Toyo-toyo

Gather round my children, pick up your stools and come sit close to me by the fire. While the heat warms my old bones, I will set fire to your young minds with a tale of valor, love and hope.

Before you lies Abemeji.

Like an eagle, the land rises. It stretches its wings and spreads for miles and miles, going beyond the hills, past the river from the goddesses bosom before settling to roost at the horizon where the starlit skies kisses the earth. 

The land is beautiful yes? 

It was not always so. 

Abemeji was once a land divided and kept apart by evil men who learned he kingdom's secret. You see the kingdom is made up of a variety of people who have migrated from lands far and wide. While it is home to various people. Our greatest weapon was the strength in our diversity;  where one household with ample wisdom was lacking in courage, the house with courage but no wisdom would supplement and so forth. 

Together we were strong.

This was our secret. The evil men learned of this and rather than unity, they preached tribalism, bigotry and vanity. 

In time the land was torn apart and resulted in the creation of two kingdoms. 

After separating the land, they left descendants whose only ambition in life was to continue to promote the destruction of the once beautiful land. 

Although there were no outward signs of suffering or lack. There was a gradual decay of the society from within, people lost sight of what was important and what was not, they spent their lives searching for what they felt would lead to happiness at the expense of family and friendships, they became indecisive, easily fooled and weak. With every member of of the older generation that passed on, the problem got worse as the history of their once great kingdom was gradually being erased. 

While the people of Abe who were known for their game, valuable trees and brave warriors lived in the south,  the people of Meji who had precious stones, fertile lands and beautiful women occupied the Northern regions. 

Anyone who was convicted of a crime, or caught without any justifiable cause at the boundary of both kingdoms, was made to suffer a crime worse than death; they were banished to the evil forest - a place no man or woman had ever returned from. 

It was believed that the years ago the trapped spirits of those who were wrongly accused had turned evil and caused any mortal who wandered into the forest to turn mad and feed on themselves. 

In Abe, there was a warrior called Akaworlu. Known for his bravery, skill and talent. He was revered by members of his community while merchants spread tales of his valor to neighbouring towns.

One day he went on a hunt that lasted for many months and returned with a maiden more beautiful than any the land had seen before. 

This made three men, Kayo, Showgo and Iraw who were already envious of his good fortune very upset. A situation which was worsened years later when Akaworlu's wife Dizia, gave birth to a  baby girl. Rather than pay the fine, and take in another wife who will then bear a son as was the custom of the time, Akaworlu slaughtered an animal, had a feast and wrote songs for his wife.

 Although a few years later Dizia bore two boys for the great warrior, by that time, the threee men had been consumed so much by hatred that they made a pact to  destroy Akaworlu and all held dear, even if it meant their own destruction.

Akaworlu named his daughter Mmawa, in memory of his beloved mother who had imbibed in him values and respect for life and taught her in secret how to wield weapons and engage in hand combat.  This was done in secret because it was forbidden for women to learn or do any other thing but prepare meals and fetch water from the stream. It was an offence punishable by banishment to the evil forest.

The three men suspected  Mmawa was trained in the art of weaponry but because she was obedient, humble and graceful, hard as the three men tried to provoke her to reveal her talent, by forcing people to torment and bully her, she always remained calm and resolved issues diplomatically. 

When the time for Mmawa to be wed grew close, the three men knew that if Akaworlu's family got united with another family, it would become difficult to carry out their evil plan so, a few weeks to Mmawa's coming of age party, they planned with wicked native doctor who summoned a creature to attack Akaworlu on his way back from a hunting trip. Although it was unable to kill him, he was badly wounded and was unable to continue his journey home. 

Worried about her father, knowing it was unusual for his hunting trip to last for so long, Mmawa, left her mother with her younger brothers, took her father's donkey  and went in search of him. Using the tracking skills her father had taught her, she was able to locate him on time and bring him home. 

Mmawa's father was sick for many nights. He was so sick  that Dizia was worried she would soon become a widow and began to prepare for his passing. 

They ran out of food and because the three men had been busy spreading false news and rumours about Dizia, calling her an orphan and foreign spy, people were unwilling to sell or give her food.

Not able to watch her family and sick father starve to death, one early morning Mmawa picked up her father's weapons and headed into the forest, by nightfall, her satchel was filled with enough meat and wild fruits to feed her family for a long time as well as herbs and medicinal plants her father had showed her on their many secret lessons. 

On her way home, she heard a loud cry, looking around, she saw no one. She was about to continue her homeward journey when she heard the cry again. 

It was a human being and  from the sound of it she suspected whoever it was, was being attacked by wild animals, without considering  the risk of exposing herself, she hid her satchel of food under a nearby bush and silently hurried silently towards the direction of the sound and climbed up a nearby tree. Below, she spotted wounded young man being taunted by a pack of hyenas. She pulled out her arrow and shot the animals dead one after the other. Using tree branches and vines, she fashioned a crane which she was able to use to carry her satchel of food and support the stranger. 

She took him to her parents home.  With the help of her mother and younger brothers, after a few weeks, both men were nursed back to health. 

The young man had grown fond of her. He  crafted tokens  and hid gifts around the house for her to find but he refused to tell her his name. Whenever she would ask for his name, he would sing a song which he taught her. 

When he was able to travel, he expressed his gratitude to Akaworlu and his wife and left without saying goodbye to Mmawa. 

She was heartbroken. 

For days she was depressed and refused to give audience to any suitor that came calling. Just as she was beginning to cope with the feeling of loss, the three men sent a message to her mother that she had been found guilty of stealing food and was to be escorted to the public square to be stripped and flogged in front of the members of community. When the men came to retrieve her mother, in anger, Mmawa attacked them, beating them up without the use of any weapon, thus revealing that she was indeed a warrior. 

Without letting her stand trial, the three men convinced the elders that she should be immediately banished to the evil forest or risk infecting the rest of her peers with her malicious spirit of disobedience and disrespect for tradition. 

When Akaworlu heard the news, he instructed his wife to pack up a satchel while he raced to the square to rescue his daughter before he reached her, he was subdued by a dozen warriors who had been told to lie in wait. 

Mmawa cried for her mother and brothers as she was being led in a procession towards the evil forest.  

There was a loud cry and suddenly, a ferocious beast with wings for hands and talons for feet, swooped down and disappeared into the evil forest. While people scrabbled and ran for their lives, Mmawa knelt in front of her father's captors and begged that she be given his weapons and the leather cloth he wore across his shoulders. Believing it would do her no good, her request was granted. Unknown to them, she had heard the song that was taught to her by the man she had fallen in love with coming from the belly of the beast and had somehow gotten a vision of what she had to do.

Her father saw the look on her face and understood, helpless to assist her, he nodded to her mother who was hidden in the crowd. She ran to her daughter and tied the satchel around her waist.

Suspecting they were planning an escape, Iraw one of the three dragged Mmawa away from her mother and pushed her into the dark alley of the evil forest... 

The blood you are sharing

Once upon a time…

After a couple of years of not knowing what my HIV status was, I took it upon myself on a bright and sunny day (spent running errands for everyone in my house but me) to stop at the next diagnostics lab slash hospital I saw along the road and find out.
Almost immediately I came to the decision I happened along a sign for a hospital that boasted pregnancy test, ultrasound, fertility booster and blood screening amongst it services.
Curious, I followed the path beneath the sign and came up to a somewhat abandoned building. I took it as a sign that maybe today wasn't a good day to get poked.
As I was about to turn around and go home, a youngish looking lady in a nurse’s outfit materialized from thin air and steered me in. I told her what I wanted to do, she confirmed the service was available and told me the doctor was on seat to counsel me.
Initially I thought counsel me for what now? Were all their patients positive? But gave myself a mental shrug and sat down. Since I was there, I might as well go the whole 9 yards.

A few minutes later I was ushered into the doctors office and came face to face with *Junior!

Junior used to follow me around when he was younger; he had crush on me about the size and feel of a hungry cheetah. The last time I saw him, he was in secondary school uniform.
I held unto the doorknob considering the wisdom of my next move.
I stole a glance at him. He looked older, more matured and crush free maybe he wouldn’t remember me? I wore a blank expression stepped into the office and greeted the ‘kind doctor’ it was the near smile on his face when he responded to my greeting that gave him away.

To add excitement to the ordeal he drew blood from me trice, declared me pregnant and HIV positive 1 and 3 times before finally deciding I was not.
I asked him to run the test twice again because by that time I had lost faith in his accuracy ( I repeated the test in another place months later still).
It was the act of drawing blood that drew my attention to another practice I hadn't done in a while; blood donation.

Present day…

June 14 is world Blood Donor Day.

During my undergraduate days, we got malt and meat pie after being successfully screened and donating blood. Compared to paying to have Junior play ‘touch and go’ with my emotions, those days were fun.

I don’t know if the malt and meat pie still follow, because blood donation these days isn’t popular in my present society. Maybe it is because people are scared of needles, afraid their blood will be used for 'ritual purposes', don't trust the storage facilities in the country or are just not aware.
Whatever reason there is, the simple truth is that you should because it’s a nice thing to do.

Aside from providing blood for accident victims, pregnant women in labour, cancer patients, sick anaemia patients and all other people in dire need of blood transfusions (minus vampires obviously) you could unwittingly be saving yourself because before blood donors are accepted, the donors are screened first – verbally and physically (via blood screening et al) thereby exposing any hidden disease you might be harboring.

Donating may actually help you control your blood pressure, reduce the number of circulating bad cells, and remove excessive immunoglobulins.
Then there’s that feel good aura you get knowing you have played a part in saving a life.

There are several types of blood donation (Whole blood, Platelets, Plasma and Double red cells) with Whole blood being the most common.

To qualify as a blood donor, you must be aged 18 to 65, weigh 50kg and above, have a normal blood pressure and acceptable PVC level.
Before a donor's blood is taken, a test is carried to determine if he/she has enough to sustain him after donation. However, pregnant and lactating women are not accepted for homologous blood donation as well as;
i. Anyone who has ever used injection drugs not prescribed by a physician, such as illegal injection drugs or steroids not prescribed by a physician
ii. Anyone who has ever received clotting factor concentrates
iii. Men who have had sexual contact with other men since 1977
iv. Anyone with a positive test for HIV (AIDS virus)
v. Anyone who has had hepatitis after his or her 11th birthday
vi. Men and women who have engaged in sex for money ( ashawo/runs people) or drugs
vii. Anyone who has had babesiosis or Chagas' disease

viii. Anyone who has taken etretinate (Tegison) for psoriasis
ix. Anyone who has risk factors for Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease (CJD) or who has a blood relative with CJD
x. And people with tattoo’s

Male donors can give blood every 12 weeks. That's approximately every 3 months or 4 times in a 12-month period. Female donors can give every 16 weeks or approximately every 4 months.
It is advisable to get plenty of sleep the night before you plan to donate, eat a healthy meal being careful to avoid fatty foods, such as hamburgers, fries or ice cream (tests for infections done on all donated blood can be affected by fats that appear in your blood for several hours after eating fatty foods) and drink an extra 16 ounces (473 milliliters) of water and other fluids before the donation.

In response to the saying “voluntary blood donation is good but na when person even chop belleful im go remember that one” have it in mind that if you're a healthy adult, you can usually donate a pint of blood without endangering your health. Within 24 hours of a blood donation, your body replaces the lost fluids. After about 21 days your body replaces the lost red blood cells with fresh and more vibrant cells, so you not only loose old and weak cells by donating, but you gain stronger and fresher cells.
So next the next time you are in the mood to go for a blood drive and actually see it through have it in mind that the blood you are sharing could and would save a life.


End




* Junior is not his real name

Talitha kum – ANNIE PART 1

She groggily opened first one eyelid then the other and blinked. Her throat felt hoarse and her eyes heavy. Awareness of her surroundings hit her with it memories of the events that led to the moment.
A pained moan escaped her throat, squeezing her eyes shut she pulled the tails of her shirt closer to her body and rolled up into a ball.
She was on her bed fully clothed complete with shoes and gold-chained purse now hanging across her chest. The bottle of sleep pills she considered emptying into her mouth earlier lay forgotten on the floor she ended up taking just enough to help her sleep. Albeit briefly.
She felt dirty, very dirty. She did not think a bath was enough to clean her but it was a start. She winced as she got up from her tiny student bed the memory of the ordeal intensifying her pains. she hobbled to the kitchen reached for her electric kettle and filled it from the tap while ignoring the telltale marks on her wrists.
She placed the kettle on its hub.
Changing her mind, she got out the ring boiler from the lower kitchen cabinet filled up a 25 liter bucket, placed the ring boiler in the bucket and connected it to the power supply. While waiting for the water to boil, she drifted towards the bathroom, reached for the light switch and shielded her eyes from the intensity of the fluorescence bulb. moving to stand in front of the mirror hanging above the bathroom sink she dared to look at her reflection.

The eyes staring back at her didn't seem like hers.
Hers were vibrant, these were empty. The ever-present spark of good-natured mischief that danced within her gaze had burnt out.
She was in pain both physical and emotional.

She felt a chill trickle down her spine but did not move. She continued to stare. With a pained sigh, she let her mind wander to earlier that day.

The day it all went wrong.

Pumping an excited fist in the air she spoke loudly so she could be heard over the music. “Udeme, I’m having so much fun!” Annie wondered why her elder brother Murray had warned her off him, he seemed like such a cool guy. She checked her wristwatch. It was a few minutes to seven. Emptying her glass of chapman, she reached for her purse and made to stand while talking “Udeme, its getting late. I have to start going back to campus, my bestie’s group is presenting tomorrow, I want to give her emotional support.” She giggled. He reached for her. “Come on girl, relax, you just got here. We haven’t seen in like 2 years. Relax.” He nudged her back into a sitting position. “You know what? Come up with me to my room, I want to show you something. Do me a favor and I’d have my cab guy drop you at your doorstep.” She raised an eyebrow and gave him a cynic stare. “Yeah right, Udeme I’m not that type of girl biko, let me be on my way and FYI if it’s the same cab guy that brought me here, I chatted with him while coming he told me he was closing for the day.” He finished his drink. Signaled for the bartender to bring the bill and hopped off his stool. “Come on Annie, don’t be like that. Your brother is my very good friend. Do you think I’d do anything to hurt his little sister? I am checking out of the room today I want to pack my stuff and move to GRA please, please come with me?” he pouted and batted his lashes at her. She laughed. “okay, lets go.” “great!” he dropped some Naira notes on the table shook his head at the bartender to forget about the change and lead her towards the rooms. Reaching his apartment, he used the keycard and stepped back to let her pass. He swirled around in the middle of the room and spread his arms above his head in an eagle like fashion. “nice?” she clutched the strap of her bag tighter and spoke in a whisper. She was anxious. “Udeme pack up your things quickly please. Its getting late.” He picked up his phone. “I’m calling the cab guy okay?” “okay.” She let out a sigh of relief while he spoke to the cab guy. “oya talk to my friend, she no believe say you dey come.” He handed her the phone. The cab guy assured her he’d be with them shortly and was going to drop her on campus then disconnected the call. She handed his phone back to him. Not liking her pensive mood he stepped back and pouted. “oya smile na.” she chuckled. “That’s better.” He put a parcel aside as he packed. When he was done he zipped his duffel bag closed, picked up the parcel and walked towards her. “This is the favor I want from you.” He pushed the parcel into her hand. “This is the first on my designs, I want you to try it on.” She unwrapped the parcel and was amazed by the sight before her. “wow, its –its beautiful, wow.” She traced her fingers along the pattern. He smiled. “go, on, try it on.” She blinked. “here?” “the bathroom is through that door.” She hesitated. “Erm Udeme?” “Annie please now?” she shrugged. “Oh okay.” She padded to the bathroom making sure to bolt the door behind her. Putting on the dress, she let out an amazed gasp. It was beautiful. The design was like something an Egyptian queen would wear, it enhanced her figure and the finishing was flawless. The back of the dress was something else though the cut was too deep, she could almost see her panties. Udeme knocked on the door. “Annie, the cab is here”. Come out. “Okay, let me change back into my clothes.” “No time for that, put your clothes in the parcel you’d change when you get to your room and give him the dress to bring for me.” “Uh okay.” Grabbing her clothes, she unlocked the door, purse and parcel in hand and hurried to catch up. Udeme’s jaw dropped open. “Annie f*ck you are beautiful.” She blushed. “Thank you. Oya lets be going.”

... 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?!

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.

Through The Looking Bowl

I decided that rather than gush, fuss and ‘meow’ over how my silly brain turns to mush at the sight of a youngish man in gray hair, I’d talk about the solar eclipse (or lack of it).

I refuse to ponder over what in particular makes these men strike me as drop dead gorgeous and incredibly sexy.
I could see a lowly midget with gray hair and boom!
He’d turn into a 6’4 inch man with a mickey blue gaze and great potentials.
Sha, thank G*d for 2nd, 3rd and 4th impressions.
The annoying thing about this fetish is that once the distraction of the gray hair has been eliminated, these mortals loose their awesomeness and make me go “hiss! Total waste of drool.”
I have been known to leave the company I am with, walk up to a complete stranger and go “hi my name is…” because I noticed a sprinkle of sugar on his head.

Oh my!!

That could be it, sugar!!

Gray hair is somewhat white, sugar is somewhat white and I have a sweet tooth so…

Oh my.

Now I have figured out the connection. I’m counting on the good news reaching my brain and disabling the hormone/sensor/nerve or whatever blah that sparks and jiggles on sight of it.

I received a broadcast message that the eclipse will ‘arrive’ by 13:03 in Port Harcourt be at the highest point by 14:43 and eventually depart around 16:00hrs.
Somewhere along the wait, I dozed off.
When I woke up, outside from my window was gray and windy like that point in a romantic flick when the guy runs after the girl and goes “I choose you Violetta! You are my sun, my moon my heartbeat. I want to be with you, I love you!”
Ok maybe not so dramatic but you get the picture.
Remembering what I was waiting for I scrambled off the bed, ran down the stairs and bolted out the door only to run back in almost immediately because of the heavy downpour that started abruptly.
Determined to see the ‘thing’ (thanks to bbm updates and whatsapp broadcast messages) but not wanting to get wet, I charged into my fathers room and hopped from one foot to the other pleading until he agreed to give me his precious umbrella with its seal unbroken.

Armed with an oversized umbrella, sunglasses and rubber shoes, I went outside threw my neck backwards and began to search for the sun...

I am much too distracted to go further.
It has been serious ages past since I licked a cube sugar but as I write, I can see this lump of sugar complete with droopy eyes, nose and a lopsided smile in my minds eye singing “lick me-lick me, lick meee” in a shrill tra-la-la scratchy voice.

Erm…

Bye?

Speckled Impression

There’s this song I grew up listening to in church, it goes somewhat like “I’m a millionaire-ah-ah-ah, I’m a millionaire. I’m a happy-happy-happy millionaire”.
It is on the top of my list of favorite Christian songs.
As ‘talented’ as I am, I have never pretended to or claimed to know how to carry a tune.
Sing?
Maybe I can, probably to save my life or that of someone I really care about but if I were to rate my singing ability on a scale of one to ten, I’d give my self a minus one with zero being “somebody-save-us-please!!!-Kindly-turnoff-that-rambling–contraception-before-we-gouge-out-our-ears-with-a-copper-file.Shoot-it-beat-it-squish-it-kill-it-whatever-just-make-it-stop!

So when I was younger, I would clutch my hymnbook anxiously, hold my breath and pray that ‘today’ would be the day they sing the song. Some days I got lucky, my prayer would be heard and the choir master would announce the hymn. I’d quickly flip to the page and hum slash recite the words along with the singing choir.
I always felt uplifted by their rendition and dreamed of happy days to come – having my very own castle complete with flying pony, perfect tea sets and cooperative playmates.
On other days, I was not so lucky.
It didn’t bother me much though. Rather I carefully put away my hymnbook and look forward to the next time. Maybe, I’d get lucky then.

I still love the song till date; problem is

I realize that now unlike before instead of attempting to sing along and get into the groove of the spirit, I’d be busy watching for those who are singing.
I’d then pick out the seemingly single men and keep an eye on them. When they get to the “ I’m a happy millionaire” part I’d notice my gaze traveling down to inspect their shoes, accessories, clothing and back to their face. Usually, I am able to stop there, regain composure and go back to the point of worship but on more occasions, I find myself waiting for the subject of my perusal to catch my gaze so I can give him a look that implies “you this wicked man, is it me you are trying to deceive?”
The clueless man’s reaction is best left to the imagination.

Like play like play, today is Friday October 11 2013 and ASUU is still on strike, not only are Fayrouz, Cheese balls and color-blocking girls becoming scarce but non students are gradually beginning to get used to the idea of having jobless young adults restlessly sit home gazing at the living room ceilings (where applicable)from morning till night wondering whether his/her boyfriend/girlfriend is being faithful to them where ever they are.

In a bid to understand what is going on in my beloved country with respect to education and youth development I have stopped skipping to the next station when the news bulletin is on.
From what I have gleaned there is some sort of love triangle going on with one party looking for who to beat/kidnap/take to court, another party looking for who to bully/coerce/take to court and the 3rd party playing the helpless victim.

In other news; a couple of rams have been detained for violating sanitation laws, a kindly governor handed out galaxy tabs to school children who have no power supply in their places of refuge (pitiful homes), portable drinking water or good school uniforms and finally police encourage citizens to be more trusting and forthcoming. After all the police is your friend!

To end this, I’d pray for Nigeria and make a decree; there will be peace, progress and prosperity, if not today, then tomorrow or the next but it will happen some time in my day...

Do not pout people, smile!

E go better.

Guess the gadget

Thanks to my present ‘unemployed’ status, getting internet for my personal use has turned into something from a movie plot – think ‘James Bond meets Mary Poppins’.
Although it has occurred to me to look for a cheaper service provider and get peace of mind from honest dealings as compared to crouching huddled in a corner to use ‘borrowed goods’/perching in front of an archaic desktop computer that makes video cassettes look futuristic, I believe my hesitation now is caused by rumors about * communication blocking concrete walls that have got me thinking 'what's the worse that could happen?'.

I woke up this morning to realize I have a new ability.... Sleep writing!!

It appears I updated my blog at a time all indications prove I was asleep (Green, White and other colors <- ps: if the link I placed there does not appear and you are interested in surveying a manifestation of my alleged new ability kindly hit the home link and select the title). I went through the old and new Nigerian National anthems again this morning and I wonder… Once we were a 'rich' country, we were doing so well. Where did we miss our step, when did we loose focus - What went wrong Nigeria? After checking to ensure I did not mention onion, pepper or tomato portions (I have been told in severe cases of sleep deprivation, I become a tomato seller and start haggling over prices) I decided to keep the post - although I am still trying to figure out the relationship between the hibiscus flower, ASSU strike and Nigeria’s Independence Day. While looking for colored pens I may have stashed away in a cupboard I hardly ever use, I came across carefully warped objects labeled in my writing.

I starred at them for quite a while trying to figure out why they looked so familiar before enlightenment hit me.
They were diskettes!!!
I was curious about what information could be so precious that I went through such measures to keep the diskettes protected and hidden.
While holding my breathe, I searched for somewhere/thing to slot it in.
Surprise – surprise, the CPU of archaic computer had a floppy drive but sadly the disks could not be read (said to format diskettes).

Needing a reference letter as part of my application requirements for a job as a science graduate, I met a prospective referee and asked if he would assist me. In a heartbeat, he was like “sure! No problem” provided I write the letter, he would lend me his letter headed paper and signature.
He even suggested I meet my dad for a draft.
Taking his advice, I printed a copy of my CV and submitted to the Prof only for him to call my attention after 24hrs and tell me that from my CV, I should be looking for jobs in media, tourism and publication industries. Go figure!
Such is life I guess. Like the wise ones say “sdgfjcdmbcdhgfasgndk khona!”






*


* there is this belief that the bad telecommunications network prevalent in the area is as a result of the thick concrete used in erecting the buildings. So for a clear signal, one has to stand directly under the sun or beside an outdoor antenna.
Please, advise: is there logic to this theory?

Cheers to the ‘embers!

For a long time in my house and since I can remember, Christmas and New year (first week of January) holidays are spent in the village.
The only year we the Fanta-chapman drinking children of my folks rebelled against this unwritten commandment and decided to stay in the city, my mother dearest was involved in a freak accident.
She broke her hand.
Mother dear had to go around with her arm in a sling for close to two months.
Considering both hands are usually needed to whip, chop, roll, grate, stir and cut all the mouthwatering delicacies that accompany the season, you can imagine how devastated we the now compliant children were.

During one of such Christmases, being the ever-obliging niece that I am, without being asked, I offered to escort my uncle around the village as he ran his errands.
The trip was uneventful.
My uncle finished his errands in record time and soon, we were headed home.
Halfway through our homeward journey, he started humming a tune and urged me to sing along.
As I struggled to follow his lead (the song was in my native dialect which by some wicked trick of fate, I have failed to grasp) he began to tell a story.
He told three stories.
By the time he was through with the 3rd story, I had covered the exposed parts of my body, rolled up the glass of the car and checked to make sure my door was locked for the 50th time.

To my uncle, I was this enthralled little girl enjoying his scary stories while in reality, I was a scared teen on the verge of twenties very close to pissing my panties afraid to tell him to stop because the first story he told was about a child who did not listen to elders and do as she was told – by gorilla’s in the forest.
He was driving on a road bordered by thick forests with things some might claim to be birds randomly flying by.

Christmas is coming!

But before Christmas comes, we would witness September’s passing, celebrate Nigeria’s Independence Day and fall prey to the Christmas sales that will go on for most of November.

This year, Independence Day falls on Tuesday October 1st.

Independence Day is an annual celebration commemorating the anniversary of a nation's assumption of independent statehood.

This year, God willing, this great nation Nigeria will be 53 years old.

Hopefully, by the D-day, I’d have come up with something very enthusiastic to say about Nigeria’s independence from oppression, exploitation and predation.

Christmas is coming!!

Anónimo I

Miriam looked longingly at the wall socket beside her desk and returned a forlorn gaze to her mobile phone. The LED light was flashing yellow with her battery level showing 5% . In a few minutes, it would inform her that her battery was ‘too low for radio use’.
Why she switched from her trusty Nokia 3310 which could last for days without the constant necessary libation to the ‘recharge battery’ goddess to this useless landline in the body of a blackberry phone was a problem question best left unattempted. She dutifully turned off ‘all alerts’ in a bid to reduce the load on her phone but doubted it would stop her phone from going off.
There were only two wall sockets in the store both of which were thoroughly occupied.
The clock above the entrance to the store indicated the time was eleven forty-five too late to close for breakfast break too early for lunch. She stared at the bell above the door to the store and pouted. It had not jingled since she got in at 7:30am. She was alone in the store and did not think cousin Zogie would be quite pleased if she where to pop in unannounced and discover that she had closed her store midmorning so she could run home and charge her phone. As she caressed her phone lovingly using the last few minutes of its present battery life wisely (changing her personal message – pm to ‘battery low’ and sending a broadcast message) she decided that the designer of the store was a wicked store designer, planner, architect or whatever they called themselves.
Who designs a store with just 2 wall sockets?!
Or could it be she had missed the 3rd one? Was there another socket somewhere? Dropping the phone on the desk she walked around the table and stood in the middle of the store.
Well, almost the middle of the store, there was a partitioned section towards the back that functioned as a storage area. It was basically a gift store with additional odds and ends plus whatever was on sale in the country cousin Zogie found herself in.

Miriam had heard of compulsive liars, cheaters and thieves but for the first time in her life, she realized her cousin was a compulsive traveller.
Zogie could not stay in one place for too long.
If she did not have money to travel, she would sell the tissue of her spine, spleen and even kidney to raise enough money to travel to a place she ‘saw in her dream’.
The arrangement worked out for Miriam though because after about a year and a half of searching for the ‘dream job’, she had all but given up and decided to settle for a bank job or worse only for dear cousin Zogie to ‘reach out to her’.
Without a second thought, she packed up her few worldly possessions, kissed her stupefied but really cool parents goodbye, sent hurried text messages to her siblings and relocated to the garden city, Port Harcourt!

Now while she managed her cousin’s store, interviewed and searched for capable store assistants she was taking an online masters course and remaining focused in the plans to snag her dream job.

Pushing aside the blazers and jackets on display hanging from the rack parallel to the wall, she stuck her head through the gap and surveyed the area.
No socket.
She sighed, stood straight and looked at the clock again. Barely a minute had passed. Time had decided to lounge today of all days. She sighed again. Hopefully, this new girl she hired would be more dedicated than the last. Sadly, she was not due to resume until 2pm.
With the rate of unemployment in Nigeria, she was puzzled as to why more people where not responding to the ‘help wanted’ ads she had been posting on social networks. She padded to the section that housed her favorite things in the whole wide world – books!
She loved books.
Story books, picture books, any book. There was an array of books, magazines and catalogues for sale most of which she had read or was not interested in reading. She exhaled and made a final sweep of the aisle to ensure no book was out of place and stopped. Something towards the end of the shelf caught her attention. Squeezing her face into a frown she walked towards the object and bent into a squat to examine it.
It was a book, a very old book. Picking it up gently, she blew off the dust gathered in front and tried to make out the title.
She had worked in this store for close to three month and could confidently say she knew everything they stocked.
This mangy work of art or fiction was definitely NOT one of theirs.
Curious, she absently made her way back to her desk book in hand the search for wall sockets forgotten and settled into her chair. She flipped past the first page and let out a startled gasp.

For Miriam my love.
Wherever, whenever, I will find you.

- T

Jangolova (Part V)

October 4, 2013

She bolted out of her seat and hastened towards her as she stepped away from the stage.
When she was within reach, she cut through the crowd of admirer’s, pressmen and colleagues that had begun to gather around her, dragged her to the side and flung her arms around her. “That was a beautiful reading sweetie! Although I assumed when you sent me that ‘everything is going to be alright’ text last night you had removed the bit about the lady’s parents. They seem too much like your father and I and you know people, they like to talk.” She hugged her back and giggled. “Mother you worry too much. You are nothing like the bitter evil woman in my book, you and father settled your differences a long time ago and are a happily married couple!” She looked over her mothers shoulder at the man seated by himself away from the crowd, pulled her lips into a pout and batted her lashes. “Mother dearest, please could you go seat with Jason for a bit? He looks so lonely.” Her mother turned her head and looked to his direction. She made a face and spoke snootily. “I do not understand what you see in that man though, he doesn’t deserve you. Isn’t twenty-eight years and above too old to be playing boyfriend and girlfriend? I have told him several times that my daughter is a big photographer that travels around the world. If he does not want to marry you-.” Ivie raised her left hand halting her mothers nagging.
There was a huge engagement ring on her finger.
Her mother let out a squeak and grabbed her hand, inspecting the ring and surveying her with skepticism. “When?” Ivie giggled. “This morning, before my reading.” Her mother dropped her hand, straightened the folds of her dress and turned in Jason’s direction.
With a smile on her face, she tut-tutted in disapproval and she lamented loud enough for passers by to hear. “Look at my poor son in-law, sitting all by himself.”

Isioma opened her eyes and found herself looking into the eyes of a familiar little girl watching her with concern.
She blinked and sat up.
She was on a king-sized bed.
The girl moved closer, stretched out her little hand and touched her forehead with the back of her right palm. “Mummy are you okay?” She jerked her head back and stared at the girl. “Mummy?” The girl laughed. “Why are you copying me?” There was a slight knock at the door before it swung open.
A man with a little boy straddled on his shoulders with arms wrapped around his neck entered the room.
Isioma cocked her head to the side, squeezed her eyebrows in concentration and stuttered. “Se– Sesan?” He chuckled threw the boy on the bed beside her and sat down ruffling her hair as he did so. “Who were you expecting? Santa Claus? Its your birthday not Christmas sleepyhead. I don’t know how you manage to balance going up and down ladders in peoples houses with taking care of these little demons.” He caught the two children in each of his hands and wrestled with them. They squealed in delight. She ignored them and mumbled inaudibly. “Up and down ladders, mummy, Sesan?” She questioned tentatively. “Sesan, are we married?” He stopped playing with the kids, sat down and looked at her quizzically. “Are you okay honey?” he touched her forehead to check if she had a temperature. “That’s it, no more experimenting with different drinks for you. Yes my dear, we are married and have been so for close to nine years. This is our beautiful baby girl Yinka who thinks I don’t know she wants the new Wii for her ninth birthday in December and our little rascal” He grabbed the boy’s leg as he tried to crawl out of reach. “Junior.” He wiggled out of his hold and bounced up and down the bed. “My name is Izu! Mummy calls me Izu!” Sesan rolled his eyes in mock disgust. “Because your mummy named you after her boyfriend doesn’t mean I have to accept it,” he caught Izu mid bounce and lifted him off the bed. “Come lets leave the ladies alone and go and do manly things.” Izu chuckled. “I am only four daddy, I am not a man!” He stopped at the door and looked at her, concern lining his brows. “Are you sure you are okay dear? Your sister is coming to take the kids by 3pm and our flight is for six.” She reached for Yinka who crawled obediently towards her and rested her head on her laps. The last memory she had was of her in braids, wearing a pink tank top with matching sneakers and newly bereft of her nokia 3310. She was fresh faced from crying over her decision to walk out on Sesan and trying to stop an ‘okada’. Now she was in a bed, had beautifully manicured nails (they caught her attention when she reached for Yinka) with two beautiful children and apparently happily married to Sesan. She smiled at him. “I’m okay dear. Where are we going?” He responded slowly trying to gauge if she was really okay or pretending to be. “That wildlife photographer; Ivie Aghede wrote a book. She is doing a public reading and launch today. She invited us for a private reception in Edo state. I thought it was weird but you said to accept. If you’ve changed your mind, I’d be only too happy to call your sis and cancel.” She shook her head. “No don’t cancel I’m fine.” She tapped Yinka. “Baby go help your brother get ready okay?” Yinka got up sluggishly from the bed and padded towards her father.

The flight surprisingly kept to schedule and in less than 2hrs they were being ushered into the hotel by Ivie’s aids. When she spotted them, she excused herself from the group around her and ran to meet them. She threw her hands around Isioma and enveloped her in a bear hug. “You came!” Isioma tentatively hugged her back while Sesan did his best not to looked disturbed by the complete stranger attempting to squeeze the life out of his dear wife. Isioma patted her back. “Yes, we came.” Ivie released Isioma and let out an embarrassed laugh. “It’s been so long since we saw, that’s my fiancé over there.” She pointed and continued without stopping. “This might sound weird but there is somewhere I’d like to take you to. We’d be gone only a little while, I’d tell you about it on the way.” Isioma and Sesan exchanged puzzled glances. When Sesan nodded Isioma spoke. “Okay, shall we?” Ivie wove to the man she called her fiancé signaling she would be back in a little while then led them out of the building to a waiting vehicle. While they rode, she told them a crazy story of how they had met before in an alternate life on their birthday 10 years ago, saved a gypsy woman and were quite miserable until 2 days ago (a different one) when she (the gypsy) reunited them and gave them a choice for another chance. She was so caught up with making a difference and positive change that did not pay much attention to their new lives. She missed Isioma’s passing out ceremony because she went to the states the next year for a certificate course. When she got back, she learned they were married and Isioma was creating a name for herself in interior decoration. She had tried to get hold of her on several occasions but she was either in one part of the country working on a project or the whole family had gone overseas for some holiday or the other. With her own career and stabs at novel writing, she too was busy until she met Jason (her fiancé) the second time and realized she was beginning to forget their story. Last year, she began writing what she remembered of their story (the book she launched today) and decided to wait until the anniversary of the change to bring them all together again! When she finished talking she looked at both Sesan and Isioma. They were staring at her as if she had sprouted horns, spat fire and claimed she was a fairy. She pursed her lips realized what she had asked them to believe then covered her face in embarrassment. “You two think I am insane right?” Sesan cleared his throat and snaked his arm protectively around Isioma. The car stopped moving. Isioma threw up her hands in relief and rolled down the window. “We are here!” Then added doubtfully. “Where ever here is.” The car had stopped in front of a gate. There were chains around the bars and a huge padlock in front. Ivie got out and walked briskly to the gate. “It is locked.” She sounded disappointed. Isioma came down from the car and Sesan followed suit mumbling something under his breath that sounded like “that’s a surprise.” Ivie shook her head in amazement. “You two will really think I am mad now. Dragging you across the country, telling you an incredible tale and bringing you to a rundown- locked shanty.” Sesan used his body to shield Isioma and looked through the gate. She placed her left thumb in her mouth, nibbled her fingernail and snapped the fingers of her right hand trying to bring back a memory. Sesan spoke first. “I remember this place. ” He turned slightly and looked down at Isioma. “I came here looking for you but was told you had left. Your roommate was frantic because she said she tried calling you from several payphones but your number was unavailable. I searched all over town for you in places I recalled you usually favored. That was the scariest day of my life. When I finally found you,” he rolled his eyes. “You were sleeping in the reading room in Hall 1! I made you promise never to leave me like that again.” He covered her elbows with his hands and rubbed them, smiling at her as he continued. “So far so good, you have kept that promise.” He leaned down and covered her mouth in a sensual kiss.
An old lady walked up to the gate from the other side.
Using her walking cane as a tool, she banged at the gate getting their attention.
Isioma and Sesan jumped apart like two children caught in the act.
The old woman eyed the three of them with suspicion. “Yes? ‘I fit help unna’?” Isioma cleared her throat. “We are erm asking about the joint that was here, an open bar with a building behind.” The woman placed her cane in front of her, balanced her weight on it, leaned forward and responded haughtily. “Na me get this dormot. It is under new management, when e open again, unna go know.” Isioma surveyed her with a piercing look. As she turned to leave, she noticed a familiar twinkle in her eyes. She called out. “Wait! You seem like someone I know. Have we met before?” The woman smiled, muttered something under her breathe and shuffled into the darkness.

Ivie kept repeating what the woman said, trying to make sense of it. Sesan pieced the words together and repeated it aloud. “The eyes see only what they want to see?” Ivie turned sharply to him. “What did you say?” he shrugged his shoulders and threw his hands open. “I only repeated what the woman said.” Ivie pumped her fist in the air, ran to the car and got out a copy of her book. She flipped open a page, threw it at him and did a jig. “ I knew I wasn’t going insane.” While Sesan read, she linked her hands in Isioma’s own and chattered lively. “You might not remember this but me and you were best of friends. Now that we are speaking again, I intend to remain in your life for a long-long time.” She called over her shoulder. “Hey book worm! Get into the car. We have a party to attend. One that’s been in the making for the past ten years.” Sesan closed the book, and got into the car behind the two ladies. The driver started the engine and turned to Ivie. “Where to madam?” She leaned back in her seat and smiled. “To beautiful tomorrows and more.” She looked at Isioma and Sesan, they were happy. She was happy.

The End!

What's Myne (Part 3)

Baba Igho refused to rise he stretched his battered body on the ground and pulled his tattered clothes about him.
“Go away Akpos." He urged. "You have served me well and long. At this day and age, it is hard to believe I came across a man of your caliber. Whatever debt you feel you owe, I release you of them. If I had riches, I would have showered you with gold, coins and ornaments but I have nothing to offer. I have lost it all to pride and bad judgement. Akpos my friend, I will not let you loose your life for my sake. Leave while you have the advantage of youth. Learn from my mistakes, that of my daughters and their spouses. Be a better leader, landlord, father; a better person.”
Akpos squatted beside him, stretched the sleeve of his shirt and used it to mop Baba Igho’s weary forehead.
“Sir, I have learned a lot in the many days we have spent on the road. I am better for it. For the lessons, I am grateful. However, if I were to leave you lying on the road to die like a brigand, I will not be better than your daughters who have abandoned you in your time of need." He dropped his hand and leaned on his haunches. "Let me take you to your home and see that you are as comfortable as I can manage. Afterwards, I will leave you to your fate and go make a life for myself.”
Baba Igho considered his proposal for a while then agreed to his terms.
He let Akpos assist him to stand.

They continued the journey.

By day, they walked in the heat of the sun feeding on fruits and seeds.
At night, they rested. Setting up camp in the shade of trees with makeshift tents.
Days flowed into nights and nights to day.
Through the bone chilling rains, blistering cold and scorching heat, they continued to forge ahead.

Finally, they reached his estate.

When they drew near to the shack that had become his home, an elegantly dressed lady seated in front and watching the road let out a happy squeal and came running towards them.
She stopped in front of Baba Igho, threw her arms around his neck and folded him in a warm embrace.
In a little while, streaks of tears started to line her face.
Perplexed, Akpos tried pulling her away but she resisted. “Madam, this man is sick and he is quite dirty as well, come away from him, or your lovely clothes would be ruined."
As an after thought, he added. "He could also make you sick.”
She resisted his pull, held fast to Baba Igho and continued to shake with tears.
Akpos inched away certain the lady had lost her mind.

He began searching for a rope or bond of sorts with which to bind her for a little while (at least until her minder came in search of her).
He drifted to the side of the shack and stopped short at sight before him.
There was a mansion about a stones throw from the shack.

It was not there when they set out in search of the daughters.

The house glistered in the sun, flowers were budding in the little garden in front and he could hear laughter emanating from within.

The land looked like it was slowly awakening from a bad dream.

The curtains in one of the windows of the house moved and caught his attention.
There was a little girl behind the glass.
When she spotted him, she yelled with glee.
She disappeared from the window and reappeared at the door after a little while.
Running out of the house on little feet that appeared too big for the rest of her body, she bounded towards him and threw herself on his leg. She wrapped her chubby hands around him and gave him a hug.

Half dragging, half pulling him, she led him to Baba Igho and the lady. Bouncing up and down in excitement, she chanted. “You found him! You found him!” confused, he asked. “Found who?”

Baba Igho peeled the lady from his body and held her at arms length.
With a questioning look and a dare to hope, he queried.
“Mine?”
she looked into his eyes, smiled and nodded.
“Yes Father it is I, your daughter."
He let out a gasp.
"Not one day passed that I have not thought of you.”
She stroked the side of his face and blinked back tears that threatened to fall out.
“My husband, the sickly child of the bent lady got very ill, I could not leave his side. He was a good man, intelligent and kind. You would have liked him. The seeds you gave to mother, we planted, harvested and sold for huge profits. With the money we planned a future, invested and built a home. We have all we could want for but my husband is no more. His body was too weak to bear the strain of living. After making me promise to always be happy, he passed away. We have been looking for you ever since. Myself, your grandchildren and” she giggled. “ The bent old woman!”

Baba Igho shook his head in disbelief and stammered.
“But - but you do not love me.”
“Father." She urged. "I remember telling you I loved you as much as my duties required. I never said I did not love you.”
As understanding dawned on him, she continued. “ Father dearest, my duty is to love you until I take my last breath. To honor you, obey you and make a worthwhile life for myself. To do the right thing always, bring up honest children and teach them how to love. Most importantly, my duty is to be your daughter.”
She let out a winsome smile, took his hands and covered his shriveled palms with hers.
“ Father you carried me when I was a helpless baby and taught me to walk, laugh and sing. Please, let me be your daughter and your joy in old age.”
Myne led her father into the house she had prepared in his absence, washed him and nursed him till his health returned.

Akpos followed them.

Struck by Myne’s grace and beauty, he did not leave as promised. In time, he built the nerve to ask her to be his wife (she said yes!).

One by one, her sisters returned home (Myne saw to it).

Working together, they restored the land to its former glory. It prospered and was fruitful. In time, the tenants returned.

With each of the daughters finding happiness in honesty, respect for the land and love of their neighbor, they became better women.


Kiki got married again! To a politician whose word was his bond. Together, they built a formidable empire backed by the unwavering loyalty of the people.

Zizi ‘s footballer husband lost a leg, he came crawling back and demanded to be reconciled with her.
She turned him down and had a career. juggling being a teacher with being a makeup artist, she starred in another story.

Mimi and her husband went for anger management therapy and rehab. They learned the importance of communication and both agreed to seek counseling if ever their marriage seemed to be hitting the rocks (they were blessed with two children).

Once upon a time, there lived a great man. He was wealthy and powerful and his estate fertile and vast. His lands begun from the banks of a river and continued up stream to form a huge city.
His was a fair businessman and was good to his tenants.
His greatest assets were his children.

Successful, relevant and kind, his four beautiful daughters were the fairest in the land.
They loved their father to the moon, back and beyond and took care of him in his old age.

There was Justice, Peace and Prosperity in the land.
They worked for it, just like we all should.

…. And they lived happily ever after, the end!

Why you should not walk on dividers or tracks

1. It is a common thing when walking on a road divider, to get carried away and slip into a daydream. If this happens, there is a possibility that you could wander into the part of the road with denser traffic, get startled by a drivers dog who decided to at that instant stick its head out of the car window and then miss a step.
I would leave you to imagine what happens when you trip on a busy road.

2. When you begin your journey, the road might appear narrow and easy to meander about. Often times, seemingly innocent empty streets pour out into busy (very busy) thruways. When this happens to you, you will be able to commiserate with all those poor 4-legged animals who find themselves in the middle of the road at night enthralled by the glare of car lights as said vehicles come at them with breakneck speed.

3. If you are not in ponytails/think Ben10 is super awesome, holding a lunch box and know all the flavors of Indomie noodles (usually known to children between the ages 3 to 11 years) you cant play the “I had no idea I was not supposed to do so” card.
It is plain odd to see an obvious adult with arms spread eagle going “tra-la-la” in the middle of the road.


4. Most railway tracks in Nigeria are like political parties in the country; functional today abandoned tomorrow (news reaching me lately is that the number of disbanded parties count up to about thirty something now. Is this a good thing or a bad thing? ) However, unlike political parties (I hope) every now and then, you catch a glimpse of an old prehistoric train dragging itself, carriages and cargo devotedly along the tracks.
It was actually fun to watch one of such occurrence in Oyo state, I wonder where the train came from/where it was headed.

5. Sadly, some road dividers and railway tracks could be the cause of fatal casualties as in cases where car owners loose control of their steering wheels and run into a road divider in a bid to halt their vehicle. Persons who were on road dividers when such incidents occur barely live to tell the tale.

I have about a dozen more reasons why you shouldn’t do the above title from personal experience and from hearsay if however you have the urge to do so every now and then, there is absolutely nothing I can say to make you change your mind.

As for Valentines Day, which was yesterday 14th February 2013 I have decided that the only thing I’d recount is a stern warning to aspiring romantics.


YOU DO NOT embark on a 2-hour journey, get comfortable in a hotel at one end of town and proceed to make an unsuspecting victim travel a bumpy and uncomfortable distance that sucks up about an hour of their life to get to you and call it a surprise visit.
I fail to see the surprise in that.
Seriously!!
Do not ever –ever do that.
Ever!!
It is so not cool (at all)

On getting to this point, it occurred to me that my initial intention was to do a piece on TGIF but heck, there is always tomorrow and the day after.

Have a lovely weekend and be nice to regular looking people.

The End