Remember your first

 

They say, “you always remember your first”.

This has been proved true times without number. I have encountered firsts, both good and bad, that I remember to this day that make some other firsts seem like child’s play.

However, there are firsts and there are firsts!

This was a first! This colorful first, was soaked into the neurons responsible for long term memory and will stay with me for a long time to come.

If I remember correctly, I was about twelve or thirteen at the time and actively crushing on Ugo’s younger brother. I had memorized his routine (think Marinette from Miraculous) and would run to either the window in my room, the swings on the front lawn or, if available attempt to strike a nonchalant but elegant pose on my parent’s car (imagine attempting to do this after running down a flight of stairs? The struggle was real mehn) to gaze upon him in all his light complexioned, hungry looking, gangly teen glory.

This was also the season I discovered mixed berry jam.

I could not seem to get enough of that oh so delicious nectar. It wasn’t like I had never had jam before, weird. As a matter of fact, back in Degema some parent or older kid was always organizing an activity or exercise among which was jam making.

There was the time we learned to make various items with annoyingly tiny beads and finger poking wires, used elephant grass to weave baskets and bags, there was the butterscotch/coconut candy making and buying (mostly buying in my case), the kuli-kuli phase, the licking nnzu (native chalk) addiction (I think I was the only one I knew that was into this) and the waiting for agbalumor/udara from Nnamdi their village (it counts as an activity). There was also practicing for assorted performances with CRAB people/some education student group/a church and nursey people coming ever so often to give some vaccine or the other, ask us to close one eyes and read aloud then proceed to place a ruler over our heads to see how much we had grown (this made me think of the witch in Hansel and Gretel – they had to be fattening us up for something).

Then, there was jam making! Of all the fruits we turned to jam, guava, mango and pineapple were my top favorites.

So yes, I was familiar with jam. Yet, the way I went through jars of this one in particular was alarming. Like instead of me to go to the window and wait for Ugo’s brother to walk by, I would sneak into the pantry to look for an unopened container of mixed berry jam to replace the jar I had finished on my own then scurry up to catch a glimpse of his receding shadow.   

Mum usually went shopping once a month, twice if it was a full house. She brought items in bulk which normally lasted until the next shopping day. She was quite alarmed when she found out I had gone through about five medium jars of mixed berry jam in less than two weeks.

She removed the remaining jars from the pantry and warned that if I did not slow down with the jam consumption, the stuff was going to come out of my ears sooner than later.

Did it listen? Nope!

Soon after she gave this warning, I waited for her to leave for work and for my sister to go do whatever it was older sisters did when they are not watching their little sisters as they are supposed to be doing and dove into the jar of jam. This time, I was on an exploratory mission.

I was trying the jam with different things to see which it paired best with. I had tried it with cabin, homemade cookies, bread, yellow garri (not a good match), coaster biscuit (a no for me), left over pancake and was moving to try it with popcorn when my tummy started to ache.

My mum was still out, it was just me and my sister at home. Not wanting to admit I had been eating jam since morning and have her act all older, condescending and tell me how wrong I was, I went to the toilet with the idea that if I was able to evacuate my bowels, I would feel better.

This worked.

I pulled my pants on and washed my fingers (no, I was not washing my hands and singing “the birthday song at the time” - curse you CoVID!!). I had taken only a few steps towards where I hid my stash of “jam experiments” when I felt wetness in my underwear.

I stopped and thought to myself. Did I forget to wipe my bum? Was that poo? Why did it feel gooey? Rather than waste time wondering, I decided to go check it out. It was possible I sat on some jam and missed it. So, I turned around, went back to the toilet pulled down my panties and screamed!

I heard voices coming from outside, it sounded like it was coming from around my bedroom window. It was probably Ugo’s younger brother talking to my sister about basketball. He played basketball, she played basketball. It seemed everyone but me played basketball.

I. Did. Not. Care.

I was dying!  

Right there on my panties, looking like karma in a shade of I told-you-so maroon were clumps of mixed berry jam. My mum had warned me this would happen, but did I listen? No. Now here I was leaking jam.  

I was prepared for mixed berry jam to come out of my ears, just like I was prepared for the bubble gum that was going to glue my intestines together and the orange seed my uncle promised would take root in my tummy and grow out of my head.

This? This was different. My hands felt cold, I was shivering in fear. I was going to die, and I would not know what popcorn and jam tasted like.

I tried to plug the leak with a wad of tissue and clean the horrid jam from my panties, but it in the time it took to get a clean pair of underwear and return to the bathroom to wash the soiled one, the one I wore would be jam filled again.

It was relentless and continued to drip on.

I was running out of clean underwear and numb with fear. Not caring for the consequence anymore, I called for my sister, the sound that left my throat was a feeble whimper.  

So, this was how I was going to die? As a last resort, right there in the bathroom, I got on my knees and began to bargain with God. If the jam would stop leaking out of my bum, I would never again eat, lick, taste or even be in the same room as mixed berry jam.

Although it seemed like forever, I was in the bathroom for only about twenty minutes. My sister had noticed I was not at the usual “brother watching spots” and came to check in. as soon as she opened the door, I lunged into her, wrapped my arms around her waist and started proper bawling.

Through hiccups and ugly crying, I confessed I had been eating jam and narrated how mum had said it was going to come out through my ears, how it refused to come out of my ears and how it would not stop coming out of my bum.

Till today, I do not know how she was able to refrain from laughing out loud when she realized what had happened.

My first period.

To spare my young child from going through a similar experience, the day she noticed and asked about the crimson stain that spotted my clothes when I had an accident, I told her it was from my body trashing the special decorations it had put up to protect and feed a new baby.  Although her brother heard this and warned me to keep the waste from my expired decorations from his clothes and property, we all agreed that if decorations were there to protect and feed a possible baby in the tummy, then it was important to get rid of the bad decorations and have the body put up new decorations every month.

Do you remember your first period?

 

 

Spice Rack: Cassia

PREFACE

Spice Rack is a story series prepared with a mixture of six spicy characters – Cinnamon (Sin), Chili (Lilian), Cumin (Morayo), Cassia, Curry (Ray) and Celery (Lera). Although the persons on the cover picture are real, the stories are in no way about them. Spice rack is a work of fiction and bares no resemblance to persons either living or dead. I hope you enjoy reading each serving as much as I enjoyed cooking them up. Feel free to participate. Leave a comment or share an opinion - Sketch

Cassia

“We are slowly coming to the end of today’s edition of Why? What? Wednesday. Today’s discussion was ‘why women cheat’ and as usual you guys didn't fall my hand! The lines have been crazy busy with so much calls and text messages that I’m like muaah! Muah! Muaah!” she made smacking noises while she blew out air kisses. “in short unna too much!" She scrolled through the notes she had been making during the program. "While Ete from Somolu say’s it’s because husbands don’t give their wives attention, Joan from Ajah says women do it because they know their husbands are busy with another woman.” She placed the finger of her left hand underneath her headset and tugged slightly on her earlobe. “Guys listening in, I know you can’t see me but I am pulling my ears for you. Pay attention to your wives oh and stop playing for the other team oh or else!” she clapped her palms and made a hand washing gesture.
After scrolling through the screen on the monitor beside her, she resumed talking.
“While Hauwa from Mile-Two say’s some women's 'censored word' are under demonic possession and need the hand of God, Latifa from Ogba say’s some women are so broken inside that they look for quick fixes in the arms of several men. While I am neither a pastor nor a psychologist, my own is that you do unto others what you would like to be done unto you and whatever game you choose to play you should play it safe. HIV is real yo! Not to talk of so many other sexually transmitted diseases.”
Her director made a signal for her to round up.
She nodded and continued to talk. “I see the phone flashing guys and I am so sorry. Although I am having so much fun as always only have time for a final call before we call it a day.” She leaned forward to hit a button, after a slight hesitation, the caller began to drawl. “Kaysiya I just called to say that I love you, You are a fine geh, a sexy geh, I mustu marry you. I listened to this song by one really hot artist Crucificxo. Although he is not as buriful as you, he made me think of you. Can you play the song for me? The name of the song is-” without missing a beat Cassia interrupted the caller. “Thank you for that ma. While I am flattered that you called to profess your love to me, this is neither a request show nor hook up program. Dj A-jax and Ogechi will be on air from six-thirty pm tonight to take all your requests and shout outs.” She disconnected the call.
“With that interesting call from my latest lover,” she paused to make a bunny quote with her finger. “We’ve come to the end of Why? What? Wednesday. Until next week, it’s been your girl Cassia keeping it real with you. Message me on twitter and Facebook with your comments and questions and I'd message you right back. I love you guys, buh-bye!”
When her director gave her a thumbs up sign, she took off her headset and walked out of the boot.
Going to her locker, she reached for her bag, pulled out her phone and dialled a number.
When she was connected she muttered loudly. “Sin you are just an arsewipe! Love ni love kor?” She held away the phone from her ear to avoid the deafening peals of laughter from the other end of the line.
She asked how she knew it was her voice. “Why wouldn’t I recognize your voice? How long have I known you - you this useless child? Besides you are the only one I hear ranting about this Crucificxo guy. You think I don’t know his picture is the screensaver on your phone?” She rolled her eyes as Sin began her litany and praise of the musician. When she paused to catch her breath, Cassia interjected. “Ehen! I wanted to ask you about Lilian, Ray called me last night she said-.” She was distracted by her colleague who was making hand gestures she could not comprehend.
She shook her head signalling that she did not understand that he was trying to say and rose two fingers meaning he should give her sometime to be done with her call.
He nodded and walked away.
“Sin I’d call you back, have to attend to someone.” She disconnected the call and returned her phone to her bag, Making a beeline for the toilet, she shut the door behind her, got out her toiletry case and tried to freshen up. When she was done, she left the toilet and went in search of him. She did not find him.
Disappointed, she got out a pack of cigarette from her bag, took out a stick and lighter put them in her pocket and made her way to the back of the building.
She put the stick in her mouth and was about lighting it up when he materialized from the shadows and grabbed the stick of cigarette from her mouth.
She yelped in surprise. “Shit Imoh you scared me!” He kissed her. “I’m sorry about that.” She pushed him away and looked around to make certain no one was watching. “Don’t do that again.” He held her waist and pulled her into an intimate embrace making her aware of his need. “Come home with me tonight, I have something more satisfying than nicotine for you.” His smile was infectious she returned it and eased out of his embrace. “You sir are the smoothest talker on planet earth.”
She pulled out a bunch of keys which included his car keys from the belt loop of his jeans and wove them in his face. “I am driving.”

Imoh rolled over and turned towards her a look of worry lining his face. “Cassia we need to talk.” A feeling of anxiety came over her she placed the fingers of her right hand lightly over her chest. “Imoh are you breaking up with me? Right now? Just after we've-” she reached for the nearest piece of clothing and pulled it over her head; it was his shirt. She swore. “Shit.”
Not taking his eyes off her, he blindly reached for something on his night stand, grabbed an envelope and handed it to her before getting up from the bed.
With shaking fingers Cassia accepted the envelope. “You are breaking up with me and can’t even say it to my face?” She began cursing as she struggled to open the envelope curious to see what was within.
She started calculating how fast she could get dressed and leave his place. If Ray would be able to come pick her or if flagging down a cab would be faster. She did not want to start crying or getting emotional in front of him but wanted to know what was in the bloody envelope.
They were both mature adults and started this affair with the intention of not making any commitments. She did not consider the possibility of falling for him or how crushed she was feeling right now.
When she opened the envelope, there was a piece of paper folded inside.
She picked out the piece of paper, let the envelope drop to the bed and unfolded the paper with both hands.
It revealed a handwritten note which read; ‘psst look at me’ confused, she drew her gaze away from the note and noticed him kneeling in front of her holding up an engagement ring with a sly smile across his face.
“What do you say? Yes? No? Maybe?” she covered her mouth with her left palm and massaged her lips with her fingers at the same time fighting the urge to smile and cry. She cleared her throat and feigned disinterest.
“Is this because you want to be kissing me in public?” He cocked an eyebrow. “ Well actually, the station manager put me up to it. He figured out what we were up to ages ago, pointed out that your wife material was high quality and threatened to introduce you to his brother if I didn't put a ring on it." Beginning to feel uncomfortable from the pressure of the weight of his body on one knee he stopped smiling and looked at her. "Cassia how far na? I’m kneeling in my birthday suit with my heart in the palm of your hands help a brother out.” She smiled wickedly and held her left hand out to him nodding and wriggling her fingers. “I kindda liked the view.” He slipped on the ring and got up.
Picking up her phone, handing it to her and waiting while she took pictures of the ring on her finger, he pulled on his briefs and sat beside her. “Are you going to call your mum?” She shook her head. “Not now. I’m calling my sistaz! It’s too bad I can’t take you with me for D-day. You are quite a catch.”
She got out of bed and admired the ring as it caught the light glittered.
She had an amazing job, just got engaged to a man she was in love with and was going to spend the weekend with her best friends. Life was good!

*

*

* Ps: unlike the Characters in this story, Crucificxo is real. Aside from being a 6ft tall delicious serving of handsomeness and charisma he actually knows how to ‘spit’. I’m presently stalking following him on twitter and believe he is the real deal.
Here is the download link for ‘Living my life’ my present favourite track Livin my life - Crucificxo have a listen and tell me what you think! (about the song and not his body)

Spice Rack: Chili

PREFACE
Spice Rack is a story series prepared with a mixture of six spicy characters – Cinnamon (Sin), Chili (Lilian), Cumin (Morayo), Cassia, Curry (Ray) and Celery (Lera). Although the persons on the cover picture are real, the stories are in no way about them. Spice rack is a work of fiction and bares no resemblance to persons either living or dead. I hope you enjoy reading each serving as much as I enjoyed cooking them up. Feel free to participate. Leave a comment or share an opinion
- Sketch.

Chili

Ray wove her hand in signal to Lillian in a bid to get her attention.
It worked.
She watched as she made her way towards her struggling with her shirt buttons while trying to finger comb her expensive looking hair extensions.
They embraced. “Girl did you change in the toilet again, I don’t know why you don’t like to move around in your uniform oh. Me I think it's sexy. You are the only policewoman I know who drives a jeep and has time to look as stylish as you do." She battled her lashes playfully at her. "You really must tell me your secret.” Lillian swatted at her jokingly . “Go jo. You are just a clown.” Climbing onto the stool opposite the one her friend occupied, she reached for the glass in front of her, took a sip from its contents, spat out almost immediately and squeezed her face in disgust. “wetin dey this cup?” Ray laughed. “Person force you drink am?” She pulled her glass away from Lillian’s reach and took a sip and smiled in mischief. “Its soda water mixed with natural herbs. This mixture is fabled to enhance the libido.” She scuffed. “ This concoction you mean? Wetin you wan use enhanced libido do abeg, you be man?” Ray leaned closer, pulled down her shirt so her breast were slightly exposed and winked at her while licking her lips suggestively. “We all have our little secrets.” Lillian pulled back and cringed in disgust eliciting a bout of laughter from Ray. “ You should see the look on your face girlfriend! Meanwhile, have you seen this?” she flipped through her cell phone, brought up a web page and slid the phone over to her. Lillan did a quick survey, returned the phone and looked at her in confusion. “Which one is Zika again?” Ray leaned back and sighed. “Apparently, it’s the new thing attacking man kind. Zika is a virus. For now we know mosquitoes and most recently bodily fluids transmit it. Although it has been around for a while, ordinarily when you have it you get the regular malaria symptoms you know; fever, aches and blah. You are sick for a couple of days and then you are done but sadly it becomes a problem when it's caught by a pregnant woman. It kind of affects the development of the baby and they end up giving birth to babies with birth defects.” Lilian gasped. “Gosh, that is terrible.” “Yeah I know. Luckily the outbreak hasn’t reached Nigeria yet.” Lilian signaled to a passing waitress. “So, are you guys like preparing for it or what?” She nodded. “Ever since the incidence of Ebola and now Lassa fever it helps to be aware of the ‘trending’ stuffs. Know their symptoms, treatment and how to prevent It.”
Their conversation was briefly interrupted by the waitress who arrived to take Lillian’s order.
Ray studied her friend while she spoke to the waitress. Something was off about her; she did not seem like her usual upbeat self.

Lillian folded her hands and rested her elbows on the table. “ There I was thinking that the worse thing I could hear today was how a man was nearly lynched by angry tenants for taking a dump besides a sign that read ‘do not defecate here.’ Meanwhile here you are giving me more reasons to be afraid of mosquitoes. It is a good thing we have doctors like you who are always updated and prepared.” Ray blinked, shook her head and held up her fingers. “Wait, go back. Why did the man pooh beside the sign?” Lillian laughed. “According to him, he was pressed. He was of the opinion that if he shat beside the sign and not directly below it, he wouldn’t be causing an offence.” Ray threw her head back and laughed. “Gosh that’s so hilarious.” Lillian leaned in. “speaking of hilarious, when last did you speak to Sin?” Ray scrunched her eyebrows in concentration. “About two – three days ago. Why?” The waitress arrived with her drink. Lillian smiled in gratitude and responded to the question. “I am not sure but I think I saw someone like her hiding behind a purse and sneaking out of her office complex on my way here.” Ray shrugged. “I wouldn’t put that behavior past Sin, she acts odd on occasion but she doesn’t fool around when it comes to work.” She caught a glimpse of the time on her wristwatch and cursed. “Lillian I have to leave now, I need to be home and well rested. Have an early shift tomorrow.” A pained expression crossed her face as she whined. “Haba, but I just got here now.” Ray contemplated for a moment before asking. “Chill are you okay?” In response to the question, she plastered an obviously fake smile on her face and wove her hand in dismissal. “I am okay girl!” Not believing her she shook her head in doubt and reached for her other hand and persisted. “I can tell something is wrong and I am going to make you tell me. We’d talk about it over the weekend. Hope you are still coming?” She replied flatly. “It's D-day we are talking about, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Ray dropped some notes on the table picked up her handbag, got up and gave her a kiss on the cheeks. “Babe sorry to leave you hanging. Please settle my bill for me, have to leave now before traffic starts.” Lillian nodded and wove her off. “Go, I want to chill out here for a bit, I will be fine.”
Watching her walk away from the bar, Lillian felt her shoulders drop in despair.
She was certain she was not going to be fine.

She felt like dying.

She was heartbroken, confused and disoriented.
She did not know how to react or what to do with the rest of her days. She had gotten so used to the life she had that she never thought of what she would do if anything changed.

Chief called her this morning to break things off with her.

She was still in shock.
She had been with the man for over eight years now. He had practically sponsored her and her siblings through school; provided them with a house, food and security. If she didn’t count the amazing sex they had on occasion, he was the closest thing she had to a father.
After graduation from university, when she was finding it difficult to secure a job, it was through his influence she became an Assistant Superintendent.

Chief had been married for up to twenty years she was happy to be his faithful mistress.
She loved him.
Why did he decide today that what they were doing was wrong? Why did he choose today of all days to be faithful to his wife?
Did he have to end things with her?

She suspected it was because the bloody woman had dangled that baby boy she miraculously gave birth to after twenty years in front of the man that he started singing the loyal, faithful and honest anthem.

She never would understand what the big deal was about having a male child. Weren’t all his six beautiful girls gifts from God? Why start making drastic decisions and acting irrational because another man was about to join the billion and one male population?

She took a swig directly from the bottle and ordered a second drink.

She needed to talk to someone.

Of the lot of them, it was only Morayo that knew about her affair with chief. She had to wait until the weekend before she could talk to her.
Faced with the possibility of drinking until she was drunk and breaching their agreement and drunk dialing Chief to demand that he talk to her.
Lillian signaled for the waitress to bring the bill.
She was going to go home and have a good cry.
She hoped by tomorrow morning she would not still be feeling as bad as she felt now.
They say life goes on, Chief or no Chief for her, it had to.

As you like it

That awkward moment when the sugar rush from eating milk wafers is lacking after going through the whole mouth pleasing pack.
Torn between fighting the urge to spit out the last bit while checking to make sure the product isn’t expired makes quite an amusing picture.
Eventually the realization that wafers are not a good remedy for eye-blinding hunger comes to mind.

A funny thing happened last week…

February 14 was St. Valentine’s Day.
A day which appears to have been ‘from a summary of past accounts and history’ originally a celebration of love between lovers but now is an occasion to give alms to the poor, visit orphanage homes, go to church, bankrupt selves in the name of impressing a beau, have meaningless sex (possibly after receiving a gift of white handkerchief, singlet and boxers) and/or feel sorry for yourself for not being in a relationship/in love/ involved.
From past accounts and recent times, it seems to be a day when people not only choose to wear red and white looking like members of the Ayelala secret society in Edo state but also generally pair up and have fun with one or a multitude of friends/strangers.
Somehow this definition was lost to me because I ended up spending the fun part of the day being continuously dunked in water and it was not because I was smoking hot.
I was supposed to be a quite observer at a pool party; drink in hand, beau at hand all was well with me until a girl who even I had difficulty keeping eye contact with (she had water filled balloons for boobs that threatened to fall out of their barely there ‘enclosure’ every time she moved) decided to pick up the ice filled champagne bucket, ignore the lot of people wearing swimsuits and boxers and empty the contents on a fully clothed me in the name of ice bucket challenge.

I mean, what the hell was that?!

Shocked and freezing, I scurried off and went to change to dry clothes taking time to towel dry my hair and apply lip-gloss on my kisser.

location: Hôtel Bimyns, Porto Novo.

I barely reached the landing of the party grounds when suddenly I was airborne, twisting my neck in a bid to identify my pilot, the arrival destination came to view: the pool.
Screaming, I tried to explain that I wasn’t dressed to swim/I had just changed out of wet clothes. The final bit of my protest came out as a gurgle as I had been unceremoniously dumped into the pool.
This happened about two more times until it occurred to me that changing out of my wet clothes seemed to be a subliminal invitation.
The highpoint part of this account happened the next day when a young man who spoke in amazement about a guest who had an unbelievably ample behind for her tiny frame was cut short by another man telling him the buttocks was fake, that the lady took them off when she went to use the bathroom. The look of hurt that lined his face at the deception was so sad it was hilarious.

I did not find anything wrong or right with what she did though. It is her body after all and she is allowed to do whatever pleases her with it.

Shout out to NEPA for giving me a few seconds of power to write this.

For your views and comments on body magic, wonder bras and the likes (aka fake hips, nyansh and boobs), use the comment box below.

Ciao!

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.

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.

The fortieth

I watched with fascinating curiosity as this okada (motorbike) made its way towards me from a distance.
On the two wheeled vehicle was the rider of the bike (okada man), a youngish looking woman and two baskets.
One basket was positioned in front of the bike-man on top his engine at the helm. It was cradled between his outstretched hands and his spread thighs.
The woman carried the second basket.
The basket looked heavy but some how she managed to balance it on her left lap with one hand while using her other hand to hold on to a baby (presumably hers) snugly tied to her back with both a wrapper and receiving blanket. As the bike drew nearer, I noticed he was looking in my direction. His lips were moving. Realizing he caught me staring at him I decided to pay attention to what he was about. Without taking off his hands from the steering of the motorbike, he raised the index finger of his right hand and spoke to me again. This time, I heard him. He was saying “one chance” informing slash asking if I was interested in joining his moving party. I let out an incredulous gasp. Trying not to regard him with an open mouthed stare, I smiled sweetly and shook my head indicating I received his information but was not interested in signing up for his breakneck adventure on wheels. When he zoomed off disappointed at the loss of a potential ‘client’, I gave myself a well-deserved pat on the back for being able to ‘pin’ my lips together and not ask him if I was expected to seat on the ‘bicycle tires ’ or was he a learner?

Of love, stalkers and exotic emotions…

When they say to “follow who know road” I have serious reason to believe that they made love, lust and relationships exceptions to the above phrase.
From my experience, it turns out that the people most willing to give advise and tell you how to manage your ‘ships’ are the ones with the most problems – insecure, possessive, noncommittal, timid and obsessed human beings.
They ‘ginger’ you to live the life that they’d never in their wildest imaginations indulge in while perching on the fence like hungry vultures watching to see if you’d turn up _ _ _.
Kindda brings the book/movie – Dorian Gray to mind (Dorian Gray was this dude who was initially a good boy but got spoiled by ‘world people’. Along the way, he owned a painting which turned out to be ‘outer worldly ’ – possessing certain powers of sort that took the burnt for his trespasses. He remained clean, fresh and young while the picture got corrupted, decayed and old. The same ‘world people’ that robbed his of his innocence and encouraged him to stray now started to vex unto say im dey chop clean mouth and nothing dey do am so, they begun to seek a way to destroy him) in my opinion, when it comes to accounts and following; I am the one that gets hurt and destroyed by the 'actions' they encourage me to engage in (the picture) while they (Dorian Gray) remain intact and unaffected by their ‘wicked’ council.
At the end of the day they will say. “ I only gave an advise, I no say make you go do am!” – yeah right.

“And [the lawyer], trying to justify himself, said to Jesus, ‘who is my neighbor?" (Luke 10:29)

Story of the good Samaritan asides from confirming that LOVE IS THE GREATEST thing of all makes mention of two popular biblical locations:

a) Jerusalem – the holy city and

b) Jericho – the sin city.

The traveler was going from Jerusalem to Jericho.
The priest was going from Jerusalem to Jericho.
The Levite was going from Jerusalem to Jericho.
The Samaritan as well was going from Jerusalem to Jericho but unlike the aforementioned persons, the Samaritan had a running tab at an inn somewhere along the road that was able to cater for the injured and downtrodden. Giving the impression that this was not the first seek and recovery mission the Samaritan had partaken in along the Jerusalem – Jericho road.

“You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.” (Luke 10:28)

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!

Jangolova (Part II)

October 2, 2013

She grabbed a fistful of his shirtsleeves while pulling at his hand. “Please Martin, you don’t have to do this. I don’t know what came over me. I promise, I’d get help.” Using his right hand, he unfolded her fingers from his shirt, brought them to his lips and kissed them in deference. “There is nothing wrong with going for a little holiday sweetie, the doctor said it will be good for you.” She shook her head and wriggled free from of his hold. “Martin it is Benin! That is over an hour from here without the regular flight delays. Who will look after Izu? Who will look after you?” she wrung her fingers in distress and looked imploringly at him “I swear, it wouldn’t happen again. Martin, take me home.” When she started crying, he leaned forward and tapped on the drivers shoulder. The driver turned to him in response. “Sir?” Martin pointed to the point in front. “Park the car and leave us alone for a bit.” The driver nodded in obedience, parked on the shoulder of the road and stepped out of the vehicle. When he was out of earshot, he turned to Isioma worry lining his cherubic face and spoke heavily. “Babe you scared the hell out of me. I still wake up in the middle of the night from the nightmare of that day. I am happy Izu was not the one that found you on the brink of death in the bathtub." He pushed his fingers through his fairly bushy hair and continued. " Do you know I promised him ice cream from the mall after school? What if he hadn’t agreed to come home first to change out of his uniform? What if I wasn’t back in time to take you to the hospital?” he looked at her, wanted to touch her but refrained from doing so until he was done. He continued. “Doctor Kasim said you failed his psychic evaluation and declared you depressed. Although I do not agree with him I agree that you do need a change of environment.” He gave into the urge to touch her, reached for her face and stroked her hair. “Please darling you are my wife and I love you.” He placed both his hands on her shoulder and gave her a searching look. “I can’t stand the thought of life without you, I need you to relax. It is just for three days, aside from asking you to be my wife, I haven’t ever asked you for anything else. Please do this for me. Will you?” She looked out of the window, was silent for a while peered at him then asked. “Three days?” He nodded. “Yes my love.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay, call the driver, I'd do it.”
They rode in silence to the airport.
When she joined the check-in queue, Martin stepped aside to make a phone call.
She was waiting for him. “I’ve arranged with a driver to pick you from the airport and take you to the location. Although no one seems to know much about the place, they haven’t heard anything bad and then you got the invitation! The driver would be available for you all through the period of your stay. I transferred about a million Naira to your personal account, whatever you need, get it.”
The boarding announcement for her flight was called. He pulled her to himself and squeezed her in a warm embrace. “Be safe honey, have fun and come back to me. I love you so much.” She tried to nod while still in his embrace but could not manage it. In a muffled voice she retorted. “I know Martin.”
An attendant tapped his shoulder, “sir, we are boarding.” He let go of her and waited, watching till she was through security and inside the airplane. He stood in the lobby looking on and waiting until it began to taxi.
When the flight eventually took off, he said a silent prayer to God to bring her back happy and alive.

**********

“Hello? Is anybody here?” Ivie dropped her carryall bag on the floor beside her and looked around. Checking the pamphlet, she looked around for a name to confirm she was in the right place. That done, she took in the beauty and charm around her.
The place looked exotic and serene.
She spotted something that looked like a koi tank in the corner, padding to the direction, she discovered she was right. She folded her hands across her chest and leaned forward to inspect it. “Welcome Ivie.” Startled, she jumped back and spun around to seek the owner of the voice.
It was a little lady who appeared to have manifested from thin air. She smiled at her and gave a slight nod.
Ivie placed the tips of her left fingers across her chest in a bid to settle her racing heart. “You startled me!” The lady gave another bow and spoke with a thick accent. “I am sorry, do not be offended.” Ivie let off a shrug and wove her hand flippantly. “Its okay, no big deal.” She bowed her head again and smiled. “Thank you. Please pick your bag and follow me. Your place is through this door.” Ivie did as she was told, picked up her carryall and followed the little lady as she led the way.
They went through a side door, past a flower garden in bloom to a building that looked like a cottage from a fairy tale. The little lady took out a key ring from her pocket, searched for the right key and opened the door.
Ivie got in and waited for the little lady to pull the key from the lock and enter.
“Am I the first to arrive? Where is everybody else?” dropping the key ring in her pocket, the lady nodded. “Yes you are the first, the rest will arrive shortly.”
They were in the living room.
She motioned for her to follow and led her towards a short hallway on the right that ended in front of a door. There were two other doors on either side.
She stopped in front of the first door and opened it. “This room, you will choose. I go now. You will welcome the others” she thought for a second and added. “The last will be late.” Ivie shrugged. “Its okay, I can do that.” She begun to push open the door to her room open when it occurred to her that the lady knew her name.
She looked up to ask her how she knew but the lady was gone. Letting off another shrug she opened the door completely. She stepped in, let her carryall bag slip to the floor beside her, sashayed to the center of the room and twirled around.
She felt free.
She took out her phone to call Jason and tell him about the place but changed her mind. Dropping the phone, she transferred her bag to the bed and began to unpack.
When she was done, she laid out a change of clothes, went to have a shower and got dressed.
Slipping her cell phone into the pocket of her shorts, she walked out of her room with the intention of exploring.
The two doors in the hallway opened to rooms similar to hers; glamorous marble finished baths and toilets, huge 4-poster beds with fancy dressers and wardrobes. Up the hall to her left was a door leading out of the living room. She opened it and came to a kitchen-cum-dining area. Through the huge windows looking out from above the kitchen sink, she could see a back porch with two double swings hanging from the ceiling. The place was breathtakingly beautiful.
She heard a faint knock coming from the living room. closing the door behind, she hastened out and went back to the living room.
She waited behind the door till she heard the knock again then swung the door open.
The sight of the woman standing at the other side of the door left her breathless; she was beautiful. “Hi” the woman said. “The lady in the building in front directed me here.” When Ivie did not move, she added. “I’m Mrs. Chukwuma.” Ivie realized she was staring at the woman, snapped out of the trance and stepped away from the door. The woman was breathtakingly beautiful; add a halo and wings and she could pass for what angels are supposed to look like.
Ushering her in, she cleared her throat and spoke. “Yeah, I guess you are the second guest. Welcome to what I named the fairytale cottage!” She held her unsteady gaze for a moment.
The woman looked like she had been crying.
Wanting to make her feel comfortable, she added. “Please call me Ivy.” She led her to the rooms and pointed as she spoke. “That one’s mine, the other two are unoccupied.” The lady picked the room opposite her own pushed open the door and looked in. “This one will do.” Her phone began to ring; she flipped open her purse searched for it within. opening the door wider, she tumbled in. Still looking for her phone, she used her hips to shut the door closed.
Ivie shrugged and turned to resume her exploration but there was another knock on the door. She rolled her eyes, let out an exasperated sigh and went to the door. Swinging it open, she came face to face with a handsome, tall and tired looking man. “Hi, you were supposed to be late!” He gave her a weary one sided smile. “Tell me about it.” She took his bag from him and wove him in with her free hand. “Well, what are you waiting for? Come on in!” When he stepped into the house, she handed his bag back to him and closed the door. “I think there are drinks in the fridge, you look like you need one.” She led the way past the living area to the rooms. “Those two are taken, you get to stay in the middle.” She winked at him and pointed to the direction of the kitchen. “ The fridge is that way, welcome to fairytale cottage.”


October 3, 2013

She knocked; first on the door to Mrs. Chukwuma’s room then on the third one and waited for both of them to come out. They looked like they had showered as well and were dressed.
She clapped her hands in excitement in an attempt to liven the atmosphere. “Hi you guys, good morning! I slept off yesterday after eating so much junk from the fridge. The little lady came twenty minutes ago. She said there’s breakfast at the other side.” She indicted by making a fist and throwing her thumb over her right shoulder. “So, I’m to lead the way.” She laughed at the idea. Turning to the man, she spoke. “I didn’t get your name yesterday, my friends call me Ivy, you are?” He blinked, still groggy from sleep or maybe a restless night and murmured. “Sesan.” She nodded and turned to the second woman waiting expectantly. While looking like she walked off the centerfold for Thisday style, she rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand and stifled a yawn. She answered dully. “Isi. Chukwuma.” They looked at her in confusion, unsure of what to say. She shook her head and spoke again. “I am Chukwuma Martin Isioma, call me Isi.” Ivie clapped her hands, moved behind the duo and urged them forward gently. “Okay! Now that we are one big happy family, shall we go eat?” Sesan strutted to the front door and held open the door for the ladies to pass. Shutting the door behind, they made their way to the reception in search of the little lady.
She was waiting.
On seeing them together, the lady smiled, hugged each of them and gave and encouraging nod. “It is good that you are all here. Come with me.” Sesan smiled, rose an eyebrow and did not budge. “I am under the impression that this was to be a reunion of sorts, yet it is apparent that it is only three of us present. Although they are beautiful ladies, I don’t recognize them and therefore I am alarmed.” He folded his hands across his chest and continued. “ If my wife did not plan this charade, I would like to know what really is going on here missy.” The lady nodded, bowed her head and spoke. “Not missy, but Mami, it is what she called me. Promise was made, now I can fulfill.” She looked up and stared at them one after the other. “The three of you after breakfast, you will know and decide. But first, please follow me.” Ivie shrugged and followed her, she stopped midway across the room and turned to them. “Come on guys, what do you have to loose? You are here already.” Isioma spoke up. “Ivy is right, I’d come.” Sesan rolled his eyes, dropped his hands and followed. Mami opened the door Ivie initially assumed led to a restroom and led them through a long hallway that came to stop at an old wooden door.
She opened the door and the tumbled into an outdoor bar.
It was deserted and looked rundown.
Isioma stopped in front of a wooden railing and looked at Mami in bafflement. “Have I been here before?” Ivie shrugged and looked around. “Place feels familiar, like a repressed memory or something.” Sesan looked with chagrin from one woman to the other. “Are you shitting me?” Mami pulled Isioma towards an empty boot and pushed her gently till she sat. Ivie and Sesan followed and sat on either side. She disappeared for a couple of minutes and came back with pieces of bread and steaming bowls of pepper soup on a tray. After dropping a bowl of the soup and wedge of bread each in front of them, she walked from one person to the next and folded their fingers around a spoon. “Eat." She coaxed. "Eat up dear friends. It will come to you. No use recalling what was lost on an empty stomach” she patted Sesan’s shoulder in assurance. “This will help you remember.”


... To be continued

Jangolova (Part I)

September 27, 2013

There were 19 rooms in all.
Minus the bedrooms, living rooms and bathrooms, there were 5 other rooms.
As Isioma pulled the door of the indoor gym shut she let out a weary moan and trudged up the stairs. She stopped in front of the utility closet on the landing and deposited the cleaning items she had been lugging about the house within. The grandfather clock down the hall said it was quarter to one. She mopped her forehead with the back of her palm and sighed heavily. Martin and Izu would be home shortly.
When they arrived, she would take his coat and ask how his day was, he would say it was fine. She would take her 4-year-old son to his room nod while he prattled on about his activities in school and help him to change out of his school uniform. When that was done, she would return to the kitchen, to heat up lunch and serve her family. She would clean up after lunch, get dinner ready and soak the dirty dishes. After she was through with that, she would take Izu up, give him a bath and put him in bed. Then she would return to sit with Martin while he watched the evening news. When he turned in for the night, she would check to ensure she the doors were properly locked before retiring to bed. Come tomorrow, the cycle would begin again.
She was tired.
Tired from all the cleaning she had done in the house today, they once had two maids, a cook and nanny for Izu but she woke up one morning and decided to have them all fired
She needed the strain to make her feel alive. She felt empty; there was a hole inside her, each day it grew wider.
Martin did as she asked.
He did anything she asked without question.
Now, she was tired.
She trudged past the carpeted hallway and slipped into the master bedroom, Izu’s baby Tylenol was on the dresser; he had complained of a headache this morning. She figured it was another ploy to get her attention.
She did not have time for him these days.
She opened the container of Tylenol and drank straight from the bottle. It tasted like cough syrup; cherry flavor. She took another gulp then had an idea.
Running down the stairs, she made a beeline for Martins’ study.
On display in the cupboard behind his swivel chair was an assortment of drinks. She picked a vodka bottle, doubled back and made a left for the kitchen.
On getting in, she trotted to the worktable and snagged a mug from the rack. Ascending the stairs again, she returned to their bedroom and traded her work clothes for a bath towel and bedroom slippers.
Padding into the bathroom, she dropped her “loot” on top of the bath cabinet beside the sink, opened the medicine cabinet above the sink and stood on the tip of her toes to look for and select a bottle of aspirin. While she ran her bath water, it occurred to her that what she was about to do was wrong but she banished the thought from her mind.
She was dying inside; she could smell the decay of her flesh. She had been this way for so long that being alive was a faint memory. In the past, she was able to hide behind a beatific smile but she could not manage it anymore. She was in pain and wanted to end it.
She poured vodka into the mug, threw a palm full of aspirin into her mouth and washed it down with the vodka; drinking until the mug was empty.
She felt a burning sensation at the back of her throat.
The tap was overflowing; someone would have to clean the mess.
With towel, slippers and bottle of vodka, she clambered into the bathtub.

**********

Ivie waited and continued to wave until the car was out of sight. She turned around with a dreamy look on her face, caught her mother’s eyes and felt her heart slam into the wall of her chest with a thud. She was at the door. Waiting for her to come closer, she asked in an overbearing voice. “Who is that Ivie?” she looked down at her feet and answered. “He is Jason.” She added with a stammer. “My boyfriend.” Her mother surveyed her with piercing eyes. “Do you love this boy?” Still looking at her feet, she nodded. “Yes mother, I do. He loves me too.” She considered it for a second then spoke dismissively. “End the relationship. I do not want to see you with him anymore.” With that she made an about turn and strode into the house. Ivie stood rooted to the spot, shock flowing through her body at a loss for how to react. Slowly, she snapped out of the daze, shook off the feeling and ran after her mother remembering to bolt the door as she got in. she found her in the kitchen. “Mother, did you hear me? I said I love him. I will not break up with Jason.” Ignoring her, she picked up a newspaper spread it open and sat at the kitchen island which doubled as the dinning table Ivie did not move. After a while her mother closed the paper, folded it into two and used it to fan herself. “What do you do for a living Ivie?” taken aback by the question, she blinked several times before answering. “I am a teacher mother.” Her mother dropped the paper on the table and looked at her. “Correction; you are an underpaid secondary school teacher. You have no friends, no ambition and no future.” She unfolded the paper and spread it out again. “ Once you thought you could be more, you wanted to be better than me but then but you failed. I am all you have so you had better be grateful and stop acting obnoxious.” She eyed her scornfully. “Look at you, almost thirty and still living with your mother. Aren’t you ashamed? That so-called boy you are opening mouth to call boyfriend is too good for you. He is having fun with you. He will use you, drain you and leave you for a younger woman with more class.” Ivie threw up her hands, used her palms to cover her ears and let out a scream. “Stop it!” she dropped her hands and put her right hand over her chest as she continued she thought she was immune to her bitterness but she was not, her eyes misted with tears as she thought of her once sweet loving mother. “No mother, he wouldn’t! Jason loves me.” She darted to the living room and came back with her purse. Searching inside for something, she pulled out a pamphlet and placed it in on top the newspaper her mother was pretending to read. “Mother I do have friends and even though it doesn’t look like it at the moment, I have a bright future, me and Jason. I am supposed to be doing something, I feel it but I can’t seem to remember.” She pointed to the pamphlet. “This invitation is for me, I am going to Benin City to celebrate my 30th birthday.” She added uncertainly. “With my friends.” She swung the strap of the purse over her shoulders and made to leave the kitchen. Without looking up from the paper, her mother declared. “You’d do no such thing Ivie.” Something snapped within her; she had had enough. Feeling a surge of pent up rage, she spun around and stalked back to her mother. Furiously, she grabbed the pamphlet from the table and leaned down so they had eye contact . “Try and stop me.”

**********

She giggled and playfully swatted his fingers away. “Sesan you are such a naughty boy.” He dodged the onslaught, made a silly face and gathered her in his arms. Nuzzling her neck, he caused her to let out more giggles. After she had laughed uncontrollably for almost a minute, he stopped so she could catch her breath, released her from his embrace, and turned so he was kneeling straddled above her with hands pined on either side of her head. He planted a noisy kiss on her lips and asked. “So tell me, who is the best husband in the world?” she placed the index finger of her right hand on her chin, looked at the ceiling and studied it in concentration. “Erm, I’d have to think about that for a bit.” He made a buzzing noise. “Wrong answer.” He brought his hands to her side and began to tickle her again. Between peals of laughter, she managed to call out. “You are Sesan, you are!” he stopped tickling her, leaned to the side and stretched out his left hand to pick up the sheets that had fallen off the bed. Dragging them over his shoulders, he covered her as well and moved to lie beside her. Wrapping his left hand around her waist, he fondled her belly with his right hand and spoke softly. “So doctor Rukky, tell me. How was work today?” she rolled her eyes and turned to face him. “Now he asks me.” He feigned looking hurt. “I was going to get to that eventually. Cant blame a man for getting distracted by his really hot wife now would you. Sides, I was away for a month, I missed you.” He squeezed her in a tight cuddle and kissed her forehead. She brushed away her hair from her face, rubbing at the spot her kissed in the process. “You were away for two weeks Sesan.” He wriggled his shoulders. “Well, It felt like a month.” She rolled her eyes again and shook her head. “Work was fine, I accepted a party invitation on your behalf. It is a reunion for you and a couple of your friends. Sounds like fun, you are going.” He raised an eyebrow. “What party? I just got home; no way I’m leaving again.” With a snarling expression, she shifted to her back and faced the ceiling. “Check it out before you make a decision. The pamphlet is in the pocket of my blue jacket.” She pointed to the wardrobe. He let his finger trail from her throat to her navel then whispered sweetly. “Is this a ploy to get me out of bed?” he pinched her waist. Letting out a yelp, she rubbed the spot he attacked and pushed him off the bed. He landed on his feet, reached for his boxer shorts and pulled them on. Giving a mock salute, he spoke with a fake accent. “You have won the first round lady Rukky, I shall be back shortly for round two.” She gave a derisive snort, threw a pillow at him and reached for the magazine on the bedside table on her side of the bed. Sesan padded to the wardrobe pulled the door to her half open and reached for the first jacket he spotted. He searched the pockets until his fingers brushed against a piece of paper. Rukky looked up from the magazine she was flipping through and watched in horror as Sesan proceeded to open the scrunched up paper. She flew out of bed and made an attempt to snatch the paper from his hand. “No Sesan!” she pleaded. using one hand to block her, he laughed, stepped away from her reach and continued unfolding the paper. She turned from him and began putting on her discarded clothes. Sesan read the paper a look of confusion crossing his face then continued to stare at it unseeingly as his brain made sense of it all. It was a receipt dated 3 weeks ago for services rendered at a maternity clinic. There was a note scribbled on the reverse side. He read it out loud. “Its for the best my Rukichins, no regrets. Love, D.” he looked questioningly at her, waiting for an explanation.
She was fully dressed.
Standing in front of him, her face devoid of emotion she spoke flatly. “It wasn’t yours, he doesn’t want kids.” She took off her wedding band and placed it on the dresser. “I’m leaving you.” He let the paper slip out of his hand and fall to the floor. He stood and watched as she packed an overnight bag, walked out of the bedroom and their matrimonial home.
He spotted a brightly colored pamphlet sticking out of the pocket of her blue jeans jacket.
He had picked the wrong jacket.


.... To be continued

What's Myne (Part 1)

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 land could be estimated to be almost as big as the present day city of Ibadan).
His was a fair businessman and was good to his tenants. In honor, they called him Baba Igho, meaning father of money.

No other name could best describe him.

Baba Igho had a weakness for praise and beauty this could probably the reason why he continued to get married each time he lost a wife.
He was unfortunate in love.
After he got married, his wife would live only long enough to bare him a child and then fall prey to some mysterious illness, which would take her life.
This happened four times with each woman being more beautiful than the last (Somewhere in Nigeria, persons would conclude that Baba Igho was being “worried from his hometown”).
When the fourth wife died a few weeks after the birth of her child, he decided to retire his ring welding wrist and dedicate the rest of his life to taking care of his children and estate.

The first daughter, he named Kiki her late mother was a princess from a distant land.
Kiki was an egotistical self-serving child.
She never let anyone touch her toys or share in the fruits that her little garden yielded.
The second daughter was Zizi.
Her late mother was rumored to be a marine spirit.
Zizi’s beauty was so enchanting that gazing at her could make a pagan prayerful.
She would spend hours in a day applying beauty products on her skin to make herself more beautiful; she too did not care for anyone but herself.
The third daughter was Mimi.
Her late mother was the child of a warrior.
Mimi was independent and strong to a fault. She fed on power, was unforgiving and was swift to punish anyone who dared to cross her.
The fourth daughter was Baba Igho’s favorite child.
He named her Mine but for peace to reign in the house, he changed her name to Myne.
Myne’s mother was the most unlikely of the four wives. Although she was endowed with grace and beauty, she was the child of a poor healer.
Myne’s modesty and kindness often pushed her to the background and her sisters picked on her.

Years went by and soon Kiki, Zizi, Mimi and Myne became young adults.

Baba Igho decided it was time for his beautiful daughters to get married.

Not one for small measures, he threw a grand party and invited eligible bachelors from around the country. When his guest arrived, he sat on his gold plated throne and proclaimed that his daughters were the fairest in all the country.
He then turned to them and promised that he would give them wonderful husbands based on the love they had for him and asked each of them to come forward one after the other and profess her love.
Kiki spoke first.
Throwing her arms around his neck, she kissed him and said. “Father! I love you to the moon and back! I will give away all my possessions in exchange for your happiness and health!”
This pleased him.
He gave her a quarter of his lands and married her off to a politician who promised to build a wonderful home for her.
It was Zizi’s turn.
Zizi sat on his laps sang a song and afterward she spoke “my dear father, the love I have for you goes farther than the moon! My beauty can not hold a flame to the light of my love for you. I would gladly adorn myself with rags and bear sores on my beautiful skin in exchange for your prosperity and well being.”
This pleased him.
He gave her a quarter of his land alongside cattle and bags of money. He married her off to the most decorated footballer in the country.
When it was Mimi’s turn to speak, she ran to his feet and burst into tears. When she was done crying, she wiped her face and sat at his feet. “Father” she said. “I have traveled around the world and found none like you. You are the strongest, brightest and bravest of all who I have come across. I love you beyond the reaches of the earth, I love you farther than that and I love you even more. For your sake, I would willingly go into captivity and beg in tears each day if this will make you happy.”
This pleased him very much.
He gave her the third quarter of his lands, cattle, more bags of money and married her off to the most talented musician in the country.
When it was Myne’s turn to speak, he sat up straighter and ordered absolute silence because unlike the rest of his daughters, he knew Myne was the one that truly loved him.
He was excited with the anticipation of the praises she would shower on him and wanted everyone to hear.
Myne walked up to the foot of his throne, gave a curtsy and then stood straight and tall.
With a soft but clear voice she looked straight into his eyes and without blinking said.
“ Dear father, I love you as much as my duties require”.
He gaped in shock and stood up outraged.
“What?!”
He screamed.
“You dare to make a fool of me in the presence of my subjects?”
He ordered the guards to throw her out and banished her from the land.
“All these years, she deceived me”.
A bent old woman passing through the land who was a witness to all that had happened, walked up to asked Baba Igho and asked if she could take Myne back home with her to be a nurse to her sickly child.
Handing her a bag of assorted seeds as payment for her troubles, he washed his hands off Myne and went back to his throne to continue the celebrations...





... to be continued