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.