Quick Sand on a Plateau
She always knew she wanted to be rich and famous; she wanted the world to know her name, girls to aspire to be her and boys to want to marry her. She wanted to leave a legacy of strength, ambition, love, change, power and wisdom. She knew it was conceited but she wanted people across the globe to know her name…for her principles, her drive and her humanity. She didn’t want to die without having left a mark in the sands of time. And best of all, she didn’t want the want the fame or money for just herself; she wanted it for everyone she knew. She was 12 when she realized what she wanted. She took a book and wrote it all down. At 25, she was going to be a millionaire. At 35, she would set up her foundation. At 55, she would have helped at least 50,000 people in one way or the other. When she died at 80, people would troop to her burial and hold vigils in their countries to celebrate the icon that she was. She knew where she was headed and nothing was going to deter her. She worked hard in school and always came up on top. She was going to be the greatest actor there ever was. She knew it all had to start in high school and she needed to get those grades in good shape for the choice schools she wanted to go to. And she went a little further. She joined every drama team in her small town, ensuring she played every possible role that was open to her. She was preparing for her domination on the world stage. She needed to be ready. As soon as she was done with her education, she pieced together her show reel, packed a suitcase, counted the money she had hidden in her underwear drawer and left home. She knew her parents would understand. Or not. But she hoped her letter would reassure them that she was doing what was best for her. There was only so much she could do in their small town. And she wasn’t going to waste more time going through the motions. She jumped on a bus and headed to the big city; a city of lights, camera and action. She knew she was going to be a star! Then she could make money to help people from and in dysfunctional homes. When she got to the big city, the first thing that hit her wasn’t the beauty of the town or the exotic people. It was the fact that there was so many people who were like her; searching for the spotlight. She wasn’t fazed though. She knew that she was special and people would see her light. So she worked; hard. Everywhere she heard there was an audition, she went and performed her favorite monologue. The Plateau The first time she got a role in film, she was excited. She jumped and danced and laughed. She called home, ecstatic about her role in a crowd scene. It was small; and she knew that. But nothing could contain her excitement. Well…almost nothing. ‘It is just a small role. Why are you so excited? You could be staring in bigger productions here at home.’ Her mother said as soon as she blurted out her ‘good news’. Nothing turned sour quicker. She went through the motions of listening to her mother (and father) and as soon as she could, she hung up. She forced her spirit to seek its light and prepared for the role. That was the beginning. Every time she walked into an audition, she walked out with a role. They were always small; guaranteeing her 6 seconds of time in the shadow of a star. But she took them all with excitement. She knew that if she kept at it, she would become big and famous and rich. Soon acting wasn’t enough. Directors were asking that actors sing, dance, play an instrument, juggle, and be proficient with card tricks or whatever tickled their fancy. Not to be left out, she enrolled in all sorts of classes. She took burlesque, magic, singing, martial arts classes and whatever new thing was the rave of the moment. She even took jobs as a gaffer to ensure she was always in the know of film world happenings. She worked hard, slept little, rehearsed a lot, and attended lots of auditions. While these ensured she always got a role, it didn’t improve her straits. Directors only cast her in small roles with even smaller pay. Soon, the Ferris wheel began to take its toll. She started to reflect about her life. Why didn’t directors cast her in bigger roles? Was there something she wasn’t doing right? Was she giving off a bad vibe? Was her talent not good enough? Was. She. In. Any. Way. Special? Reality began to set in. Of course she wasn’t special. If anything, she was…average. There were millions of average people like her and directors saw that every day. She didn’t stand out in a crowd; she fit right in. She called home, hoping for reassurance from her parents. Her parents were understanding, but they reminded her that she should never have left. She had the world at her feet in their small town, and would have always been a legend. She could always come back home and start again; the town hadn’t forgotten her yet. She hung up with one resolve; she was never going to call her parents. They didn’t understand that she didn’t want to be queen of a small town. She wanted to be queen of the world! She wanted people from all continents knowing her name. And even if took forever, she was going to achieve that! Her resolve didn’t force the universe’s hand. Or cause her to get any big roles. And soon her excitement wavered…and like the hamster, she got burned out. She was 20 when she
The Truest Manifestation of Love 2
Black Couple SleepingImage: Daily News Ever story has at least two sides. Every action has at least two reactions. The first was here. This is the second. The moment Otobrise walked into the house, Tracy Wayemi knew something was wrong. He was mechanical and her husband was never that. They had been married for two years and had dated for a year before tying the knot and starting their forever. Because he was such an open book with her, Tracy knew what almost every expression, nuance or tic meant. At this moment however, she couldn’t place what brought on his mask. She watched him over dinner, her mind’s eye taking note of every action as he pretended to concentrate on his food. ‘Are you okay?’ Otobrise looked up and smiled. His smile didn’t reach his eyes and he was quick to drop them back to his plate. ‘Just a weird day at the office. I will be fine.’ Tracy looked at him. She could bet her life that his work had nothing to do with his demeanor. There was something almost…guilty about his entire look. She could press and find out but she wasn’t going to that. Instead, she got up, cleared the table and took off her clothes. She watched her husband watch her as she tentatively got on the table and laid down spread eagled. ‘You need some cheering up. So… dessert is served.’ *** Tracy knew she was losing her husband. Oh! He was still the caring, awesome husband he has always been but something was way off. She couldn’t help but remember when it all began. Was it three weeks already? Three weeks since she sat in the crook of her husband’s arm and heard his heart rhythm tell her he was distracted and pensive? She had taken his hand in hers and rubbed it, gentle asking if he was okay. ‘Just a hectic day at the office. We started training the new anchors for ‘The Deal’ and it was a bit grueling. There are five girls – five green girls – who have to be whipped to global standard before their debut in a month. I love working with professionals who already know what to do but you know Shade now; always insisting on making people stars.’ She had smiled and kissed him, trying to draw the tiredness from his body into hers. She broke the kiss and looked at him. ‘Well, if she isn’t that way, you wouldn’t be the ace producer you are now. Would you?’ He had smiled and looked away and that was the moment she knew there was a problem beyond what he was saying. She got her confirmation last night though. When she got naked and laid on the table, there had been that slight hesitation that had never happened before. It was almost like…like he didn’t want to… but the moment passed. He made love to her; slowly, gently and satisfactorily. As she moaned from ecstasy when they climaxed, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was the one Otobrise just had sex with And for the first time in their life together, Otobrise slept with his back to her. *** Tracy stared at Mairo and Bose. She saw their expressions and watched their lips move but she just wasn’t getting what they were saying. ‘….beat the crap out of her…’ ‘…mess up her face so she is never on…’ ‘….never to date a married man in her miserable…’ Yes. That was it. Her husband was having an affair with Tolani Davidson. He hid it well but Tracy found out anyway. Tolani had become one of the more popular faces on TV and was now everyone’s favorite ‘IT’ girl. ‘The Deal’ was doing so well and raking in so much money that Otobrise had been bumped to Program Director at the station. What she thought was him spending more time at work turned out to be him spending more time with Tolani. Tracy was shocked that the affair hadn’t become public yet. They were two high profile people so how were they keeping it secret? ‘Tra…cy! Snap out of it and let’s do something!’ Tracy smiled…or the distortion that passed for that. Typical Mairo; her ride-or-die bestie wanted violence. ‘I am with Mairo on this Trace. We could leak the news and have her fans vilify her but that would serve to hurt you in the long run. So how about we get some hoodlums to rough her up a bit…’ ‘And rape some sense into her…’ ‘Mario!’ Tracy and Bose shouted. ‘What?! I don’t tolerate rape but she deserves it! How is she comfortable having sex with a married man?! And remember how she was nice to you at their premiere party?!’ Mario calmed down a bit. ‘You think it has been going on since then?’ Tracy’s lips quivered. She didn’t think; she knew Otobrise and Tolani had been dating for a little over eight months. That thought was finally her undoing. She crumpled into a heap of palpable sorrow and let the tears finally fall. Mairo and Bose rushed to her and held her. They enveloped her in their warmth and they cried together. Mairo kept saying she would make Tolani pay but even she had lost her gusto. When they were cried out, Tracy cleaned her face on the edge of Otobrise’s shirt she was wearing and breathed out. ‘I am finally pregnant girls.’ And they started crying again. *** Tracy swore her friends to secrecy. It was two weeks to Valentine and she would make her announcement then. And no; she wasn’t leaving her husband. Nor was she confronting him about his affair. How could she when she had broken their cardinal trust rule; the ‘no snooping’ rule? And snoop she did. The last eight months had been hell. Otobrise was still the most loving husband but it was routine; robotic even. He was there but not there at the same time. Unlike most cheating men however, he didn’t take long trips
The Woman He Lost
Picture Culled From: MARSHABLE’s ‘Black Armor’Written By: David Yi When Ebo Kofi met Iminathi Thato, he and Farhanah Ekow were checking themselves out. For a minute there, he thought he was in love with Farhanah but all that flew out of the window when Iminathi spoke to him. He and Farhanah worked at the premiere advertising agency in Kumasi, an agency where he was a bit of a celebrity. Iminathi did some work for the agency and during one of her presentations, they met. He was impressed with the quality of her creativity. He wished she did more work with the company so he could see her often, but wishes weren’t horses. Whenever she was around though, he watched her from afar as she did her job. She kept to herself a lot, making her irresistible to men and women alike. There were many days Ebo wished he and Iminathi were friends but he kept his distance too, maintaining his faux mysterious aura so people thought there was more to him than he portrayed. And then she sent him a message. She was sick and wondered if he would do a major presentation for her. The client was the biggest telecommunications company in Ghana and the account was going to be big for their firm. He agreed to do the presentation and asked her to send her work. When the time came, he delivered a flawless performance and got the account. He made sure to tell the company that he was making the presentation for Iminathi, who was unavoidably absent. The commission was written in her name. When he told Iminathi everything that had happened, she was so grateful. She shared the commission equally with him and that day, they became friends. They started texting each other and somehow, he knew he was falling in love with her. She on the other hand, seemed to just be having fun. It was obvious that she was attracted to him but he wasn’t sure if her emotions were invested in their attraction dance. Farhanah on the other hand, was transferred to the Nigerian bureau and Ebo was glad she was out of the way. He could now focus on getting the girl of his dreams. From texting, they started sexting and he knew that they would invariable be together. While he couldn’t wait to be with her physically, he also wanted to connect with her emotionally. But he was scared; she was a fully functional girl with big dreams. She had even bigger dreams than he had ever had. She wanted to own the world; or a huge slice of it. That was a bigger motivation for her than any other thing OR person. He wondered if he would be in competition with her career and if that would be okay with him. He could see that she was clearly different from Farhanah, who was content with him as her prize. He however believed that if he could get her, he could change her. And so, he put on the charm. Soon enough, he was in Iminathi’s head. He knew this because whenever she saw him, she burst out the biggest smile. He could be in a group of people and she would walk up to him, say hi, and walk away. Soon enough, he was the envy of the guys in the office. Everyone wondered how he got THE Iminathi to like him. And finally, Iminathi invited him to her home. They had quality dinner and even better conversation and soon enough, they were wrapped around each other. Ebo knew that it was a glorious night for him and he hoped it was equally so for Iminathi. When he got up to leave, she smiled and him…and shattered his world. ‘Now that this attraction has been sated, we can get on with our work. No more distractions for me.’ Ebo was shocked; Iminathi didn’t want a relationship with him. It had just been a one-night-stand for her. This was usually what men did but for the first time in his life, a woman had done it…and to him! He was beyond shocked. But he hid his disappointment and said, ‘You are my girlfriend now and I am going to make you the happiest woman in the world.’ Iminathi laughed and said, ‘Darling, I am happy already. My happiness is not dependent on you, or anyone for that matter. No beef, but I am good. And no, I am not your girlfriend.’ He laughed – painfully – as she saw him out of her house. As he walked to his car, he promised he was going to make her fall in love with him; if it was the last thing he did. Ebo layered the charm and pursued Iminathi like his life depended on it. He was suave, charming, and peppered his speech and actions with enough romance to make Mills & Boons look like child’s play. And soon enough, Iminathi fell in love with him. It was the start of a beautiful love story. Or was it? Ebo noticed that Iminathi didn’t become less interested in her career. If anything, she was more dogged about what she wanted to achieve with her life. He knew she loved him but he also knew that if she was to choose, she would choose her career over him. He wanted to be her all, to be the reason she was happy and somehow, he felt that if he offered her marriage, that would happen. In less than six months, he started dropping hints about wanting to spend the rest of his life with her. One night after an intense love making session, he cuddled her and said, ‘I love you so much. I am happiest with you around and I think I could do this forever. What do you think?’ Iminathi squirmed and broke out of the cuddle. ‘You know there is no ‘forever’ for us, right?’ Ebo sat up. ‘Why would you say that?’ ‘Well, I am not
Here Comes the Bride 4
Picture from: THE FEMINIST WIRE Bimbo Omotosho woke up wanting to pee. She went into her bathroom and when she returned, sat on her bed and stared at the night light. She wasn’t sure she could fall right back to sleep. ‘Maybe a glass of milk would help’, she said too herself. She looked at her bedside clock and saw that it was 2am. Her mother always snapped about having late night snacks and Bimbo really didn’t listen. When she was hungry, she ate. She had a stash under her bed which helped her cravings. Bimbo bent down to pull her goodie bag and was shocked to see it empty. There was a note from her mother saying, ‘I was born way before you and I know all the tricks you can possibly pull young lady. No more unplanned snacks!’ Bimbo was mad! Why did she always do that?! Well then, she had to find another way. Bimbo knew her mother slept like she was in a coma but like most people in a coma, you never knew what would make her start. So Bimbo opened her door as gently as she could and, thanking God for the plush carpets that lined most of the house, tip-toed past her parents’ room and downstairs. She prayed her father didn’t wake up but knew that even if he did, he would most likely help her get her milk and share a cookie. When she got to the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of milk – the real stuff and not the 2% milk her mother always insisted she drank – and took out one cookie from the jar. Her best bet was to eat it in her room. As she closed the fridge door, she could have sworn she heard a moan. She shrugged it off as a figment of her imagination and set out to her room. As she passed her maid’s room, she heard the moan again. This time, coming in slightly louder. She was scared but curious and in the end, curiosity won. She kept her milk on the floor and oh so gently turned the doorknob. With his back to her, her father was naked and kissing their maid; who was also naked. They were running their hands all over each other but what was more disturbing was the fact that a similar scene was playing on the television. Bimbo stood there, cookie in hand, transfixed as she watched her father, their maid and the actors they were copying. She may be eight years old but she knew what she was seeing was wrong. However, she couldn’t avert her eyes. She was so transfixed that she didn’t hear her mother walk up to her, gently pull the door close and point upstairs. Bimbo didn’t need to be told to go to her room. She ran to her room, locked her door and laid on the bed. The screams began, followed by the crash of glassware. Bimbo buried her head under her pillow and soon enough, fell asleep; cookie in hand. The glass of milk remained where Bimbo dropped it, unbothered by the destruction that went on for hours. *** The divorce was quick. Turns out Bimbo’s mum took a couple of pictures that could ruin her husband, the very respectable Pastor Biodun Omotosho, senior pastor, Live Church, with a congregation of over ten thousand people. After her crazy tantrum, she piped down and made her demands. She would keep Bimbo, the house, two cars and a steady allowance to continue living as she was used to. In return, she would not publish the pictures to his loving flock. She would also pretend she was the one who got tired of the rigors of marriage to a ‘man of God’ so his impeccable reputation remained untainted. He jumped at the offer, promising to do all she asked. In less than a week, a joint statement was released and as expected, Bimbo’s mum was labelled the bitch! She wasn’t worried because in truth, she married Biodun for his money and wasn’t into all that religious stuff anyway. To ride out the drama, she took her daughter and went off to Canada. In all these, no one spoke to Bimbo about what she had seen that night. Even when she tried to bring it up, her mother shut her down by saying, ‘You did not see anything! And next time, when I say don’t do something, you better obey me! In fact, this is all your fault! If you had obeyed me, I wouldn’t have known…just forget it. You did not see anything.’ But how could bimbo forget it when every night she went to bed, she kept seeing the actors doing things to each other? *** As Bimbo grew, she realized what she had seen her father do that day was have sex and what was playing on the television in her maid’s room was porn. As she became more internet savvy, she spent time finding and watching porn, and erasing her internet activities. It wasn’t as if anyone cared. Her mother was too busy dating rich men to be bothered about what her daughter was doing online. Bimbo started craving sex like she wanted food. As soon as she became a teenager, she wanted to practice what she had been watching for four years so she could find out if all the feelings she got from watching porn could be felt in reality. She began to make moves with the boys in school but they were all so scared. They kept acting like she would eat them. Bimbo knew that if she was to satisfy her urges, she had to aim higher; older. It was no wonder that the moment she saw Ricardo Esteban, her mum’s newest boyfriend, she knew he was the one she wanted. Ricardo was a tall, ripped bodied, dark-olive skinned hunk of a Columbian millionaire and it wasn’t surprising that her mother was dating him. She told
Long Distance 3
Picture: Tarringo T. Vaughan Don’t know where the story started from? Catch up here!Adon Kato was beginning to get really angry. For the past two weeks, she had been caring for her boyfriend – Jason Ogbeche – and she didn’t need any heightened sense of perception to know that Jason wasn’t connecting with her. He always seemed to be brooding and if Adon didn’t know better, she could have sworn he was angry at her. He had to have two other surgeries when his kidney became infected and they almost lost him. The injured kidney was finally removed and he was doing better now. Adon stayed at his side all through. Dr. Anwar had to send her home many times to shower and eat. She took her bath in the hospital and ate hospital meals to get the doctors off her back. As soon as she was done with basic necessities, she would rush back to Jason’s bed side. Jason said very little to her. He only spoke when he needed his pain medications or was hungry. Adon would have understood if he was that way with everyone. He spoke to his parents about how he was really feeling and even laughed with them. What was more was that whenever Doctor Amara came into the room, he lit up and became a chatterbox. Adon watched the development and gradually grew depressed. She wanted to start a conversation (again) when Drs. Anwar and Amara, Jason’s parents and two nurses came in. Adon felt her chest constrict and deep down, she knew it was more from jealousy than worry at what the doctors had to say. Doctor Anwar started speaking. ‘I wanted to talk to all of you at the same time. Jason, how are you feeling?’ ‘I feel horrible.’ Jason said as he laughed. ‘Well…I am glad you can laugh about this. You are doing better and if not for that relapse last week, you could be on your way home this week. Your ribs are healing nicely and for now, your body is adjusting to having one kidney. Most of the other injuries have healed well and there is no more internal bleeding. On paper, you look good. But the human body acts as it wants for each individual. If you continue at this rate, we could have you home by the end of next week, with scheduled weekly checkup until the pins in your ribs are removed. That been said, I want to suggest that you see a psychologist and just talk. When you have near-fatal accidents like this, you could have post-traumatic stress disorder, leading to a warped perception of reality. One of it may be a heightened fear of driving and another may be attachment to certain individuals…’ Adon was piqued. Did the doctor notice what was happening? Was he trying to tell her something? Her eyes darted to Dr. Amara and to Jason and she saw them share a look. ‘….so, he should be home next week if everything goes well. I have drawn up a regimen to help you help him and you need to follow it to the latter. You can rotate between three of you so it is not…’ Jason’s mum interrupted. ‘I accepted to allow her stay here because you demanded that. But she will no longer be required when he comes home. We can take care of him ourselves. She is not welcome in our home.’ She punctuated her bile with the most vicious look. Adon looked at Mrs. Ogbeche and turned to look at Jason. He didn’t say anything. Adon open her mouth, but the words didn’t come. Jason looked away. ‘Jason, do you want me to stay or is your mother speaking for you?’ Adon asked huskily. The tears were threatening to fall. Jason said nothing. Dr. Amara started talking. ‘I don’t think this is the time or place…’ ‘Shut up! Just shut up!’ Adon exploded. ‘Don’t speak to her that way!’ Jason shouted right back at Adon. The silence in the room was deafening. Adon’s embarrassment was palpable. Adon looked at Jason, got up from the chair, gathered her things and walked out of the room. ‘Adon…wait..’ ‘Let her go Jason. She is bad news.’ Mrs. Ogbeche said. *** Adon sat in her car, crying her soul out. All the frustration that came from her inability to contact Jason that sorry day he left, to being in the hospital and the immense betrayal completely broke her spirit. She wanted to die; such was the pain in her chest. As the tears gradually piped down, it finally dawned on her that a figure had been by her window almost as long as she had been crying. She looked up from the blue scrubs to the gentle face of Dr. Anwar. She wound down her windshield. ‘I…I..am..s..ss…o..sorry Dr. A.nwa…r. I di…dn’t see you there.’ Adon said as she tried to control the spasms running through her body. ‘Don’t ever be sorry for being in pain. Now, scoot over. I will drive you to your hotel.’ ‘I..I..do..n’t…have…o..one.’ It dawned on Dr. Anwar just how much she had sacrificed for the man she loved. ‘I will take you to one. You are in no state to drive now. Don’t worry, it will be fine.’ *** ‘So you mean there is nothing I can do?’ Adon asked resignedly. ‘No, there isn’t. Sometimes, these things last for a week and sometimes, it lasts forever. The only thing that can change it is if his brain rewires itself, for lack of a better word. We cannot force the brain to do that.’ Adon started pacing as she contemplated what she had just heard. The doctor had noticed the fixation of Jason on Dr. Amara as he questioned him about his accident. He told her earlier on. ‘The accident was near fatal. If the ambulance had been as much as an hour (or even 30 minutes) late, he would have died. She was the last face he saw before he passed out and in his brain, she
Long Distance 2
PHOTO: SACRED JOURNEYS AND SPIRITUALCOMMUNITY The story doesn’t begin here. It springs from HERE.Jason Ogbeche kept flitting in and out of consciousness. He didn’t know where the sounds were coming from. He barely knew where he was. Someone seemed to be tugging at him, trying to pull him out. But from where? He tried to open his eyes and when that finally happened, it came with a lot of pain. His mind registered that he was surrounded by people. The tingling feeling all over his body beckoned him to ignore the sea of faces and concentrate on his body. He looked down. There was blood everywhere! He tried to move and something held him back. ‘Do not pull him like that! You will kill him.’ It seemed to come from a far place and each word punctuated the pain he was feeling. He looked down again and saw that the blood flow had one major source. Jason blanched when he saw the source. The pain overwhelmed him again and he lost consciousness. *** Doctor Amara Obiekwe forced her way through the crowd, shouting ‘Do not pull him like that! You will kill him.’ until she got to the front of the very ghastly car accident scene before her. When would Nigerians stop pulling people out of accident scenes?! When would people realize that more damage is done when accident victims are not properly removed from the scenes?! She pushed some more and stopped in her tracks just as she got to the car. Someone had wrenched the door open and the sight before her was daunting. The young man in the front seat was impaled to his seat by an iron rod that obviously came off the trailer lying a few feet away. From the look of it, the iron entered into his left upper side and exited somewhere into the seat. Thankfully, the man had been wearing his seat belt. If he hadn’t, she was sure he would have flown out of the window and crashed head-first into the underbelly of the huge trailer; which was what happened to the driver. Dr. Amara dialed the Jos University Teaching Hospital as she assessed what could be done. She could stem the blood flow but she was worried about the proximity of many vital organs to the entry-point of the injury. This man needed immediate surgery if he was to live. But before then, she carried out the ABCDEs of First Aid; she checked his airways, breathing, circulation, and his level of consciousness, the penetrating iron and the amount of blood loss. She was about to start the secondary survey when she heard the sound of an approaching ambulance. The forces of the universe seemed to be with this man. She started to get up when he woke up and grabbed her hand. ‘Don’t leave me!’ he muttered, sputtering some blood and losing consciousness again. Though unconscious, his hand remained tightly gripped in hers as they raced to the hospital. *** Adon Kato was restless. She had been calling her boyfriend for the last two hours and he wasn’t picking. He left her about four hours ago as he journeyed to Abuja. It took every ounce of her strength to watch the bus leave. When she could no longer see the bus, she grudgingly went to her car and drove home. She had just opened her front door when her phone buzzed. She just knew it was Jason. She smiled even before she read it. ‘Missing you already baby.’ ‘Come back to me! I am so lonely with you gone!’ She responded. ‘Stop it woman! I swear, I will come down from this bus and come back to you!’ Adon laughed. She started typing and then stopped; a voice note would be better. ‘I am so glad we worked things out. I almost thought your presence here would mean the end of our relationship but somehow, we found ourselves. I love you so much baby! I haven’t been this happy in a long time.’ She watched her phone, anticipating his response. ‘Aww baby! Why are you torturing me? You know I cannot send a voice note and you keep enveloping me with your honey-smooth voice! I will get you back for this. When you come to Abuja, I will make sure I spoil you so bad, you will have no other choice than to quit your job and leave Gombe. And you know I keep my word!’ Adon laughed again. She was blushing! What did this guy do to her? ‘You will not believe that I am smiling like a sappy teenager. And blushing too! What did you do to me, Jason Ogbeche?!’ He sent in a laughing emoji. ‘Laugh all you want oh! Shebi you now know I love you so you are forming champion right?! Lol. I know what I will do to you. And hey! Speaking of work, I need to prepare. Talk to you as soon as I settle in. I love you, Jason.’ ‘I love you too baby.’ They had been chatting when he suddenly went offline. Adon was a bit worried. Something was wrong; she felt it. But she shrugged it off. She tried to concentrate on work to get that nagging feeling away. ‘Adon, you are too much of a worrier.’ she told herself just as… …her phone rang. She jumped to pick it and in her excitement, dropped it. She quickly it picked up and saw that the call had ended. Checking her call log, she saw it was Jason. The phone began to ring again. ‘Jason what the hell is wrong with y…’ ‘Good day ma’am. I am calling from the Jos University Teaching Hospital. The owner of this phone was involved in an accident and is currently is surgery. You were the last person he interacted with and we would like to know if you can make it to the hospital.’ Adon barely heard anything beyond Jason being in an accident. She wanted to faint, to go numb,
Looking Glass
Old African WomanImage: iStock Photos Ma Pwamoreno knelt to pray. The cracking sound in her spine told her it would be an uphill task getting up from this position. ‘She might as well take her time’, she thought. She couldn’t possible cause any more harm to her 70 year-old body. She went into a flurry of thanksgiving prayers. As she bowed in obeisance to GOD, her mind began to drift. Aspects of her life flashed through her mind until she was completely lost in thought. *** Pwapradi Zadok remembered the family she had been born into. She was born to a progressive family that believed in the white man’s education. Her father had worked for a white family who introduced Christianity and formal education to him. In his view, white people could do no wrong. Her father was a good Christian man. He treated her mother right. He ensured that they always had food and good clothes; which was a far cry from what her neighbors had to contend with. He encouraged them to read books and study the Bible. Her mother was the perfect match for her father. She was such a good woman! She couldn’t remember if her parents ever fought. She only remembered that they were a much disciplined family and though her parents never told them they loved them, they could tell that they did. By ‘they’, she meant her eight brothers and sisters; her parents had seven boys and two girls. Though it was a large family, there were always extended family members in the house at any given time. It was a testament to her father that he raised good children who were all stellar citizens in their community. As the last child, Pwapradi was called “Mummy’s carbon copy”. She had the same mannerisms and even looked almost exactly like her mother. Their similarity was so much that when she cooked, her father couldn’t tell if it was his wife or his daughter. When it was time to get married, her father worked extra hard to get a very good man for her. He picked the choir master of the church who was a young and promising teacher in the village primary school. Pwapradi remembered how her mother prepared her for marriage, her expectations as a wife, her duties and her reward. Pwapradi flushed under her skin when her mother told her to just lie down and accept her husband’s overtures because ‘men have been cursed with huge desire for sex’. Pwapradi’s marriage to Cletus Pwamoreno had been a simple affair, after which she settled into her role as wife. Cletus didn’t want her to work. He wanted her to be a house wife. Like her mother taught her, she obeyed him completely. He also didn’t want any other person cooking his meals. So she had been cooking for him for 58 years. She woke up early, cooked his breakfast and lunch and then took his bath water to the bathroom. She would wake him up and then set about sweeping the house. As he bathed, she would do other house chores to reduce her workload. When he was done, she would serve his meal and send him off with a ‘Have a good day‘ pat on the back. When he got back home, he would arrive to the aroma of steaming Bamta or Kwaa Bawei soup. Though he would always rush to the kitchen, she would get him to bathe first before eating his meal. After his meal, she would massage his feet and back as he read a newspaper or studied the Bible. Even as they got older and her bones got weaker, she continued her routine every single day of the week. When the children came, there was more work for Pwapradi but she took it in her stride; after all, Bachama women were known for their strength. She gave birth to five children before GOD decided it was enough. She remembered how she never raised her voice when talking to her husband. They had been married for 58 years and she never shouted at her husband. When they quarreled, he did all the talking while she stared at the floor. When he was done, she would say, ‘I am sorry Sir. It would not repeat itself.’ He thought she was acting in the first few years of their marriage but he later realized that she was made that way. Soon, quarrels became nonexistent in their marriage. Her mother taught her that her husband’s word was law and she obeyed him to a fault. As he became more prominent, their marriage became the poster child for perfection. People wanted to emulate them. Couples came to them for advice. They were both co-opted into the church counseling unit. She heard that her husband always said, ‘My wife never raises her voice at me. She never disobeys me. She does everything I say and that is why we are so happy.’ He would always end by saying, ‘Get your wife to be like mine and you have the perfect home.’She on the other hand would say to wives, ‘Your husband is the head of your house. If you want him to treat you right, respect him, obey him and be a good wife to him.’ She remembered her children. They were all married now. She had a flurry of grandkids she only saw during the holidays. None of her kids lived close to her. They were spread in Kaduna, Lagos, Port Harcourt, and Abuja. No one wanted to live in Numan; a glorified village. So she got to see them once every year when they came for Christmas. She thanked GOD for her life. She had lived a good life. That thought had not finished forming when another came into her mind. Had she really lived? Was her life worth thanking GOD for? Though foreign, she pondered on the thought some more. She had always wanted to teach. She wanted to impart knowledge just as her father had done. She was lucky to have been formally
Dad, Mum…You Failed Us!
Mrs. Jatau saw the light on her phone before it began to ring. She was almost sure it was her first daughter calling. She was not wrong. ‘I am just putting the last touches to my makeup. I will soon be there’, she rushed before her daughter could say anything. ‘Okay Mum. We are waiting for you.’ Annabel responded as she dropped the call. Mrs. Jatau sighed. She could not put it off anymore. She took her keys and purse, sent a prayer to heaven and left her house. She was going to her daughter’s wedding introduction. *** ‘Daddy, come out of your room now! Ha ahn! Do you want the guests to come in and wait for you?‘ Sandra all but shouted. She was the last child of the Jataus’ and had grown up when their parents had gone soft. She could say anything to them; which was slightly different from her four elder ones. ‘I said I am coming now! Go away and leave me alone.’ he responded in his rich tone. ‘Daddy, if you are not out in two minutes. I will break your door oh!’ She returned, pouting her lips and stamping her feet. She may be 20 years but she was all child. ‘If you like, burn the house sef. I will only come out when I deem fit. And I can see that mouth that you are pushing up. I have always told you that it makes you look like fish…a Tilapia.’ Sandra laughed and walked away. Mr. Jatau sighed. He could not hide in his room anymore. He admitted he was scared. But if he remained in his room, that would be awfully rude to the guests he was expecting. Though he had never had a good relationship with his oldest daughter, this was not the time to completely ruin what was left of it. He sucked in air into his large tummy and opened the door. The sooner he got over this, the quicker he could go to the club house and share some laughs with his cronies. He walked down the stairs to his living room. *** This was the first time in 18 years that the entire Jatau family was seated in one room. Oliver, the first child, was reclining in one of the sofas. Tall, buff and selfish, he managed to look like a king. The three daughters sat together on the sofa, with Robert, their adopted brother, sitting in between Annabel and Elizabeth while Sandra sat on the floor. The sitting arrangement was such that both their parents sat opposite them. Mr. and Mrs. Jatau managed to sit as far apart as possible without looking like they were trying to do. Annabel sighed. She cleared her throat and began. ‘Dad, Mum…before our guests turn up, we have some things to tell you. I will start and my siblings will join in.’ She looked from one parent to the other and then her sisters. Her parents were trying all they could not to squirm but it was not working. It was as uncomfortable for them as it was for her. She sucked in her breath, stared at the floor, and started talking. ‘Today is exactly 18 years since you got divorced.’ The finality in her voice had a ring of judgment to it and it got the desired effect on her parents; guilt and shame. Even though they had been divorced that long, Mrs. Jatau maintained his name because in Africa, you are better off with a ‘Mrs.’ attached to your name. ‘I will start with you, Daddy.’ This time she looked straight at her dad. He dropped his head and put his arms between his thighs; the classic pose he took when he was insecure, sad or contemplative. Annabel knew she had to get the edge off her voice. ‘Daddy, you were never nice to Mummy…well, not never. But in most cases, you weren’t. I grew up seeing Mummy pick up the slack when you should have been taking care of us. You were more a man-about-town, spending for other people, than you were in catering to your family’s needs. Mummy never let us go hungry, even if you never brought in any money’. That was Elizabeth’s cue. ‘Daddy, all through our stay in school, you never paid school fees on time; sometimes paying the first term fees in second term. We got to be known as one family that alwaysdefaulted in fees. It was so bad that one teacher came into the class to drive students who had not paid school fees and as soon as he entered, he said “Elizabeth Jatau, I don’t need to look at the list to know your name is on it. So pack your books and go home.” I wanted to die Daddy! Everyone in class laughed. I acted like I was okay but my spirit broke’. ‘Even when Mummy paid our school fees, you beat up Annabel for daring to accept the money’, Sandra said. There was a catch in her voice and that pricked her father and mother. She was their baby, and they were all fiercely protective of her. Mrs. Jatau started crying. She didn’t plan to but her eyes couldn’t hold back anymore. Mr. Jatau maintained his stoic expression. He still had his head down. Annabel continued. ‘When the divorce finally pulled through, you banned us from seeing our mother. When, after less than three months, you married again, and our lives became a living hell. Your wife would maltreat us…’ Annabel’s voice wavered. The tears were about to drop, but she controlled it. She sniffed just as Robert rubbed her back. She smiled at him and faced her father again. ‘I remember when Mummy bought us school scandals. You came home, went straight to our room like you knew Mum had brought us things. You rounded up the scandals and poured kerosene on them. With one strike, they went up in flames. We watched them burn, knowing you were not going to
Inconsiderate Neighbors
Flustered Black Woman.Image: Huffington Post. Papa Emeka was home. Oiza knew this because the horrible sound of his rickety generator set woke her up from her first opportunity to sleep in five days. And this time, she was pissed! The stress from her office was enough to down a mule and whenever she got home, the sound of a generator badly in need of repairs kept her awake at night. She got up with such fierce anger and decided enough was enough! She was going to give Papa Emeka a piece of her mind. As she put on her slip, she remembered how she had reached this point. ••• Oiza Anave was the only daughter of Adam and Ozohu Anave, a middle class family who lived a comfortable life in Kaduna. Being the only girl in her house, she was the easy favorite of both her parents. Coupled with the fact that she was the last born of their five children, she held a good spot as the baby of the house. Like most last born children, she was almost smothered with the fierce protectiveness of her father and brothers and the unabashed love of her mother. She grew up almost in a cocoon and didn’t have the opportunity to venture out, make friends or even date. But university cured her of all that. As soon as she tasted freedom, she couldn’t go back to being caged by her family’s love, no matter the good intention. She prayed her compulsory National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) would take her as far away from home as possible, hoping that she could finally get to live in the bustling city called Eko, or to non-indigenes, Lagos. She didn’t get Lagos but at least one of her wishes was fulfilled; she got sent to a faraway city; Gombe. As soon as she arrived Gombe, she promised herself that she was not returning home. She was finally her own woman and could live how she wanted and follow her own dreams and aspirations. When she was done with her service, she stuck to her word and refused to go back home. Despite pleas and threats from her parents and siblings, she remained adamant. To try to convince her, her father got the family together and commanded everyone not to send her money or render any help to her. She wasn’t bothered. She had learned to manage what she had and had saved N50,000 from her NYSC ‘allowee’. She set out looking for a house and got one that cost the exact same price. The house was in one of the less affluent neighborhoods but that was the only option she had. She needed to vacate the ‘Corpers Lodge’ and houses in better suited areas were either too expensive (N90, 000) or not even in her price range (N350, 000). In the end, she felt she could live in a gutter and still be comfortable if she really wanted to. So, she got a friend to loan her the rest of the rent and went to pay for the house. When she got to the house, she realized how crappy it was. She had only been told of a house and had not seen it before hand. As she looked at the house, she saw that the paint was peeling off as a result of water rising through the blocks. She also realized that there was a permanent putrid smell in the room and upon further examinations, discovered that a gutter ran directly behind it. It was a two bedroom apartment without a toilet and kitchen, which meant that Oiza would have to share with other members of the compound. The toilet was not a pit latrine as is expected in public houses but a water-closet system. Oiza didn’t like that one bit. Diseases could easily be transmitted from her neighbors to her. What was worse was that the toilet was really dirty when she glanced in, prompting her to quickly scrunch her nose and pull her head back out of the toilet. Though Oiza was in no way happy with what she saw, she still paid for it because of the pressure to move out of the lodge. That same day, Oiza moved into her new house. As Oiza settled in, she started noticing some really horrible attitude of her neighbors. Now, there were ten two-room apartments in the compound and each room, with the exception of Oiza’s had at least four people in them. There were whole families and friends just living together to cut costs. So the compound was really full. As soon as they restored electrical power, the occupants of each room – seeming to compete with the others – would put on their radios and television sets at the highest volume. It was usually a competition between some Bauchi-based Gospel artist and the likes of Don Moen; a horrible mix for all she cared. And to make matters worse, the loud music always competed with the sounds of Catalina fighting Diego and Amarachi placing the curse on the people of Akpogwu! There was never any peace or quiet in that compound. Since Oiza spent almost all her time at the office, she felt she could handle it even though it irritated her to no end when she was at home. What she couldn’t handle though were the dirty toilets and bathrooms. They were never washed! They stank like dirty toilets should and Oiza felt poisoned every time she went in. People – grownups – used the toilet without flushing, leaving their disgusting fecal matter for others to see. One night Oiza was pressed and she ran into the toilet. The smell hit her before she turned the light on. What she saw made her rush back out without much ado. She didn’t use the toilet again for a whole week! Each time she felt pressed, the sight she saw came rushing back. That was enough to shut her excretory organs.
The Gods So Decide
Image link here. Amara was still shaking. The village juju-man, Opowkri, was baffled by the blatant refusal of the evil spirits to bow to his incantations. Did the spirits aim to ridicule him? And in front of the entire village?! Well, he was having none of that! He cast a furtive glance at her parents who were huddled in the corner and quickly turned his attention to the shivering girl lying on the thatched mat in his dimly lit mud hut. The room was smoky from the tiny calabash filled with dry, burning herbs and he had to refrain from coughing as the smoke choked him. He was, after all, the intermediary between the gods and the people. He took the white speckled fowl he had asked her parents to bring and raised it to the sky. He implored the gods of hale and hearty health to prove the uninvited spirits wrong; to show he was stronger than these spirits. The fowl cackled, seeming to know that its end was near. Its loud crows were nothing compared to the cacophony Opowkri was making. He finished his incantations and in one fell swoop, pulled out the head of the fowl from its neck. Blood spurted everywhere. He quickly directed the spurts towards the naked body of the girl. In normal times, her parents would never have allowed their daughter to be naked in front of a man but these were not normal times. He had insisted that they removed her clothes so he could work his voodoo. And as expected, they quickly obliged. She was their last surviving child; having watched six of their children die in the last three months. They didn’t want to lose her and at that point, they would have done just about anything. Opowkri rubbed the blood all over Amara’s body, pausing ever so slightly on her breasts and trying his best to hide his arousal. As his hands traipsed over her body, he muttered incantations that were only understood by him and the gods. The fetid smell of fresh blood mixed with smoke from the burning herbs was enough to make anyone retch; and that was what he was going for. On cue, Amara raised herself up and retched, only managing to miss hitting him by a few inches. ‘Yes! Get out of her you evil spirit! Get out of her! Remove him from your body my child!’ And he went into more incantations. He started dancing around Amara, chanting, beguiling and asking the gods to show them strong. ‘Wa….wa…I ne…eed wat…ter.’ Amara croaked. The juju-man paused in his dance and shouts and watched her for a second. Her parents scrambled to give her the calabash filled with dirty stream water. ‘NO!’ The juju-man bellowed! Her parents cowered and froze inches over her face. ‘The spirits are getting weak and they need to increase their strength! She will not be given anything!’ Her parents retreated to their corner of the hut and held each other. The ‘dance-cantations’ continued for two hours; two hours where Amara progressively got weaker, threw up five more times and croaked for water over and over again. The filth was not cleaned up nor was her thirst quenched. The smell in the room was worse than the village outhouse at the edge of the forest. The last time Amara vomited, she didn’t even have the strength to raise herself up. She just threw up and gargled in her own vomit. After that, she stopped shaking. She was no longer hyperventilating or as Opowkri came to find out, breathing. Her parents started screaming. ‘Get out!’ The juju-man shouted so loud, her parents fled the hut. That didn’t stop the whimpers of her mother from filtering into the silence of the hut. He checked Amara and saw she was perfectly still. Her skin was losing the hotness that it had a few minutes ago. For the first time since she had been brought to him three nights ago, she looked peaceful, finally at rest. He didn’t need a fancy white cloth and a rope around his neck like that missionary medicine man in the village square to know that Amara was dead. This was the twelfth child he had seen die in the last two moons; and all of them in his tiny hut. He had told the parents that the gods were punishing them for taking the little drops of evil liquid from the missionary medicine man. The evil man had invoked the anger of the gods when he said the gods were non-existent. He had gone further to say that diseases were not from the gods to punish them but as a result of their dirty environment. He said he had a thing that could prevent diseases and that was when he convinced some parents to take those little drops of his own type of voodoo. It didn’t matter that every child who wasn’t sick before they had taken the city man’s evil medicine was still hale and hearty. It didn’t matter that the families who had made certain lifestyle changes like weeding the grass in front of their houses, boiling and filtering their water and using his fish net to sleep were healthier than those who didn’t. It also didn’t matter that the man had insisted that Amara was suffering from the disease of the mosquito and dirty water and that he had something he called ‘drugs’ for them. What mattered was that he wasn’t going to allow any other medicine man take his place in this village. His father had been the village juju-man as had his father before him. He was definitely not going to allow a twit from the city come up and outwit him. His mind made up, he got up from his kneeling position in front of Amara and wiped some vomit off his knee, unaffected by either the smell or the grossness. He turned to the door…and walked out. The people gathered around him. He shook his head and
