SOME WORDS ON PAIN

People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that’s bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they are afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they are wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It’s all in how you carry it. That’s what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them and hide them, you’re letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain. – Jim Morrison

People fear death even more than pain. It’s strange that they fear death. Life hurts a lot more than death. At the point of death, the pain is over. Yeah, I guess it is a friend… – Jim Morrison

Pain, you just have to ride it out, hope it goes away on its own. Hope the wound that caused it heals. There are no solutions, no easy answers, you just breathe deep and wait for it to subside. Most of the time pain can be managed but sometimes the pain gets you where you least expect it. Hits way below the belt and doesn’t let up. Pain, you just have to fight through, because the truth is you can’t outrun it and life always makes more – Meredith Grey (Grey’s anatomy)

What’s worse? New wounds which are horribly painful or old wounds that should’ve healed years ago and never did? Maybe our old wounds teach s something. They remind us where we’ve been and what we’ve overcome. They teach s lessons about what to avoid in the future. That’s what we like to think. But that’s not the way it is, is it? Some things we just have to learn over and over and over again – Meredith Grey (Grey’s anatomy)

Every day we get to give the gift of life, it can be painful, it can be terrifying, but in the end it’s worth it. Every time. We all have the opportunity to give. Maybe the gifts are not as dramatic as what happens in the operating room, maybe the gift it to try and make a simple apology, maybe it’s to understand another person’s point of view, maybe it’s to hold a secret for a friend. The joy supposedly is in the giving, so when the joy is gone when the giving starts to feel more like a burden that’s when you stop. But if you’re like most people I know, you give till it hurts, and then you give some more – Meredith Grey (Grey’s anatomy)

The Curse Called Love

Out of sight they say is out of mind. This can be understood from two different views but I go with the understanding that says when you are apart from someone you gradually forget them.

Sometimes you wonder how it is that you feel so strongly about one particular person and you just can't seem to shake off the feeling.

It's very easy to tell your self 'I don't want who doesn't want me'. But your heart just has a way of making a mockery of you.

Moving on is a choice but truly the heart has a mind of it's own. You know you shouldn't feel a particular way, that you should move on and let go. But still there's something drawing you back to that one person.

So many others are there longing for your attention and love, but no, there just has to be that one person who doesn't even give a damn about you that your heart chooses to love.

You feel foolish. This isn't you. Normally you are the one they cry over, the one that they chase. Not the one who chases after.

Feels like you should just turn off that switch and let all you feel die. You look at the one your heart beats for, the one who says they just want to be friends and you wonder do they really feel nothing?
Are they just playing hard to get? Is it all just a game to them?

You feel special, yes, you know your worth and the long list of those you can easily have but why is it that this particular person isn't under your charm?

Feels like a puzzle, a challenge...only makes you want them more. After all nothing of great value comes easy. Only you just might be under a curse of falling for those you can't have.

Love hurts. Worse, love becomes a curse when the very one you love treats you the very way you treated all those who loved you but your heart just didn't beat same way as theirs.

Love's a curse when you are one of the unlucky ones who takes months to move on. Such a big curse when you can't be just friends with certain persons. No in the middle; you are either lovers or strangers. No such thing as let's be friends.

It hurts letting down your pride to chase after them, but at times you just have to stop and walk away. Let it hurt, let it burn...in time you'll finally move on and get better.

But first you have to bear the pain of the curse of love, when you tell the one who holds your heart that they have to stay away and give you time to move on.

Silently you wish they'll say no, and say they can't be away but then the words 'message received, I'll stay away' crushes you. Not because it's not the reply you hoped for but because its all so familiar. The very same reply you gave to all those who loved you but you just didn't feel same about them.

That moment tables are turned and you are in their shoes. That very moment you know exactly how unimportant you are to the one your heart beats for because you know how saying those words to others was easy for you because their professed love meant absolutely nothing to you. That realization kills you even faster.

You know how easy it was for you to give them space and let them go because they meant absolutely nothing to you. Infact, you felt relief when they asked for space. They were hurting but you were happy.

You know it all too well, hearing those words being said to you...the pain, it's unexpressable...

Today I came across a very beautiful facebbok status update by Stanley Azuakola which says - 'what if there was a drug one could take to fall out of love, will you approve of it's use?
If the pill could make you fall out of love with an abusive husband (or wife), or adulterous love, or suicidal love, or incestuous love, or paedophilia, or gay love (or straight love). Will you approve of it? Will you use it?'

Is that a yes? Did I just hear you say pass me an over dose of the pill?

Like I once wrote, I think the ability to move on is one of the greatest gift given to us humans. Imagine what it would be like, if we were only able to fall in love with just only one person in our life time...

Well, what do I know? I am but just a kid...

PHASES

'Life is not what I thought it was twenty-four hours ago' - Switchfoot (twenty four).

Few months ago I felt low. I kept telling myself - 'this isn't where I ought to be'. I was surrounded by everything I felt I didn't need. There was a change in the kind of persons I normally communicate with. I had time on my hands. I slept, ate, listened to music, wrote, watched movies, series and read books, novels and newspapers. I even had time to watch television! I added 10kg! Me add weight? That's top news of the year.

Over four months gone and I feel like a whirlwind has transported me to another planet.

'Becareful what you wish for, 'cuz you just might get it all and some you don't want' - Daughtry (Home). I finally got my wish for a change. I longed for purpose, for an opportunity to better myself and put my skills to work. I needed to feel useful. I got my wish and I dare say it came along with somethings I didn't want.

These past few days; twenty four hours seem like just ten hours. It's that bad that I can't even take time out to listen to my playlist. Even a close friend had to ping me on blackberry messenger and tease me that she doesn't see my status messages and display picture updates anymore. It feels like someone else is living my life. I never understood what people meant by the phrase 'life on a fast lane.' That's my reality now. Scary when I remember the lyrics 'living in a fast lane? See when you crash' - Beyonce (Schooling life).

It's funny how we make plans about how our life will be, but then nature/life/fate has a way of making a mockery of our plans. Sort of like no one can ever have it all. You either choose one and forego the other. These past few months have really been crazy, such that I have only Sundays free. During the week I am cut off from the world for the most part of each day. Then the scary thought comes, 'have I chosen career over love?' I tell myself there is time for everything, that this is what I want and where I need to be in order to arrive at the big picture.

I remember how I was so focused on my studies in the University. Everyone complained I didn't have a life. I said all that could wait, that during my service year I'll build a social life. Then service came, and I said after service; I needed to focus on my professional examinations. Now after service, still I barely have a social life!
In fact, I am that place where it feels like I can barely breathe, where every second counts. The fear of failure is now a motivation for success. 'Feels like I am trying to breathe under water' - Kris Allen (I need to know).
Balance, how do I balance my life?

In all, looking at where I was and where I am now, I would pick where I am a hundred times over where I was. I am grateful for where I am now. All I need now is to try and balance things. Who I am, who I am not and who I want to be...

It's amazing how time passes by. Each time I see secondary school students in their uniforms, I get amazed at how far God has brought me through life. How I have grown from being that little kid with no care in the world to that confused teenager trying to find out who he really was to that undergraduate who strived to graduate with a good result. Now I am that young adult trying to build a career and make sense out of this thing called life. *sigh

In all honesty, I am not sure I am ready to be an adult. Being a kid/teenager was so much safer. Now I have to take full responsibility for every action. This is me, I mean lil me in this big world. *shivers

Before I hated changed but I got the opportunity to read the book 'who moved my cheese' by Spencer Johnson and I had a paradigm shift, so to say. The easiest way to live and succeed in life is to anticipate, accept and move with change.

Truly, life is in phases. I am in a new phase of my life, hopefully the picture shall get clearer with time and things shall fall into place one step at a time...

FOR HER...

In life, there are joys, there are pains

And everything in-between

There are times when everything seems to fall in place

And times when nothing adds up

Confused, miserable, down and torn

I gaze into the haze

My heart wrings

No one knows unerringly just how I feel

Alone in this world

Forced to endure it all

I try to stand, to be tough

A crushing sadness

I reminiscence, pondering-

‘Where did I err?’

‘What road led me here?’

I used to have it all figured out

But now I can barely recognise my life

I question my proficiencies

Am I still who I once was?

Can I ever get back to me?

Those times when everything seemed to be spot-on

This thing called reality

Life has given it a new meaning -

''A place where those who work hard aren't necessarily the ones who get the best of things''

Oh! How I have hurt

How I have been bruised

How I have been hit, fallen and smashed

Crushed, broken and bruised

Several times I try to get back up

Hardly on my feet

Yet a storm blows me down again

For how long will this linger?

These icy, solitary days

Music has become my only true companion

Let me bleed

Let the tears stream

Let the pain wash over me

Someday I'll smile again

Not a smile I'll have to fake

For now I'll take my hits

I'll fall to rise tougher

This is me finding my way through life

Serenity, tranquillity, time, patience

All I need

Someday, I'll smile...peace in my storm

MY BOSS' WIFE

It’s with shame and regre I write this story. I got exactly what I deserved. I played with fire and I got burnt. Luckily for me, I would be discharged from the hospital by the weekend. The injuries I sustained were not quite serious, just a broken arm and leg with a few bruises but believe me when I say I have learnt my lesson.

My trip down the valley of iniquity all began the week I resumed work at my place of primary assignment for the NYSC scheme. I was posted to a private publishing firm. My assigned duty was that of the personal assistant to the editor-in-chief. I was to share a fairly large office with the secretary, who I was yet to meet as she was said to be on leave but would resume the day I too would resume work after being accepted by the firm.

I walked briskly into the office that fateful Monday morning looking smart in my light blue long-sleeved shirt neatly tucked into a black vickers trouser with a dark blue tie to match. I was ready for work. Having a relationship was the last thing on my mind as I had decided to focus on building myself and developing my career. All this plans were totally forgotten the minute I stepped into the office.

There she sat, an angel in human form. She smiled at me from across the desk, and said hello. Boy! I was smitten by her impeccable looks. Her smile could light up the entire universe. She belonged up there in the skies. Her voice soft as summer rain. Her eyes were calling me to her. I responded with a nod and said good morning. We introduced our selves. 

Her name was Vera.

I was sure about one thing; I was going to sweat each blessed day because my desk was exactly opposite hers. Mine by the door way and hers was at the front of the window. Our office was on the second floor of a twelve storey building. Though on the second floor, we could still enjoy the view out the window. Trees were planted at the back of the office with well trimmed grasses planted on the expansive field.

Normally, I am not the kind of guy to stare but I couldn’t get my eyes off of her. She was an epitome of beauty. When she talked, her lips moved seductively, inviting me to brush mine against hers. I watched her closely, and then I noticed a ring on her fourth left finger. I asked her if she was married. Her answer threw me off balance. Not only was she married, she was the wife of my boss!

The first week was hard. I couldn’t concentrate on my work. She had totally taken over my thoughts. I was deep in lust. She was young and barely twenty six. Why on earth did she marry an old man? My boss would be fifty three the following month. She caught me staring at her several times; each time she smiled back at me shyly. We fast became friends and usually had lunch together. We talked about everything, laughed and giggled like best friends, though trying to remain discrete to prevent co-workers from thinking any unholy relationship was on between us, though once in a while we flirted.

I was gradually falling for her but I knew I couldn’t act on my feelings; she was the boss’ wife! I resolved to die in silence. Two months had already passed, remaining nine more months to work in the office. I could do it.

Then came the dark Tuesday. My boss had to close early because he was meeting a friend who just flew into town, so he left the office in our care. Thirty minutes after he left, she looked up at me. The top button of her blouse was open, revealing her luscious cleavage. Suddenly, the air became tense. She looked hot, even hotter and sexier than I had ever noticed. My temperature increased. Not even the blasting air condition could prevent sweat form streaking down my face.

I felt a bulge rising beneath my belt but I decided to ignore it. She got up from her chair, walked over to the front of her desk and sat on it facing me. She wore a short skirt which exposed her long slender legs, so smooth and clean shaved. The heat was on. Sex was in the air. I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted her. I needed to taste her and ravish her that minute.

She looked straight at me, maintaining eye contact. I could tell she wanted me. I walked towards her and she let out a sigh immediately she saw the physical evidence that I longed for her pushing hard against my trouser zip. I held her waist, parting her legs with my right foot. 

She scented good, her lips so tender and succulent. She placed a gentle kiss on my lips. Our eyes closed as we journeyed into another realm. I took her lips in, kissing her hard and deep. Fire ignited through me as my tongue touched hers.

I worked my hand into her blouse, releasing the hook of her bra at her back. I cupped her breasts with my hands, filling her up. She drove her hands gently down my trouser zip, teasing me. Then she grabbed my butt, pulling me closer to her. I was ready to explode. I covered her neck with kisses; she released soft moans igniting the fire that burned between us the more. In a few seconds we were both naked. Hearts racing, desire burning and hormones running wild.

She grabbed the back of my neck, pulled my head against her neck whispering into my ears… “Love me, make love to me”

Who was I to refuse?

Her hands began working their way down my stomach, caressing my skin. Quickly, I lay her down on her desk, moving slowly with the precision of a stalking predator. I kissed her on her eye lids, pecking her lips. Her long neck got a nice working of my hot tongue. It sent shivers all around her body. Slowly my lips worked down to her breasts, sucking at the darkened and already erect nipples. She went wild from the crazy sensations. Grabbing my hand, she thrust it at her mound of dark and glistening curly hairs... “Work me baby” she moaned. I obliged, slipping a finger deep into her already wet body. She screamed and jerked. She swirled, and turned, swirling gently as my finger moved in and out of her.

By the time I entered her, thrusting my full rod of masculine ego into her, she was already over the mountains of pleasure. I moved slowly at first, gradually increasing my pace. She screamed “faster!” Moaning and holding her desk firmly. This was pleasure at its peak. I was in cloud nine and about to climax.

Then, the office door swung open and there stood my boss, standing stone dead in shock. 

His eye balls bulging in horror as if they were about to pop out of their sockets. We all looked at each other in grave silence. He walked out banging the door loudly behind him.

I was about running off to get my clothes when she grabbed my hand and said, “We’ve already been caught, we might as well enjoy it to the fullest”.

My body charged again, this time I took her in and ravaged her ruthlessly, sending her to heaven and hell, back and forth over and over with each movement of my waist, pleasure exploding all over us.

After several minutes of waiting outside the office for us to get dressed and come out in shame, I guess my boss began to lose patience when we still didn’t come out. He busted into the office only to find us once again in the act. 

He was mad, he had totally lost it. He charged towards me in rage, pushing me out the window. My body shattered the glass and I was sent falling to the ground. Luckily for me, I landed on top of a tree shrub, naked and unconscious.

NYSC REMINISCENCE (the oddest things just kept happening to me ….)

Still marking the first anniversary of my passing out from the National Youth Service Corps, here's another note I wrote long ago about the awkward things that happened to me during my service year.

Enjoy!

It was one awkward or weird experience to another throughout my NYSC year. It was as if the one week of horror in camp wasn’t enough view post; (falling down during parade inspection, getting rushed to the clinic on the last Sunday of camp along with other crap that came with life in camp) It seemed like each week after camp came with its own drama.

In August 2011, I was yet to get a place to stay in Ogun State, so I had to stay in a friend's place in Lagos from where I went to my place of primary assignment. I remember one evening, my friend and I entered a bus to Lagos and it turned out we were in for a lot of adventure as both the driver and conductor decided to catch their fun picking on passengers and other road users. It got to its peak when the driver parked at the middle of the road to obstruct a tricycle rider so the conductor could beat some sense into his head, while the driver stole into a nearby shop to get a few shots of dry gin. I didn’t wait for the bus to park fully before jumping out of it when I got to my bus stop. Boy! it was one hell of a trip. I had my heart in my mouth all through the ride, not with the way the driver drove as though he was immune to accident.

Then came the time I had to go through the hell of house hunting. I saw things! Holy Molly! From structures (I can't even call them buildings) not worthy to be called a home to dilapidated structures house-agents believed were befitting edifice for human habitation. Or was it the terrible grammar spoken by one of the boldly outspoken, so called graduate of law now turned house-agent I had to endure while he spoke ill of corpers to our face? He kept saying corpers always want something too beautiful or modern, (as if it was a crime to have a good taste) ignoring the fact that we were his clients and he had to treat us nicely.

The week I finally got a beautiful apartment in an estate, my friend and I went to clean up the place a week after payment. On our way home, I led us through a new path because I felt we should discover the area and more importantly, shorter routes to the estate gate. Little did I know I was leading us through a path we termed ‘the road to hell’. We walked briskly, enjoying new sites and places that would be of interest later on when we finally moved to the area. We smelt trouble when we had to cross a river using a locally constructed bridge. It was a straight road but then it led us to the other side of town. So much for finding a shorter route! We had to start asking around before finally getting a motorbike to take us back into town.

Then came the second payment of allowance; first payment was done in camp for the month of July. As fresh otondo’s (what corpers are generally referred to), we didn’t need any clearance for the second payment, so everyone’s allowance ought to have been paid but then again, it seemed my misfortunes from camp were still following me as mine wasn’t paid and I had to write an application letter before it was paid well after almost everyone had forgotten they were paid August allowance.

The month of September started on a good note but the last week turned out to be a terrible one as the transformer in the estate got bad. I had to do a week and three days without light. My landlord chose a perfect time to travel abroad leaving us to our fate as he normally used his generator to pump water. The Sunday he left, the house manger came over to take his generator and removed the phase promising that it wouldn’t affect my apartment’s light but alas! It did.

A few days later the transformer was fixed but my side didn’t have light. I called the manager that Friday evening and he promised to come the following Sunday as he was not going to be around on Saturday. I decided to be patient, but he didn’t show up on Sunday. I called him. He promised to come on Monday saying he couldn’t find the keys to the protector.

I had no water in the house. I couldn’t take my bath, which of course meant no work. I stayed home waiting patiently till it began to seem obvious that he wasn’t going to come.

Like they say, necessity is the mother of all inventions. My brain went to work, thinking of how I was going to get out of that situation. An idea came to mind. I thought it over with my friend, Yomi, who came visiting. He didn’t buy my idea but chose to help fetch water from my neighbor's place.

I went on with my mission impossible. I  tied the phase with a rope firmly to a long stick, stretched my arms through the protector but my hands weren’t long enough.

I waited for Yomi to return with the jerry-can of water. I told him to try it, since he is taller than I am. After several attempts we got it in. The manager did not bothered to call me to find out what happened till well after three weeks when he finally came to fix the light, because the landlord was coming back to Nigeria.

The next situation was the infamous drama at work which I wrote about in my previous note.

The following week, PHCN decided to hold power for that week and I was back to scarcity of water. This time my roommate, Temple, had his thinking cap on when the water in the tank ran out. He woke up one early morning, pacing about the house. I knew he was up to something.

He went into the kitchen and came out with the kettle. I stayed quiet watching him. He tied a rope to our kettle with which he used to draw water from a small opening beside the place where the pumping machine was placed. But of course, this was not to last as I ended up throwing the kettle into the hole mistakenly on the third day.

Funny, it was the same day light came.

Finally, what made me write this note was the incident of Sunday the 23^rd of October 2011. That day's incident was hilarious,  though scary at first. It happened after church. I and my roommate went to different churches. I left the house first, since my church service started early. We planned that he’d keep the key in a tractor which had been parked in front of our house for God knows how long, just in case I came home before him. 

That was the very first time we would  keep the keys there. It so happened that  immediately after coming out of the street beside my house, I looked up with my eyes focused on the abandoned tractor, only it wasn’t there anymore!

 It was gone and so was the key to the house.

Next my gaze went to the gate. The padlock was firmly in place. First thing that came to my mind as I stopped right in my track was a joke my roommate and I shared two weeks earlier, when we  complained about our continued postponement of duplicating the keys.

He suggested we keep the keys in the tractor on the days we would be going different places. I jokingly teased that the day we put it there would be the day the owners would take the tractor away. That’s exactly what had happened!

Several thoughts raced through my mind as I approached the place where tractor once stood. Of all days, I least expected it to be moved on a Sunday. I reached for my phone and dialed my roommate’s number hoping the tractor was moved before he left home. I called several times but there was no response.

I stood praying that God should please perform a miracle and help me find the keys on the ground, hoping maybe they fell off the tractor. I searched the ground still calling my roommate whose phone seemed to be on silent mode.

God! This was just the height of all the drama. The next Monday I needed to be at work as I didn’t go through out the previous week. The only way out was to call the uncaring house manger, locate him wherever he was to get the spare keys. The padlock was not the type one could easily break. Even if I could go through the gates how on earth was I going to find a carpenter to jack the iron door of the apartment?

I kept roaming around my house, searching through the dry grasses for the keys, moving along the tracks of the tractor’s large tires.

A thought hit me. I began to trace the tractor’s tire marks. I walked hurriedly just in case it was still on the road. I had little hope of finding it as I didn’t see any tractor on my way back. I increased my pace, my fingers still dialing my roommates number at every interval, while concentrating on my search for the keys on the road.

Fear of sleeping outside began to loom as it seemed my tractor hunting was going to be futile.

I heard a loud roar of an engine in the distance. My senses became alert.

A few more quickened steps and behold there it was. I could see its warning lights blinking from afar. My phone firmly pressed against my ear, with my right hand still trying to get in touch with my roommate and my left hand clenching my bible and writing materials firmly...

I ran after the tractor not paying a single attention to those looking at me. I ran with all determination of meeting up with the tractor before it drove out of the estate into the major road. My sweater which I hung across my shoulders flew in different directions as the wind cut past my sides.

There I was, chasing after the tractor like a madman. I caught up with the tractor. I greeted the driver through heavy breaths. I didn’t wait to calm myself down. I shouted on top of my voice several times. The tractor engine drowned my voice.

I pointed to the keys still lying on the tractor floor. He got the message and laughed. He could see I had been running. I panted heavily. He handed it over to me, saying he almost threw the keys out. I thanked him gleefully and headed back home, thanking God for yet another victory. I let out a good laugh immediately I opened the gates.

And the 'infamous' tractor was returned later that night....mtcheeew!

I wondered what the next episode of true life comedy would be. On the bright side, I just keep getting great stories out of each situation. God was always faithful to turn it around and calm the situation and at the end I always had a good laugh because that place was boring and it was those events in a twisted and weird way that brought activity and fun into my life, making me feel alive.

DRAMA AT WORK (The day my heart skipped a beat)

It's exactly a year today I passed out from the National Youths Service Corps. To mark the first anniversary I have decided to share this note I wrote a long time ago. I never really had the perfect moment to share this thrilling experience of mine. Guess I have finally found the perfect moment.

ENJOY!

It was my first field assignment since I was attached to the Department of Planning, Research and Statistics/Crop Enumeration under the Ministry of Agriculture, Abeokuta. From time to time the Departmental officers would visit various farms to enumerate their crops and then issue certificates to the farmers with which the farmers could use to solicit for loans from financial institutions.

My first day on the field turned out to be a remarkable one as I moved from one crazy situation to another. Indeed it was drama at work.

Seven of us from the department including a lady from the Ministry of Lands, making us eight in number embarked on that day’s field work in a ricketing mini station wagon. Mr. Johnson whose position in the Department I’m still not sure of drove. Mr. Deji, the Assistant Head of Department sat in front, sharing his seat with Diolu, a young full time office worker in the Ministry. The middle seat was occupied by the Head of Department, fondly referred to as Alhaja. The lady from the Ministry of Lands and my roommate, Temple, a fellow corper also shared the middle seat with Alhaja. I sat at the back with Ometere, also a corper.

The journey to the farm site was relatively peaceful, though uncomfortable as I had to squeeze my legs inbetween the seats as the space was barely enough to contain a child’s legs. I chatted mindlessly with the other corpers in the vehicle, oblivious of what was waiting in store for us.

On getting to the farm which was situated along Abeokuta – Ibadan express way, we had to wait for almost two hours for the owner of the farm to arrive and lead us in,  as it turned out that the farm was actually located in the middle of the jungle. I stood by the car watching the government workers change clothes into worn out field clothing and most importantly as it turned out few minutes later, they all changed their shoes to rubber boots.

I felt they were just being extra cautious to avoid getting stains on their clothes and polished shoes. I felt safe in my jeans and black all star sneakers, with no clue as to what lied ahead.

Ometere took off her designer slippers and slid into the last free rubber boot out of her own volition. Temple changed into his NYSC jungle boot.

And off we went into the jungle. We walekd in a single file led by the driver of the vehicle that brought the farm owners who walked slowly behind us.

Once in a while the lead man would cut down tree branches to pave a solid path for us to go through as the soil was muddy. We walked carefully, trying to prevent our shoes from getting smudged with mud. We came to an abrupt halt when we were warned about a trap laid in our path.

 Boy! That was the beginning of our travails. The owners of the farm stopped following us at that point. They just stood there discussing in their local dialect for a few minutes before turning their back. The three of us that were corpers waited patiently for the government workers to cross the trap safely before daring to take another step forward, paying full attention to each spot where they placed their foot.

We moved further into the jungle. The canopy of leaves closed over our heads partly blocking out the rays of the sun. I could hear crickets chirping in the distance as they trudged wearily through the shrubs. A salient wind rumbled through the trees causing a crackle of leaves and twigs. The forest around us was clothed in trees, fierce thorns emanating from their stems making it harder for us to meander our way through the marshy soil as we needed to hold on to the trees for support. The workers walked boldly in their boots leaving us behind, though their boots were already soiled.

One wrong move and Temple had his jungle boot buried in the mud. There was nothing more to lose, so he walked quickly to catch up with the others. It was just me left to figure how I would make it without ruining my sneakers. Feeling particularly brave, I fought my way through branches twined over head. I took off my shades so I could see clearly, blinking my eyes severally to adjust to the sudden change in illumination.

I ambled after Temple, cascading across the trees gently, ignoring the prickers that caught on my shirt. I hopped from one broken branch which slept on the mud to another while holding on to any stem that was void of thorns. Finally I made it through.

Ometere asked how I did it without getting my sneakers soiled. Proudly I replied saying I was Tarzan.

Our movement steadily became slow and torpid as the ground became even marshier as we went farther into the jungle. I was advised by the lady from the Ministry of Lands to fold up my jean trousers but I refused. Clothes were meant to protect my skin. By then, the air was filled with complaints from Temple who obviously was not having the time of his life. I had kept quiet all the way trying to maintain the quiet nature I was known for at the office, though I was terribly furious.

We paused and waited for the lead man and Mr. Deji to figure out how we were to cross a river that divided the forest. The verdict was reached; we were all going to walk through the dirty river!

So, one after the other each worker went in: the lead man went in first followed by Mr. Deji who fell immediately he put his leg into the mass of water. He was quickly held by Alhaja which prevented him from being completely immersed.  Finally, everyone crossed but me.

Ometere then teased me; ‘let me see how you would cross the river since you say you are Tarzan”. I lapsed into a sullen silence and considered my next move. I was vexed, beyond angry. I tried to be methodical about everything that was happeneing,  but I just couldn’t fight off the overwhelming sense of injustice. I resisted the instinct to turn back and head for the vehicle. After considering my options I decided to cross the river, after all I wasn’t sure of my way back.

Every cell in my body revolted as I dipped my right leg in. I felt my sneakers fill up immediately. Completely disgusted, I let my leg sink. I raised my phones high above my head as the water was waist level. Slowly, I pushed through the water current which flowed towards me. The water soaked into my clothes, bathing my skin with mud and dirt. I lost my cool. This was more than I could take.

I looked up and caught Mr. Deji capturing my movement with his camera phone. I launched a verbal assault on the government workers. I let them know it was sheer wickedness for them to allow us go into the forest not properly kitted while they were all fully protected. Ometere and Temple added their voices to mine, all three of us complaining, ignoring what they had to say to calm our frayed nerves.

Once again on the marshy ground, we continued our journey through the forest. This time, Temple did the complaining as I walked hastily past the officials in anger. I didn’t want to be close to them to avoid uttering words I would regret later. Not even the much awaited allowance from the Federal Government could pacify us. The bank alert came in at a wrong time though it succeeded in putting a faint smile on my lips.

Finally, we were at the farm.

The farm was located at the heart of the forest. I didn’t pay attention to the ‘enumeration’ they were doing. Less than ten minutes and the ‘enumeration’ was over. We went thorugh all the horror for just a few minutes work!

How unnerving and annoying. The farm was not even large scale with mature crops; just some acres with few recently planted arable crops. Permit me at this junction to hiss loudly…mtcheeeeeeeeeeeeeeew! I’m still pissed even as I write this note.

Enumeration over, it was time to head home. We went through a different route from the one that led us in, this time we had to cross another which was in a more deplorable condition than the previous one. This river had insects lurking around and ants climbing the wood, skimping around in the mud. This was far from fun of any sorts. I felt sorry for Temple as he danced on the spot trying to get rid of the ants that had invaded his trousers and were eating at his skin. 

I tried my best to conceal my laughter as Alhaja fell into the water. Ometere almost fell in but was held by Mr. Johnson. I looked down at her with pitiful resignation. She hunched. Her forehead creased in concentration as she made her way through with utmost care.

Once again we marched through the forest faithfully following after the steps of the lead man. We were faced with crossing yet another river. The third that day! Temple began to complain even louder than before. This was worse than the TV show; Gulder Ultimate Search. We were told not to worry that we were not crossing it but we should just clean up using the water from the river. Then came a horrendous rain of complaints from the three corpers, myself inclusive.

Nothing said by anyone could pacify us, not even calm words spoken by Alhaja who by now was beyond surprised that the ‘calm’ Princely could actually complain. Every one tried to calm us down telling us it was an experience we would tell our kids about one day. Even the lead man tried to soothe our frayed nerves. Everyone had pity on us, all except Mr. Johnson who stuck stubbornly to the fact that he once told us to get rubber boots and change of clothing for field work. I challenged him boldly, telling him that the department didn’t give us a break to travel home to get our farm boots and also we had not been paid our allowance until a few moments ago, so how were we expected to buy new ones? Defeated, he kept quiet and walked away.

The lead man perched precariously against a tree, balancing on a fallen stem which lay across the river, laughing at our complaints, asking us if we didn’t go through farm year in our various higher institutions or the man o’ war training at the NYSC orientation camp. Immediately he stopped speaking, his feet slipped and into the dirty river his body went.

Without censoring his words, Temple let out a mocking exclamation ‘Ehen!’ which sent us all bursting out in laughter. Though unfair to the lead man, it was actually refreshing to laugh out loud so care freely after the unpleasant adventure we had gone thorugh.

We cleaned up and tucked ourselves into the tiny mini-van one again.  The old car chugged to life and we the three corpers lapsed into silence as we reminisced over what we just went through the past three hours.

Somewhere along the way, an unmarked SUV swung from a filling station onto the express way causing Mr. Johnson to swerve recklessly in order to avoid colliding with their car. This brought us out of our reverie.

Hands on the wheels and foot on the pedals, Mr. John sped on, overtaking the SUV. We all peered into the car to catch a glimpse of the unruling driver. It was a uniformed man who looked slightly above forty years of age and a much younger officer seated at the passenger's seat. We all fell into a sour disapproving silence as we drove on in peace.

Few minutes later, the SUv over took us with the younger officer swiveled, facing Mr. Johnson. The ofiicer hurled insults at him even though they were the ones who ventured into the road without caution. All Alhaja’s pleas to Mr. Johnson not to reply him fell on deaf ears. Infuriated by Mr. Johnson’s boldness, the officer brough out his AK-47 gun and threatened to shoot at us.  We all ducked for cover, our hands over our head protectively. He retracted his gun and we all sat erect again.

They drove off.

I looked over at Ometere and called off the officer’s bluff that there was no way he could shoot, trying to reassure her of our safety though I could barely convince myself.

Stoic and bold like a god, Mr. Johnson held on to the steering and raised his head high exchanging words with the men as he sped to catch up with them.

Visibly pissed off, the young officer brought out his gun, stretched it out of the car window and this time he cracked the gun sending shivers through us. They forced our vehicle to a halt.

The two men simultaneously alighted from their car. I knew we were in for tit this time. Other road users drove past us quickly, leaving us to our fate in the hands of the officers.

Sinewy muscles of shoulder and haunch ripples launched straight at Mr. Johnson cheek. His lips curled in a silent snarl as colour drained from his face.

Still he was unfazed by the slap. The government workers pleaded with the officers though Mr. Johnson was still defiant, maintaining he was not the one wrong.

Actually he began speaking in incoherent english after the slap, saying repeatedly - "I am the one who should be saying sorry" instead of "you are the one (the officer) who should be saying sorry".

This made Temple and I fight back laughter. The arrogant officer lifted his gun and shot into the air. Fear reigned supreme in our vehicle.

I scrambled for my NYSC cap and beckoned to Temple to wear his own also. At least that should serve as our saving grace in case things got out of control. Mr. Deji nd Diolu stepped out of the car trying to plead with the men to ignore Mr. Johnson.

Right then, every story I had heard or read about people being shot by policemen flooded by mind. To cut the long story short, a man parked his car and joined in begging the officers before they finally let us go.

All was calm and peaceful once more. We continued our journey back to the office discussing what had just happened. Close to the state secretariat we drove into the officers. Mr. Johnson this time bodly signaled for them to follow him, of which they did foolishly.

Straight into the governor’s office gate he drove. They parked their car behind ours. Mr. Johnson, Mr. deji, Diolu and Alhaja came down, bodly accusing the men of trying to 'eliminate' us. Can you blame them? They were in their territory now, so they were bold because they had the covering of the Governor’s security men whom they reported the situation to.

Mr. Johnson walked up to the younger officer who was standing by the car window close to where I was. He reached for his gun. A mini struggle ensued between them for the pocession of the gun. No one dared to separate them. Suddenly the riffle rotated 180 degrees, right bedise me.

At that moment my heart skipped a beat. Yes I would love to see my name written in the national dailes but not for something bad or tragic. I pushed Ometere and was ready to jump out of the vehicle incase a bullet was accidentally released. The officer overpowered him and reigned blows on him. His attention was finally drawn to our vehicle’s plate number. It was then he realized we were government employees and not some local taxi car.

The once vibrant officers sank into a shell, realizing their mistake. They beame sullen and quiet. The government workers became all the more pronounced, even Temple began accusing the officers. I quickly shut him down. The ruffle was finally settled by the policemen attached to the Governor.

It was time for the civilians to vent their anger which they did by raining abuses on the now mute officers. Mr. Deji became bold and empowered, even daring to take snapshots of the younger officer and threatened to report him. It was indeed drama as people began to gather as the drama unfolded.

Few hours later, I and Temple were settled in a cab on our way home. It had been a long day, from the forest to the near death  experience with the uniformed men. We just wanted to get home and have a good bathe and a long sleep. Little did we know more drama awaited us. Our cab driver got into a fight with a motor cyclist close to our estate gate. He increased his speed as he aimed to hit the motorcyclist promising to run him down. I looked back at Temple who sat at the back while I sat in front.

Our eyes met and we read each other’s thoughts; this was part three of the day’s drama…