Sunday, 23 March 2014

ONE DAY WITH LAGOS BUSES...

It was another Wednesday morning, all dressed up in my suit and tie...
Scratch that, this is not some Afona kinda rap skit or Obiwanne and Hilda singing Maroon 5's she will be loved under the rain kinda stuff. This is real shii that happened!

Back to the matter.

I once tweeted that most Lagos drivers are mad. That's a fact, especially those that ply Iyana Ipaja - Abule Egba axis. Even if you ain't mad, with time you'll just have to learn how to be mad for your own survival.

I won't even bother whining about the horrible roads and hold ups. It's almost a year now in Lagos for me. I'm used to it already. I remember those times I kept complaining about the traffic on bbm and Makua kept telling me to shut it. Imagine? That small pikin, even my younger sister is older than him. Guess love truly covers multitude of sins/crimes. Him for don chop better slap by now.

This Wednesday morning I left my house say around 5:30am as usual, got into a bus which later diverted into a street to avoid the building traffic on the express way. Lagos network of roads is so foolish, I swear! The driver would take a street, drive so far into the street, take so many turns, you'd think you'd burst out close to the border of Lagos only for you to burst out on the express way say four junctions ahead of the one the driver diverted from. Total waste of fuel. And the street roads are so bad, you'd end up having body pains.

Benin city still has the best network of roads in my opinion, just take one street off the main road at Ring road, next thing you know, you are coming out by Uwasota.

Anyway back to my story, the bus diverted and the mad driver was on top speed. Next thing I knew, my bus rammed into the back of another bus, and gbam! We were in a gutter.

It felt like a Nigerian movie; you know the way accidents are portrayed. The camera starts swaying and the occupants all moving from side to side and then an abrupt stop. All that happened. We the passengers were all tossed from side to side with our body parts hitting the damn iron seats!

Another thing I don't get. Why on earth are the seats of Lagos buses made of wood and iron? Why? Why? Why?*sheds a tear. In Benin, you get to see couch as chairs with good foam. You can even lounge in the buses, listening to correct jam the driver is blasting. Sometimes you even begging him to reduce the volume. But in Lagos, if you manage to see a bus with a radio, na yoruba song them go dey play. Pathetic I swear.

We all got down from the bus which was now half hanging inside the gutter, stretching and looking for injuries. I felt fine and okay. It was just the guy who sat in front that seemed badly hurt as his head hit the windscreen and cracked it. Ouch!

The conductor refunded our money and I had to wait some minutes before getting another bus. Thank God for safety and life.

When I got to the office, I realized I actually had bruises on my right hand and a swell on my right leg. Cleaned them up and applied robb. At close of work after the day's madness I felt a pain on my left ankle, raised up my trousers and then saw it was really swollen.

All I wanted was to get home and rest, little did I know more Lagos bus drama awaited me. I got a bus at Ikeja Along bus stop. There was a bit of traffic on the express road. The young driver diverted into a street despite warnings from most of the occupants of the bus telling him to follow the express way.

Soon enough we realized the bus wasn't in good shape as the two kid conductors needed to push the vehicle back to life each time the engine went off. One of the kid conductors collected fares from the passengers. Of course, he didn't say 'pay your money' he spoke yoruba like they all do. Why do yoruba people just go about speaking their language to anyone they come across? Why do they feel everyone is yoruba? So annoying!

You'd talk to an okada man in english and he'll reply you in yoruba. Nonentity! Mtcheeew. There was a day in a bus, one conductor kept yelling 'owo da' (i.e - your money) to a passenger. The guy understood but kept quiet. The conductor got angry after his several calls of owo da, and then angrily said 'oga give me your money jare'. The guy looked at him and said, 'you for nor ask me in english na, you people act as if everyone is yoruba. From my side owo na soup. I nor get soup to give you'. I couldn't help but join other passengers in laughing.

Anyway this kid conductor took our fares and refused to give us our change even though it was obvious he had change with him. We kept on going, the driver doing his best to mange the ricketing bus through the inner streets filled with pot holes. The bus came to a final halt midway. The driver picked a tube from his side, said he wanted to check his fuel level. Trust yoruba people, they started complaining and insulting him. *sigh...they can complain and insult for Africa ni!

The kid conductors alighted and joined the driver at the back. After a minute the passengers started to come down too, by now the kid conductors were no where to be found. After say ten minutes of arguing with the driver it was obvious he told the conductors to run away with the money so they won't refund our fares. That's how I lost N500 that day. The driver thought he was smart, but trust Lagosians...

I was amazed by what happened minutes later. They argued with the driver for over thirty minutes telling him to call his conductors back but he kept denying that he told them to run, rather they had even stolen his money as he didn't know where he would see them. Obviously he was lying. I looked at my phone, (I am not a wrist watch person) the time was about 8:30pm. How do I get another bus from this odd place? That was what was on my mind, but being scammed by two kids wasn't funny and that N500 did pain me. But getting home in time was more important.

It dawned on the passengers that it was a lost cause, the conductors were somewhere hiding with their money and the driver had no money on him either. They searched the vehicle for money but found none. They weren't leaving the driver to go free, they had to get their pound of flesh. One guy took out the battery of the bus and walked off. I stood amazed. The young driver wailed but couldn't resist the guy. A woman angrily took off the bus's two front wipers. Another guy took the knack sap sprayer that was in the bus. A guy took the jack from the boot. This was justice being done. The driver started to plead and cry.

The more he cried, the more irritated I got. Three kids think they can just pull a stunt like that in a bus filled with adults? Dem nor born them well.

A guy borrowed the jack from the guy who was about leaving with it and used it to smash the headlights of the bus, making sure even the inner bulb were not spared. I wanted them to even smash the windscreens, till a guy said the driver was evil as he had put unnecessary expense on the owner of the vehicle. He would run away and leave the vandalized car for it's owner.

It took me thirty minutes to get another bus. At the junction where the 'new' bus joined the express way, the driver parked for passengers to alight, and that's when another drama ensued. 
He refused to pay the abgero boys their due. They ripped his door off as he was about driving off. I spent the next thirty minutes watching him fight with them. 

Did I mention I had stomach upset that day? I was there dying in pain as my stomach was rumbling. The fight was settled and we continued the journey. At Abule Egba junction, the driver took the u-turn and drove backwards the way we came instead of dropping us off before turning. I looked back at the woman who entered the bus with me from the initial bus where my money was stolen. 

She returned my gaze, shook her head and said today na today. I was too weak to complain, I just got down, crossed the road, walked some distance before taking a final bus to my junction. 

Thankfully there was no more drama. I finally got home in due time and into the bliss of releasing myself. Sometimes the toilet can be the best part of your house, if you know what I mean...hehehe

Saturday, 1 March 2014

DYING IS FINE

#np: Oblivion by Bastille


At first it seemed like any other Friday evening after close of work. Earlier in the day, I had worried I might close a bit late, but it turned out closing time that day was going to be by 6:00pm (by my work schedule that was early).

Just another Friday, weekend was here and there was going to be enough time to rest my already worn out body after a week long hustle. At 6:00pm, the day was still bright, naturally, I would have been excited hoping to get home early so I can start my weekend early and have enough time to sleep well into late saturday morning.

But that Friday was different. My spirit was down for no particular reason. I wasn’t depressed or anything, probably tending towards depression. I just wasn’t feeling reality.

I pinged a colleague who lives close to the branch to meet me at the bus stop. For the first 30 minutes we stood at the bus stop just talking about anything that came to mind. We talked about everything and anything. I guess his mind too was clouded and he needed to let stuff out to clear his head.

I was basically empty and feeling dull. I didn’t want to go back to an empty big lonely house. We later sat at the bus stop bench till the day got dark. At times I was present, listening and paying attention to the discussion, other times I let my mind drift into a dark abyss. Reality just wasn’t my friend that evening. That feeling you get when you know you are going home to emptiness. Nothing to look forward to.

A kid ran up to me and jumped on my laps. The about 15mins he spent playing while sitting on my laps was pure bliss. See, I love kids so much, so big thanks to the lil kid for helping me feel alive even for a short while.

As we sat talking after the kid went to meet his mum, I saw a bbm update; an old university mate had been shot. How sad! Another life wasted. I sat in silence, trying to take in the information and understand that he’ll never walk this earth again or be seen smiling again. For a few minutes I actually wished we could trade places.

Well, not that I want to die in a brutal or painful manner, I just see death as peaceful, only it brings pain and sorrow to those left behind. Such sadness and pain to family and friends. But with time they’ll heal and move on right?

But really, what’s in this life? Just hustle, hustle, hustle…yea, at times life can be fun but for how long does it really last? Before you know it, another trouble or issue comes up. Honestly, I wish I was never born. Not that I am ungrateful for my life and how far God has brought me, but if I was given a choice, I would choose not to have been born. Life is trouble filled, death is peaceful.

At times, I wish I could clear up everything, put my shit together, set my self right with God 100%, sleep and peacefully die. At least I know at judgement heaven will be my portion. The more I live, the more temptations to fall short of making heaven. But for God’s grace…

The personal wars I have to fight, scars I carry, or having to build a career or make sense out of life…this phase of life though *sigh…

I have always wondered how it feels to get shot (please I don’t want to get shot o!) the moment the bullet hits and penetrates the skin. That very moment it registers that you’ve been shot. The piercing pain, falling to the ground, feeling your blood flowing out and soaking your clothes, the feeling of uncertainty if you’ll survive or die, growing weaker as life flows out of you. Then finally laying still, the pain so sharp and knowing the moment has come.

Is there really time to flash back on your life? The people you love and care about? those you've hurt? Things you wish you never did or is there time to figure out why and who shot you? Is there enough time to feel mad and angry at the person? Or is your survival all you get to think and worry about?

I remember lying in the hospital last year when I kept being rushed to the hospital from work various times. What I can remember vividly is the thought I always had each time I was on the hospital bed. All I thought of then was my family and how they’ll feel if I died. Would they be able to take it? My parents, how would they feel losing their child? Would my dad forgive himself for letting me take this job even though he never wanted me to initially? Then I’d break down in tears.

I can't exactly remember what I always thought of in the car while being rushed to the hospital (I really wish I could),but the first incident, I remember being so scared I was having a stroke because I was going totally numb in my hands, legs and fingers… *scary shit it tell you!

I was in a friend’s place recently. He playfully closed my nose and mouth with his hand for some minutes. I didn’t even struggle to set myself free. I just closed my eyes and let myself go. He stopped and looked at me oddly. I laughed and asked if he thought I would struggle. I then said to him, 'I doubt I’d beg to live if someone wants to kill me right now. Since I don’t have the mind to commit suicide and then go to hell, I’ll rather someone help me be at peace and commit the crime and also take the responsibility of killing me.'

This reminds me of one episode in Grey’s anatomy where depressed Meredith Grey was drowning but she didn’t bother to struggle or fight to live. Got her in trouble with her husband when she was pulled out of the water though.

I read of people committing suicide by burning themselves, or hanging themselves or even shooting themselves or worse slashing their wrists. Really? Common guys! I think there are less painful and very peaceful ways to off yourself. You could take overdose of sleeping pills and just sleep forever or go to a beautiful beach/ocean and just slide into the water peacefully, let the water take you…feel the coolness of the water against your skin. Just let go and feel free…peacefully, let the water take you, fill your insides and just drown peacefully…no pain.

This is one hell of a messed up post, I know. But truly I feel a lot better letting it out. I probably need serious help…I most definitely do.

 A ceiling fan, a chair and a rope...




Thursday, 13 February 2014

VALENTINE BLUES...

“It’s about to rain heavily, are you sure you still want to go back to school this evening?” Chigozie Azuka heard her mother’s voice vibrate through the walls of her room. She threw the last content of her bag on her blue flowered bed sheet which matched the light blue walls of her room, giving the room a welcoming feel. She shouldn’t have come home.

She drew in a strong breathe. Her shoulders relaxed. The curtains were pushed to the right of her window and tied into a knot at the bottom, enabling her get a clear view of the sky through the half open window. The sky had since lost its glow and the sun was gone. She stole a look at the clock - 5:34pm.

The skies grew darker with each passing second. Should she still go back? It was Valentine’s Day and she had no intention of spending it alone. She smiled, remembering the details of the day. She was about entering the departmental office to defend her final year project in front of four stern looking professors when her phone had buzzed. It was a simple text message from Peter Okon that read ‘please be my valentine...I’d love to spend today with you....my place this evening.’

She couldn’t help the smile that ran across her lips after she'd read the message. Peter was an old flame, though they’d tried to date in the past they never really worked out but they'd remained good friends. Ever since she got the message, her thoughts had been on him all day. Yes, they had their differences and there had been a lot of drama but they always found a way of working it out. They had met in her fourth year through a mutual friend at the library. After reading, he offered to walk her to the hostel. The conversation was easy and effortless. She had felt so free with him; it was one of those rare first time conversations you feel as if you've known for a long time. After that day they communicated more through chats.

He was her first and only ‘almost’ real relationship. Before entering the university she had made a promise to herself to stay focused on her studies and put off any form of relationship till at least final year when she was sure of graduating with a good result. Distractions of any kind weren’t welcome. She kept telling all the boys that came her way no, but Peter was different. He slowly stole his way into her heart. She fell in love with him without even knowing. They hardly went on dates, though he did ask her out a few times but she never really wanted to go out. She needed it on a low profile. She didn’t want anyone in her business or rumours flying about. She had always been a private person. It made her life easy. No judging from others or people trying to use information they had about her personal life to make her life miserable or a living hell. She knew the pain and anger the socialites in her class went through and the humiliation of having their stories on the lips of every gossip in class. She wasn’t cut out for that or strong enough to deal with such. Her studies were top priority. She prevented him from visiting her in the hostel. The times she went to his hostel she made sure he was home alone and his friends weren’t around. While she stayed in the school hostel, he stayed off campus in one of the student communities close to the school.

The pain she felt the day she discovered he was in a long distance relationship with another girl had crushed her. She had never felt such pain before. It was a good thing on the long run. She had almost broken her promise. She was torn between following her heart or turning her back on all her morals and all she stood for.

It hurt, but it was inevitable. She couldn’t be the reason for another girl’s heart break. She bore the pain and moved on. Months of silence between them past until recently when he called to tell her he broke up with his girlfriend and wanted her. It was too late. She had already moved on and regained her focus. Drama followed after as usual, but somehow they worked through it and became platonic friends. He still loved her and she knew it. She also cared about him deeply but she didn’t feel the same way anymore. The fire and spark was no more there. Then again, two of them together was never going to work. She became sure of that during the periods they had issues. They were both strong headed and not afraid to speak their minds. If they ever dated, they were sure going to burn down the house someday.

All through her stay in the university she never went to any party except her fresher’s welcome which turned out a total catastrophe and a waste of time. That helped underpin her conclusion that parties were an absolute waste of precious productive time. Drunk lads making a fool of themselves. She wasn’t social. She was nicknamed anti-social by her colleagues. She had never celebrated valentine all her twenty one years on earth.

Today she had an opportunity of changing that. Just Peter and She alone; it will be a quiet one and the issue of sex wasn’t going to come up. Peter understood her and also respected her stand on pre-marital sex. He never pressurised her when they were trying to work things out. He was a special guy. It was such a shame they never became more than friends. At time she blamed herself for it.

Today she was going to feel the valentine love. Finally she was going to have a life! After four years in school, it made perfect sense that it was the last day of all her academic activities it would happen. A flash of lightening, followed by rumbling sounds in the sky few minutes later brought her back to reality.

Her hands rested on her waist. There was nothing to think about. She had sent him a positive reply and she wasn’t going to stand him up. Today was her day and not even the storm was going to ruin it for her. Today she was going to celebrate her first valentine.

***
She stripped and made a dash to the bathroom. She was out within five minutes. The quickest shower she had ever taken. Her stomach revolted. She had not eaten anything since morning. She scanned through her wardrobe, snatched a light green tank top and blue skinny jeans. Three minutes later she was out the front door, waving good bye to her worried mother who just stood watching her. She threw on her jean jacket over her shoulders. She waited for a motorbike. Her hand worked her long dark wavy hair into a pony tail.

Moments passed and still there was no motorbike and everyone seemed to have disappeared into their homes. She made giant leaps down the lonely road. Sounds of louvers being shut mixed with the roar of wind filled the air. She reached for her phone. Her fingers ran quickly over the key pad. She waited for the sound of Kelechi's voice at the other end. She needed to inform her she wouldn’t be coming to her hostel at Ekosodin that night.

She had been staying at Kelechi’s place ever since they finished their final papers. The school had closed the hostels after the examinations. All final year students had to stay back to finish up with their project work. The silly school didn’t have the empathy to let them remain in the hostel.

She communicated with Kelechi amidst heavy breaths. She had a long way to go. Her house was a bit far from the school, though it was along the street directly opposite the university, but down the street.

She kept telling herself she was doing the right thing and it was worth it. Her first valentine celebration. She needed this. After the longest fifteen minutes of her life, she was finally at the school gate. Fortunately there were still shuttle buses rendering service. She walked briskly towards the loading bus. It began to rain slightly.

***
The ever busy basement was desolate. She signalled the driver to stop, paid her fare and began the long walk towards Osasogie where Peter’s hostel was located. The ground was mucky. She joined the few others, mostly students who were making their way to their various hostels in a light jog as the intensity of the drizzling increased.

She was a little soaked by the time she got to his gate. It had been a while since she last visited him but she still knew the route to his home all too well. She would never forget the large big gate in front of his three storey hostel. Good thing his room was on the ground floor. She had exhausted her energy jogging.

She took a deep breath before pushing the gate. Wet hair strands stuck to her face, the rim of her trousers were wet and stained with muddy soil. It didn’t matter. She was here and that was all. She grabbed her jacket closer at the neck, as she made her way to his room.

Loud music vibrated through the hostel. She could hear voices cheering also. ‘Valentine hostel party’. She sneered. She entered the dark narrow veranda of the ground floor which separated opposite rooms along the hall way. She didn’t know his exact room number but she had a technique of knowing his room. It was the third room form the main door post by the left. She guided her way down the dark hall way, sliding her hands on the wall. The walls vibrated. The music became louder with each step she took.

Where was this music coming from? She got closer to the third room. She refused to believe it was coming from his room. Maybe it was the adjoining room. The moment she stood in front of his door, her fear was confirmed. She could hear their loud voices cheering above the loud music.

The day was already dark and the rain was still drizzling. Entering his room wasn’t an option. She was wet and the herm of her trousers was grubby. More disturbing was the fear of entering into a room filled with people she knew. She brought out her phone and dialled his number. It rang several times but no one answered. Of course! How can he hear his phone ringing.

This wasn’t happening to her. She rested against the wall. What should she do now? The only person she knew in the hostel or around there was Chike, her classmate. A guy she barely spoke three words to all through her stay in the university.

She made slow steps towards the gate. She had no choice but to wait till the rain subsided, then she’ll quietly go to Kelechi’s hostel. Kelechi would definitely have a lot to laugh about when she hears her story. By now she knew Kelechi and her pastor friend will be having the time of their lives. She knew they were an item even though Kelechi kept denying it. Was there really wrong with two mature Christians dating? This wasn’t secondary school for crying out loud, anyway that was their business.

A figure covered the door way.

"How dare you do this to me!" She yelled.

Peter gave her a blank stare. “What are you talking about?” He asked.

“I thought you said you wanted to spend today with me ALONE” she spat out, emphasizing the word alone.

“Oh that! I’m so sorry, Chike came back and decided to throw a little party after his project defence.”

“You call that a little party? How many voices did I hear? Seriously you are unbelievable”.

He stood still, looking at her. He obviously didn't get the gravity of what he had done. She hated when he acted clueless and didn’t take things too seriously.

“Wait, pause...if it’s really Chike hosting the party how come it’s holding in your room?” she shot him a questioning look.

“His room is scattered and he doesn’t have a sound system so to avoid all the stress of moving my speakers and deck we decided to just hold it there. Did you think I was lying?” he asked.

“Don’t even try to turn this around.” She was too tired to start an altercation. She started making her way slowly towards the door again. She was tired and hungry. If only the rain would subside. She thought silently. She didn’t believe what was happening. So much for her ‘happy first valentine’.

“Where are you going?” he asked gently.

She pushed his arms which were beginning to rest gently across her shoulders. “You ambushed me! You know I don’t like parties.” She kept walking.

He pushed past her and faced her. “I’m sorry. This is what will happen. Come to Chike’s room. We’ll both stay there while the party’s on, alright? I’m truly sorry.”

She let him lead her towards Chike’s room which was on the upper floor right above his room. There was still hope for a good valentine celebration after all.

***
Books were scattered on Chike’s bed, cd plates lay around the red rug, clothes pushed into the closet tried to force their way out. She looked for a free space to seat. She recognized his suit and trousers he had worn earlier scattered on the bed. She pushed them to the upper end of the bed.

“I’ll be back, let me check on them” and with that Peter ran off before she could protest.

She sunk her head into her palms.

She paced around Chike’s room. What was that sticking from beneath his bed? A G-string? Gross! What if Chike walked in now? He had never met her in the hostel all the times she had come visiting Peter. She always made sure he was not around. So it’s now the last day of school, all the reputation she had suffered to build will come crumbling down? This was too much for her to handle. She had to get out of there quickly.

She turned just in time to see the door knob move.

She stood inert.

“I changed my mind, no need checking on them.” Peter announced half way into the room.

She sighed. What a relief.

“I’m leaving.” She didn’t wait for his response. She walked passed him. She had better left now. No one had seen her yet. Imagine what people will remember her for if they knew she was at a boy’s hostel at this time of the night. She would be branded a hypocrite forever. That would never be her story.

Peter kept talking as he made his way behind her. She was not listening. Luckily, the rain had subsided. She reached for her phone and dialled Kelechi’s number. She informed her she was on her way. The ground was worse. Muddy soil littered everywhere.

“I knew you were going to do this” Peter said after her. “I don’t know why you are so messed up. Why can’t you have a life just for once?”

What an asshole! She cursed silently. She kept walking. He had ambushed her and he had the audacity to complain. There was no point going into any sort of argument with him. He lived for drama and to night she was going to make sure he didn't put her in one of his episodes.

One wrong step and she almost hit the wet soil with her buttocks. Her right hand held on tightly to the pole of a nearby store shade. Peter was watching her. She could feel his eyes on her back. Screw him!

She regained her posture. Her arms wrapped around her stomach. The cold wind blew. She increased her pace. Thank God for street lights. It was already late and she knew she had a long walk ahead of her. If she was lucky she would catch a cab inside school to Ekosodin gate. She kept walking, singing aloud amidst shattering teeth, trying to kick out thoughts of what had just happened. She was the only one on the road save for a few cars that drove past at intervals.

Lightning flashed which was accompanied by a loud roar from the thunder seconds later, sending shivers down her spine. The skies gave in and the rain came pouring down. Few steps more, she was drenched. She kept using her hand to clear her vision. There was no bus insight when she got to the school’s second gate. She expected it. She continued her lone walk, increasing her pace. She didn’t care about the mud or puddles. She walked in and out of them freely. All she needed was to be inside a warm room and out of her wet clothing.

***
Thitry three minutes past eleven, she was at Ekosodin gate. Good thing Kelechi’s apartment was close to the gate. She heard her phone beep. It was a text message alert. She didn’t need a sorcerer to tell her the message was form Peter. She ignored it. There was no way she could read it under the rain.

She wished she had said more to his face. She wanted to scream at him. Run her nails over his flesh. Do something to make him feel same way he had made her feel.

She placed three hard knocks on Kelechi’s door. Her clothes were dripping. She was so engrossed in her thoughts she had forgotten to squeeze out the water before stepping into the house.

Kelechi opened the door to a shivering image of her friend. “What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Chigozie replied. She entered the room which was poorly lightened by a little candle stick placed on a table. The power was out. She could make out Emma’s figure on the bed. He was still around? Hmm... She made for the bathroom.

She came out few minutes in a towel. Took a change of clothes from her bag she kept in Kelechi’s cupboard and went back in. When she came out, Kelechi had fixed her a dinner of fried plantain and beans. Just what she needed. She said hi to Emma, whom she knew was probably happy the dim light was there to hide his face. He must be dying from embarrassment. A pastor spending the night alone in a girl’s room. If Peter hadn’t messed up who knows what they would have done in her absence?

He couldn’t say he didn’t notice the weather before it started raining. She chuckled when she realized she had judged him the same way she would have been judged by everyone if Chike or someone she knew had seen her at Peter’s hostel. What was she even thinking in the first place? There was going to be Valentine’s Day next year and the year after and many others. It was not a must she celebrated it while in school. Look all she had put herself through.

She told them her ordeal as she ate. She trusted Kelechi. She wasn’t the type to go spreading her story. After her meal she lay down on the bed. Within seconds she was fast asleep. The rain had stopped falling.

***
Her lips parted. She could feel tender lips against hers, taking her lower lip in smooth slow moves. They were soft and succulent. Peter!

The kiss went deep. Her gown was pushed upwards. Rough strong palms moved across her flesh. Was she dreaming? She opened her eyes. The place was dark. The kiss was going deeper.

Emma!

She sat up quickly.

His hands pressed against her lips as he sat up also. “Shhh... don’t wake Kelechi” he whispered.

“Oh my God!”

Kelechi was fast asleep at the other end of the bed. Emma was at the middle while she was at the side of the bed against the wall. What time was it? What was going on? Is this a dream?

Emma tried to get her to lie back on the bed. This definitely wasn’t a dream.

“Kelechi wake up!” She pushed him aside. She tapped Kelechi hard on the legs, waking her up.

“What’s going on?” she asked, stretching.

After hearing each person's side of the story, Kelechi paced across the now silent room. The power was on now. She stood looking from Chigozie to Emma. Both looked at her as if she was a god about to pronounce judgement on them. She looked at Emma, he was a pastor and she doubted he could do such a thing. He had never shown any sign of cheating before. In his defence he had said it was Chigozie who kissed him and tried to unzip his trousers. She had only woken her when he rebuked her and tried to turn everything around on him.

She gazed at Chigozie. They had been friends since first year. She knew she was a good person but with what she told her earlier about going to a boy's house it was obvious she really didn't know her well enough as she once thought. Who would believe Chigozie of all people, 'Mrs Anti-social' would leave her parents house under the threatening storm to spend valentine alone with a boy? Who knew what else she was capable of?

She straightened up. “Chigozie I want you out of my room this moment.”

“What!” Chigozie stared at her friend. “Are you serious? So you are going to believe him?” she glanced over at Emma. He just sat there quiet, looking like a saint.

“I have known Emma for a long time and I know what he is capable of, but as for you. I thought I knew you but after your story last night"....she trailed off.

"Please just leave my house before you try and ruin my relationship.”

“Wow! Finally you admit you guys are actually a couple”. Look at the time; it’s barely twenty three minutes past four, where do you expect me to go this night?”

“That’s none of my business. I can’t sleep feeling safe in the same room with you. Please leave. You can come later in the day to pick up your things. After I housed you, this is how you repay me? Is it my fault your valentine rendezvous didn’t go on well as you planned?”

Chigizie knew it was going to be futile reasoning with her. Kelechi was in love. She looked over at Emma hoping to get some sympathy from him. He could at least talk to Kelechi. The night was cold and staying out would be really unhealthy but all she saw in his eyes was an empty soul. How could he be this cruel? So much for a pastor!

She picked her phone from the table and walked off. She nosily removed the door bolt and slammed the door behind her. There was nowhere to go. She sat by the door, her knees raised to her chest with her hands wrapped around her legs. The cold air stung. What if armed robbers came? Or a rapist?

She shook her head violently as if to shrug off the thoughts. No one would go about trying to rob after last night’s downpour; moreover the gates leading to the stair way was locked.

She remembered the text message she had received earlier. She reached for her phone which she had placed by her feet. She was right. The text was from Peter.

It read ‘I had so many other persons I could spend today with but I decided to spend it with you because I thought you were special but you just had to ruin it as always.”

What nerve! How dare him? Was he so drunk he didn’t realize he actually lied to her that it was going to be just them? There was no use replying him. Anything Peter in her life was over. He and his drama can go to hell!

She sat in the cold, waiting for the first sign of daylight. She brought this on herself all in the name of 'I must celebrate valentine'. This indeed was one valentine she would forever remember, the next time anyone asked her out for valentine she was sure going to think twice.

Tuesday, 28 January 2014

MY FAVOURITE WORDS OF MEREDITH GREY (2)

At the end of the day, there are some things you just can’t help but talk about. Some things we just don’t want to hear, and some things we say because we can’t be silent any longer. Some things are more than what you say. They’re what you do. Some things you say because you have no other choice. Some things you keep to yourself. And not too often, but every now and then, some things simply speak for themselves.

No matter how hard we try to ignore or deny it, eventually the lies fall away, like it or not. But here’s the truth about the truth. It hurts. So we lie.

Maybe we’re not supposed to be happy. Maybe gratitude has nothing to do with joy. Maybe being grateful means recognizing what you have for what it is. Appreciating small victories. Admiring the struggle it takes simply to be human. Maybe we’re thankful for the familiar things we know. And maybe we’re thankful for the things we’ll never know. At the end of the day, the fact that we have the courage to still be standing is reason enough to celebrate.

In general, lines are there for a reason. For security, for clarity. If you choose to cross the line, you pretty much do so at your own risk. So why is it that the bigger the line, the greater the temptation to cross it? We can’t help ourselves. When we see a line we want to cross it. Maybe it’s the thrill of the unfamiliar, a sort of personal dare. The only problem is once that you’ve crossed, it’s impossible to go back. But if you do manage to make it back across the line, you find safety in numbers.

Sometimes reality has a way of sneaking up and biting us in the ass. And when the dam bursts, all you can do is swim. The world of pretend is a cage, not a cocoon. We can only lie to ourselves for so long. We are tired; we are scared, denying it doesn’t change the truth. Sooner or later we have to put aside our denial and face the world. Head on, guns blazing. De nile. It’s not just a river in Egypt, it’s a freaking ocean. So how do you keep from drowning in it?


Thursday, 16 January 2014

MY FAVOURITE WORDS OF MEREDITH GREY

At the end of the day, when it comes down to it, all we really want is to be close to somebody. So this thing where we all keep our distance and pretend not to care about each other, it’s usually a load of bull. So we pick and choose who we want to remain close to, and once we’ve chosen those people, we tend to stick close by. No matter how much we hurt them. The people that are still with you at the end of the day, those are the ones worth keeping. And sure, sometimes close can be too close. But sometimes, that invasion of personal space, it can be exactly what you need.

After careful consideration and many sleepless nights, here’s what I’ve decided; there’s no such thing as a grown-up. We move out, we move away from our families. But the basic insecurities, the fears and all the old wounds just grow up with us. Just when you think life has forced you to truly become an adult, your mother says something like that. We get bigger, taller, older. But, for the most part, we’re still a bunch of kids, running around the playground, trying desperately to fit in.

We all think we’re going to be great and we feel a little bit robbed when our expectations aren’t met. But sometimes expectations sell us short. Sometimes the expected simply pales in comparison to the unexpected. You got to wonder why we cling to our expectations, because the expected is just what keeps us steady. Standing. Still, the expected’s just the beginning; the unexpected is what changes our lives.

Deep down everyone wants to believe they can be hardcore. But being hardcore isn’t just about being tough. It’s about acceptance. Sometimes you have to give yourself permission to not be hardcore for once. You don’t have to be tough every minute of every day. It’s okay to let down your guard. In fact, there are moments when it’s the best thing you can possibly do… as long as you choose your moments wisely.

At the end of the day faith is a funny thing. It turns up when you don’t really expect it. It’s like one day you realize that the fairy tale may be slightly different than you dreamed. See, once in a while, once in a blue moon, people will surprise you, and once in a while people may even take your breath away.


Sunday, 15 December 2013

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)




Tuesday, 26 November 2013

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...