Thursday, 21 April 2016

Respect the Ring, you don't have one.

So it has come to my notice that the fastest way to get some respect in Nigeria is to be married...
Yesterday, I was going home from a lovely outing and I happened upon a quarrel scene at a major bus-stop. I usually avoid any sort of scene in Lagos or anywhere at all. A friend could be fighting and I would walk past because I wouldn't even look (my friends are too cool for such nonsense anyway) I continued walking, even faster, but I couldn't help overhearing the heated exchange, mostly because they were shouting and not because I was listening. 
"Useless man, you think you will play with me?"
"See this stupid woman, who do you think you are talking to?"
I heard more in these lines but the one that caught my attention, on a negative note, was 
"Madam easy o, this is a married man you are talking to" 


Google image
That was quite lame but of course, I didn't see myself telling the man who made the statement that. 
This incident reminded me of one time I travelled by road from Enugu to Lagos. At one of the Terminals where we stopped for people to alight, the driver of another bus decided to fill up our bus with his own travellers. I would not have minded, except that they were many - the women had at least three children apiece. The bus fast became inconvenient and unfortunately I vented my anger on the woman closest to me as she kept dumping her luggage on my cramped legs. 
Another woman sitting immediately in front of us took it up and lit into me. I don't know if I appeared unmarried (is it written on the face?) too young, or she saw my bare ring finger (I doubt that) but she lashed- 
"Don't you know it is a married woman you are talking to like that?" 


Google image
I won't go into the exchanges I had with her but I let her know that marriage isn't synonymous with respect. Respect is earned. Even babies are and should be respected.
I don't know where these people are getting their education, because I see a lot of educated illiterates... everywhere... too much for comfort.
This is just one of the many unnecessary issues we have in Nigeria.

Tuesday, 12 January 2016

Luminaries

Look ye up to the Sun?
Nay, you cannot stand its gaze.
But you can trust it my son,
To shine bright and sometimes blaze.

Search ye the stars? All day long they dot the sky,
Invisible though in day hours,
At dusk, 'twinkle twinkle' they wink from high.

Find thee the moon?
In eight phases does it appear;
A smile, In full, In gloom,
The feeling it rears; in people differ.

Whatever dost thou seek?
You may just find,
And sometimes take a stick,
To your restless behind.

Wednesday, 25 November 2015

Bard Love

 
Blessing for the Bards.
 
You and I be friends,
Of a meeting and of more,
Sharing tales of bards,
And being ourselves bards.
 
You and I be pals,
Of pen and of more,
Sharing the pleasure of creating magic,
Yes, it sure gives a good kick!
 
You and I be allies,
Of a meeting and of many more,
Sharing tales of bards,
And yes! We are Bards!
 
Blessing for the Bards! 
 

Saturday, 14 November 2015

Orchestra



The sun stuck out its yellow tongue and licked at the sweat trailing down my back.
I walked home briskly because I intended to have a bath before he arrived.
He arrived when I had just finished bathing. Two sharp raps was all it took to announce his presence.
I debated discarding my towel for the cloth I had selected but I was all wet.
His knocking grew insistent and I had that irrational fear that he would leave.
I hurriedly opened the door and lost my voice. So I motioned him in and closed the door.
I couldn't help noticing how intense his gaze was and how well-sculpted his lips were.

I mumbled something about him making himself at home while I got dressed.
I thought of my detailed preparations for today and how an extra hour at work had brought everything crashing like the domino game- almost.
I shrugged the thought and my towel off.

He must have taken me literally- he was in my room thirty seconds later. What followed was an orchestra of sorts- hands, feet, lips- every part of me found harmony in him.
 It was my first time and there were no words. At the back of my mind I had this silly thought that he must be quite adept at this for how could such a well-dressed man undress with such dexterity and speed- His clothes hung neatly on the back of the sole chair in my room.

I wished I could get a bath before the second time and before we left for dinner.
But I simply turned to his face and his lips found my smile.

The ceiling fan kept going "squeak, squeak, squeak..."

Sunday, 1 November 2015

Matter

I do not remember who said -Confidence is the new sexy, (or the old one. It has been long I heard this) Over-Confidence though is a colossal flaw. And most times, you don't even see it in you.

Women, this happens often to you. You meet someone who seems to admire the very ground you walk on. He calls you "sweetie" "honey" especially after you have given him your name at his request. Because he isn't so bad on the eyes, you tamp down on the irritation you feel at his familiarity. You reason in your head that afterall, you have Boo. And one random guy, albeit cute wasn't going to threaten that love... yeaa??

Now you have the courage to actually speak to this person, this harmless guy. You easily exchange numbers and you laugh at his jokes. You do this because you know  in your heart of hearts that even though he had the peculiar glint in his eyes that says he is definitely interested in you, there is no way you are leaving Boo for him... or is that so??

He starts calling gradually, it is so infrequent that of course he isn't a pest. He is actually a friendly guy, you deduce. So you relax, your sub-conscious guards lowered. He keeps calling, showering u with sweet names, affection and attention. You enjoy it all to the point of craving.  You agree to an outing or two (you refused to call them dates) and he is still not bad on the eyes, but Boo is top of the list- who are you deceiving???

It isn't long now, you are making comparisons... yea, this guy who was never a competition, the guy that you found it easy to give your number to because he didn't and wouldn't matter. Now he matters enough for you to keep Boo's call waiting while you listen to Mr. Don't Matter (Not Akon) tell you how you are more precious than platinum and the sun shines from your bum and he slowly becomes Mr. Matter. You do not realise that you have made a habit of recieving 30mins call from Mum or Bestie almost everyday (you lie to Boo) ah ah, who are you deceiving???

Then he states his intentions. It is at Tarkwa Bay, that historical place you only read about in books before you ventured into Lagos. That same place you had practically begged Boo to take you to but he never seemed to have the time. You had actually canceled an indoors weekend date with Boo and gone to see Tarkwa Bay because you figured you couldn't pass up on such opportunity. You are no longer the girl who told Boo that a weekend indoors with him was the 8th wonder of the world. Infact, you are not the girl Boo used to know...

You are confused. Mr. Don't Matter has turned to Matter and Boo was a love that was begining to blur. You ask Mr. Matter for time to think things through and within that time you picked all sorts of fights with boo over things you always overlooked or things ridiculous in their insignificance. You finally remember that boo is not boo if he doesn't call you each morning... And you decide that there should be a break-up because things have gone south.

Ah, women!
You finally break it off amidst all his pleading. You run to Matter that very day... It is dizzying all the things you do with him, the affection he shows, the outings, the dates, the delicacies you never even heard of, the lovemaking, or was it the sex?

Google Image 

It is only a matter of time and everything comes to a dull thud. Mr. Matter is distracted and always running off somewhere for work. But man, where did you get all that time from before?? You ask wordlessly. He tells you he gotta make money for all the spending he does since you have not been able to land a job to sustain you. He says it in a way that stings and embarrases you. You do not complain because you still had a little pride that forbade being percieved as clingy.

For the first time, your safe bubble seems to be letting out air. Classic man is mean in the way only good looking people are. You search his face for anything negative. But it is as plain as the desert sand.

Things continue to deteroriate. You wonder what happened to the charming man that was always at your service. You also remember how sure you were that you would never leave Boo for him. The thought of Boo pierces your heart.

The pain is like Salt on fresh wound.

But there is no going back...

Those ones who you say "he don't matter, he don't matter" They are the ticking time bombs.

She that has eyes, let her read...

Tuesday, 27 October 2015

365/366 Days


Birthdays are wonderful; I guess. Almost everyone is the best on their birthdays. You see updates along the lines of, "May's finest", "I rep December 25th", "Proud Leo", "Older, bigger and better" "older, wiser and smarter," "shorter, taller and fatter."- all hashtagged. It goes on...

Although I dread my birthdays, I can't help feeling some excitement. I don't know the when, how and why I dread my birthdays. It is a good feeling to actually dare to command a day to yourself but I find it irksome to think about shopping for things to share to people on my birthday- Having to provide for a crowd with different needs and preferences just doesnt cut it for me- (I am not stingy, if that's what you are thinking.)

At the end of the day, my birthday doesnt feel like my day... yes, my phone would ring incessantly, I would have to delete old messages to accomodate new ones, Social Media would notice that someone like me exists, heck! Even my bank would send greetings. But I find myself inundated with responsibilities and expectations. Responsibility of sharing "something" to people around and hoping to fulfil their expectations. Responsibilities of thanking everyone who remembered my birthday. Responsibilities of being of good cheer even if my mood is a storm cloud.

It's strange that everyone assumes I want to celebrate...No, not strange, it is just plain presumptous. What if I just want to be alone people???

As the Almighty would have it, I have been lucky with birthday celebrations or lack thereof. My birthday falls in the holiday season. So there are no "friends" and acquaintances breathing down my neck because they want to eat birthday cake. I have only my beloved- Family and Friends- whom I do not have to prepare a show for. Whom will wake me up with Birthday Songs and Prayers, and allow me sleep and wake up to a beautiful cake and some sweet Nigerian jollof. That is the exciting part of the day... Not being responsible for other's happiness on "my own day"

It is my birthday today... The calender says I'm older, That is a fact I don't exactly feel. I won't be telling you how I feel though and I don't know about stronger, smarter, sexier, bigger, better and wiser; y'all tell me.


(c) August 12, 2015

Friday, 17 April 2015

A Land I Never Knew

google image

Nostalgia


From the distance,
Crested green hills,
Foliage dotted horizon,
A clear blue sky,
Dry dewy atmosphere,
I see all these, I feel it, I smell the air,
It is the harmattan season.

Softly the wind blows;
It does not howl,
It caresses my hands,
It is cool.
It slips through my fingers,
And moves on;
It sways the hanging laundry- now dry,
It teases the dry leaves fallen from the Oroma* tree,
It is quiet here- The singing birds and chirping crickets form a muted harmony.
A wasp buzzes by, quickly I step out of its way.

I cannot tear my eyes from the hills,
Nor my mind from our bleak future,
I wonder, I ponder, of a time far off,
I see our forefathers gazing off into the hills as I do now,
Probably, standing where I now stand.

A tall dark man comes to mind,
His body frame is spare,
A wrapper is bunched at his lean waist,
His closely cropped hair reflects the moon,
He chews on a stick, squinting into the distance.
His eyes beam; crowfeet at both corners say he knows laughter.

Questions bubble; I want to blow them at him-
Was he proud of this land?
Did he carry the same pain I now carry?
Does our reality reflect the dreams he had for this land?
Mba!** It cannot be!
Our reality cannot be our forefathers' dreams.

Suddenly the silence is broken,
As shattered glass on concrete.
"Up NEPA! Up NEPA!! Light is back!!"
I shake my head, snapping out of my reverie,
I still cannot tear my gaze from the green hills,
I look on as the fog envelops them,
There is something mysterious; eerie.
The temperature has dropped,
like the impatient sun in to the yawning valley,
The cool breeze now caresses me with goosebumps.

I make my way back into the house,
I carry with me a longing,
A hunger to know that which my Fathers knew,
To breathe as one with them,
in the Land of the Rising Sun.


*Orange
** No!