What the hell do you think you are doing?
What do you mean?
I am asking you what the hell you think you are doing?
I...
Do you know that I almost fell out of my bed with fright?!!! I thought someone was dying!
Dying! Where?! Why?!
I can't believe this shit!
What are you talking about?
What are you doing?
Wha...Oh, you mean...?
Yes, I mean...
I was rehearsing.
For what? How to wake the dead?
(laughing) noooo, now, blogville idols.
U're fucking with me.
What? You don't think I can win?
U're fucking with me.
What?
Have you heard yourself?
What do you mean?
Let's just say that if I could bottle your voice, I can bleach metal.
What?!
Ya heard me
You are mean
My dear,I am your friend. I won't lie to you. Your voice is the stuff of nightmares. Look at my hair, it is still standing.
That's gel.
Uhn uhnnnn
yeah uhn
I applaud you your faith in miracles and I know I can't stop you but please don't melt the phones with your singing. Or aren't you having to call in?
You're mean
I am just saying. I am going back to bed, please don't make me wake up screaming like a woman.
Whatever man, u're just mean
No, Catwalq, I am telling you the truth....
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Blog Mongers III
Dear Wise Sistah,
I have been started and deleted this email to you so many times that I have lost count. I knew that for me to get the healing that I so desperately seek, I would need to do this. Talking to you is the final phase of ripping the band aid off the wound that is my bleeding heart and battered soul. I know that this email will confuse you as you think you have no idea what I am talking about. But I can assure you that you do and in your own very brave way, you tried to prevent us all from going through the same experience but we were too absorbed by your tale to fully understand the bright red flag of warning that you waved. I for one, thought myself above such mistakes and thus walked right into one. Now, I have to retrace my steps and have returned to my starting point, bruised and bewildered but very grateful that I was even able to return at all. It seems that many others have not been so lucky.
I only have one question. It will explain the ramblings in the paragraph above to you and I know that your answer will help me immensely. Like you, I was lured into believing that life outside of blogville was just as believable and predictable as life within it; a place where the blogger and his words are the same.
How did you survive HIM? I am trying to and it has been devastating. I have lost myself in a most horrific way. I was wrenched away from my reality and everyday is a struggle not to loose all else.
Sincerely
Little-Enid-Blyton
I read the email over and over again, each time heart sinking to an even deeper place in my chest. Just when I had imagined that the past was all wrapped up and put where it belonged: on hot embers so they could be turned to ash, it seemed that a little piece had escaped the fire and floated up on the softest breeze to taunt me. I was suddenly enraged. Rising out of my seat with a loud, almost inhumane scream that tore itself from my tortured breast, I hurled my mug of coffee away from me and at the wall. The ceramic piece shattered releasing its dark contents in a splash against my curtains that were in its way.
I realized I was shaking; and so much that saliva was collecting in my mouth and coming out in small spurts. Tears sprang to my eyes and gushed out and before I knew it, I was sobbing. Not just for myself but for her. I slowly sank to my chair but had knocked it away when I stood up so instead my body sank awkwardly to the floor. There I sat in a most uncomfortable and undignified manner.
Then suddenly, I knew what I had to do. I was going to say what I had been threatening to say and what HE had threatened me not to. I no longer cared that he said he had emails from me that would contradict my allegations and turn me into the woman scorned and the stalker spurned. I did not care that he said he had me on video doing unspeakable things in the nude, so drunk that even I could not remember. I did not care about all he had said. All I knew was that I was dealing with a very sick and twisted individual who needed to be stopped. Someone who used the cloak of anonymity to befriend and betray the trust of innocent women; Sistahs of mine.
All of us had become bloggers for different reasons and had been grateful for the camaraderie and friendships we had found. We had made the mistake of taking it outside of the realms for which it was intended. The hand we had extended had been horribly maimed. Our bodies and minds horribly raped. The result of mine lay in some dumpster somewhere along with other unformed human waste that could only be found in such clinics that performed the service.
It all had to end. And I had decided to bite the bullet and do the deed. I picked myself up, pulled my chair back and returned to my computer screen. The email was still open, Little-Enid-Blyton's email sitting undisturbed and unflinching. I opened another tab and logged into my Blogspot account.
That motherfucker was going down.
I have been started and deleted this email to you so many times that I have lost count. I knew that for me to get the healing that I so desperately seek, I would need to do this. Talking to you is the final phase of ripping the band aid off the wound that is my bleeding heart and battered soul. I know that this email will confuse you as you think you have no idea what I am talking about. But I can assure you that you do and in your own very brave way, you tried to prevent us all from going through the same experience but we were too absorbed by your tale to fully understand the bright red flag of warning that you waved. I for one, thought myself above such mistakes and thus walked right into one. Now, I have to retrace my steps and have returned to my starting point, bruised and bewildered but very grateful that I was even able to return at all. It seems that many others have not been so lucky.
I only have one question. It will explain the ramblings in the paragraph above to you and I know that your answer will help me immensely. Like you, I was lured into believing that life outside of blogville was just as believable and predictable as life within it; a place where the blogger and his words are the same.
How did you survive HIM? I am trying to and it has been devastating. I have lost myself in a most horrific way. I was wrenched away from my reality and everyday is a struggle not to loose all else.
Sincerely
Little-Enid-Blyton
I read the email over and over again, each time heart sinking to an even deeper place in my chest. Just when I had imagined that the past was all wrapped up and put where it belonged: on hot embers so they could be turned to ash, it seemed that a little piece had escaped the fire and floated up on the softest breeze to taunt me. I was suddenly enraged. Rising out of my seat with a loud, almost inhumane scream that tore itself from my tortured breast, I hurled my mug of coffee away from me and at the wall. The ceramic piece shattered releasing its dark contents in a splash against my curtains that were in its way.
I realized I was shaking; and so much that saliva was collecting in my mouth and coming out in small spurts. Tears sprang to my eyes and gushed out and before I knew it, I was sobbing. Not just for myself but for her. I slowly sank to my chair but had knocked it away when I stood up so instead my body sank awkwardly to the floor. There I sat in a most uncomfortable and undignified manner.
Then suddenly, I knew what I had to do. I was going to say what I had been threatening to say and what HE had threatened me not to. I no longer cared that he said he had emails from me that would contradict my allegations and turn me into the woman scorned and the stalker spurned. I did not care that he said he had me on video doing unspeakable things in the nude, so drunk that even I could not remember. I did not care about all he had said. All I knew was that I was dealing with a very sick and twisted individual who needed to be stopped. Someone who used the cloak of anonymity to befriend and betray the trust of innocent women; Sistahs of mine.
All of us had become bloggers for different reasons and had been grateful for the camaraderie and friendships we had found. We had made the mistake of taking it outside of the realms for which it was intended. The hand we had extended had been horribly maimed. Our bodies and minds horribly raped. The result of mine lay in some dumpster somewhere along with other unformed human waste that could only be found in such clinics that performed the service.
It all had to end. And I had decided to bite the bullet and do the deed. I picked myself up, pulled my chair back and returned to my computer screen. The email was still open, Little-Enid-Blyton's email sitting undisturbed and unflinching. I opened another tab and logged into my Blogspot account.
That motherfucker was going down.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Blog Mongers II
I have just been on your blog. What the hell is going on?
My dear, na so I see am o. Leave them, when their joblessness comes to an end, they will move on to something else
This is serious o. You have almost a hundred and fifty comments and most of them are just insulting each other left, right and center
hehehehehehehhehehee
You are laughing...
I should not laugh? This shit is funny o.
Men, this blogging thing sef. Some people have turned it to a do-or-die affair.
Omo[1], for some of them, it is.
What even happened sef?
Nothing o. Remember when I went home last month for xmas...
ehen
ehn, that was when it all happened.
U mean the reunion issue?
Yes o. That is what they have now turned to ammunition and used to make noise over my head. The mumus[2]
Ehn-ehn. This is serious o.
You cannot even imagine. I have been bombarded by emails from all over. Even bloggers that I thought were my friends are misyarning in my direction. The shit is exhausting.
What are you going to do?
Nothing. I don't have time for uselessness. Though, I am enjoying it sha. I am riding those blog hits all the way to the bank. You know I have ads on my blog.
Wait o, you really need to break down what is going on because I am lost. Which one concerns Skinny Dude with the matter?
Oh that one? he is the one that started it. Him and his gbeborun[3] mouth. That man talks like a bitch men.
Where have I been all this while?
U dey ask me? I dey with you?
I am serious joo. Explain, what happened
Men, I am tired. It is a long story.
Haba. You cannot do this to me o.
You don't know how mentally exhausting this thing is o.
Please now
Okay. Remember how when I went home, I planned that fundraiser and invited all my friends?
Ehn now, you invited me sef, just that I ended up not coming home again.
Ehennnnn. Anyways sha, the week before my beach fundraiser, you know Roses And Diamonds planned that her annual bloggers' reunion party that every one and their mama goes to. Lepa Shandi and Skinny dude were there and somehow, one of them said that I was in town and that they had just spoken to me on the phone. Can you imagine that Roses And Diamonds made them call me, put me on speaker phone and talk to everyone there? I was so upset. I had to say hi to like twenty people, some of whom I did not even know....
I remember that she blogged about it.
Men that one is small. She was sha like "why did I not come?" me, i cannot now be telling her that i have no interest in meeting her and her band of "bloggers extraordinaire"; so I said I was sorry and that I had not been aware because I had been planning to my trip home and that I could not make the get together even for a drop-by because I was not in Lagos at the moment.
Where were you?
In Lagos.
Olosi[4]
men, what is going to carry my leg to such a place? If I am not talking to you outside of blogville by now, you should know that I don't want to see your face anywhere.
You are a blog snob
And proudly so. If I wanted to know everyone, i would have used my real name.
So what now happened?
Ehen, that is how she huffed and puffed she was asking me to come and I was like, I couldn't. Long story short, she said that she was planning another one two weeks from then for those bloggers who had missed that day and she would not take no for an answer. I told her I would try and hung up. I was leaving the week of her second shing-ding so I knew that even if she called anyways, I would be out of the country...
you sef...
anyways, my event holds and of course you know all those that were there: Aristocrat, East of The Niger, Her Majesty's Spy, Prince of my Castle, Still Waters and co.
You did not mention all those celebs now.
You are telling me. Anyways, stupid me invited Skinny Dude because somehow, we had been chatting offline and we yarn small small sha and I thought it would be a good networking opportunity for him, cos that guy has so many ideas, too bad he just yarns like a woman. That's how when he now saw Roses And Diamonds, she was like "Where is La Femme Executive?" That one was like "oh, she has gone back to the UK o. After her party last week. In fact, this blogger was there...
Haaaaaa
That blogger was there. bla bla bla bla....it was like another bloggers reunion, just with the creme de la creme.
O pari[5]
I am guessing that alot of people were there because that was how it all began. the mugu now sent me an email saying that if I knew I did not want to meet her, I should have just said so instead of pretending and lying. And you know me now, I was like "I am glad you understand"
No you didn't!!!! Kike, your mouth sef...
Me ke? what did I do? I mean she hit the nail right on the head. I would have given her a prize but I did not have spare change...
Bitch
hehehehehehehehehe. Wharreva joo. That was how it all began o. She told one person and another. the next thing, someone is putting up a post on their blog on how some naija bloggers feel too big with themselves and the olorigbeske[6] decides to mention that for example La Femme Executive is one of them.
That was what I saw and was like , ah-ah what is going on? Went to your blog and saw that the party had already started without me.
Men, you missed. You should have read the post when Roses and Diamonds said that she is such a humble girl and proceeded to give us a brief run down of her life and all the nonsense she has accomplished. I laughed so hard, I almost deleted an important file. The razz mbeke
This is all so surreal. My own is just that, what concerns all the people who feel that they have to say something?
You know most of them cannot seperate the blog from its blogger. I remember the post that I put up about seducing my boss and the emails I got then with people, mostly female asking me to repent and desist because I would be ruining someone's marriage--I had said that he was married--some even emailed me just to insult me and to call me all sorts of names. I......
which boss? you own your own business or when was this?
They don't know that now. I remember when I met Aristocrat and he was like "you are shorter than I expected."
He thought you were tall?
Well, at least taller than I am. I was like, "You are poorer than I expected."
You did not!!
I sure did. That was way before we started dating.
Your mouth is going to put you in trouble one day
It already has mennnn. What possessed me to say "I do"?
Wharrever it was, your wedding is about to be off the hook. I wonder what those bloggers would say if they knew that the two of you are getting married. On blogville, you are always fighting...
hehehehehee. That is why this drama is funny to me. Some people want to kill themselves over shit that is not that serious. Woooo, me I am hungry, I am going to make something to eat.
My dear, we go yarn later. Nighty night
Night sister-in-law. Go and update your blog joo. That place is disgraceful...
Naughty girl.
[1] Omo: child
[2]Mumu: Imbecile
[3]Gbeborun: gossip
[4]Olosi: fool
[5] O pari: It's finished!
[6] Olorigbeske: Big headed
My dear, na so I see am o. Leave them, when their joblessness comes to an end, they will move on to something else
This is serious o. You have almost a hundred and fifty comments and most of them are just insulting each other left, right and center
hehehehehehehhehehee
You are laughing...
I should not laugh? This shit is funny o.
Men, this blogging thing sef. Some people have turned it to a do-or-die affair.
Omo[1], for some of them, it is.
What even happened sef?
Nothing o. Remember when I went home last month for xmas...
ehen
ehn, that was when it all happened.
U mean the reunion issue?
Yes o. That is what they have now turned to ammunition and used to make noise over my head. The mumus[2]
Ehn-ehn. This is serious o.
You cannot even imagine. I have been bombarded by emails from all over. Even bloggers that I thought were my friends are misyarning in my direction. The shit is exhausting.
What are you going to do?
Nothing. I don't have time for uselessness. Though, I am enjoying it sha. I am riding those blog hits all the way to the bank. You know I have ads on my blog.
Wait o, you really need to break down what is going on because I am lost. Which one concerns Skinny Dude with the matter?
Oh that one? he is the one that started it. Him and his gbeborun[3] mouth. That man talks like a bitch men.
Where have I been all this while?
U dey ask me? I dey with you?
I am serious joo. Explain, what happened
Men, I am tired. It is a long story.
Haba. You cannot do this to me o.
You don't know how mentally exhausting this thing is o.
Please now
Okay. Remember how when I went home, I planned that fundraiser and invited all my friends?
Ehn now, you invited me sef, just that I ended up not coming home again.
Ehennnnn. Anyways sha, the week before my beach fundraiser, you know Roses And Diamonds planned that her annual bloggers' reunion party that every one and their mama goes to. Lepa Shandi and Skinny dude were there and somehow, one of them said that I was in town and that they had just spoken to me on the phone. Can you imagine that Roses And Diamonds made them call me, put me on speaker phone and talk to everyone there? I was so upset. I had to say hi to like twenty people, some of whom I did not even know....
I remember that she blogged about it.
Men that one is small. She was sha like "why did I not come?" me, i cannot now be telling her that i have no interest in meeting her and her band of "bloggers extraordinaire"; so I said I was sorry and that I had not been aware because I had been planning to my trip home and that I could not make the get together even for a drop-by because I was not in Lagos at the moment.
Where were you?
In Lagos.
Olosi[4]
men, what is going to carry my leg to such a place? If I am not talking to you outside of blogville by now, you should know that I don't want to see your face anywhere.
You are a blog snob
And proudly so. If I wanted to know everyone, i would have used my real name.
So what now happened?
Ehen, that is how she huffed and puffed she was asking me to come and I was like, I couldn't. Long story short, she said that she was planning another one two weeks from then for those bloggers who had missed that day and she would not take no for an answer. I told her I would try and hung up. I was leaving the week of her second shing-ding so I knew that even if she called anyways, I would be out of the country...
you sef...
anyways, my event holds and of course you know all those that were there: Aristocrat, East of The Niger, Her Majesty's Spy, Prince of my Castle, Still Waters and co.
You did not mention all those celebs now.
You are telling me. Anyways, stupid me invited Skinny Dude because somehow, we had been chatting offline and we yarn small small sha and I thought it would be a good networking opportunity for him, cos that guy has so many ideas, too bad he just yarns like a woman. That's how when he now saw Roses And Diamonds, she was like "Where is La Femme Executive?" That one was like "oh, she has gone back to the UK o. After her party last week. In fact, this blogger was there...
Haaaaaa
That blogger was there. bla bla bla bla....it was like another bloggers reunion, just with the creme de la creme.
O pari[5]
I am guessing that alot of people were there because that was how it all began. the mugu now sent me an email saying that if I knew I did not want to meet her, I should have just said so instead of pretending and lying. And you know me now, I was like "I am glad you understand"
No you didn't!!!! Kike, your mouth sef...
Me ke? what did I do? I mean she hit the nail right on the head. I would have given her a prize but I did not have spare change...
Bitch
hehehehehehehehehe. Wharreva joo. That was how it all began o. She told one person and another. the next thing, someone is putting up a post on their blog on how some naija bloggers feel too big with themselves and the olorigbeske[6] decides to mention that for example La Femme Executive is one of them.
That was what I saw and was like , ah-ah what is going on? Went to your blog and saw that the party had already started without me.
Men, you missed. You should have read the post when Roses and Diamonds said that she is such a humble girl and proceeded to give us a brief run down of her life and all the nonsense she has accomplished. I laughed so hard, I almost deleted an important file. The razz mbeke
This is all so surreal. My own is just that, what concerns all the people who feel that they have to say something?
You know most of them cannot seperate the blog from its blogger. I remember the post that I put up about seducing my boss and the emails I got then with people, mostly female asking me to repent and desist because I would be ruining someone's marriage--I had said that he was married--some even emailed me just to insult me and to call me all sorts of names. I......
which boss? you own your own business or when was this?
They don't know that now. I remember when I met Aristocrat and he was like "you are shorter than I expected."
He thought you were tall?
Well, at least taller than I am. I was like, "You are poorer than I expected."
You did not!!
I sure did. That was way before we started dating.
Your mouth is going to put you in trouble one day
It already has mennnn. What possessed me to say "I do"?
Wharrever it was, your wedding is about to be off the hook. I wonder what those bloggers would say if they knew that the two of you are getting married. On blogville, you are always fighting...
hehehehehee. That is why this drama is funny to me. Some people want to kill themselves over shit that is not that serious. Woooo, me I am hungry, I am going to make something to eat.
My dear, we go yarn later. Nighty night
Night sister-in-law. Go and update your blog joo. That place is disgraceful...
Naughty girl.
[1] Omo: child
[2]Mumu: Imbecile
[3]Gbeborun: gossip
[4]Olosi: fool
[5] O pari: It's finished!
[6] Olorigbeske: Big headed
Friday, June 13, 2008
Blog Mongers I
Hano lives at 2, Fortworth Avenue. He lives in a three bedroom, two and a half bath, walk-out basement townhouse. He drives a Volkswagen Jetta. He leaves for work every morning at 7.00 am so that he can beat the beltway rush and make it to work for 8.30, after which he would spend the next thirty minutes setting up his desk, making scalding hot tea to jarr him awake and check on his internet affairs. This is one of his favourite times of the day. The time between 8.30 and 9.15 when the office is quiet and empty of his other colleagues.
This is the time he runs through his check list of blogs, reading and leaving comments. He has his favourites because almost every other day, they have a new post up with content as intriguing and as entertaining as the commentary that follow.
There's Shady Lady, a young Nigerian woman who blogs out of her base in New York and posts the most outrageous tales about her exploits with people she knows are dubious and shady. There is Tantalizers, a young Nigerian man who loves to cook and works in a bookstore. There is East Of Here, a Rwandan journalist who fled to France when the genocide began. There's Seffi Appiah, a Ghanian woman who always finds something amusing about her daily commute to the senior citizens' home where she works as a nurse. There's Lace And Ankara, a young Nigerian woman who imagines herself to be the next vogue in the making for her blog is filled with borrowed reports and commentary on the latest fashions from all over the world. There's Michael Butts, whose blog Hano does not understand but finds fascinating because of all the information pertaining to technology displayed and discussed there.
Hano reads blogs from contributors all over the world. He is familiar with the different cultural groups on the internet: the Africans, Asians, Europeans, Americans, South Americans and Australians. He loves them all. The ones that he pays most attention to are the Africans because their tales are so unique and highly indicative of where the social consciousness is.
For instance, there is no morning that he stops at Shady Lady's without seeing some offended Nigerian calling her out on her supposed activities. There was a time that Shady Lady indicated that someone had reported her to the authorities and they had investigated her using her URL. That had been an interesting time because Shady Lady had gone offline for three months. While she was gone, the comments on her blog reached almost three hundred as various theories were thrown about as to her wherabouts. She later surfaced with a post full of curses for whoever she believed was responsible.
He loves her blog. He loves what she writes. It always makes him laugh. Especially when she decides to take digs at other bloggers. Her post on one female blogger, Sitting On The Rock got more than fifty comments in its first hour. Sitting On The Rock always wrote about her plans to get married before the end of the year and each post was an outlet for her frustrations at her lack of success in finding a mate even though she had intensified her prayers, fasting and involvement in church. Shady Lady cleaned the floor with her and the ensuing online brawl lasted all of three weeks with bloggers taking sides and expressing their own views on the issue.
Hano had watched it all unfold and die down. Shady Lady, bored, had moved on to other issues. Sitting on the Rock had fled the blogging world. The drama was over. And it has been for a while so, Hano is a bit bored with what the posts he sees online in the mornings. No one is saying anything important and no one is pushing any new projects.
After scrolling through a few blogs, he moves to his email. He hits the "compose" button. He sends two emails.
The next morning he is tickled to see one of his favourite female bloggers, Express Lady give a spill all post on her relationship gone sour with another blogger, Aristocrat. He checks the blog hits and smiles.
This is the time he runs through his check list of blogs, reading and leaving comments. He has his favourites because almost every other day, they have a new post up with content as intriguing and as entertaining as the commentary that follow.
There's Shady Lady, a young Nigerian woman who blogs out of her base in New York and posts the most outrageous tales about her exploits with people she knows are dubious and shady. There is Tantalizers, a young Nigerian man who loves to cook and works in a bookstore. There is East Of Here, a Rwandan journalist who fled to France when the genocide began. There's Seffi Appiah, a Ghanian woman who always finds something amusing about her daily commute to the senior citizens' home where she works as a nurse. There's Lace And Ankara, a young Nigerian woman who imagines herself to be the next vogue in the making for her blog is filled with borrowed reports and commentary on the latest fashions from all over the world. There's Michael Butts, whose blog Hano does not understand but finds fascinating because of all the information pertaining to technology displayed and discussed there.
Hano reads blogs from contributors all over the world. He is familiar with the different cultural groups on the internet: the Africans, Asians, Europeans, Americans, South Americans and Australians. He loves them all. The ones that he pays most attention to are the Africans because their tales are so unique and highly indicative of where the social consciousness is.
For instance, there is no morning that he stops at Shady Lady's without seeing some offended Nigerian calling her out on her supposed activities. There was a time that Shady Lady indicated that someone had reported her to the authorities and they had investigated her using her URL. That had been an interesting time because Shady Lady had gone offline for three months. While she was gone, the comments on her blog reached almost three hundred as various theories were thrown about as to her wherabouts. She later surfaced with a post full of curses for whoever she believed was responsible.
He loves her blog. He loves what she writes. It always makes him laugh. Especially when she decides to take digs at other bloggers. Her post on one female blogger, Sitting On The Rock got more than fifty comments in its first hour. Sitting On The Rock always wrote about her plans to get married before the end of the year and each post was an outlet for her frustrations at her lack of success in finding a mate even though she had intensified her prayers, fasting and involvement in church. Shady Lady cleaned the floor with her and the ensuing online brawl lasted all of three weeks with bloggers taking sides and expressing their own views on the issue.
Hano had watched it all unfold and die down. Shady Lady, bored, had moved on to other issues. Sitting on the Rock had fled the blogging world. The drama was over. And it has been for a while so, Hano is a bit bored with what the posts he sees online in the mornings. No one is saying anything important and no one is pushing any new projects.
After scrolling through a few blogs, he moves to his email. He hits the "compose" button. He sends two emails.
The next morning he is tickled to see one of his favourite female bloggers, Express Lady give a spill all post on her relationship gone sour with another blogger, Aristocrat. He checks the blog hits and smiles.
Friday, June 06, 2008
I don't particularly like children. Growing up and envisioning my future, I could see a career, the possibility of a husband but I never could envision some little things running around complaining of hunger or each other. I don't have the patience or the interest to indulge them. But I do not see why one should deny them their childhood either. I had mine. They deserve theirs.
I sometimes feel the emphasis that Nigerian women put on children is not necessarily because they are so loved but because of what motherhood represents and affords the woman. As a "child bearing" woman, she-the mother that is- is certified as "fully functional" and she secures her position in her marital home. And we all know what "marriage" is to the Nigerian woman.
I know that mothers do love their children. My mother would give me her heart right now without batting an eyelid and she would do the same for my brother; so, I am not saying that a there is a lack of love and affection. I am just saying that I feel that some of the ways we define motherhood is not something I aspire to be a part of.
If and when I decide to become selfless and revolve around someone else, I plan to adopt. I cannot understand how when God has created a balance between women seeking children and children seeking mothers, we still have so many children living in deplorable conditions in orphanages. Or women being put through hell because of "their" inability to produce children? Why would I subject myself to midnight sojourns to the riverside and eating odd delicacies like fried tortoises under the moon when I can simply walk into one of such homes and pick one child to give my whole life to?
Some argue that "There is nothing like your own blood. What if the child asks for his/her mother in the future?" Then by all means, let us get a private detective and seek her out; provided she has indicated that she wishes to be found. I am of the mindset that if all I can do is love that child and give the child even half the childhood experience my parents provided me, then I have done a good thing. Imagining that because you nearly ripped apart your insides pushing forth someone into this world is a guarantee that they will love and respect you says to me that your definition of what it is to be a mother is askewed.
I think children ought to be nurtured, cherished, celebrated, disciplined, educated and learned from. It is a huge responsibility to be given the task to help shape the destiny and mindset of another human being. It takes patience, selflessness and a great deal of creativity. Love is secondary. I love kids, I just don't like them.
I sometimes feel the emphasis that Nigerian women put on children is not necessarily because they are so loved but because of what motherhood represents and affords the woman. As a "child bearing" woman, she-the mother that is- is certified as "fully functional" and she secures her position in her marital home. And we all know what "marriage" is to the Nigerian woman.
I know that mothers do love their children. My mother would give me her heart right now without batting an eyelid and she would do the same for my brother; so, I am not saying that a there is a lack of love and affection. I am just saying that I feel that some of the ways we define motherhood is not something I aspire to be a part of.
If and when I decide to become selfless and revolve around someone else, I plan to adopt. I cannot understand how when God has created a balance between women seeking children and children seeking mothers, we still have so many children living in deplorable conditions in orphanages. Or women being put through hell because of "their" inability to produce children? Why would I subject myself to midnight sojourns to the riverside and eating odd delicacies like fried tortoises under the moon when I can simply walk into one of such homes and pick one child to give my whole life to?
Some argue that "There is nothing like your own blood. What if the child asks for his/her mother in the future?" Then by all means, let us get a private detective and seek her out; provided she has indicated that she wishes to be found. I am of the mindset that if all I can do is love that child and give the child even half the childhood experience my parents provided me, then I have done a good thing. Imagining that because you nearly ripped apart your insides pushing forth someone into this world is a guarantee that they will love and respect you says to me that your definition of what it is to be a mother is askewed.
I think children ought to be nurtured, cherished, celebrated, disciplined, educated and learned from. It is a huge responsibility to be given the task to help shape the destiny and mindset of another human being. It takes patience, selflessness and a great deal of creativity. Love is secondary. I love kids, I just don't like them.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Even though
You are not my type
You are too quiet
You eat cheese
You don't like to read
You think my tastes in movies suck
You are a morning person
You chew gum with your mouth open
You don't like to wear suits
You don't experiment with foods
You watch too much football
You don't understand why I don't like football
You are too close to your mother
You want too many children
You don't understand why I don't want children
You watch Flavor Flave
You watch discovery health
You listen to country music
Your car is always in a state
You are untidy
You think I am a neat freak
You are too tall
You understand the stock exchange
You play chess
You think I am too gra-gra
You don't understand why I don't like your friends
You think my friends are phony
You want me to keep natural hair
You don't know how to cook
You drive too slow
You think agricultural conventions are cool
You think my fashion trade shows are boring
You secretly want to be a traditional farmer
You don't know that I know
You don't know that I don't mind, as long as I never have to lift the hoe
You think I cannot sing
You don't understand why I think you cannot sing either
You think I drive too fast
You think I have too many male friends
You don't know that they all respect you
You are not my type
You don't like fish
You don't like Lagos
You want me to come and live in Enugu
You don't know that I have already decided to come with you
You don't know that I am messing with you
You don't know how much I love you
So, even though you are not my type
Yes, I will marry you
gra-gra : agressive
You are too quiet
You eat cheese
You don't like to read
You think my tastes in movies suck
You are a morning person
You chew gum with your mouth open
You don't like to wear suits
You don't experiment with foods
You watch too much football
You don't understand why I don't like football
You are too close to your mother
You want too many children
You don't understand why I don't want children
You watch Flavor Flave
You watch discovery health
You listen to country music
Your car is always in a state
You are untidy
You think I am a neat freak
You are too tall
You understand the stock exchange
You play chess
You think I am too gra-gra
You don't understand why I don't like your friends
You think my friends are phony
You want me to keep natural hair
You don't know how to cook
You drive too slow
You think agricultural conventions are cool
You think my fashion trade shows are boring
You secretly want to be a traditional farmer
You don't know that I know
You don't know that I don't mind, as long as I never have to lift the hoe
You think I cannot sing
You don't understand why I think you cannot sing either
You think I drive too fast
You think I have too many male friends
You don't know that they all respect you
You are not my type
You don't like fish
You don't like Lagos
You want me to come and live in Enugu
You don't know that I have already decided to come with you
You don't know that I am messing with you
You don't know how much I love you
So, even though you are not my type
Yes, I will marry you
gra-gra : agressive
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Sunday, May 18, 2008
A difference of thirty minutes
I told him to call at 6.00 pm my time
It would have been midnight his time.
I told God that if he didn't, then he was not the one for me.
He called at 6.30 my time.
I told God that it was only thirty minutes. Afterall, one had to consider the time difference between us.
Three months later, I was tired, hurt and broken.
I asked God why?
He said "But child, I did not choose him for you. You did. The one for you was to call at 6.00"
And He was right.
Cos I had told him to call at 6.00 my time
And he had called on his time
And it resulted in a waste of my time
THEN COMING SOON TO A BLOG NEAR YOU.....
SEE HERE........
It would have been midnight his time.
I told God that if he didn't, then he was not the one for me.
He called at 6.30 my time.
I told God that it was only thirty minutes. Afterall, one had to consider the time difference between us.
Three months later, I was tired, hurt and broken.
I asked God why?
He said "But child, I did not choose him for you. You did. The one for you was to call at 6.00"
And He was right.
Cos I had told him to call at 6.00 my time
And he had called on his time
And it resulted in a waste of my time
THEN COMING SOON TO A BLOG NEAR YOU.....
SEE HERE........
Monday, May 12, 2008
Water under the Bridge
G.B? Is that you?
Miriam...
*clapping* It is a lie. So this is you?
*Looking at self* Yes
How have you been?
I have been well. And you?
Fine...
Good.
Everyone is doing just fine...
Thank God.
Girl but you are hard o....
How do you mean?
Njideka...
What about Njideka?
I thought she was your friend?
She was.
Then why weren't you there? I mean, no matter what happened between the two of you, you should have been there.
There was no place for me there.
How can you say that? Ehn, all her friends were there. We all came to support her family.
*shrugging* Well, what can I say...
At least for the kids.
You of all people should know why I was not there.
What do you mean?
Miriam, if there is one thing that I do not like, it is dishonesty. How can you be asking me what I mean? Infact, how can you stand here and pretend you don't know what happened?
I beg your pardon
No, I beg your pardon. Weren't you on the Chibuzor support team that accused me of trying to wreck her marriage and now that she is dead, you are all pretending like you did not know that one day that monster was going to kill her...?
G.B, what are you trying to say...?
*hissing* Sebi, I am the unmarried one? The one that did not have her best interests at heart?The immoral one? The one that does not know anything that she is saying. Abi? Weren't those your exact words?
What?
Oh, you didn't know that I heard all of you? Of course, you didn't. Isn't that funny. See, let me educate you. You remember that get together that we, and by we, I mean Nijdeka and I had planned; that you came and took over because God forbid that she do anything without your high and mighty approval? You remember that one? The one where two hours before, Chibuzor nearly removed her front teeth because she challenged him on his mistress? You remember how you, her mother and those single-digit-IQ-holding females that make up your clique sat around her offering advice on how she was supposed to not antagonise her husband and make her marriage work? Remember how, when she said I had told her that she ought to pack her bags and get the hell out of there, you all started on my case about how I am so immoral. How can I know anything about a good man or what it takes to put a marriage together, after I had slept with all the men I work with to make it ahead?
*Stammering* What? I....Excuse me...
Oh, now you cannot form a sentence? *hissing* you forgot to turn off your cell phone after I had called to get the directions to your place. You made Njideka change the venue to your house that you live in with your husband and your children and all that your money had bought you.
How dare you?
You better be glad that I just got my nails done. Or I would have given you tribal marks from the opposite side of the country, stopping me in the middle of the street with your phony arse questions and judgments. Heiffer please, you are just as responsible for her death as he is.
Are you mad?
Ehn now. You did not know...ah-aaaah, let me tell you. It is my madness that has got me all i've got baby. I am mad o. Very mad. Infact, I am anbout to display for you if you don't carry your useless self out of my sight and scurry over to your Rav 4....
Fuck you!
Fuck me?
*Reaching for her earrings* No, sis, I am about to fuck YOU up.
*stepping back*
Are you crazy? Do you know that you are in the middle of the mall's parking lot? People are watching you.
They've got to watch me. I am on primetime.Besides, more asphalt to paint your face with.
I know what your problem is, you're just jealous. Look at you, 35 years and no husband or children. You are forever chasing your co-workers about and you think you are an actress because you take off your clothes? You are a common prostitute.
With an oscar. Don't forget that.
You are a common whore. We all know you wanted Chibuzor and when he turned you down, you tried to break her marriage off.
What are you talking about?
Chibuzor told her. Oh, you did not know that your secret will come out.
*sigh* I have always known you were not worth my time. It is the word of a wife beater that you will take as gospel. You know what, I apologise for what I said before. It's not your fault that your are stupid. It's my fault for listening to you.
*turning and walking away*
Yes, go away. Run away. Nonsense. Useless. And she called you her friend. Backstabber. Prostitute.....
*************************************************************************************
She wept with an intensity that shook her being and hurt her chest. I should never have stopped to talk to her, she thought to herself over and over. It had disntegrated so fast that she had not been able to stop herself.
Seeing G.B was like turning a knife in an already sore wound. Nijdeka's death had torn her apart so bad. Everyday, everywhere she went, there was a reminder that she could have stopped what had happened. No one knew how much she beat herself over the head for not being brave enough to help her friend be brave. She couldn't do that.
She was not like G.B who told the world on a daily basis to go fuck itself. She was barely holding it together. No one knew that Etta's prolonged trip to Spain was because he was in jail. No one knew that she knew she was being watched by the men who paid him for the "goods" he supplied and had been caught in possession of. No one knew that she was sleeping with his brother so he would not kick her and the boys out. No one knew except Nijdeka. And that was why she had understood the fragility of her friend's existence and how if Chibuzor had kicked her out, it would all have been over.
As it was now. She laid her head on her steering wheel and wept; hers sobs masked by the loud horn.
************************************************************************************
I watched her crying in her car. And I knew what she was feeling.
Neither one of us had been able to save her. And we had called ourselves her friend.
Miriam...
*clapping* It is a lie. So this is you?
*Looking at self* Yes
How have you been?
I have been well. And you?
Fine...
Good.
Everyone is doing just fine...
Thank God.
Girl but you are hard o....
How do you mean?
Njideka...
What about Njideka?
I thought she was your friend?
She was.
Then why weren't you there? I mean, no matter what happened between the two of you, you should have been there.
There was no place for me there.
How can you say that? Ehn, all her friends were there. We all came to support her family.
*shrugging* Well, what can I say...
At least for the kids.
You of all people should know why I was not there.
What do you mean?
Miriam, if there is one thing that I do not like, it is dishonesty. How can you be asking me what I mean? Infact, how can you stand here and pretend you don't know what happened?
I beg your pardon
No, I beg your pardon. Weren't you on the Chibuzor support team that accused me of trying to wreck her marriage and now that she is dead, you are all pretending like you did not know that one day that monster was going to kill her...?
G.B, what are you trying to say...?
*hissing* Sebi, I am the unmarried one? The one that did not have her best interests at heart?The immoral one? The one that does not know anything that she is saying. Abi? Weren't those your exact words?
What?
Oh, you didn't know that I heard all of you? Of course, you didn't. Isn't that funny. See, let me educate you. You remember that get together that we, and by we, I mean Nijdeka and I had planned; that you came and took over because God forbid that she do anything without your high and mighty approval? You remember that one? The one where two hours before, Chibuzor nearly removed her front teeth because she challenged him on his mistress? You remember how you, her mother and those single-digit-IQ-holding females that make up your clique sat around her offering advice on how she was supposed to not antagonise her husband and make her marriage work? Remember how, when she said I had told her that she ought to pack her bags and get the hell out of there, you all started on my case about how I am so immoral. How can I know anything about a good man or what it takes to put a marriage together, after I had slept with all the men I work with to make it ahead?
*Stammering* What? I....Excuse me...
Oh, now you cannot form a sentence? *hissing* you forgot to turn off your cell phone after I had called to get the directions to your place. You made Njideka change the venue to your house that you live in with your husband and your children and all that your money had bought you.
How dare you?
You better be glad that I just got my nails done. Or I would have given you tribal marks from the opposite side of the country, stopping me in the middle of the street with your phony arse questions and judgments. Heiffer please, you are just as responsible for her death as he is.
Are you mad?
Ehn now. You did not know...ah-aaaah, let me tell you. It is my madness that has got me all i've got baby. I am mad o. Very mad. Infact, I am anbout to display for you if you don't carry your useless self out of my sight and scurry over to your Rav 4....
Fuck you!
Fuck me?
*Reaching for her earrings* No, sis, I am about to fuck YOU up.
*stepping back*
Are you crazy? Do you know that you are in the middle of the mall's parking lot? People are watching you.
They've got to watch me. I am on primetime.Besides, more asphalt to paint your face with.
I know what your problem is, you're just jealous. Look at you, 35 years and no husband or children. You are forever chasing your co-workers about and you think you are an actress because you take off your clothes? You are a common prostitute.
With an oscar. Don't forget that.
You are a common whore. We all know you wanted Chibuzor and when he turned you down, you tried to break her marriage off.
What are you talking about?
Chibuzor told her. Oh, you did not know that your secret will come out.
*sigh* I have always known you were not worth my time. It is the word of a wife beater that you will take as gospel. You know what, I apologise for what I said before. It's not your fault that your are stupid. It's my fault for listening to you.
*turning and walking away*
Yes, go away. Run away. Nonsense. Useless. And she called you her friend. Backstabber. Prostitute.....
*************************************************************************************
She wept with an intensity that shook her being and hurt her chest. I should never have stopped to talk to her, she thought to herself over and over. It had disntegrated so fast that she had not been able to stop herself.
Seeing G.B was like turning a knife in an already sore wound. Nijdeka's death had torn her apart so bad. Everyday, everywhere she went, there was a reminder that she could have stopped what had happened. No one knew how much she beat herself over the head for not being brave enough to help her friend be brave. She couldn't do that.
She was not like G.B who told the world on a daily basis to go fuck itself. She was barely holding it together. No one knew that Etta's prolonged trip to Spain was because he was in jail. No one knew that she knew she was being watched by the men who paid him for the "goods" he supplied and had been caught in possession of. No one knew that she was sleeping with his brother so he would not kick her and the boys out. No one knew except Nijdeka. And that was why she had understood the fragility of her friend's existence and how if Chibuzor had kicked her out, it would all have been over.
As it was now. She laid her head on her steering wheel and wept; hers sobs masked by the loud horn.
************************************************************************************
I watched her crying in her car. And I knew what she was feeling.
Neither one of us had been able to save her. And we had called ourselves her friend.
Friday, May 02, 2008
Na so I look my back...somebody tag me
1. Link the person who tagged you
2. Mention the rules in your blog
3. Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours
4. Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them
5.Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they’ve been tagged
I was tagged by Naijalines.
The rules are listed above
7 unspectacular things about me (What? You thought I would not put my own spin on things?)
Anyways, here goes:
1. I am very lazy. I work hard not to let it show
2. I am very shy. You won't be able to tell if you met me. You wouldn't believe it either unless you really knew me. Few people do.
3. I can listen to the same song over and over and over and over for ever until the song looses its power, or the CD gets scratched. And most times, I listen to only one part of the song so I have some songs on my playlist that start out okay but get low at some point.
4. I love easily and hard. And I cut people out just as fast.
5. My greatest fear is that at the end of the day, I might simply settle for a man not because he is the best for me but because I have become afraid of being alone.
6. I sing. And I write songs. And I have had some of my songs performed....
7. Most people mistake my confidence for arrogance, my drive for agression and my silences for judgement.
Like I said before, I am very lazy. So, I am tagging the first six people to comment on this post...I am off to bed. Just finished exams.
2. Mention the rules in your blog
3. Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours
4. Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them
5.Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they’ve been tagged
I was tagged by Naijalines.
The rules are listed above
7 unspectacular things about me (What? You thought I would not put my own spin on things?)
Anyways, here goes:
1. I am very lazy. I work hard not to let it show
2. I am very shy. You won't be able to tell if you met me. You wouldn't believe it either unless you really knew me. Few people do.
3. I can listen to the same song over and over and over and over for ever until the song looses its power, or the CD gets scratched. And most times, I listen to only one part of the song so I have some songs on my playlist that start out okay but get low at some point.
4. I love easily and hard. And I cut people out just as fast.
5. My greatest fear is that at the end of the day, I might simply settle for a man not because he is the best for me but because I have become afraid of being alone.
6. I sing. And I write songs. And I have had some of my songs performed....
7. Most people mistake my confidence for arrogance, my drive for agression and my silences for judgement.
Like I said before, I am very lazy. So, I am tagging the first six people to comment on this post...I am off to bed. Just finished exams.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
The things my eyes have seen.
Ok so, I told him I liked to be spanked. That's how this overzealous morrafohka delivered a blow to my backside that sent my left leg into spasms.
WTH!!!!In reflex, I swung my hand around to deliver a slap that would remind him where he was. I missed and nearly shattered my wrist on the bed post.
Luckily I did not break it. If not for how long it had been since the last time and I was not sure of my next installment, I would have ignored his begging and left. But you know how it is...I sha decided to continue.
That is how this odaran dropped his trosizz. If you see what I saw, you will not be sitting there asking me why I am avoiding the were. I was just looking at him. I could not believe my eyes.
What was I supposed to do with it? It is not like I said I have a rat problem and that he should come with a kondo, that he now produced the thing he wanted to use to kill me for my mother.
I told him "you better divide it into two and keep one for yourself and I will see what I can do with the other half."
What? You thought I would let him go away with that thing? Men, God forbid. Even God would have vexed for letting such a good thing go to waste.
And it was a good thing.
See, I have been walking sideways for three days.
WTH!!!!In reflex, I swung my hand around to deliver a slap that would remind him where he was. I missed and nearly shattered my wrist on the bed post.
Luckily I did not break it. If not for how long it had been since the last time and I was not sure of my next installment, I would have ignored his begging and left. But you know how it is...I sha decided to continue.
That is how this odaran dropped his trosizz. If you see what I saw, you will not be sitting there asking me why I am avoiding the were. I was just looking at him. I could not believe my eyes.
What was I supposed to do with it? It is not like I said I have a rat problem and that he should come with a kondo, that he now produced the thing he wanted to use to kill me for my mother.
I told him "you better divide it into two and keep one for yourself and I will see what I can do with the other half."
What? You thought I would let him go away with that thing? Men, God forbid. Even God would have vexed for letting such a good thing go to waste.
And it was a good thing.
See, I have been walking sideways for three days.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
CATWALQ ACADEMIE 2008
Enrolment for the new session has commenced.
PAST EDITIONS ARE ARCHIVED FOR YOU ON THE RIGHT FOR THOSE UNFARMILIAR WITH THE SERIES...
Application due May 1st...
PAST EDITIONS ARE ARCHIVED FOR YOU ON THE RIGHT FOR THOSE UNFARMILIAR WITH THE SERIES...
Application due May 1st...
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Thinking in scenes
My heart sank a loud thud that only I could hear. Sounds of twin Nigerian hip hop singers dissolved from the loud speakers and faded away. Fear settled on my being with a coldness that brought goosebumps to my skin. What the f*%k was he doing here?
"I am sorry...I did not know you were coming." Moji was immediately at my side, her hand on my arm, her eyes a pool of apologies.
I tried to calm my breathing as I felt the walls around me begin to spin. She must have taken my expression to mean my upset was directed at her.
"But you said you were not coming now?" she whispered harshly, exasperation evident in her demeanor.
It was true that she had cajoled and cajoled for days that I come for her party and when that did not work, she resorted to threats and when she saw that I was not going to budge, she let me. She knew I was avoiding HIM. What she did not know was why.
I closed my eyes and took a breath.
"I am sorry. I am over reacting. Please, don't mind me. It must be the smoke."
Someone was indeed smoking.
Moji looked at me skeptically. I saw her steal a glance at him.
"You are sure?"
I nodded and gave her a weak smile.
"Sebi you told me there was going to be food. please don't tell me I burst out my payless shoes for nothing..." I joked.
She chuckled, "Payless ko, Payfull ni. there is food but me, I will not advise you to put it in your mouth."
"Haba," I laughed, "why?"
"Jide cooked it."
"Ewo". We both burst into laughter.Mine had alot of effort behind it even though what she had told me was hilarious. Her boyfriend was a great cook whose power ingredient was pepper.
"Se you are okay. Seriously he just showed up. How can I tell him to leave? He is Jide's friend. You guys need to talk to each other. Since you will not tell me what happened...ehn, please abeg. Why do the two of you hate each other so much?" Moji asked me, her smile disappearing.
"He said he hated me?" I was surprised.
"No, but the way you guys are always fighting. I mean, after that last time, I was afraid for the two of you. I suppose you go and pray over the issue what ever it is. How could you draw a knife on him? Omo, you are crazy o."
"No ooo," I sneered, "I will wait so he can rearrange my face with a slap abi. That useless waste of..."
"ehn, ehn, ehn..." she cut me off, "we are here to party. See," she made a wide gesture with her hands, "this place is big enough. If you don't want to see him or his ancestry, there are so many corners that you can hide yourself. he is over there, you can go upstairs. I will come and join you." she cocked her left brow at me, "you better not leave."
I really wanted to. It had taken all of me to get up and decide to come to her party. I had to. How could I not? After all she had helped me through. The least I could do was to drag my self, slap on some courage and come watch half drunk colleagues gyrate to raunchy dance numbers. After all, she had promised me over the phone that there would be no repeat of the last time I was at her face when he and I flew into each other's face. Granted I flew at him and most of what he was doingwas trying to deflect my blows and get me off him but the hostility that had been simmering between us for over two years just reached its peak. It had been a long time coming.
I sighed. I knew that even if I wanted to, I could not leave. He had seen me. Him freezing half way through taking a sip from his drink told me that he had. His nod of greeting had been cold and mocking. I had shuddered with disgust. I wanted to rip his eyes out so bad, I could taste it.
"No, I am not leaving." I promised her. I could not. I knew everyone was watching the two of us. If I left, it would only fuel the rumors even more.
When I was ready to let the world know, I would let them know. Until then, I needed to preserve my sanity by avoiding Jubril Keffi.
I made my way upstairs to the food. I made my way past some female making a spectacle of herself as she tried to execute the dutty wind; her drunken self grinning stupidly as even more drunken males cheered her on. Some couples were two inches from turning their dance moves into a possible opportunity for procreation. I smiled and shook my head. Some people were not going to like what ended up on youtube in the morning.
I got to the food. It was all there, displayed in all its excess. My guess was that the first people who had descended on the food had quickly spread the word that it was a no-go area. I had always had this theory that Jide secretly did not want anyone eating his food so he made it near poisonous. Fortunately for me, my mother and Jide had learned from the same culinary school so pepper was never an issue for mr. But I was not hungry. And I was not in the mood to dance. I went upstairs to the bedrooms in search of one that was empty and had not been recently used to exorcise the horniness of anyone at the party that night.
The Master bedroom was a mess. Moji's clothes were all over the place. And I knew it was not because she had been getting ready for her party. It was always like this. I did not know how she and her boyfriend could stand the disarray. I suddenly felt fatigued. All the bravado with which I had walked into the party was gone and I felt hollow and cold. So I began to clear the bed. Then I began to clear the floor. Then I moved to the dressing table. I was not in the mood to fold clothes so I just dumped the items in the closet and closed the door.
I lay down, my whole body sighing with exhaustion. I could feel the thud of music emanating from the surround sound pulsating through the walls and floors. I closed my eyes and silently questioned the wisdom of me coming. The sobs rose suddenly and before I could check them, I was weeping into the pillow.
I did not hear the door open nor hear the footsteps approach. Strong arms turned me over and lifted me into an embrace. Cologne and the scent of clean man enveloped my senses. I clutched at the fabric of the shirt encasing a hard chest and gave vent to my sorrows. It was a good cry. I felt as helpless as a baby and I cried like one.
Hiccupping as I expelled mucus into the handkerchief that was proferred to me, I pulled away and looked up,
"You know I hate you right?"
Jubrila's expression was blank. "Sure."
"And we are not going to be friends. Never."
"Mmn hmn."
I began to cry again. He let me. I crawled into his lap and curled there. He bore my weight and just held me. We said not a word.
"You know he does not deserve you. You are too good for all this shit." his voice rumbled through his chest to my ears. I sighed. Why wouldn't he just leave me alone.
"It's over." I said. More to myself than to him.
"Are you sure?"
I tilted my head back against his arm to look at him. His eyes were worried. sad even.
I nodded.
"Yes."
"He is no good." he said as he drew me close. " I should know. He is my father."
"I am sorry...I did not know you were coming." Moji was immediately at my side, her hand on my arm, her eyes a pool of apologies.
I tried to calm my breathing as I felt the walls around me begin to spin. She must have taken my expression to mean my upset was directed at her.
"But you said you were not coming now?" she whispered harshly, exasperation evident in her demeanor.
It was true that she had cajoled and cajoled for days that I come for her party and when that did not work, she resorted to threats and when she saw that I was not going to budge, she let me. She knew I was avoiding HIM. What she did not know was why.
I closed my eyes and took a breath.
"I am sorry. I am over reacting. Please, don't mind me. It must be the smoke."
Someone was indeed smoking.
Moji looked at me skeptically. I saw her steal a glance at him.
"You are sure?"
I nodded and gave her a weak smile.
"Sebi you told me there was going to be food. please don't tell me I burst out my payless shoes for nothing..." I joked.
She chuckled, "Payless ko, Payfull ni. there is food but me, I will not advise you to put it in your mouth."
"Haba," I laughed, "why?"
"Jide cooked it."
"Ewo". We both burst into laughter.Mine had alot of effort behind it even though what she had told me was hilarious. Her boyfriend was a great cook whose power ingredient was pepper.
"Se you are okay. Seriously he just showed up. How can I tell him to leave? He is Jide's friend. You guys need to talk to each other. Since you will not tell me what happened...ehn, please abeg. Why do the two of you hate each other so much?" Moji asked me, her smile disappearing.
"He said he hated me?" I was surprised.
"No, but the way you guys are always fighting. I mean, after that last time, I was afraid for the two of you. I suppose you go and pray over the issue what ever it is. How could you draw a knife on him? Omo, you are crazy o."
"No ooo," I sneered, "I will wait so he can rearrange my face with a slap abi. That useless waste of..."
"ehn, ehn, ehn..." she cut me off, "we are here to party. See," she made a wide gesture with her hands, "this place is big enough. If you don't want to see him or his ancestry, there are so many corners that you can hide yourself. he is over there, you can go upstairs. I will come and join you." she cocked her left brow at me, "you better not leave."
I really wanted to. It had taken all of me to get up and decide to come to her party. I had to. How could I not? After all she had helped me through. The least I could do was to drag my self, slap on some courage and come watch half drunk colleagues gyrate to raunchy dance numbers. After all, she had promised me over the phone that there would be no repeat of the last time I was at her face when he and I flew into each other's face. Granted I flew at him and most of what he was doingwas trying to deflect my blows and get me off him but the hostility that had been simmering between us for over two years just reached its peak. It had been a long time coming.
I sighed. I knew that even if I wanted to, I could not leave. He had seen me. Him freezing half way through taking a sip from his drink told me that he had. His nod of greeting had been cold and mocking. I had shuddered with disgust. I wanted to rip his eyes out so bad, I could taste it.
"No, I am not leaving." I promised her. I could not. I knew everyone was watching the two of us. If I left, it would only fuel the rumors even more.
When I was ready to let the world know, I would let them know. Until then, I needed to preserve my sanity by avoiding Jubril Keffi.
I made my way upstairs to the food. I made my way past some female making a spectacle of herself as she tried to execute the dutty wind; her drunken self grinning stupidly as even more drunken males cheered her on. Some couples were two inches from turning their dance moves into a possible opportunity for procreation. I smiled and shook my head. Some people were not going to like what ended up on youtube in the morning.
I got to the food. It was all there, displayed in all its excess. My guess was that the first people who had descended on the food had quickly spread the word that it was a no-go area. I had always had this theory that Jide secretly did not want anyone eating his food so he made it near poisonous. Fortunately for me, my mother and Jide had learned from the same culinary school so pepper was never an issue for mr. But I was not hungry. And I was not in the mood to dance. I went upstairs to the bedrooms in search of one that was empty and had not been recently used to exorcise the horniness of anyone at the party that night.
The Master bedroom was a mess. Moji's clothes were all over the place. And I knew it was not because she had been getting ready for her party. It was always like this. I did not know how she and her boyfriend could stand the disarray. I suddenly felt fatigued. All the bravado with which I had walked into the party was gone and I felt hollow and cold. So I began to clear the bed. Then I began to clear the floor. Then I moved to the dressing table. I was not in the mood to fold clothes so I just dumped the items in the closet and closed the door.
I lay down, my whole body sighing with exhaustion. I could feel the thud of music emanating from the surround sound pulsating through the walls and floors. I closed my eyes and silently questioned the wisdom of me coming. The sobs rose suddenly and before I could check them, I was weeping into the pillow.
I did not hear the door open nor hear the footsteps approach. Strong arms turned me over and lifted me into an embrace. Cologne and the scent of clean man enveloped my senses. I clutched at the fabric of the shirt encasing a hard chest and gave vent to my sorrows. It was a good cry. I felt as helpless as a baby and I cried like one.
Hiccupping as I expelled mucus into the handkerchief that was proferred to me, I pulled away and looked up,
"You know I hate you right?"
Jubrila's expression was blank. "Sure."
"And we are not going to be friends. Never."
"Mmn hmn."
I began to cry again. He let me. I crawled into his lap and curled there. He bore my weight and just held me. We said not a word.
"You know he does not deserve you. You are too good for all this shit." his voice rumbled through his chest to my ears. I sighed. Why wouldn't he just leave me alone.
"It's over." I said. More to myself than to him.
"Are you sure?"
I tilted my head back against his arm to look at him. His eyes were worried. sad even.
I nodded.
"Yes."
"He is no good." he said as he drew me close. " I should know. He is my father."
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Another soul moves on....
"It will be great to die knowing that you have lived your life without causing anyone any more difficulty than they ought to have."
- Prof. Tsomondo
REST IN PEACE, PROF. LETTIE AUSTIN
You will missed.
Saturday, April 05, 2008
Today I met The King
Today I met The King after I wrangled an invitation from Solomonsydelle to her son's (and my future husband's) birthday where I was sure to get free food on my way home. I had a lovely time spent marveling at how she and her quiet husband managed to not only entertain two other couples and myself but also their three rambunctious kids. Her babies are so cute, bikonu!!!
Of course when I arrived, I immediately introduced myself to my husband. He gave me a once over and returned to his plate of chicken. His sister, my inlaw gave me a small greeting and the celebrant, Bomboy, a small smile. I was not to be deterred. I needed to have them eating out of my hand if I was to ensure that my wine carrying ceremony would take place in the future.
What did I not try? I smiled. I teased. I flirted. I even tried to be saucy. The boy no gree. Haba! It was when he told me that the low cut on my head was not hair compared to his mother's tresses that I knew somebody had been there before me to put sand in my garri. I mean, what could a young and succulent twenty-three year old babe have done to irk this toddler so?
I was so crushed but I am not finished with this boy yet. Whether he likes it or not, he is carrying my wine. So hence (is this a word? I know there is "henceforth" but is hence used this way? I digress) hence, the countdown to my ascension to The King's highly coveted position of Queen.
Why is it going to go my way? In the words of the-owner-of-the-money-of-my-head,
"Because I said so".....
Of course when I arrived, I immediately introduced myself to my husband. He gave me a once over and returned to his plate of chicken. His sister, my inlaw gave me a small greeting and the celebrant, Bomboy, a small smile. I was not to be deterred. I needed to have them eating out of my hand if I was to ensure that my wine carrying ceremony would take place in the future.
What did I not try? I smiled. I teased. I flirted. I even tried to be saucy. The boy no gree. Haba! It was when he told me that the low cut on my head was not hair compared to his mother's tresses that I knew somebody had been there before me to put sand in my garri. I mean, what could a young and succulent twenty-three year old babe have done to irk this toddler so?
I was so crushed but I am not finished with this boy yet. Whether he likes it or not, he is carrying my wine. So hence (is this a word? I know there is "henceforth" but is hence used this way? I digress) hence, the countdown to my ascension to The King's highly coveted position of Queen.
Why is it going to go my way? In the words of the-owner-of-the-money-of-my-head,
"Because I said so".....
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Awwwwwwwwwwwwww
Waffarian Dearest,
Thanks so much for one of the funniest evenings in my life. It was just what I needed to get myself out of the rut I was in. Here's lifting my glass (of juice...hah! I don't drink) to a future of creative thinking, funny commentary and analysis of human behaviour...
Atutu,
Please come back from your trip and come back to me oooooooo
Naapali,
I am good dear. And I still want Beloved.
Unnaked,
Muah
And to all who wished me well, thanks so much. I am back and good to go.
Catwalq is back and of course, she has not done her assignments....see ya soon.
Update: una see me see trouble o. Waffarian! Waffarian!! Waffarian!!!. Mo ma daran o....
after I spent the better part of my night and evening enjoying a transatlantic chat with the Warri babe, I decided to sate my hunger with boiled yam. I don't know what happened. I know I washed my hand after cutting the yam but somehow, I touched my face. Now my mouth is itching like craze...e gba mi o
UPDATE: ALL HAIL OVERWHELMED.
oya overwhelmed leave my neck alone o.....
Thanks so much for one of the funniest evenings in my life. It was just what I needed to get myself out of the rut I was in. Here's lifting my glass (of juice...hah! I don't drink) to a future of creative thinking, funny commentary and analysis of human behaviour...
Atutu,
Please come back from your trip and come back to me oooooooo
Naapali,
I am good dear. And I still want Beloved.
Unnaked,
Muah
And to all who wished me well, thanks so much. I am back and good to go.
Catwalq is back and of course, she has not done her assignments....see ya soon.
Update: una see me see trouble o. Waffarian! Waffarian!! Waffarian!!!. Mo ma daran o....
after I spent the better part of my night and evening enjoying a transatlantic chat with the Warri babe, I decided to sate my hunger with boiled yam. I don't know what happened. I know I washed my hand after cutting the yam but somehow, I touched my face. Now my mouth is itching like craze...e gba mi o
UPDATE: ALL HAIL OVERWHELMED.
oya overwhelmed leave my neck alone o.....
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Can't sleep: Gun shots and lonesome thoughts
Woke up barely twenty minutes into my sleep to the sound of bullets. My heart flew in my mouth as I uttered a quick prayer before pulling back my curtains to see what was going on. My room faced the parking lot, the origin of the sound, and I looked out just in time to see some young men pile into a silver car and speed off leaving the owner of the white car they had just vandalised and possibly pumped bullets into screaming curses.
I am sure his losses were painful but I think I'd be more grateful that the bullets hit the floor and not me. I was glad, that the bullets had not gone ricocheting off God-knows-what and through my window. It had been a hot night and since my bed is against the window, I had simply propped my pillow on the sill to get some cool breeze.
I tried to go to back to sleep, congratulating myself for having remembered to do my Spiritual exercises before the drama went down and was sad to find that sleep had fled leaving my exhausted form strangely alert.
I began to think of everything unpleasant that I was experiencing. My English teacher is lying in intensive care fighting for her life. A woman in her eighties, things are not looking good. I had had no idea she was that old. This is my second English teacher to go through something. The first one, Gary Cooper died in my second year and we were close to. I am sad but know that God is in control.
Alot of things are happening to me that are leaving me exhausted, frustrated and confused. It has been so long a struggle seeking a solution. I am so disheartened. I think I might have to take the counselling office on their offer of free consultations because something tells me that this constant change of moods from extremely upbeat and lively to deeply brooding and retreating is not healthy. I am eating more than I should and I only do that when I am stressed and/or depressed.
It might just be the aftermath of a shoot out that is leaving me melancholy. I will return to bed and seek some sleep. I hope it has returned to me.
I am sure his losses were painful but I think I'd be more grateful that the bullets hit the floor and not me. I was glad, that the bullets had not gone ricocheting off God-knows-what and through my window. It had been a hot night and since my bed is against the window, I had simply propped my pillow on the sill to get some cool breeze.
I tried to go to back to sleep, congratulating myself for having remembered to do my Spiritual exercises before the drama went down and was sad to find that sleep had fled leaving my exhausted form strangely alert.
I began to think of everything unpleasant that I was experiencing. My English teacher is lying in intensive care fighting for her life. A woman in her eighties, things are not looking good. I had had no idea she was that old. This is my second English teacher to go through something. The first one, Gary Cooper died in my second year and we were close to. I am sad but know that God is in control.
Alot of things are happening to me that are leaving me exhausted, frustrated and confused. It has been so long a struggle seeking a solution. I am so disheartened. I think I might have to take the counselling office on their offer of free consultations because something tells me that this constant change of moods from extremely upbeat and lively to deeply brooding and retreating is not healthy. I am eating more than I should and I only do that when I am stressed and/or depressed.
It might just be the aftermath of a shoot out that is leaving me melancholy. I will return to bed and seek some sleep. I hope it has returned to me.
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Friday, March 28, 2008
Today is Friday
HBO DOCUMENTARIES WEBSITE > HBO DOCUMENTARIES CLIPS
Rated TV14: ADULT CONTENT, VIOLENCE, ADULT LANGUAGE
Running Time: 57 minutes
Genre: Documentary
On September 1, 2004, heavily armed extremists stormed into a school in Beslan, Russia. For three days, more than a thousand children and adults were held hostage in a sweltering gymnasium, denied food and water, and forced to keep their hands over their heads. The harrowing siege ended in violence that killed more than 350 people--half of them children. Through chilling footage and heartbreaking interviews with more than a dozen young survivors, this documentary explores the devastating aftermath of one of recent history's most heinous atrocities. (TV14) (AC,AL,V)
Today is Friday. And it is a day when I am supposed to spend my time tuning in to Holy Spirit and spending my day either doing a food fast or a mental one. I did neither. I mostly complained and procrastinated about my life. I made a to-do list, of which I don't think I have done even one thing. I day dreamed about the perfect life that I have been praying for for years. I skipped class and decided to sleep the afternoon away: I told myself that I had had a difficult week.
Then I watched a documentary on the CHILDREN OF BESLAN, the synopsis of which is posted above. I wept as listened to the children recount their experiences of that horrific day, their small voices desperately clinging to an innocence that will never be theirs to have again. I watched the chilling footage of mangled limbs and bloodied, naked children---- not only had the terrorists taken over their school, they had ordered the children stripped of what little clothing covered their tiny bodies.
I listened as one child described hesitantly how he saw his mother die. I saw the pictures of another girl, probably ten years of age but with the limbs of a six year old attempt to climb back into a burning classroom in search of her mother after the explosion from the terrorists' grenades flung her outside the building.
I listened as these children described what it felt like to thirst so much that they were forced to drink their own urine to make it through the three day siege. One child whose mother died has a little shrine of sorts for her at home where her picture is placed and in front of which a bar of chocolate is placed--her favourite--and a cup of water, so she will not thirst in the afterlife; as that had been her last desire before she was killed.
I generally do not comment on acts of hatred. I see it in some way as giving attention to those who sought it by commiting those acts in the first place. But I have to constantly wonder how humans can cross that line that seperates us from the rabid animal? I say rabid animal because in the animal kingdom, animals don't prey on each other for fun. They kill for food and to defend themselves. We are the only species of living things that would deliberately seek to cause one of our own pain. And the sick part of it is that we can in most cases justify our actions.
Some will use religion as their reason. Some will use monetary and material gain. Some will say that it is to right wrong commited against their person. Some will say that it is because those on the receiving end of their brutality were deserving of the cruelty.
I had prepared a post to share my exhaustion, frustration and confusion at some of the things going on in my life that I would so much prefer were not going the way that they are. At this moment right now, all that seems insignificant.
I might just be emotional. I might just be tired. Or I might even simply be equating the insignificance of my issues with the horror and pain that the Beslans experienced. Who knows?
What I do know is that, I am going to lie down and take a nap. Then I will wake later to have something to eat and do some of the work that I know I have to do.
And before I drift off, I will place my attention on my inner eye and think of all the great things that I do have going for me. Then I will speak to my spiritual guide and invite him to meet me in my dreams and speak with me. Because I simply want to say thank you.
Thank you for the fact that I have a bed that is warm. It is in a room of my own. It is filled with books, both educational and recreational that fill my days and nights with comfort. There is music in my room and a window that overlooks a generic looking parking lot. I make fun of that parking lot but today I am glad it is the way it is; not filled with dead bodies, screams of agony and fanatical individuals threatening to kill me or anyone else.
Thank you for my family that has sacrificed so much and though we are seperated by miles and a current lack of money to rectify that, we are there for each other.
Thank you for my life because it is filled with experience, opportunities and hope. And all those are cushioned by prayer.
Thank you simply that it is beacause of God's love that I exist.
And thank you that even though those terrorists tried very hard and some lost their lives, there were some that survived not just to tell their tale but to remind the rest of us to simply look at our lives and give thanks.
Have a great weekend.
Rated TV14: ADULT CONTENT, VIOLENCE, ADULT LANGUAGE
Running Time: 57 minutes
Genre: Documentary
On September 1, 2004, heavily armed extremists stormed into a school in Beslan, Russia. For three days, more than a thousand children and adults were held hostage in a sweltering gymnasium, denied food and water, and forced to keep their hands over their heads. The harrowing siege ended in violence that killed more than 350 people--half of them children. Through chilling footage and heartbreaking interviews with more than a dozen young survivors, this documentary explores the devastating aftermath of one of recent history's most heinous atrocities. (TV14) (AC,AL,V)
Today is Friday. And it is a day when I am supposed to spend my time tuning in to Holy Spirit and spending my day either doing a food fast or a mental one. I did neither. I mostly complained and procrastinated about my life. I made a to-do list, of which I don't think I have done even one thing. I day dreamed about the perfect life that I have been praying for for years. I skipped class and decided to sleep the afternoon away: I told myself that I had had a difficult week.
Then I watched a documentary on the CHILDREN OF BESLAN, the synopsis of which is posted above. I wept as listened to the children recount their experiences of that horrific day, their small voices desperately clinging to an innocence that will never be theirs to have again. I watched the chilling footage of mangled limbs and bloodied, naked children---- not only had the terrorists taken over their school, they had ordered the children stripped of what little clothing covered their tiny bodies.
I listened as one child described hesitantly how he saw his mother die. I saw the pictures of another girl, probably ten years of age but with the limbs of a six year old attempt to climb back into a burning classroom in search of her mother after the explosion from the terrorists' grenades flung her outside the building.
I listened as these children described what it felt like to thirst so much that they were forced to drink their own urine to make it through the three day siege. One child whose mother died has a little shrine of sorts for her at home where her picture is placed and in front of which a bar of chocolate is placed--her favourite--and a cup of water, so she will not thirst in the afterlife; as that had been her last desire before she was killed.
I generally do not comment on acts of hatred. I see it in some way as giving attention to those who sought it by commiting those acts in the first place. But I have to constantly wonder how humans can cross that line that seperates us from the rabid animal? I say rabid animal because in the animal kingdom, animals don't prey on each other for fun. They kill for food and to defend themselves. We are the only species of living things that would deliberately seek to cause one of our own pain. And the sick part of it is that we can in most cases justify our actions.
Some will use religion as their reason. Some will use monetary and material gain. Some will say that it is to right wrong commited against their person. Some will say that it is because those on the receiving end of their brutality were deserving of the cruelty.
I had prepared a post to share my exhaustion, frustration and confusion at some of the things going on in my life that I would so much prefer were not going the way that they are. At this moment right now, all that seems insignificant.
I might just be emotional. I might just be tired. Or I might even simply be equating the insignificance of my issues with the horror and pain that the Beslans experienced. Who knows?
What I do know is that, I am going to lie down and take a nap. Then I will wake later to have something to eat and do some of the work that I know I have to do.
And before I drift off, I will place my attention on my inner eye and think of all the great things that I do have going for me. Then I will speak to my spiritual guide and invite him to meet me in my dreams and speak with me. Because I simply want to say thank you.
Thank you for the fact that I have a bed that is warm. It is in a room of my own. It is filled with books, both educational and recreational that fill my days and nights with comfort. There is music in my room and a window that overlooks a generic looking parking lot. I make fun of that parking lot but today I am glad it is the way it is; not filled with dead bodies, screams of agony and fanatical individuals threatening to kill me or anyone else.
Thank you for my family that has sacrificed so much and though we are seperated by miles and a current lack of money to rectify that, we are there for each other.
Thank you for my life because it is filled with experience, opportunities and hope. And all those are cushioned by prayer.
Thank you simply that it is beacause of God's love that I exist.
And thank you that even though those terrorists tried very hard and some lost their lives, there were some that survived not just to tell their tale but to remind the rest of us to simply look at our lives and give thanks.
Have a great weekend.
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