitchen till it was time to have a much deserved ‘lie-down’.

4pm to 7pm: sweet and spicy
Cant really remember what happened the rest of the day but that no one noticed the chicken was actually really sweet was interesting. By sweet I am talking bathed in Coca-Cola, scrubbed in lemon pepper and steamed with herbs and spices. I am guessing being a witness to a - hit in the face by an angry cupboard accident - really does curb curiosity.

8pm to 6am: night came, morning came… to be continued

Finding root

T’was the night before Christmas…

Yeah right, who am I kidding?

The year was twenty fourteen, the place was Lagos Nigeria and the player was me.
It was about a week to Christmas. I lay flat on my back, mouth open wide and my not so large head nestled snugly between his palm and a blue cushion.
The next lines could have been he looked at me with eyes the colour of rain kissed wood, held my gaze with a promise of passion and whispered sweet nothings in my ear but sadly, this was real life and I was quite peeved.

I had been about that position for over two hours and was fighting the temptation to stick the one finger he asked me to hold up if I was in pain into his eyeballs whenever he asked me to open my already open mouth.
I was beginning to feel like an out-of-luck Crocodile who's open mouth was so unimpressive that even the dumbest of preys had failed to fall captive. I had my mouth thrust wide open to the best of my ability and still he said to open.

Did my mouth suddenly resemble chicken wings to be broken in halves and divided among friends? Did he want to use my mouth to disprove Hooke's law of elasticity or was he simply trying to widen the conversation gap between us?

I would not classify the trip to said dentist as a last resort or an act of desperation.
It happened as a result of necessity streaming from ignorance of the saying ‘physician heal thyself’.

It is so easy to tell a sick person “chei ya, kpele”, “keep yourself hydrated oh”, “eat fruits”, “exercise more”, “eat vegetables” “drink medicine”, “drink Agbo ” and what have you but when it comes to you being the sick one and doing the things you so confidently urged a ‘stubborn’ sick person to do it becomes wahala.

Eight months ago during a routine check-up, my dentist noticed a cavity in my tooth and told me to have it looked at before I came for my next visit.
Five months later, without reading my case notes she noticed what was apparently the same cavity and told me to have it looked at. I feigned ignorance and acted like it was the 1st time I was informed of this anomaly.

Four weeks ago, I went for 'vackay' at a resort and was having the time of my life - 22 hour power supply, uninterrupted streams of cold drinking water, swimming pool, picnic grounds, a zoo with living animals, lake-view, fish-pond, even bicycles for 2 (not built for 2 though).

I was in my happy bubble until I was awoken one night by a sharp piercing pain.
It felt like a hand drill was boring through my ears with the intention of locating and destroying my third brain.
For an instant I thought I was having a serious nightmare (or spiritual attack maybe?) and attempted to pray it away until I realized I was wide awake and moaning out loud.

After manifesting and running around like a headless chicken (which included acts like trying to disconnect my head from my spine, waking everybody else that had the audacity to be sleeping while I died from pain and attempting to put my head in the freezer to chill the pain), I took a serious NSAID and passed out.
I had similar episodes for the rest of the trip until I returned home and was only able to sleep after consuming (possibly expired) drugs.
It was then with 'tail between my legs' I called my dentist and told her of my pain slash new addiction to painkillers. 
Feeling emphatic but unable to assist she told me to bear through the weekend, gave me the address of a dental clinic close to my home and warned me to reduce the amount of pills I was taking.

For the rest of the weekend my bed became my lover, I did not want to 'leave him', all the urging to gargle with salt and warm water or use a cold compress fell on deaf ears.
I wanted a fast relief and “I wanted it now!!”

Ensuing the addition of the ‘root canal therapy’ badge to my 'dental milestones' I often wonder what other 'party' could be held in this 'little mouth of mine'.

While I continued to focus on keeping my mouth open, after examining the fading x-ray for what appeared to be the millionth time, the nice doctor removed his face mask, sighed and said he was not happy about the third root (okay so I knew teeth are buried in sockets and ligaments so its possible that it could have roots but having more than one root for a single tooth is news).
At that point, he had located and was satisfied with two roots but the third one? Not so much. He then proceeded to ask if I would be happy to return for the next session on Christmas day.
At that point, I wondered if the good doctor had suddenly gone insane. Like leaving the 'good stuff' and fantasizing about drinking cold water in an air conditioned room on Christmas day was not bad enough, he expected me to actually use my mouth without duress and say “yes please”, come for surgery and afterwards spend the rest of my holiday smiling and waving away plates of rice, turkey, coleslaw and the works that I could look at but not touch?
"G*d forbid bad thing!!"
I bluntly told him "No thanks".
As soon as he was done with his shenanigans in my mouth, I grabbed my handbag and scurried out of the clinic without a backwards glance.
T’will be a little while before I am ‘opening wide’ for the nice doctor again.

*PS, Merry Christmas!!

All I want for Christmas...

...Is one week of power supply!

Not to sound greedy or over ambitious, I want it to be on record that I will be quite grateful if the said power would be supplied for 13 hours for each day of the 7 days something like 5 am to 8 am, 12pm to 4pm, then 6pm to 11:59pm although if it were to be more I would be pleasantly surprised.


Note to self: do not blog when you are half asleep.


I had to erase the previous line; I had typed quite a page-full only to realize I wrote something about a cat chasing the cow that jumped over the moon that could be cheese? (how is it possible that I am typing this fast when I can barely hold my eyes open?)

Back story

40 minutes earlier…

After congratulating myself on being able to turn on the generating set without once dialing the ‘panic button’ I noticed the icons on my pc had gotten really tiny this is usually as a result of too many open pages. Arming myself with a sit to nestle my pretty fanny and a socket to plug pc, I sat down and got to work.
I happened on this page and saw 59. Although there are some near finished posts on same computer, I took it upon myself to ‘freestyle’ and push the number to a fat round 60.

Will all this make sense in the morning? And why am I so drowsy?

Ok, I believe I’d turn in for now; it is better to type with a clear eye. On the plus side, whether educative or not, I have succeeded in pushing it to 60!

Yeay!

But I’m serious about the power supply bit though, Santa dearie, show working.

Dear diary

So that’s how one scantily dressed musician took my favorite cookies and turned them into a euphemism for sex (or something like it).

There I was minding my business (sort of) and looking for food to eat when my attention was caught by ‘Oreo’ boldly crested across the TV screen. I halfheartedly continued the task at hand and begun stealing glances at the TV wondering what was coming next. I looked away for a bit.
When I looked again, there was a bowl of said cookies on screen with a man and woman looking like they were about to do ‘grown up things’ in the background. By now I was salivating for the cookies and decided to perch on the edge of the sofa curious to know what was coming next.

That decision was my mistake.

The rest of the song is a blur.

The end of it all is that now I can’t honestly look at a piece of Oreo cookies without wondering

a. If that’s sugar or Iyanya’s #### lying snugly between the cheeks of the cookie sandwich and
b. If I’m about to lick, bite and chew Iyanya.
Like seriously?
I mean why?
Why Oreo? Of all the desserts, confectioneries and treats, it had to be the one I like!
To make matters worse, so people like me can’t make up excuses for him or say he could be referring to something else, he made sure he had Oreo samples splattered all over the video. I’m sure if I watch the song again I will find more Oreos in sublime locations.
What ever did Oreos do to him? Why oreo? I mean there is the whole McVities brand family to choose from – hobnobs, digestive, shortbread even short cake amongst others. There is Maryland cookies, Danish and if he wants to go the Naija way, there is Noreo, Coaster and the mother of all mainstays – Cabin!

Why Oreos? Why? Why? Why???!

*Pause here for dramatic rant*

At the end of the day, I ended up eating one kian yam porridge that had a hint of vinegar, no onions, plenty fish and tomato puree.
The height of the porridge was when a white French-ish (he speaks fluent French and struggles with English) Chef cleaned out his plate with the conclusion that the food was spicy but good – bon!

Which brings me to another entry; the day I wandered towards yonder.

It would have been a regular normal story if it had not involved a yellow man, a red taxi, a cold bed and an impulsive urge to er… wander?

... To be continued

hiatus

/haɪˈeɪtəs/
noun (pl) -tuses, -tus
1. (esp. in manuscripts) a break or gap where something is missing
2. a break or interruption in continuity
3. a break between adjacent vowels in the pronunciation of a word
4. (anatomy) a natural opening or aperture; foramen
5. (anatomy) a less common word for vulva

Derived Forms
hiatal, adjective
Word Origin
C16: from Latin: gap, cleft, aperture, from hiāre to gape, yawn

- Collins English Dictionary - Complete & Unabridged 2012 Digital Edition
© William Collins Sons & Co. Ltd. 1979, 1986 © HarperCollins
Publishers 1998, 2000, 2003, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2009, 2012


Now that’s over with…

In my opinion, I have always argued that “wetin concern agbero with overload" will be the price increase you will have to pay per extra kilogram he is being made to haul. That is if the agbero being referred to in the above quote is the one that chases you with wheelbarrow or ‘baco’ bags forcing/urging you to give him your groceries to carry for you for a “small” stipend. If it is otherwise, you don’t have to accept this argument. like I said, it is my opinion.

This was going to be a really cute story of how one mother of an infant tied her wee baby on her back and ran to knock on the door of another mother of an infant (who due to the combined effect of the heat and the baby's restlessness had already tied her baby on her back after stripping said baby to a tiny cotton chemise) and told her that NEPA people where out side cutting their shared power supply line.
The story halted at this point because mother 2 was confused. She remembered sitting with her husband a few days back, keeping him company while he paid the bill online. She stood rooted to the spot counting her fingers to make sure she got the days of the week right. By the time she came to and got her legs to function again, mother 1 was standing outside with her stamped NEPA bill trying to explain to the mule headed gentlemen (one on the pole disconnecting the line, one in the car looking like a sickly getaway driver for a heist and one looking into space while the mother spoke) that they were not owing any payment so did not warrant their actions.
Mother 2 watched the proceedings from a distance because she knew since they paid online there was no stamped NEPA bill to show.
She nodded encouragingly at mother 1 supporting her in her mission from afar.

The cuteness was actually imagining a horse and a donkey getting together. The particular word to describe rest of the story eludes me.

The questions:

1. Do they know it is unsafe to keep cutting and reconnecting power lines?
2. Do they see the connection between constant cutting of power lines and electrocution of innocent homeowners and bystanders?
3. What type of spirit will push them to go ahead to disconnect the line after proof of payment has been tendered? Tendered by a mother backing a heat-disturbed baby for that matter!
4. Do they sleep with both eyes closed at night or do they find someone else to lay the blame on… the devil maybe?

Will remain “for the gods to answer” as they say.

Where my candle sellers at?!

Imagine that

I stood like that for almost 10 minutes wondering what my neighbor was doing with furniture in the trunk of her car. With the ongoing strike, I wondered…

1. If she had decided to change profession or was moving on to greener pastures?

2. If she were moving away, would she tell me goodbye or just disappear?

3. Why she choose today of all days to move furniture?

4. Was the furniture new or old?

5. Was she bringing it home to use as firewood?

6. If she preferred pussycats to puppy dogs?


I would have continued to stand in front of the house barefooted with my hands over my head and legs bent into a perfect C if not for the cramp that was beginning to develop in my neck from straining to investigate a situation that was clearly none of my business.

Before then, I had decided to make a report of my latest inquisition but one thing lead to another night came, morning came… today makes it about 5 weeks since then.
At that time, I took it upon myself to uncover the bitter kola conspiracy. I titled the report: ‘Bitter Kola – the handy nut’ and listed some of the benefits “I was told” could be derived from chewing it.
They included:

1. Mosquito repellant
2. Medicine for cough
3. Immunity booster
4. Alcohol sweetener
5. Libido enhancer and
6. Snake repellant.

Sadly before I could investigate further or confidently share the information, bitter kola became the cure for Ebola alongside bathing with salt in scalding hot water. Information to which my response was "Hian!"
While on the Ebola topic, take time out to visit this website: www.ebolafacts.com it actually does help to be informed and educated. The site explains what Ebola is, the symptoms of infection, how it is transmitted, discredits myths and lists basic prevention techniques. It is updated regularly and has an easy to follow interface. Kindly spread the word and eradicate ignorance where you can.

Finally if there is animal control in Port Harcourt city, I’d like to report a case of identity crises. For about 14 months or more, a goat that believes it is a dog has been terrorizing residents in the area. The goat’s manifestations include; chasing after cars, grunting menacingly at people/small dogs and attempting to bite humans. I am appealing to the concerned party to look into this matter.

In about a week or more, I will be ready to look into the bitter kola conspiracy once more. If you have alternate use of said item not listed already, kindly inform me. Until then, stay safe and informed.
Cheers!

Stop, wait a minute!

This is me pushing against the current, standing at the door to July and wondering how it got to this.
Yesterday it was May, I had put up a sticky note to "call Ugo" who was initially the only person I knew born in the Month of May (this is the 1st year I haven't called, texted or put up a smiley on his Facebook page).
Before I got a chance to do the 'belated birthday dance' it was June 1st along with the routine barrage of broadcast messages stating the obvious and asking you to 'forward this if you love Jesus'.
Few days after this unbecoming tradition I was first making a fuss, stressing over my dad not being able to have a proper birthday celebration

(I believe: 1. Birthdays are special 2. Are to be celebrated, no matter how quietly 3. Should be marked with something nice like a card/gift/treat or some legal sane act.) Then reminded that my oldest niece, her twin, my sister and my youngest nephew were born not so far apart within the same month and finally juggling party invitations from a clutter of friends inviting me to celebrate with them.
It was when I realised I was moving, putting up pictures on BBM, texting and calling every other day to give my croaky rendition of 'happy birthday to you' I stopped to count 9 months back on my fingers and tried to understand what it was about the harvest season that caused the June baby boom.
It's June 30th today, epiphany eludes me still. Which brings me back to my present position.

Holding on to June.

It is the middle of the year for crying out loud!
It should be at least a day longer like January or December not just start and stop abruptly like a confused car battery. Speaking of cars...
I'd like to send a shout out to the driver and mobile policemen and in both the white and black Hilux trucks with FG licence plates who took one-way not because they had to but because they have 'the power', came out of nowhere and drove straight for my father and I.
You see there was a ditch nearby and we easily could have driven head first into it, shattered the windscreen with our stubborn skulls, flown for few seconds and finally learned if all dogs go to heaven but it turns out the power I serve is greater than the power they have.

Daddy dear held on firmly to the car steering with trembling fingers and kept repeating "I didn't see them" in a shaken voice, he didn't notice my amazed look at his stunt driving abilities.

(* note: seat belts are quite useful)

After confirming we were all alive, he snapped out of the funk and was back to his regular self looking forward to reading the news while munching on groundnut and sipping from his cold glass of beer.

This month I met people, I made new friends.

I watched a couple of drama presentations on stage, went to the movies and I haven't thrown a tantrum over my missing mister (yet).
There have been weddings, deaths and births.

In all these I say thank God.

...

...

Ah well, I guess it's time to move on.

This is me stepping aside and looking forward to the rain and sunshine.
July can only get better.

Cheers! !

Something to say

… About my written words

Sometime in 2013, tired of stalling and wondering “what if…” I scratched my meager earnings from my service year into a humble sum, soaked garri for a couple of weeks and published my first book (kindda like a trial run).
Seeing my name on hardcover alongside an ISBN was a kaleidoscope of emotions that still bring a happy jiggle to my feet.

On the other end of my joy to my amusement, were the reactions I got from my friends...

Say I told a hundred friends about said achievement, 5 from the 100 not only shared in my joy but also surprisingly paid double the amount I told them I was selling the book for. 3 forced me to collect money saying they knew I wasn’t working so I needed the money if not for myself then to aid in the publication of another book. 22 insisted I send copies to them via DHL, speedpost and public transport without a hint of money for either the book or its movement. I struggled to do this knowing fully well I couldn’t afford it. At the end of the day after getting too broke to continue this work of charity, I took to smiling and waving when asked about my book. Till date the remaining 70 are mad at me for not making the book available to them.

In response to this episode, I will start by apologizing to the 70 people I did not respond to. I promise to do a double book launch within the next 3 years and make whatever I produce available throughout the country and even beyond our terror lined Nigerian borders.
Truthfully speaking, I began the process but along the way I realized my feet looked pretty when they were off the ground and on the same level with my cherry bum ‘laziness na winch’ .

… About my life

I have been wearing braces for close to 4 years now.
Things I liked to do with my teeth like cracking chicken bone until it broke and released its nice juicy marrow, opening multiple bottle tops and attempting to bite people who stick their fingers in my face (I was never quite successful though) I had to stop doing because for every bracket I broke at the time, I had to pay N 4,000 for its replacement then deal with a pissed off dentist as well.

Once when asked about my best feature, without thinking I would say my smile.

I have been without this smile and refuse to accept this loss for so long that I cannot honestly answer that question anymore.

The point of these ramblings now is that I was asked if given the chance to go back in time to stop my younger self from making that first trip to the dentist I’d take it. To my surprise and that of the curious mind, after a moments thought, I said “No.” the thing is, as horrible as I feel on occasion when I have to rip apart or delete a really nice picture because I forgot to close my mouth and ended up looking like the abomination between a zombie and the original vampires, thanks to my missing smile, I have been on adventures and trips I wouldn’t trade for anything.
I like the way my life turned out.
I have learned lessons, gotten education met amazing people and mixed with cultures that I ordinarily would have missed.
So, dear concerned family and friends, quit asking me when they’d come off. When they go, they go (you’d probably notice me walking around with a chicken bone in my mouth again). Besides, no be me put them there to start with, I’m no dentist!

… About world people

World people are men and women who would be great but for the fact that they decide to stop living. They spend valuable hours getting involved in other people’s life, monitoring their movements while waiting to bend mouth and spread the latest “news” that does not concern them.

Last month a great woman who made an impact on my life through her written words died age 86.

photo credit: abagond.wordpress.com


I was pretty upset. My mother called to console me. Aside from mentally being sad, I put up her picture on my blackberry messenger, had a tiny fire and the words ‘rest in peace’.
As time passed, I removed the picture and later, the words. Now, it’s only the little fire burning that remains.
Its doesn’t mean her passing is less painful, its just that life happened.
There is no particular rule to life.
The basic thing is I live it! I don’t sit around waiting for all good things to come my way I reach for it and grab it.
So to the few remaining people who cross their legs, sit dead on their high and mighty thrones playing supreme Lord passing judgment on others without knowing what they are going through while wondering what they have done to deserve the horrible horrible things that come their way, I suggest you quit being a corpse and start living.

The End.

Bottoms up!

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways..." ~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806 – 1861)

This poem written about a hundred years ago is one of my favorites.
It is believed to have been written by a lady poet for her darling *hubby*.

How romantic!

Love is a beautiful thing. Even more so when after being born alone, you go about life’s processes in solitude wandering each day, searching for that special one to fill an imaginary vacuum and if he will ever be found.
He is special because he completes, enhances and makes you more than you ever imagined you could be. He is the wind beneath your wings, your partner in crime, champion and best friend.

He is the love of my life.

Unfortunately, some people loose patience and go for just about anybody.
That doesn’t always quite turn out nicely… These unlucky souls endure all sorts of abuse, develop a foreign character and end up cold, jaded and prejudiced.

Fortunately, today its not ‘man and woman’ matter I’m on about. It is a different kind of love.

Today I felt a beckoning warm glow, an attraction towards a darkness that felt so right its hard to admit it was wrong - devilish even.
I actually saw myself embrace ‘peace’ induced by death and a soothing voice cheering me on “just do it Oseyi” it urged “one sip and all your troubles are gone” it promised.
Backed by the feeling that I had nothing to loose this 'voice' appeared to be the voice of reason.

You see although we celebrate love; Valentine’s Day, weddings and anniversaries, there is a type of love we feel at some point (hopefully forever) but tend to take for granted.

A mother’s love.

It’s a security pass, a ‘get out of jail free’ card, a confidence booster, a soft cushion… a blanket.
A feeling that protects and shields us against whatever life throws at us.
We fall we get up.
We know were we came from and where we are headed so “no shaking”.

“Monkey no fine yet im mama still like am” a saying repeated often in jest but still manages to hold truth.
Show me a child who doesn’t love her mother and I’d show you a human with real shitty issues.
With that in mind, what happens when said beloved mother takes her love from you is a feeling best left to the imagination.
Impossible to happen in reality, I know but the thought that it could happen is worse than anything I can put to words.

On this day 21st February 2014 I say a prayer with you not for riches or fame but as a future parent. On my knees and praying to God, I pray that I may never be a source of despair or heartache to my children. To bring them up to be independent, responsible, just and smart and should they fall along the way, my shoulders be strong enough to pull their weight until walk again, they can.

To all mothers, grandmothers and great-grandmothers.
I celebrate you!
For your unfailing strength, patience and prayers. I appreciate you. If not for anything else but for the pure unadulterated love you give without condition.

Thank you.

Turn it Up!/Belated Happy New Year

There's this native proverb that translates to "as long as its the first time you are seeing a friend in the year even though it is on the last day the of the last month of the year in question, it is proper to greet them by saying - Happy New Year" with that in mind and feeling rather pleased with myself for remembering to do this while the year is still young, I holler a big and cheerful "Happy New Year!!!" to friends, family and fans who are alive and able to read this post.
May this year be one of fulfillment, accomplishment and victories for you.

Walking along the road and cursing the bitter weather, I often wish I had my PC on hand to nag/whine/grumble about how wicked the weather is being and my suspicion that earth has a personal vendetta for me.
What I have done to offend it?
I cannot say.
I know that complaining about the weather would not make it any more bearable but then again wouldn't it?

Based on the marked absence of my once traditional "*Christmas Mangoes" it is safe to say that there is really something up with the weather.

In school between doodling around the edges of my notebook during lectures and willing the time to move faster so I could make it in at the precise moment to eat hot jollof rice with fried plantain/moi-moi and goat meat at Main Gate Restaurant (going too early gets you the tasteless potty-like top of the pot of rice, while going too late gets pieces of fat/bone pretending to be goat meat on your plate of rice often times minus the plantain) a particular discussion caught my attention.
The lecturer was talking about Greenhouse gases, the pros and the cons.
At the moment, I can't recall the precise details of the lecture or what brought about that discussion but what I do recall is that Greenhouse gases was fingered to be reason behind the missing mangoes.
Before I get carried away and go on and on about what other fruits might have gone missing or changed their delivery dates, it occurs to me that persons who were not in that particular lecture with me might still be stuck on “Greenhouse gases” and wondering how a curious green house and probably cooking gas are responsible for missing mangoes or worse be considering that a man named Greenhouse proposed a theory of Gases.

I’d spare your amazing brains the trouble of wandering off to wherever in search of an answer by giving what I believe is a layman’s take.

Greenhouse gases combine to form a nice fuzzy blanket around the earth that allows just enough sunlight to get to us so the planet can be nice and warm. Without the greenhouse gases, earth would be a very cold planet. With this nice greenhouse “blanket” present, when the suns gives off energy, even though the it is miles away, the earth is able to retain just heat to keep us warm while the excess heat goes back to the atmosphere.
Greenhouse gases occur naturally which now seems to be a problem for us because we humans are creating more green house gases than is needed (it’s like feeling a little cold and deciding to sleep on a water heater - something you should never ever consider doing between) because not enough heat is leaving the planet while more heat is being accepted from the sun it is getting quite hot in here! As a result, we are witnessing effects of greenhouse gases and global warming. We have floods, lands drying up, some animals dying out, change in seasons (no more mangoes in December) and so on.

Before we have another ice age, evolution, or whatever, it would be a good idea to begin to nag/whine/grumble about the weather so that more people get concerned, ask questions find solutions and practice ways to reduce production of greenhouse gases plus save energy (long story).
On the long run, who knows maybe 10 years from now, I can get my Christmas mangoes in December and see if I am still daring enough to eat more than I know I should at one go.
Until then, welcome to the year twenty-fourteen.
Cheers!

*wink*wink*





*Four to six years ago during Christmas period and early January in my village, I would make myself sick by eating too much mangoes fresh off the trees a pleasurable experience I believed was worth the pain afterwards.