So what if I can't walk straight, or see clearly I thought to myself and giggled nervously. This was another Saturday night, I woke up this morning in not my house, found my things and went home. I swore I wasn't heading out tonight but what do you know. May called and dared me to another night of senseless cavorting and I took her up on her dare, anything beats sitting at home mourning about how sad my life is anyway. So here I am, heels in my left hand, toes pinching on the gravel and positively freezing cold in this shirt I turned into a dress for tonight. I am alone, ditched by May who decided she preferred the company of some strange man to me, her 'best friend'. Figures.

I frantically look around for my purse only to discover it hanging on my shoulders. Jeez I'm so plastered I better head home before I commit a crime on myself. I look around for a cab but there's none to be found. Typical. I fumble around for my phone, and clumsily scroll down my contacts to TAXI.

"Hello!" I yell down the phone line, oh it's still ringing
A heavily accented woman comes on the line and asks me where I am. Where? I look around
"I'm not sure" I am aware of my slurring, so I try to control it "Somewhere" I manage to say
"Can you give me an exact address ma'am?"
"um....."
"Or a name of a building? or something around you?"
I look up at the building sign behind me and read it off to her.
She promises that a taxi will be here between five to twenty minutes and hangs up.
"Thank you" I breathe into the dead line
I'm alone.

Until I hear a whistle to my left, two men approaching me. I couldn't see their faces or much of them so I look away,
"watcha up to tonight momma? wanna have some fun?" One of them asks, rubbing his palms together as they come closer
I smile and shake my head
They both come into focus now, one is slightly taller than the other, they look like people I know, or at least people I've seen before. It might be their clothes, or their hair, or the way they talk and walk.
I don't know, but they look typical.
"you sure?" the other one steps slightly behind me
"yeah I'm sure, thank you" uncomfortable, I move away
"you look like you're ready for some fun though, look at you. You all dressed up baby, you look fine. Damn" The first one steps closer
"No, I'm going home actually" I back away again
"oh yeah? where home at?" He takes another step closer
"Please leave me alone" I glare at them, murder on my face.
I know their types, the ones that never give up. I've been fighting these off all my life, I just don't have the strength to do it again tonight.
"alright"
They give me one lingering look, like I was about to change my mind, before sauntering off looking for easy prey.
I'm alone again.

The taxi finally comes and I get into it.
"please don't puke in my car" The Indian man at the driver's seat warns me sternly
"don't worry yourself brother, Imma be just fine" I drawl casually
I hear a low 'hmm' as he turns on some hindu music and pulls out of the parking spot
"You ever see a star and wish on it brother?" I ask as I relax in the back seat, head over the head rest and look out the window
"Excuse me?"
"I don't see any though, there's none to wish on"
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying, look at me. I'm all dressed up brotha, I put on my make up and did my hair up a little. Then I picked this dress, this really short dress coz I wanted to show off my legs, you know. I got nice legs, you see them? shoot, they go on for days" I pat my legs, which are now stretched out in front of me on the seat
"All I'm saying is, what for? you know?" I laugh "what's all this?" I say in a mock British accent
"are you alright?" He asks
"yeah brotha! I'm fine as rain. I'm fine, damn" I laugh
He turns up the volume on his Hindu radio
What's all this?

We finally reach my place and I joke a little with him about coming up for a night cap. He doesn't think it's funny so I pay him and walk up to my door.
The house is dark, it's silent. I look at the time on my phone, 1:32 am
I throw my heels down at the door and drag myself to my bedroom where I dump myself on the bed, only to get half attacked by the cloth hangers I left there before heading out. Muttering a curse word to myself I get up to go put the hangers away and pass by my reflection in the mirror.
I can't look, I know what I'll see and I don't want to see it.
I shrug out of my dress/shirt and throw on some shorts and a tank top and proceed to dump myself on the bed again.
Laying here, I wonder again what's all this?
I hate the silence, I hate hearing myself think, I hate remembering things, anything to do with the past I hate it. I don't even want to think about tonight, I want to sleep. I swear under my breath again, and again and again. Till I think I've drowned out my head-noise.
What's all this?
It comes again, this time I can't out-swear my thoughts, they come flooding in like a river.

What's all this?

How deviant can you be if you're doing the same things everyone else is doing? Believing the same things your society believes in? And responding the same way you've been programmed to respond? What if you truly went against the system, chose a less popular but true way? And saw the other side of the world we live in? What if you were Rebellious?


I want love so bad, I can feel my fingers and toes curl up with just the thought. I want to be in love, something romantic, deep and strange all at the same time. I want to be kissed till I lose my mind, fall into an abyss and forget myself for a time. I want to be in love. I want love so bad. I want to be loved.

I want to feel everything at the same time; love, truth and hope. My heart aches and aches for the day I find it, maybe like broken pieces on the ground. Maybe I'll pick it up and put it back together, maybe I'll put the pieces back together and maybe, just maybe then it will make sense. Maybe then, just maybe I will get it, it will be mine. Just maybe I could have love and be loved..

Love.

Where could it be? where will I find it? does it know me yet? does it know I exist? does it know my name? I woke up cold today, so cold. If I could find it..

Broken. Is love broken? I could fix it, that could be me.
They found me broken, somewhere abandoned and fragile. With no strength in me, I raised a weathered white flag, begging for truce and acceptance, I begged for hope, I begged for peace.
In the mirror, I see damage, rough edges and missing pieces, but that's me, I'm here. This is me. Can I be found?

I want to be in love so bad. Kissed till I fall into an abyss completely and lose myself completely. Till I forget myself. Till it's no longer me, till I'm gone. Till I disappear..

A silent cry exploded from the lips of the woman seated across from me, the one I had just spoken silence with. We looked gaunt, ashen and plain. I pulled my jacket tighter across my body as I felt the shiver run down my spine. It wasn't cold on the train, but we were frozen for a second in time. I watched her get up and leave once the train pulled to a stop and adjusted myself to leave room for the stranger seated next to me. Two people now came and stood in front of me talking about moving to an even bigger and better city, one with enough lights and sounds to deafen the scream coming from their bellies. Everywhere I looked I saw them: slain, conquered, dead, dying, barely holding on, crying, wishing, hoping, searching, empty, desperate and needy. I shut my eyes and rubbed them, hoping I was merely making things up. Then I opened them again, nope, still there.

I heard it again, this time it was a little girl's plea. Her scratchy voice, filled with horror and uncertainty, rang out in the silence. The air stood still, the sound of the train on the tracks ceased and all at once I heard them out of nowhere, in chorus, singing. Each one, holding a note in their heart, bared it all out, they pleaded. The sound; It was a low and humble cry, a sad song that was pulled from the depths and spilled into the air. This is not about me, it dawned on me like cold water. It never was..

I looked around now and saw them again, slain, conquered, ruined, lost, forgotten, uncertain, broken, shattered, spoiled, wasted. This is not about me but now I felt compelled, I have to move, I have to stand up, but how? I could barely move my legs myself.

But her voice begging, his voice crying, her voice pleading, his voice asking,
her voice, his voice, her voice, his voice, hers, his, hers, his, hers, his,..
In chorus..they cried, shouting, begging, asking!
I couldn't..

This is not about me, but I looked down at my hands as they slowly broke away. I, too, am broken I realize..This time I hear my voice calling out in the silence, crying and pleading, begging and asking..
My voice rings out in my ears, my lips part and I can't stop myself, I whisper in the frozen train, Love me. I look up and see that I am part of that chorus, head raised, high screaming at the top of my lungs; Love me!

So simple a need, so cliche a desire, so well worn out, a theme. It's been sung about too many times to count and written about in every language possible. Still, it's still there.
I'm not the first to see this, neither will I be the last.

I saw the broken pieces slowly be fitted together, I know I was heard. The puzzle began to make sense and as my hands were put together, I spread them out in front of me. This time I asked a different question, hearing the plea again, I asked for a solution, a way to move my feet. And in a vision, I saw the stones be lifted up from the ground, come together in one piece and the people around me clapping this time, singing with hope. I knew there was a chance after all.

Maybe I am one of the lucky ones, because I hear that cry, that plea, the begging for mercy and hope, the cry of alarm, for help, for a savior. But I am not afraid anymore. It's still a sad song I hear, but I have one of my own now. It's about moving feet, change and turning sad songs into happy ones.
I'm not completely sure how, but I know it's coming to me.

I feel it.

We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; 
 Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed.
 
This is who we are.

I'm calling this 'the anger'

She thought, as she scribbled it on the CD cover.

These past six months had been especially trying for Mirabelle. As always, she decided to be reflective in this moment. Every album finish, every soul-cleansing session, ended with a reflection on the inspiration behind the songs, which formed the actual closing of that chapter in her life. Now she held one of those moments in her hand, except this moment was real. It was concrete, it was life transforming and for the very first time she was actually moved, and was still being moved by the resounding gravity of life's little twists and turns.

She remained and will probably always remain in awe of the past events, in six months. Six months, was all it took, yet here she is. Still Mirabelle, still singing, even after she thought she never could again, still reflective, still the same voice, eyes, mouth and nose. Maybe just a little more subdued, a little calmer even, and filled with tons more joy.

A tiny tear slid down her face, she could testify now, without any doubt that there is a light after the tunnel. That there is beauty waiting on the outside. She thought about the last song on the album, "Heaven". The way she designed the album was such that it reflected a slow progression to the end of the tunnel. So, "Heaven" was very different from the first track.

"Heaven" she mulled over the name again, her life now was not heaven by any stretch, yet there was something heavenly about it. She could hear the bass guitar, picking up the melody from off the ground, followed by the lone conga drums forming a brand new rhythm to follow. Then the solo guitar came on, with a new way to walk ushering in the drums and the piano, saying 'no, don't walk, dance' and she smiled to herself.

It was excellent. Then her voice...thick with the spirit behind the truth, the life beneath the letter and the gratitude behind the heart. Perfection, not from her, but through her, and she was grateful.

I looked around the hotel lobby taking in the plush Victorian carpet set in typical hotel colors: gold and red with weird vintage hook designs. I huffed quietly to myself, rolling my eyes at the ceiling. This hotel-hopping was starting to annoy me. I looked around the lobby again at the usual hotel clerks dressed in black, managing to look busy and idle at the same time. Then the guests, sprawled all over the lobby, some talking quietly in groups of twos, some gathered with their families in circles laughing with each other. Are families still happy these days?

Then I saw her, of course I saw her, she was one of the few black people in that lobby. If she were faced towards me I would have thrown her a casual smile and continued my perusal, but my, was she beautiful! Decked out in African print of bright orange, red and blue with her long braids falling to the small of her back in an intricate style, she definitely stood out. Her dress was long and flattering against the deep rich tone of her dark skin, but it was very modest. Her wrists were adorned with multiple silver bracelets that matched the rings on her slender fingers and the tapered string earrings on her ears. Good gracious, I could go on! She was regally exquisite, an African queen to herself and I wasn’t the only one that noticed. Everyone was trying to steal glances at her but I just happened to be full on staring at her- without any breaks or appropriate look-aways.

Feeling brave, I left my boringly comfortable armchair and walked up to her, determining to make her my friend.

“Hi! I’m Chidinma, are you waiting to check in?” I pasted on the brightest smile I could muster.

“Hi!” She smiled back like this was some kind of toothpaste commercial “yes I am. You’re Nigerian? Me too!”

Oh…well, that changes things. I figured she must be Igbo too. Everyone knows we have the prettiest girls around

“I’m Abimbola or Abi, are you checking in too?” She said, with that beautiful smile still on her face and I discarded the Igbo theory

“Yes we are, my husband is waiting in line right now” I pointed out Abdul in the line, un-patiently waiting

“Oh really? Mine too!” She indicated to a young man three people behind Abdul “We’re the Nwosus, that’s the love of my life over there, Emeka” This time she had a grin plastered all over her face that warmed my heart. They looked like they would be quite handsome together.

I couldn’t help but gush too, so I blurted “We’re here on our honeymoon! Abdul and I”

“Oh my god!” She nearly shouted in the lobby “Really? Us too! When did you get married?”

“Two weeks ago” I boasted, proud of myself “but this is our last honeymoon stop, we thought we‘d end it in the home country”

“Nice, we got married a couple months ago though, but Emeka and I could only get this time off to go on holiday together, much needed I tell you”

We both laughed, I wanted to ask her what part of the east her husband was from, but it didn’t make much sense, I realized it didn’t matter anyway. She was pleasant enough and God knows I’d been hankering for women's conversation. Abdul was lovely and all, but there’s only so much factual information one could swallow and he was forever stuffing them down my throat. I pitied our future kids.

“So you live in Nigeria?” I asked her

“No, no, we couldn’t unfortunately. I love my country and all but it’s too complicated” my eyes widened at this “Emeka and I decided not to raise our kids here because the educational system, the medical system, the social environment, not to talk of the political opression here is stifling. Instead, we’ve decided to bring them back to see their family once in a while and also, I’m an urban developer and since I have a few projects coming this way, they can come along with me. When they come that is” she laughed

“That makes sense” I had been nodding the whole time “Abdul is from the north but his family is very educated, both women and men. My grandfather settled in the north a while ago and while he still retained his Igbo origins he knew and understood that since he was in another man’s land he had to play by their rules so through his connections and all that, my family got to meet Abdul‘s. When the uprising began though, long before Boko Haram’s public emergence, our families fled the country because they were killing educated northern families, especially ones with  educated women, muslim or not and they were also killing northern families that associated with non-Muslims and non northerners and by then Abdul and I were deeply involved. Then they were killing Igbos in droves! Even the good and honest ones like my father’s business partners and friends so we had to leave”

“Wow, you’re brave!” her face was in shock and she shook her head. Suddenly, she had this curious look on her face, “sorry if you don’t mind me asking, did you become a Muslim by marriage?”

“I have always been Muslim, even though I don’t cover my head, but even so, because my name is still Chidinma, it doesn‘t count. Makes you wonder what this is really about, religion or tribalism”

“I know how you feel, till this day, even though my name is Mrs Nwosu, because I am Yoruba by birth, there is hate towards me in the bellies of some of my husband’s people. I have no idea what I, Abimbola, personally did. I thank God that his immediate family loves me though, but every village visit is like torture for me.” She shook her head sadly

I decided to lighten up the mood, especially because I knew Abdul was wrapping up with the front desk staff

“Well Abi, let’s forget all that! We’re here in Akwa Ibom on this exclusive resort, we’re like the only black guests staying here, the true Nigerians, so we gotta represent, show ‘em how real enjoyment is done!” We fell apart in peals of laughter.

“Come, let me introduce you to Abdul, he would love to meet you and Emeka”

She told me she was with child and from the corner of my eye I could see the shadows creeping about us in the dark room, lit only by the single candle I held in my hand.

"Are you sure?" I queried her
"What do you mean by that?" She twisted her face into a frown "I would know, wouldn't I?" She got up from the seat across mine and with one hand on her hip and the other on her abdomen, began pacing the room.
"Sit please, take a seat" I got up too and went to guide her back into her chair
She flinched violently the moment I touched her and pulled back from me
"Please..don't" she whispered fiercely and turned away
I stood looking at her, grievous for both her and the child
"How did it happen?" I asked finally
"what do you mean?" she turned sharply to glare angrily at me
"No I don't mean...never mind" I cleared my throat and sat back in my chair
"they will take this one too" her voice was thick with sadness, permeating the air in the room. She rubbed her belly again
"Two now" she said bitterly "Two, they've taken from me"

We heard footsteps outside and she hurriedly ran to the mattress in the corner of the room.
Heavy footsteps stopped outside the door and the door was flung open
"ah! I thought I heard something" A short grisly looking man stood at the entrance, picking his teeth with a toothpick and rubbing his belly.
"You're still working eh? old boy!" He laughed shrewdly "I just finished my own" He laughed and rubbed his hands together, "Finish quick o!"
I nodded at him as he stepped out and closed the door behind him.
I looked at her crumpled figure on the mattress "I have to go" I whispered urgently and left the room.

The main hall was filled with all the men, the 'able workers' as they called each  other. I had been sent here to work undercover by a foreign government agency. It was supposed to be easy, these were my people, they said, I could blend in easily, they said. Yet I feel like burying bullets in each and every single one of them. They laughed and jested with one another like there weren't women imprisoned in the walls of this building. I was especially angry because she had been assigned to me and someone went behind my back and betrayed me.

I heard my name being called and looked in the direction "Doctor wants to see you" The tall man holding his rifle told me. I headed to his office.
"sit down" the 'doctor' commanded, so I sat, playing my part.
"You were assigned one of my assets and yet you failed to bring back returns" He croaked, his throat so filled with cigarette ash he sounded like a frog "I'm beginning to think the problem is you because I have profited twice from that woman, until you came" He leaned towards me "Infact, I don't even think you have ever touched her"

He leaned back "I have two deliveries coming in exactly nine  months from now, one at a shrine in Onitcha" He smirked "the gods are thirsty for sacrifice. The other one will be going to a married couple in Abba, you have your work cut out for you. Don't let me insult your manhood, so make sure it is a good one"

A boy will be sold for a minimum of $1,500, a girl will go for $500 and up. Twins together will be $2,000, I was informed on my first day. The day I walked in here, in the middle of nowhere, after an hours trip to the outskirts of town and watched a transaction in progress..a life for some money. A crying, squealing, innocent baby's life exchanged for some change. His mother in tears, locked away in her room, and I, I was welcomed by the smiling doctor.

“Welcome boy, you must tired. Go through one of these doors and relieve yourself” He laughed heartily, pleased with himself. I followed him. The only song playing in my head was too ironic for words, it went something like this,

“Arise o compatriots/Nigeria’s call obey/ to serve our fatherland/ With love and strength and faith…to build a nation where peace/ and justice shall reign”

I felt nauseous and spat on the ground.

Inspired by Nigeria’s famous baby factories – Look it up.

Another Brooke Fraser inspired blog post :)

"What is the secret you?" I am asked.
I am asked of who will show up if the secret me were allowed to come out and play for a day.
I answer...I am not sure.
Do you want the secret me when I am with you? Do you want my secret desires out in the open? all my thoughts and intentions spelt out on my lips and body? or what do you mean?

My secret me? out in the naked light? My secret me would be a crowd, right now as I sit here facing you, my secret me would like to search deeper and find another secret me. Is that what you mean?
Or maybe the secret me that is in love? the one that was once betrayed? that feels guilty sometimes, when I think of love?
That secret me?

My secret me would like to be curled up somewhere soft and safe, surrounded by the presence of love, my one love, God. Just in deep fellowship, maybe talking for hours but even more precious would be the silence. That is really where my secret me would love to be. In silence with my love. Really.

lol. Nollywood style. I thought I'd continue this..

My nights drag long and the heat swells up around me, my thoughts never ending, dislike washes over my body and I keep awake- afraid to close my eyes lest paradise chooses this night to slip away.

How long will it take before I suffocate under this sheet of depression? lying awake, afraid to close my eyes or think because thoughts, thoughts are little soldiers battling in my head and they take no enemies captive; dead or dead. They fight unfair, firing shots, attacking the innocent victim, me. Or am I?

 

There is a sickness in my heart, I can feel it eating away at the flesh and working its way into the core, decaying it, rotting it. I lay limp, afraid to move.

I remember a time when this was enjoyable. Not the act itself, but the hype leading to the act. Friends and I would sit and giggle, then we would put on an air of experience and maturity, scanning the room, wine goblets in our hands and diamonds sparkling on our skins. We were ripe.
How foolish. Little did we know that our fruits were rotting, but the tree grew outrageously, even till now. Now we talk about it like it's a burden, some of us still hide it with a brush of the hand, or a mischevious wink, pretending to be in control. We all know we're not. I am not.

 

And the act. I become an actress, so good, that I am my role. At the end, I'm still in this same body, with these same thoughts, ashamed of this same existence. I'm so ashamed. My shame goes beyond wanting to hide away (although there are those days), now it's a familiarity and it follows me everywhere, it's a tattoo I wear on my skin constantly. To live, is to hide shame. 

 

So how long will it take before I reach paradise? What if paradise is unreachable? oh..what if there are no rainbows and green fields, blue skies and red soil? what if there are no yellow rays and no orange sun? Birds and beasts, but my body? How could I stand in the midst of beauty, without causing blemish? it's like I leave a stain on everything I touch.

Thoughts, go away...

To wheover is in control, because I'm not. Have mercy on me, I give up. Don't toss me up and down anymore. I truly am tired. Can you change me? change my thoughts, change the things I do to myself? change my existence? Can I be transformed into a beautiful, brown-eyed gazelle skipping in the green of the forest? or a tall and graceful pink flamingo dipping my beak in the clear spring?

Can I be beautiful? Can you make me beautiful? If my inside could be wiped clean, and my past completely erased, then my thoughts taken far away from me. Maybe I could start all over again.
Please, whoever created me, create me again.       

What is a sex symbol?
Most people would say Marilyn Monroe was one. Yet she killed herself...
Being a sex symbol must not have been as much fun as one would think.
Sorry that was heartless..RIP Monroe. She was truly beautiful, like every woman is.
That's beside the point.....

My nights are dragged long, and I lay in bed, the heat high, fan low and my body in discomfort.
It's humorless and comical at once.
I traveled this far out, running away. Away from my existence that had begun to pool around me and drag me to the bottom. I was truly drowning.
So I'm on the road.

He looked me up and down, searing me with his eyes. Charred dirt began to creep over me, slowly filling up my pores and clogging up my body. I returned the stare, daring him to be a step ahead ahead of me. When he slowly made his way over- I watched his walk, he had that slight droop of a fatherless child. Almost imperceptible one can't see it with a naked eye...but I could. I could see the pit within him, and his intentions: the good, the bad and the ugly.
He reached me and his eyes told me a story, a story I had heard so many times I almost laughed. I could write the script in so many different ways, all leading to one finale but I let the scene play out.
It's humorless and comical at once, always being a stranger wearing the last town's dust. He looked at my skin and grabbed my arm pulling me towards him. An invitation I knew, in his world, I wouldn't dare turn down.
Letting myself fall, fall into that pit. My body hit the rock below and shattered into pieces. All was lost and all was gained in that moment. I shut my eyes and let paradise come to me, rainbows and green fields, blue skies and red soil, yellow rays from an orange sun. Birds and beasts and my body. No one could ever understand, I couldn't explain it because I didn't understand it either. I dreamed of paradise till I couldn't dream anymore. I waited for paradise, maybe a light from somewhere or somebody just holding me still, letting me curl up in them, keeping me sane, keeping me safe. Protecting me.

Pulling away took every ounce of strength in me, but I needed so much more to escape. So I gave up even before I could get to the boundaries. Maybe I was trapped, I went from pit to pit, conjuring up paradise for myself, they were self-made promises to come out of a self-inflicted pain. There is nothing worse than being the one that caused your slow death, it's almost as bad as watching yourself killing yourself slowly. Myself is vague and fleeting, she's almost never there, I don't know her- I've never met her. I merely exist and I'm running, fleeing that existence.

My nights drag long and the heat swells up around me, my thoughts never ending, dislike washes over my body and I keep awake- afraid to close my eyes lest paradise chooses this night to slip away.

He held my arm as we walked across the ice. Such fragility beneath our feet.

It took all the strength I had to stop images of falling through from permeating my mind.

Thoughts that come before the demise.

He just kept smiling.

I slipped a couple of times, that akward dance to regain control and he would hold me tighter.

Sometimes I would pull my arm away from him, feeling confident

Then in just one wrong footing, before I knew what became of me

I would hit the ground crashing, cracking the ice beneath me.

Frightened and frustrated I would call for him to help me back up

He would be standing over me already, arms pulling me up already

At first I would straighten myself up, pull my pride back up from the floor

refuse his outstretched hand and go the way alone.

Only to find myself once again on the floor, ashamed and afraid again

Calling out to him again, finding him helping me up again.

Now we walk across the ice together, arm in arm

The lines between us begin to fade away

We slowly become one, I in him, he in me

I know his thoughts, he'd always known mine

His love in me, me in his love-immersed in it

Blood flows through us, binding us

His blood, purer than mine, pushed mine away

I am now of pure blood, royalty, his queen

I learn to carry myself of such

ridding myself of all that is myself
a confluence becomes a stream
Flowing in one direction, one goal, one purpose

Soon we don't walk across the ice

I in him, him in me, firmly rooted as one
Walk across the ice.

The afternnon came lazily as silence hung in the air, sticky as the sweat on our skin. The only sound was the hum of the standing fan that brought relief to whoever it turned to.

I started to count the seconds '1...2...3...breeze....1...2....3...breeze...'
My skin itched for the cool air when the fan turned away, basking in it fully when it blew my way.

"He said he doesn't know o" Aunty Nonye's voice cut through my reverie and I listened as she sighed deeply with her mouth, curving her lips to look like millepedes. I giggled.

"That's what they always say, meanwhile when they go we'll be the ones to suffer" My mother shook her head.

They fell into another silence that allowed me to go back to my fan loving. I sat back against the wall and closed my eyes when the breeze blew my way, letting out a soft sigh.

My mother murmured something in Igbo and they both laughed and shook their heads. I started watching my mother's hands move in aunty Nonye's hair. The wooden toothed comb she used to part the hair had what looked like a monkey with three eyes carved at the handle so I stayed far away from it. Adaku at school told me that they used to put juju in people's combs so that when they comb their hair juju would enter inside their head. I was afraid that juju was entering inside aunty Nonye's head as my mother parted the hair and combed the part she wanted to braid. Her hands were fast, and her wrists moved side by side as she formed the thick black braid that stuck to aunty Nonye's head like a leech. I giggled again.

"what is this one laughing about now eh?" Aunty Nonye looked at me and smiled "abi is the heat getting into your head?" she teased me. I grimaced, imagining what was entering into her head.

"Don't mind this one o! always dreaming" My mother said "dreamy dreamy" she looked at me and laughed.
I couldn't respond because at that moment the fan blew my way and I had to sigh. All of a sudden it went off and it was like a finger clicked and I was pulled back into the reality of the dead afternoon.

"oooo-oh. This people sef, dem sabi take light!" My mother got off her chair and swung her legs over aunty Nonye's head to go and switch off the fan and other appliances. Aunty Nonye bent forward now, her back rest which were my mother's legs were gone so she sat with her back curved downwards.

I watched her. She looked up at me impatiently "oya now, go and help your mummy"
So I got up from my spot on the wall to go and find my mother.

Picture: Divine Order by Leroy Campbell.

I wrote this a while ago...it truly expresses how I felt then.

Her heels were beginning to burn. The pain had gone from a dull throbbing ache as they hit the ground to sharp piercing pain she could hardly feel anymore. Ruins, everywhere, rubble and debris littered the ground for miles as far out as she could see. Her face itch where tears had ran their course, now there were dried up tear trails reaching down from the corner of her eyes to her lips.

Brushing her nose with the back of her hand she sniffed and whispered 'keep walking'. She had lost track of all thoughts; emptiness of mind was the only peace that seemed to console her. Her eyes were two slits as she squinted in the sun, bare feet still walking. There was stillness in the air, the day. The only sound being her feet as they manoeuvred their way through the broken, hands still at her sides with fists clenched. Keep walking. All sense of purpose had long been forgotten. With no purpose of her own, she went where her feet led. Who her feet were following was a mystery to them both, yet they kept walking.

'To whom do you belong' The whisper was barely audible over the silence. It wasn't a question, it was a statement and it chilled her. She stopped walking to look around, there was nobody, so she continued following her feet.
'whose are you?' The voice came again, this time with an imposing question, as if it was interrogating, looking for an answer to an overdue and unsolved mystery.
She stopped again and looked around, then picked up her pace, fear gripping her fragile mind.
'Who are you?' It was a shout now. She began to run, there were no more tears to cry, but the same emotion agonized her heart. She ran until everything seemed to go back to normal, her tired feet hurt from running so she stopped for a while and looked around.
'No..' she whispered as she realized she was in the same place as before.
This time the whisper came clear 'Who and whose are you?' it asked calmly.

'Have mercy please' She whispered brokenly. Too tired to stand, her body fell to the ground, then there was darkness.

She stood beside the bus-stop, fists shoved down the front pockets of her jacket, waiting impatiently for the bus. Hood up, clad in all black with blonde braids spilling down her shoulders and over the bump of her midsection, her lips curved up in a sneer as the anger inside her boiled hot.

She was angry, so angry she wanted to hit something, tear it apart and curse at it. Yet, she couldn't do that, not yet anyway. That was why she was waiting for this bus that will take her to the person she could pour out her hot wrath on. It was hard work staying angry though, hard work gathering the wood to throw in the flame and even harder work fanning the flame. She had to keep re-reminding herself of how angry she was, at what happened, and what she was going to do to the person. She imagined the confrontation and every scenario began with her yelling expletives, until the person broke down and cried, even better, begged for forgiveness. But her mind couldn't help but ask…and then what?

She heard a prayer formulating in the back of her mind,
'Peace, father, give me peace. I need you now, in this place'
Suddenly, out of nowhere she burst into tears, something in her head blamed it on the hormones, but she could feel her heart crying out 'where are you!?!'

She felt like a walking irony; life was growing inside, but it was dying on the outside. She wanted to scream. All the pretenses faded away, they annoyed her. She had been smiling all her life, 'show no real emotions' that was the motto wasn't it?
Even the believers she had tried to surround herself with, held her at an arm's length when she tried confessing the numbing pain inside. She was tired, so tired. She just wanted to go home, be by herself, watch something and be real to herself, since no one else would.

'But I need you' she whispered, and took a deep breath that brought with it, peace. The anger she had held onto so tightly had now evaporated, it had been extinguished from her mind, so she turned back and headed home.

I saw a pregnant woman standing at the bus stop outside my workplace, so I got inspired.

After taking out the crumpled paper from his back pocket, he looked at the small group, smiled and said
'I guess you could say I was inspired' Then began to read

I..after watching my dreams fade away into the blue
I had gone searching..up up in the sky
Thinking maybe...maybe I could run into you
again. That would be nice
It's all I have ever desired
Just to be..to be..to see you
Only you.

He looked up, and with a nervous sigh continued,

I...I just can't. Not anymore
I really can't. Can I please come join you
Can I be with you right now?
You love me, and I just really, really need that now
I choose to not believe that this is it- all there is
because I know when you see me, really look at me
You still see me- you still love me
and I need that.

He stopped reading. Feeling overly exposed and overwhelmed with emotion, he chuckled and shoved the paper back into his pocket. The group just looked on silently, not sure of what to make of his words. He was disoriented for a bit, smiling nervously to try and mask the emotions swimming in his head and the fear boiling in his belly. He cleared his throat as if the group's unspoken words were choking him, and quickly walked out of the door.

I'm on yet another journey, it seems like this is what my summer's all about...journeying. I'm back here to write, listening to music and letting whatever comes come. This came:

Plain, sand and dust as far out as he could look. Right hand on his head shielding his eyes from the brightly setting sun, he stood legs apart, left hand on his waist as he surveyed the land.
'God of mercy, have mercy on our souls' he whispered.

The clothes on his body had darkened to a deep brown, signs of the struggles he had been through. His trousers were torn at the ankles, and the sleeves on his shirt were cut up. His face was ashen with dirt and lined with worry, he stood, barely a man with no meat on his bones, his eyes had sunk in and his once pearly white teeth had darkened to match the shade of his skin.

He shook his head and sighed, he would not allow sadness to overwhelm him as he thought of his once great nation. It once stood like a mighty warrior ready to overcome, but it was now reduced to dust, and he had been searching. He traveled so far and so near, looking for his great nation, the place were gods had come to confer, kings had come to dine in this place, many had come to lose themselves here, but this was his nation now.He shook his head again and spat on the ground, shrugging defiantly, he whispered again,
'have mercy lord'  and turned away.
He used to be proud to identify with such a place, after all, generations of his family had traded their lives for this ground.

'is this what you died for?' The voice was sweet and small, it unsettled him.
'for this? To have this?' It questioned him. He began to walk away.

'No stay' it said, amused. 'this is it, all your hands have worked for. Isn't it beautiful?' It laughed and began to remind him of all the wonders of his nation and the places he had dreamt of coming back to enjoy. The voice seemed to get louder and more amused with every place it mentioned. Soon, it couldn't hold back the laughter anymore and began to fill his head with peals of harsh laughter.

So ridiculous was the situation, he started to smile and soon he was laughing too.
'oh...God...' He would cry between laughs.

He said that whoever will say unto a mountain 'be removed and cast into the sea', without doubt in their heart so will it be. Do I believe?

Well, I could dance all day in my rags and sing songs of redemption and helplessness, cry 'God help me' a million times and curl up in the corner somewhere just waiting.

Oh but I want joy, boundless joy, joy that causes me to grin from ear to ear, spread my arms around and flap them like wings. Dancing and shouting about like I'm crazy, I'm already crazy!
So I will wrap myself in satin, my finest clothing, gold to adorn my body, diamonds sparkling in my hair, a silk scarf trailing behind me- all the finest. Then I'll hit the streets with my tambourine, samba playing in my ear to an African beat and I will dance, sing, praise, move my waist like He's coming right now.

So can I say? can I speak? My body longs to sing and dance, if I could just shake off what's left of this world on my shoulders, hand them over and be free to do what I want to.
Oh, I will say, proclaim it, shout it from the top of Everest, scream it from my bedroom window till everyone knows, till they know. So when the mountain has found itself in the sea I will laugh till I cry and then hit the streets again in all my finest, so well prepared for this ceremony. A ceremony.

Laughter never leaving my lips, Eyes aglow, arms raised and waving about, bearing my soul. Oh, because when I say! Just to say..I will speak! I will speak! I will say unto this mountain 'remove yourself and be thrown in to the sea' and that's where it'll be.

Oh joy! When I say, just to say..

He slipped into the afternoon, barely noticeable in the glare of the blazing sun. Tossed over his torso was a thin white cotton shirt, untucked, with the first three buttons unbuttoned. The sleeves were rolled up on his arms, which swayed lazily besides him as he walked. He wore a helpless smile on his face, which, in spite of himself, he couldn't keep away from his features; it stretched the corners of his lips until tiny arches appeared on the sides, bunching his cheeks up like two full moons on his lovely face.

He would walk, looking ahead of him; smile still in place. Then suddenly, blush, when what looked like a memory floated across his face. He would then look down at his feet as the pleasure glowed so brightly from inside. Of its own accord, his smile would spread out even further. By and by, his walk became a semi-dance in the hot afternoon: hips oscillating rhythmically to his tune on replay. Sandaled feet began gliding down the path and his glowing face continued to expose inherent joy.

I wonder. What could fill a man with so much joy that he couldn't hide it even if he tried? even at a distance away from him I could feel his joy sweeping through me. Filling me with pleasures I want to hold on to if my fingers could just reach for them, grasp them and keep them with me. I feel like dancing to the small speckle I caught of his tune, knowing that it won't last very long. I can already feel them slipping away from me, so I wrap my arms around me in an attempt to hold on for a while. Still, a grateful smile graces my features and I am still in awe of the sight of him. I turn my back to the window and I still can't keep the smile away from my face even if I tried. Breathe.

Maybe that's what it's like when you choose life.

Somewhere in a distant country you've vaguely heard of, maybe that one with all the poor children, or the one that made you shake your head a while ago and then you promptly forgot about. One of those.

Kneeling down on the dirt to dust the sand off his little heels before continuing walking, he remembered his mama's face- a memory. Now it seemed every other kid around wanted a piece of him. If he wasn't dodging grumpy old men waving walking sticks in the air, he was pulling on the skirts of kind looking women who shushed him away like one of those flies he shushed away from his clothes. The little boy stood up and shielded the sun from his face, maybe today one of those women would look at him with pity and give him plenty. Now, left or right...

Damn it. He had completed secondary school top of his class, passed all his entrance exams and got into one of the best public universities in the country. He had made it second class though, but at the top. Maybe it took seven years to complete a four year degree, but that wasn't his fault. The school was always on strike. He was always a good student too, even studying during those strikes, just to catch up. He would wake up everyday before sunrise to clean the house, and then use the rest of the day's sunlight to study his books. Then at night when the heat from the candles made him sweat uncomfortably, he'd go out to feel a light breeze. But something else in the night's air would carry him and have him staggering back home hours later, drunk on whatever life fed him. Now, he's unemployed and the woman said she was expecting.Where to go, left or right..

If anyone had asked her she'd say she was so grateful, grateful to God for where she is, her family and the friends in her life. Of course she could complain, but from a broader perspective she couldn't ask for anything better. Thank God..Never mind the fact that her mind was held down by so many other things. He's tempting, and she could feel the wrong from deep down in her belly, but her body cried. Sometimes she didn't recognize herself, was she the one just thanking God for all he had done, or is this her now? the one thinking of the many ways she would...Lord have mercy. What about those other things? a life, a career, a family? Where to go, Left or right or..?

She stood looking up at the night sky for a while, eyes shut, but the loneliness never ceased. Feeling like nothing in the midst of all those stars, in the midst of the air, especially in the midst of all those in the room behind her, she shrank further within. The scared little girl she thought she had long exorcised from  inside reappeared leaving her as baffled and confused as she could ever be. Maybe if I just stood out here all night pretending to enjoy the midnight breeze, no one would disturb me. A sad smile slid on her lips as the familiar insecurity began to envelope her, so she clenched the empty wine glass in her hand harder just to feel something, to feel existence.

Emotions could be so two-faced at times, one moment they're your best friends and the next they back stab you without warning. She fought the battle within fiercely, standing still and silently, no expression on her face, wishing she was back at home in a familiar environment. Anyone looking at her would wonder if she was okay, some concluded that she must be weird. Others looked past her and never saw her while others saw themselves in her and were repulsed.

The breeze blew past her shifting her dress and tousling her braids, she took in a deep breath, breathing in life and its consequences. Mind made up, she loosened her grip on the wine glass and opened her eyes. The night sky was still filled with intimidating stars and so was the room behind her. Biting her lower lip and saying a silent prayer in her head, she fixed a smile on her face- one that she thought was acceptable, it held a bit of the insecurity that could never be written off her face, but it also held a bit of hope that she could survive the night.  Whatever happens, in the end I'll be going home anyway.

She turned around and made her way back into the room, a slight renewal in the light of her eyes. Her smile was both inviting and adorable, attracting people from all corners of the room. Quietly, she fought every battle that sprang up, eliminating the enemy before any damage was done. All the while looking like a porcelain doll.