I'm a thousand miles away from home.
The orchestra is playing in the very near distance.
It's a private show.
My senses are alive as the sounds wash over my very soul.
The guitar. The melodious chords seducing my eardrums.
The bass. The drum. The rise and fall...beating to the rhythm of my heavy heart.
The harp. The instrument of angels.
Lifting me off my feet. I'm as one with wings. A celestial being.
The clang of the cymbals. Goose pimples. The hair on my back stand in ovation.
The cello. The trumpet. The violin. Each distinct sound blending into one beautiful symphony.
I'm in a gallery.
Somewhere on Despair Street
It's a private show.
But something is missing.
The canvas is empty.
The artist is set to paint but there are no brushes.
Then the unimaginable happens.
At the "twang" of the guitar, a purple streak appears.
The "bang" of the drum, a black splash.
The "hum" of the piano I see white.
There's Green. Blue. Yellow too.
Each instrument producing a colour of its own.
There's one for Joy.
One for Pain.
One for Pleasure and one for Redemption.
And as the Orchestra reaches a crescendo; As the final chord is strung, there's an explosion.
It's Hope. It's blood red.
It's everywhere.
On the walls and the floor.
On the door fame and my white tee.
Slowly I open my eyes.
I'm on my bed.
The orchestra has since stopped playing.
The gallery is but a distant memory.
The tears have since ceased.
I'm not alone.
I've got my music lifting me from the clutches of gloom;
Bringing me the sweet assurance of Hope that runs as sure as blood through my veins.
Nov 23, 2011
Oct 27, 2011
Code Name: The Carrier
The Client is Igbo.
This much I can tell of the nameless face from my elevated position. His head gives him away. Round and wide with 6 folds at the base that roll into his thick neck. I counted. Little dents trail his head reminding me of the untarred Onitsha road. His was the type, my roomate Lovette described as Otikpiri. Well balanced on his storky neck. I snicker as I remember the explanation Lovette gave when I asked her what it meant. "It means the person's food goes to his head causing the head to stretch and be enlarged", she said with the straightest of faces and I couldn't really tell if she was saying the truth.
I look down at the contorted face beneath me, a part of me hoping to see a stranger even as I know what to expect. An all too familiar face stares back at me. It is always the same. No matter the place, time, or person. The face remains the same. Papa stares back at me. He always does.
I smile.
The Client sees my smile and beams exposing his crooked gap tooth. "You like that my beautiful angel?", he asks with a lisp, as he tweaks my attentive nipple a little too hard and resumes his grunting. His fingers dig into my arched back as he viciously begins to jerk.
He's coming.
I ride faster.
He grunts one last time and suddenly the jerking stops.
The Ordeal is over.
He lets out a loud belch and out of his mouth escapes the awful stench of stale groundnut. He pushes me off his body, almost rudely. He's in a hurry to leave.
"Nna baby, you won't kill me", he says as he frantically tugs on his trousers.
He is married. I can see the pale skin on his finger where his wedding band should be.
He slaps N3000 on the bedside table and hurries out the door.
It's been another successful exercise.
A mutually beneficial one.
I've satisfied yet another horny bastard.
He's satisfied me too in a way he cannot begin to imagine.
"All of me", he wanted
"No rubbers", he insisted.
I agreed.
I let him plant his seed inside of me.
And I gave him a Seed of my own.
I smile to myself.
"But I will. I will KILL you" I say to the quiet room.
And with a heart wrenching scream comes the tears.
As I cry for the 8 year old girl that was sexually abused by her father time and again.
I cry because I hate that he makes me punish strangers who bore his face.
I cry for the family that was soon to be destroyed by the virus.
I cry for the person I've become.
An alien in my own skin.
A ticking bomb.
A Carrier.
This much I can tell of the nameless face from my elevated position. His head gives him away. Round and wide with 6 folds at the base that roll into his thick neck. I counted. Little dents trail his head reminding me of the untarred Onitsha road. His was the type, my roomate Lovette described as Otikpiri. Well balanced on his storky neck. I snicker as I remember the explanation Lovette gave when I asked her what it meant. "It means the person's food goes to his head causing the head to stretch and be enlarged", she said with the straightest of faces and I couldn't really tell if she was saying the truth.
I look down at the contorted face beneath me, a part of me hoping to see a stranger even as I know what to expect. An all too familiar face stares back at me. It is always the same. No matter the place, time, or person. The face remains the same. Papa stares back at me. He always does.
I smile.
The Client sees my smile and beams exposing his crooked gap tooth. "You like that my beautiful angel?", he asks with a lisp, as he tweaks my attentive nipple a little too hard and resumes his grunting. His fingers dig into my arched back as he viciously begins to jerk.
He's coming.
I ride faster.
He grunts one last time and suddenly the jerking stops.
The Ordeal is over.
He lets out a loud belch and out of his mouth escapes the awful stench of stale groundnut. He pushes me off his body, almost rudely. He's in a hurry to leave.
"Nna baby, you won't kill me", he says as he frantically tugs on his trousers.
He is married. I can see the pale skin on his finger where his wedding band should be.
He slaps N3000 on the bedside table and hurries out the door.
It's been another successful exercise.
A mutually beneficial one.
I've satisfied yet another horny bastard.
He's satisfied me too in a way he cannot begin to imagine.
"All of me", he wanted
"No rubbers", he insisted.
I agreed.
I let him plant his seed inside of me.
And I gave him a Seed of my own.
I smile to myself.
"But I will. I will KILL you" I say to the quiet room.
And with a heart wrenching scream comes the tears.
As I cry for the 8 year old girl that was sexually abused by her father time and again.
I cry because I hate that he makes me punish strangers who bore his face.
I cry for the family that was soon to be destroyed by the virus.
I cry for the person I've become.
An alien in my own skin.
A ticking bomb.
A Carrier.
Sep 30, 2011
Unmasked
Hi guys,
For some time now, I had been trying to get reconnected with my first love, poetry, and the talented wordsmith Tobi Bamtefa gave me an opportunity to do so. Here is a piece written by Tobi and myself. I hope you enjoy it.
xxx
With aged eyes, I see the pain behind her hooded smiles.
Hear the hurried beat of her broken heart.
Trace hurt in the lines of her fragile palms.
And nurse wings that fly...no more.
With aged eyes I reach for another
Scarred beyond recognition.
Blinded by memories of love found. And lost. And found only to be lost again.
Till love can be found...no more.
With aged eyes I watch as I am altered to suit a misconstrued mind.
As I am brutally gutted and reborn as another.
As I am labeled, classified and shut out.
Till silent I can watch...no more.
Picture a man with actions that speak as clear as day
The steps he takes, for your perfection. Reacts with no delay
With each move he makes garments torn like brittle hay
Until clothed he remains...no more.
Picture this man standing before you
Bruised, battered, completely dismayed
Package in hand, hole in his chest and love in his eyes
And with a fight, the retrospective mirage dissipates like mist in the wind.
His intentions are concealed...no more.
With aged eyes I watch as reality set in.
As the cloud that once obscured your youthful mind, fades off.
As time flies and the truth is finally revealed.
Unmasked, I remain in the shadow...no more.
For some time now, I had been trying to get reconnected with my first love, poetry, and the talented wordsmith Tobi Bamtefa gave me an opportunity to do so. Here is a piece written by Tobi and myself. I hope you enjoy it.
xxx
With aged eyes, I see the pain behind her hooded smiles.
Hear the hurried beat of her broken heart.
Trace hurt in the lines of her fragile palms.
And nurse wings that fly...no more.
With aged eyes I reach for another
Scarred beyond recognition.
Blinded by memories of love found. And lost. And found only to be lost again.
Till love can be found...no more.
With aged eyes I watch as I am altered to suit a misconstrued mind.
As I am brutally gutted and reborn as another.
As I am labeled, classified and shut out.
Till silent I can watch...no more.
Picture a man with actions that speak as clear as day
The steps he takes, for your perfection. Reacts with no delay
With each move he makes garments torn like brittle hay
Until clothed he remains...no more.
Picture this man standing before you
Bruised, battered, completely dismayed
Package in hand, hole in his chest and love in his eyes
And with a fight, the retrospective mirage dissipates like mist in the wind.
His intentions are concealed...no more.
With aged eyes I watch as reality set in.
As the cloud that once obscured your youthful mind, fades off.
As time flies and the truth is finally revealed.
Unmasked, I remain in the shadow...no more.
Sep 27, 2011
NURSERY RYHMES (Uncensored Version)
Mary had a little lamb its fleece was white as snow;
But what the nursery rhyme left out is that the lamb was slow.
It followed her to school one day which was against the rules;
The poor lil Mary missed the bus and so was late for school.
And so the teacher turned it out but still it lingered near;
It plugged in its Beats by Dre till Mary did appear.
"Why does the lamb love Mary so?” the eager children cry!;
"Why, that's Jamb question, number one", the teacher did reply.
(While the children were busy trying to answer that last question, it did attract 50marks you know, Jack and Jill snuck out the class, the teacher close at their heel...*inserts nollywood sound track here*)
So Jack and Jill went up the hill to "fetch a pail of water" (*wink wink*)
When Jack "went down", he hurt his neck,
That's where the teacher's cane landed.
"Baa baa black sheep, are you not in school??!" (The teacher shouted)
"Yee pa, yee pa; I'm in soup!" (Jill cried)
"One for the master", the dirty teacher leered.
"And one for the little boy (Jack), to shut his mouth!"
(You see Jill was so good, the teacher just had to ask.)
Teacher: Pussycat Pussycat where have you been?
Jill: I've been up to London, to be with Chief.
Teacher: Pussy cat pussy cat, what did you dare?
Jill: I frightened the little man when he saw the hair.
(Unknown to Jack, and the Teacher, coupling with Jill had given them herpes, but since they had no idea, they were busy chasing the little boy who had gotten them all on tape.)
Three blind mice, see how they run;
They run after the farmer's son,
Who put up the video on you-tube the next day,
Have you ever seen such a thing in your life? (Well apart from on Linda Ikeji's blog)
As these three blind mice.
THE END
NB: This may or may not have been written by me and in either case was purely for jokes.
Peace!
But what the nursery rhyme left out is that the lamb was slow.
It followed her to school one day which was against the rules;
The poor lil Mary missed the bus and so was late for school.
And so the teacher turned it out but still it lingered near;
It plugged in its Beats by Dre till Mary did appear.
"Why does the lamb love Mary so?” the eager children cry!;
"Why, that's Jamb question, number one", the teacher did reply.
(While the children were busy trying to answer that last question, it did attract 50marks you know, Jack and Jill snuck out the class, the teacher close at their heel...*inserts nollywood sound track here*)
So Jack and Jill went up the hill to "fetch a pail of water" (*wink wink*)
When Jack "went down", he hurt his neck,
That's where the teacher's cane landed.
"Baa baa black sheep, are you not in school??!" (The teacher shouted)
"Yee pa, yee pa; I'm in soup!" (Jill cried)
"One for the master", the dirty teacher leered.
"And one for the little boy (Jack), to shut his mouth!"
(You see Jill was so good, the teacher just had to ask.)
Teacher: Pussycat Pussycat where have you been?
Jill: I've been up to London, to be with Chief.
Teacher: Pussy cat pussy cat, what did you dare?
Jill: I frightened the little man when he saw the hair.
(Unknown to Jack, and the Teacher, coupling with Jill had given them herpes, but since they had no idea, they were busy chasing the little boy who had gotten them all on tape.)
Three blind mice, see how they run;
They run after the farmer's son,
Who put up the video on you-tube the next day,
Have you ever seen such a thing in your life? (Well apart from on Linda Ikeji's blog)
As these three blind mice.
THE END
NB: This may or may not have been written by me and in either case was purely for jokes.
Peace!
Sep 18, 2011
Once and Always.
The union of Olaoluwa Adenuga and Omolabake Metong-James was met with great celebration. Champagne flowed freely around the beautifully lit gardens in which the wedding was taking place. The gardenias in small clusters of white and pale yellow were trimmed to perfection and arranged in rows around the garden and down the make-shift aisle. The young groom looked rather dashing in his white tuxedo as he waltz with his bride around the open space, much to the adoring gazes of about 50 close friends and families. The bride was a sight to behold. An only child fondly called by her father the famous ship magnate, Chief Folarin Metong-James as his "jewel", Labake looked every inch the part. FMJ, as he was fondly called by his friends spared no cost when it came to his only child. Her dress was a Balenciaga, designed specially for the occasion and cost an amount that left many-a-jaw hanging when they heard of the price, which they most certainly did, thanks to Mama Labake who didn't cease to slip the price into any conversation she was having with her society cronies.
The tube dress was virginal white, and hugged the bride's body in all the right places down to her hips and finally flowed into an endless train. On her neck, was a thin line of clear cut diamonds with a pearl centre ordered from Cartier. A matching set of pearl earrings in the shape of teardrops hung from large diamond studs on her ear lobes. Her long silky natural hair was brushed up and tied into a bun at the top of her head with a diamond clasp securing the veil which she had flung backwards after the vows had been exchanged. When she smiled, one could see a beautiful set of white teeth peeking from her crimson lips. The naturally beautiful Labake looked simply magnificent on her wedding day.
The Vicar, an old friend of the family looked at the child he had christened some twenty six years before and said to his wife, "look at them, they look so happy together". And his wife had to agree as she saw Labake quickly wipe a tear from her eyes. "She's married one of the few good ones left", the Vicar's wife agreed, as she mistook the tears for happy ones.
Labake quickly wiped at the lone tear that had managed to escape. She wasn't going to cry now and ruin such a beautiful day. Everyone seemed to be having such a great time, even her husband who had had a little too much to drink and as a result had a goofy grin permanently plastered on his face. She smiled to herself, surprised she still had any tear left to cry. Heaven knows she had shed enough tears for two lifetimes, time after time Laolu hit her physically and emotionally in the course of their two year courtship.
Two years before, Labake was a beautiful young successful lawyer who had recently broken up with her boyfriend of four years. The soft spoken girl had a smile that lit up a room. An only child, she was the apple of both her parents eyes and as a result, her mum was constantly on her case to settle down. "Labake mi, don't you know you're getting old? Emi o mo nkan ti o n wa o. Don't you think your standards are rather too high? Dele ni yen, o ni pe o ti kuru ju. Bode o ni pe ko ni confidence. Fola, ni 'H-factor' abi ki le maa n pe...Uche yen, emi o tie gba tie e rara...omo Ibo ke? Olorun o ni je", her mother said, on one of those days she was troubling Labake about marriage again. "Anyway," she continued, "can you remember Laolu?". "Who's that?", Labake asked, not really paying attention to what her mum was saying. "Ahn ahn, so you've forgotten Laolu already, Uncle Tunji's son, who's been away in the Uk all this while. You people were almost inseparable when you were little. Anyway he's been back in the country for a while and I want you people to be friends", Mama Labake said with a knowing smile on her face. And that was how Laolu, her father's best friend's son was reintroduced into her life. Laolu was every girl's dream. Over six feet tall, he was handsome, charming and successful. He had a way with words and soon stole Labake's heart. She loved him very much and was sure he felt the same way too. Then one evening in the course of an argument, he hit her across the face. Hands against her cheek with a bewildered look on her face, Labake couldn't believe what had just happened. Laolu, haven realized the folly of his action immediately knelt at her feet begging for forgiveness. With tears in his eyes, he swore it would never happen again and the innocent Labake believed him.
But of course it did. It happened so many times that Labake had stopped counting. It never went past a slap and was often after he had had a little too much to drink. Once the act had been committed, like a remorseful school boy, he immediately fell to his knees, mouth filled with apologies. He really did have a way with words and Labake eventually always forgave him. She was convinced Laolu really loved her and had even convinced him to go for anger management sessions. All the while Labake kept the assaults from her parents as such news was bound to cause a rift in a friendship of over forty years. And so she endured, choosing her parents' happiness over her own.
Today, she had gotten married to a handsome man who in his own way loved her, and she would try to be happy even if it killed her, she resolved, as she snapped out of her revere. Things were looking up after all. Laolu hadn't hit her in the last three months and had acted every inch the doting husband to be. And so quelling the doubts in her heart , she smiled at their well wishers and spoke of her husband in glowing terms. She had even enjoyed the passionate kiss they shared at the altar.
Tonight she would forget the past and with optimism, forge ahead into the future. With this thought in her head, she dozed off resting against her husband's shoulder in the back seat of the Bentley that was taking the couple to the airport. They were spending their honeymoon in Malta. In what felt like a few minutes later, she felt her shoulders being nudged to consciousness but was too tired to respond until her eyes flew open when a hot slap landed on her face. "Dammit woman wake up and stop drooling all over my suit. We are at the airport!", her husband hissed in disgust.
Their honeymoon hadn't even begun.
The tube dress was virginal white, and hugged the bride's body in all the right places down to her hips and finally flowed into an endless train. On her neck, was a thin line of clear cut diamonds with a pearl centre ordered from Cartier. A matching set of pearl earrings in the shape of teardrops hung from large diamond studs on her ear lobes. Her long silky natural hair was brushed up and tied into a bun at the top of her head with a diamond clasp securing the veil which she had flung backwards after the vows had been exchanged. When she smiled, one could see a beautiful set of white teeth peeking from her crimson lips. The naturally beautiful Labake looked simply magnificent on her wedding day.
The Vicar, an old friend of the family looked at the child he had christened some twenty six years before and said to his wife, "look at them, they look so happy together". And his wife had to agree as she saw Labake quickly wipe a tear from her eyes. "She's married one of the few good ones left", the Vicar's wife agreed, as she mistook the tears for happy ones.
Labake quickly wiped at the lone tear that had managed to escape. She wasn't going to cry now and ruin such a beautiful day. Everyone seemed to be having such a great time, even her husband who had had a little too much to drink and as a result had a goofy grin permanently plastered on his face. She smiled to herself, surprised she still had any tear left to cry. Heaven knows she had shed enough tears for two lifetimes, time after time Laolu hit her physically and emotionally in the course of their two year courtship.
Two years before, Labake was a beautiful young successful lawyer who had recently broken up with her boyfriend of four years. The soft spoken girl had a smile that lit up a room. An only child, she was the apple of both her parents eyes and as a result, her mum was constantly on her case to settle down. "Labake mi, don't you know you're getting old? Emi o mo nkan ti o n wa o. Don't you think your standards are rather too high? Dele ni yen, o ni pe o ti kuru ju. Bode o ni pe ko ni confidence. Fola, ni 'H-factor' abi ki le maa n pe...Uche yen, emi o tie gba tie e rara...omo Ibo ke? Olorun o ni je", her mother said, on one of those days she was troubling Labake about marriage again. "Anyway," she continued, "can you remember Laolu?". "Who's that?", Labake asked, not really paying attention to what her mum was saying. "Ahn ahn, so you've forgotten Laolu already, Uncle Tunji's son, who's been away in the Uk all this while. You people were almost inseparable when you were little. Anyway he's been back in the country for a while and I want you people to be friends", Mama Labake said with a knowing smile on her face. And that was how Laolu, her father's best friend's son was reintroduced into her life. Laolu was every girl's dream. Over six feet tall, he was handsome, charming and successful. He had a way with words and soon stole Labake's heart. She loved him very much and was sure he felt the same way too. Then one evening in the course of an argument, he hit her across the face. Hands against her cheek with a bewildered look on her face, Labake couldn't believe what had just happened. Laolu, haven realized the folly of his action immediately knelt at her feet begging for forgiveness. With tears in his eyes, he swore it would never happen again and the innocent Labake believed him.
But of course it did. It happened so many times that Labake had stopped counting. It never went past a slap and was often after he had had a little too much to drink. Once the act had been committed, like a remorseful school boy, he immediately fell to his knees, mouth filled with apologies. He really did have a way with words and Labake eventually always forgave him. She was convinced Laolu really loved her and had even convinced him to go for anger management sessions. All the while Labake kept the assaults from her parents as such news was bound to cause a rift in a friendship of over forty years. And so she endured, choosing her parents' happiness over her own.
Today, she had gotten married to a handsome man who in his own way loved her, and she would try to be happy even if it killed her, she resolved, as she snapped out of her revere. Things were looking up after all. Laolu hadn't hit her in the last three months and had acted every inch the doting husband to be. And so quelling the doubts in her heart , she smiled at their well wishers and spoke of her husband in glowing terms. She had even enjoyed the passionate kiss they shared at the altar.
Tonight she would forget the past and with optimism, forge ahead into the future. With this thought in her head, she dozed off resting against her husband's shoulder in the back seat of the Bentley that was taking the couple to the airport. They were spending their honeymoon in Malta. In what felt like a few minutes later, she felt her shoulders being nudged to consciousness but was too tired to respond until her eyes flew open when a hot slap landed on her face. "Dammit woman wake up and stop drooling all over my suit. We are at the airport!", her husband hissed in disgust.
Their honeymoon hadn't even begun.
Aug 31, 2011
On a more serious note
I am a christian.
These four words don't come easy. Oh its alright to say you're a christian, especially in passing. When you're asked if you're a christian or a muslim, its easy to answer, affirming the former and immediately move on to tell the guy you were just hooked up with, how you're 5ft 7", you're slim and chocolate complexioned, and your favourite colour is green; you may even proceed to tell him your shoe and bra sizes, your account number and even your atm pin; every little solicited and unsolicited detail is given in the excitement of the hour (Oh yea I'm talking to myself as well, I am 5ft 7" after all). And when we eventually find out that the person on the other end is christian as well...we breathe a sigh of relief (that's if you're like me who believes that a relationship thrives better when both partners have shared religious beliefs and of course the rest...attraction, understanding...etc).
Note: All this is before homeboy has even stated his intentions. For all you care, he might already be in a relationship.
But today isn't about relationships, how I went there, I don't even know. Today its about being a christian and what it means. To a lot of us, christianity is just a label. Its ok as long as much is not expected of us save for attending church every sunday, tweeting religious lines and updating our statuses with biblical quotes from time to time. Its cool as long as we are given free reign to run our lives the way we want, ignoring the guilt when we feel we have erred. Now that's the word that struck me, GUILT. From experience this has been a major challenge. As a young "soji" girl, how much free reign do I have as a christian especially in a world where we have ready-made accusing fingers ready to well....give you the finger? How much compromise can I make under the guise of "times have changed"? How far do I go in a relationship without warning bells ringing? How can I have the right proportion of christianity and "cool" at the same time? How much can I stay on the fence without being termed hypocritical?
And when I fall short of my expectations as a christian, I try to justify my actions, after all I'm not perfect...that's why there is such a thing as forgiveness, isn't it? Sometimes I ask myself, who even determines what is right or wrong? If it isn't spelt out in the bible as being wrong, surely it isn't then...right? RIGHT??!
Truth is, being a christian is much more than saying the words. Its a life, a work, a journey. It doesn't promise to be cupcakes and cookies, oh it sure has a lot of bumpy roads, but at the end of the day its worth it (you can quote me on this). I'm not saying that I have it all figured out, I have my own fair share of questions, doubts, and concerns, and even though I aim to be Christ-like, I am human and sometimes I stray, but like Paul I keep on pressing on to the prize of the high calling of God.
I'm not perfect. I'm a christian.
These four words don't come easy. Oh its alright to say you're a christian, especially in passing. When you're asked if you're a christian or a muslim, its easy to answer, affirming the former and immediately move on to tell the guy you were just hooked up with, how you're 5ft 7", you're slim and chocolate complexioned, and your favourite colour is green; you may even proceed to tell him your shoe and bra sizes, your account number and even your atm pin; every little solicited and unsolicited detail is given in the excitement of the hour (Oh yea I'm talking to myself as well, I am 5ft 7" after all). And when we eventually find out that the person on the other end is christian as well...we breathe a sigh of relief (that's if you're like me who believes that a relationship thrives better when both partners have shared religious beliefs and of course the rest...attraction, understanding...etc).
Note: All this is before homeboy has even stated his intentions. For all you care, he might already be in a relationship.
But today isn't about relationships, how I went there, I don't even know. Today its about being a christian and what it means. To a lot of us, christianity is just a label. Its ok as long as much is not expected of us save for attending church every sunday, tweeting religious lines and updating our statuses with biblical quotes from time to time. Its cool as long as we are given free reign to run our lives the way we want, ignoring the guilt when we feel we have erred. Now that's the word that struck me, GUILT. From experience this has been a major challenge. As a young "soji" girl, how much free reign do I have as a christian especially in a world where we have ready-made accusing fingers ready to well....give you the finger? How much compromise can I make under the guise of "times have changed"? How far do I go in a relationship without warning bells ringing? How can I have the right proportion of christianity and "cool" at the same time? How much can I stay on the fence without being termed hypocritical?
And when I fall short of my expectations as a christian, I try to justify my actions, after all I'm not perfect...that's why there is such a thing as forgiveness, isn't it? Sometimes I ask myself, who even determines what is right or wrong? If it isn't spelt out in the bible as being wrong, surely it isn't then...right? RIGHT??!
Truth is, being a christian is much more than saying the words. Its a life, a work, a journey. It doesn't promise to be cupcakes and cookies, oh it sure has a lot of bumpy roads, but at the end of the day its worth it (you can quote me on this). I'm not saying that I have it all figured out, I have my own fair share of questions, doubts, and concerns, and even though I aim to be Christ-like, I am human and sometimes I stray, but like Paul I keep on pressing on to the prize of the high calling of God.
I'm not perfect. I'm a christian.
Aug 23, 2011
Womanhood
I looked up and saw the blade coming down.
Nne-anyi's brows were creased in concentration.
Sweat dripping from the folds on her forehead.
Down her cheeks they coursed.
On to her lips they went, as she licked on the salty water till I could see it no more.
Then I felt it.
On my knees.
Trickling down my thighs.
Goose pimples.
Traveling down my wide-spread legs.
The hair on my skin pricking.
Standing at attention.
"Mama", I called out in confusion, as she hushed me up.
What was going on?
Why was Nne-anyi, who was always so jovial, frowning so severely?
Why was I being held down?
Surely they knew I wasn't going anywhere.
I understood fully what was about to be done.
I had looked forward to my 16th birthday all my life.
And now it was time to be a woman.
To do right by my people.
Oh what pride I felt!
Why then the somber looks? I wondered in confusion.
And I noticed a movement ahead.
Nne-anyi was coming closer.
Blade in her right hand.
The closer she came; so did the blade.
Closer.
Closer they came; as I watched on.
Then I felt a nudge on my shoulders.
It was time, Mama whispered.
Time to go to that special place we had talked about.
Where the white light awaited me.
I had to look long and hard she had said, lest the white light faded off without performing the rites.
Cleansing me.
Ushering me into womanhood.
I smiled with understanding.
I had prepared for this all my life.
I stared into space.
Looking without really seeing anything.
And then I saw it.
The white light.
It was brighter than Mama had described.
I concentrated like my life depended on it.
Beckoning it closer.
Reaching for it.
Finally I touched it.
It engulfed me and I welcomed it with open arms.
Lost myself in it.
Finally I was being cleansed.
What joy I felt!
The corners of my mouth curling up into a smile.
UNTIL I felt it.
The pain.
So unexpected.
Snapping me out of my revere.
The pain.
OH THE PAIN.
Sharp.
Continuous.
I searched for Mama but my vision was blurred.
I tried to scream but the sounds never made it past my tightened throat.
The silent noise, deafening.
Ringing in my ears.
My face awash with tears.
My head banging, about to explode.
OH THE PAIN.
I couldn't take it anymore.
The pain.
So this was how it felt.
Loosing one's life.
And just when I was sure I had given up to join my ancestors in the great beyond;
It was all over.
No more could I feel hands peeling on my womanhood.
All that lingered was the soreness in my groin.
The blood stains on my thighs.
The glistening sweat on my skin.
Where was the light Mama had promised would give me peace?
Where was it?
I closed my eyes and concentrated really hard.
Hoping for some reprieve.
But all I could see was Darkness.
Darkness so bright; It was almost blinding.
Mama had failed to tell me this part.
That the light will leave, to be replaced by a great void.
Mama didn't tell me about the void.
Mama had lied.
x x x
This post was inspired by a lecture I heard on female genital mutilation last week. It came as a surprise to learn how rampart female circumcision still was, in a seemingly developing country like Nigeria. Did they know the implications, I wondered? My heart went out to the victims as I pictured the scars, imagined the terrifying labour they were sure to have, some losing their lives in the process. How about infections? HIV and AIDS from unsterilized blades. It sickened my heart. And so I thought to share this. Make my stand known in however small a forum like a blog might present.
My name is Tomiwa Oladele. And I stand against female genital mutilation.
Nne-anyi's brows were creased in concentration.
Sweat dripping from the folds on her forehead.
Down her cheeks they coursed.
On to her lips they went, as she licked on the salty water till I could see it no more.
Then I felt it.
On my knees.
Trickling down my thighs.
Goose pimples.
Traveling down my wide-spread legs.
The hair on my skin pricking.
Standing at attention.
"Mama", I called out in confusion, as she hushed me up.
What was going on?
Why was Nne-anyi, who was always so jovial, frowning so severely?
Why was I being held down?
Surely they knew I wasn't going anywhere.
I understood fully what was about to be done.
I had looked forward to my 16th birthday all my life.
And now it was time to be a woman.
To do right by my people.
Oh what pride I felt!
Why then the somber looks? I wondered in confusion.
And I noticed a movement ahead.
Nne-anyi was coming closer.
Blade in her right hand.
The closer she came; so did the blade.
Closer.
Closer they came; as I watched on.
Then I felt a nudge on my shoulders.
It was time, Mama whispered.
Time to go to that special place we had talked about.
Where the white light awaited me.
I had to look long and hard she had said, lest the white light faded off without performing the rites.
Cleansing me.
Ushering me into womanhood.
I smiled with understanding.
I had prepared for this all my life.
I stared into space.
Looking without really seeing anything.
And then I saw it.
The white light.
It was brighter than Mama had described.
I concentrated like my life depended on it.
Beckoning it closer.
Reaching for it.
Finally I touched it.
It engulfed me and I welcomed it with open arms.
Lost myself in it.
Finally I was being cleansed.
What joy I felt!
The corners of my mouth curling up into a smile.
UNTIL I felt it.
The pain.
So unexpected.
Snapping me out of my revere.
The pain.
OH THE PAIN.
Sharp.
Continuous.
I searched for Mama but my vision was blurred.
I tried to scream but the sounds never made it past my tightened throat.
The silent noise, deafening.
Ringing in my ears.
My face awash with tears.
My head banging, about to explode.
OH THE PAIN.
I couldn't take it anymore.
The pain.
So this was how it felt.
Loosing one's life.
And just when I was sure I had given up to join my ancestors in the great beyond;
It was all over.
No more could I feel hands peeling on my womanhood.
All that lingered was the soreness in my groin.
The blood stains on my thighs.
The glistening sweat on my skin.
Where was the light Mama had promised would give me peace?
Where was it?
I closed my eyes and concentrated really hard.
Hoping for some reprieve.
But all I could see was Darkness.
Darkness so bright; It was almost blinding.
Mama had failed to tell me this part.
That the light will leave, to be replaced by a great void.
Mama didn't tell me about the void.
Mama had lied.
x x x
This post was inspired by a lecture I heard on female genital mutilation last week. It came as a surprise to learn how rampart female circumcision still was, in a seemingly developing country like Nigeria. Did they know the implications, I wondered? My heart went out to the victims as I pictured the scars, imagined the terrifying labour they were sure to have, some losing their lives in the process. How about infections? HIV and AIDS from unsterilized blades. It sickened my heart. And so I thought to share this. Make my stand known in however small a forum like a blog might present.
My name is Tomiwa Oladele. And I stand against female genital mutilation.
Aug 11, 2011
Dear Diary
Dear Dairy,
Its barely 1pm and already so much has happened. I've been to Maryland and back during which I was saved from being swindled or whatever that vile fat smelly pig and his fake "Camerounian" partner had in store for me; I endured an endless conversation a cab man was bent on having with me much to my chagrin; I was given directions to the "Traditional Indus Power Temple"; and was exposed to show of a conductors behind thanks to his "ARSEnal" boxers which rode low on his hips.
Within this period I had also gone for an interview which looks positive and met a brilliant young lady I could learn a thing or two from. Now as I sit putting my morning experience to writing on my blackberry,a cold can of Malta Guinness in hand, I have a myriad of expressions on my face, as my sister has pointed out. I'd tell you what I told her, the tale of an eventful morning.
The morning began with family devotion, after which I showered and got prepared for my interview. You know what that means, 30 solid minutes in front of the mirror, preening and prepping, styling and combing (I have my natural hair on so it takes extra time), and putting on my make-up which was basically, blue eyeliner for my upper eyelid, black for the lower, Iman powder and a swipe of red lipstick. Sprayed on my Burberry Beat and as an after thought my sister's CK 212 Sexy which was staring longingly at me on the bedside table. I looked at the final result in the mirror and was content with my reflection. A beautiful, confident and well put together young lady stared back at me wearing a cream lace blouse tucked into a black and white polka dotted skirt and black ballet pumps. Yes I was ready to face my day. I walked to the bustop and after flagging down 2 taxis, I finally settled for one (the cheapest one of course). The time was 8:30am and by my calculation I was to reach my destination in record time, traffic and all. And so the story begins with "Alhaji Talkalot" as I termed him in my head. Heavily tribal marked with what sounded like an Oyo accent. The dude just dey yarn sha. First it was about the bad road, then the government, then the police. Bros just dey yarn dey go...I taya!
Got to my destination at about 9:30...and I must confess, there was a little praise and worship going on in my head. I was ushered into the waiting room and after about 30mins...I met my interviewer. The first thing that caught my eye was her smile. Brief but genuine. She was pleasant too, even though she put me on the spot a coupla times....but hey, what's an interview without those moments. The whole session went well enough and all protocols observed it was time to go home. I had to get out of the estate to be able to take a cab or a bus as was the plan from the get go, since the journey back home was pretty straight forward.
It was then that I heard a guy calling for "Oshodi" which was where I was headed to from what looked like a neighborhood cab. It looked safe enough so against my better judgment I boarded the cab. About 10mins into the drive, the passenger at the back seat signaled his wish to alight from the cab. When it was time to pay the cab fare, he paid in dollars. At that point warning bells started ringing in my ears. The cab man called his attention to the fact that he was given dollars instead of the regular "N50" only for the guy who had previously been speaking normally to start talking incomprehensibly...forming Camerounian. By now, the warning bells were playing a loud symphony in my head and I got down from the parked cab. The driver was trying to reassure me to get back in the cab, saying he just wanted to drop the "Camerounian" at the Cameroun Embassy around the corner after dropping me off in Oshodi (wait first, is there a Cameroun Embassy in Lagos?). I was not interested. All that was in my head were kidnap stories and my mouth was filled with songs of praise for my narrow escape. I entered the next bus that called "Oshodi" and even then I still had a prayer on my lips. I had finally calmed down, as the worst seemed to be over. Until I noticed the passenger beside me staring intently at a poster stuck to the side of the bus. I took a peek to see what was so interesting and Viola!!! It read "Traditional Indus Power Temple". I shook my head at the ignorance of people (yes I was judging the passenger intently studying the poster like she was preparing for JAMB). If they could make people rich and had all the answers to ALL peoples' problems as they claimed...why were there still troubled people around? I shook my head again and turned my face to the other side only to find myself staring at the butt crack of the conductor all thanks to his "designer Arsenal" boxers almost falling entirely off his hips. I snapped my head in the opposite direction immediately. Only me all these unpleasantness in one day?!!! Who did I offend?
And that was how my morning went. I'm back home safely and yes I gave my mum a big hug before regaling my experience to her. Right now I'm about to start sewing and I'm still so grateful for God's protection. Forget what you heard, prayer does work!
Oops its 1:45pm already?!!! Duty calls.
xoxo...gossip girl!!! LoL (well technically this was no gossip. It did happen to me. Today!)
Its barely 1pm and already so much has happened. I've been to Maryland and back during which I was saved from being swindled or whatever that vile fat smelly pig and his fake "Camerounian" partner had in store for me; I endured an endless conversation a cab man was bent on having with me much to my chagrin; I was given directions to the "Traditional Indus Power Temple"; and was exposed to show of a conductors behind thanks to his "ARSEnal" boxers which rode low on his hips.
Within this period I had also gone for an interview which looks positive and met a brilliant young lady I could learn a thing or two from. Now as I sit putting my morning experience to writing on my blackberry,a cold can of Malta Guinness in hand, I have a myriad of expressions on my face, as my sister has pointed out. I'd tell you what I told her, the tale of an eventful morning.
The morning began with family devotion, after which I showered and got prepared for my interview. You know what that means, 30 solid minutes in front of the mirror, preening and prepping, styling and combing (I have my natural hair on so it takes extra time), and putting on my make-up which was basically, blue eyeliner for my upper eyelid, black for the lower, Iman powder and a swipe of red lipstick. Sprayed on my Burberry Beat and as an after thought my sister's CK 212 Sexy which was staring longingly at me on the bedside table. I looked at the final result in the mirror and was content with my reflection. A beautiful, confident and well put together young lady stared back at me wearing a cream lace blouse tucked into a black and white polka dotted skirt and black ballet pumps. Yes I was ready to face my day. I walked to the bustop and after flagging down 2 taxis, I finally settled for one (the cheapest one of course). The time was 8:30am and by my calculation I was to reach my destination in record time, traffic and all. And so the story begins with "Alhaji Talkalot" as I termed him in my head. Heavily tribal marked with what sounded like an Oyo accent. The dude just dey yarn sha. First it was about the bad road, then the government, then the police. Bros just dey yarn dey go...I taya!
Got to my destination at about 9:30...and I must confess, there was a little praise and worship going on in my head. I was ushered into the waiting room and after about 30mins...I met my interviewer. The first thing that caught my eye was her smile. Brief but genuine. She was pleasant too, even though she put me on the spot a coupla times....but hey, what's an interview without those moments. The whole session went well enough and all protocols observed it was time to go home. I had to get out of the estate to be able to take a cab or a bus as was the plan from the get go, since the journey back home was pretty straight forward.
It was then that I heard a guy calling for "Oshodi" which was where I was headed to from what looked like a neighborhood cab. It looked safe enough so against my better judgment I boarded the cab. About 10mins into the drive, the passenger at the back seat signaled his wish to alight from the cab. When it was time to pay the cab fare, he paid in dollars. At that point warning bells started ringing in my ears. The cab man called his attention to the fact that he was given dollars instead of the regular "N50" only for the guy who had previously been speaking normally to start talking incomprehensibly...forming Camerounian. By now, the warning bells were playing a loud symphony in my head and I got down from the parked cab. The driver was trying to reassure me to get back in the cab, saying he just wanted to drop the "Camerounian" at the Cameroun Embassy around the corner after dropping me off in Oshodi (wait first, is there a Cameroun Embassy in Lagos?). I was not interested. All that was in my head were kidnap stories and my mouth was filled with songs of praise for my narrow escape. I entered the next bus that called "Oshodi" and even then I still had a prayer on my lips. I had finally calmed down, as the worst seemed to be over. Until I noticed the passenger beside me staring intently at a poster stuck to the side of the bus. I took a peek to see what was so interesting and Viola!!! It read "Traditional Indus Power Temple". I shook my head at the ignorance of people (yes I was judging the passenger intently studying the poster like she was preparing for JAMB). If they could make people rich and had all the answers to ALL peoples' problems as they claimed...why were there still troubled people around? I shook my head again and turned my face to the other side only to find myself staring at the butt crack of the conductor all thanks to his "designer Arsenal" boxers almost falling entirely off his hips. I snapped my head in the opposite direction immediately. Only me all these unpleasantness in one day?!!! Who did I offend?
And that was how my morning went. I'm back home safely and yes I gave my mum a big hug before regaling my experience to her. Right now I'm about to start sewing and I'm still so grateful for God's protection. Forget what you heard, prayer does work!
Oops its 1:45pm already?!!! Duty calls.
xoxo...gossip girl!!! LoL (well technically this was no gossip. It did happen to me. Today!)
Jul 19, 2011
Is that me on the big screen?
Hi booskies. I've got a confession to make. This is not really a post. On second thoughts, maybe it is. It'll come as a surprise to some of you to see me post blogs on two consecutive days (especially in the face of my impending exams) but when you're done reading this post you'll understand why.
As some of you know, (well now u know anyway) I own and run a fashion line, AYABA, so it came as no surprise...actually it did! It was such a huge surprise that it got my stomach doing cartwheels when an entertainment program on TV contacted me about doing an interview. I was thrilled to say the least.
Plans were made, the interview was taken and is to be aired on friday, the 22nd of July. The program is E-XTRA showing @ 12.30pm on NTA Network...You can also catch a repeat @ 1.00AM on NTA International on DSTV.
Till then you can view screen shots of the interview by following this link http://m.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10150703271525371&id=544710370&refid=17&_ft_a=544710370&_ft_tf=10150703271525371&_ft_tpi=544710370&_ft_ti=7&_ft_fth=1e78207b5056bcc7&_ft_time_ft=1311032930
As I post this I am humbled and so in awe of God at work in my life. He RULES, by the way. Literally. And yes, I'm excited...so much so that the interview is yet to be aired and I'm thinking to myself "Is that me on the big screen?" (Forgive me, first timer's effect) Lol X_x
As some of you know, (well now u know anyway) I own and run a fashion line, AYABA, so it came as no surprise...actually it did! It was such a huge surprise that it got my stomach doing cartwheels when an entertainment program on TV contacted me about doing an interview. I was thrilled to say the least.
Plans were made, the interview was taken and is to be aired on friday, the 22nd of July. The program is E-XTRA showing @ 12.30pm on NTA Network...You can also catch a repeat @ 1.00AM on NTA International on DSTV.
Till then you can view screen shots of the interview by following this link http://m.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10150703271525371&id=544710370&refid=17&_ft_a=544710370&_ft_tf=10150703271525371&_ft_tpi=544710370&_ft_ti=7&_ft_fth=1e78207b5056bcc7&_ft_time_ft=1311032930
As I post this I am humbled and so in awe of God at work in my life. He RULES, by the way. Literally. And yes, I'm excited...so much so that the interview is yet to be aired and I'm thinking to myself "Is that me on the big screen?" (Forgive me, first timer's effect) Lol X_x
Jul 18, 2011
Much ado about soccer
I hear of how guys like their babes to know a thing or two about soccer and that's all fine and dandy, as long as he doesn't expect me to know more than two things. You see try as I might, I've never been big on sports. Oh sometimes I could watch basketball...the way the players prance around the court, hot as they look, muscles ripping, chest heaving...*wipes sweat*...I could definitely watch basketball!
However, when it comes to soccer, all I see is one fine boy(Theo Walcott), passing the ball to that african guy (Adebayor), and that afin/albino guy if you wish (Scholes) intercepting it and passing the ball on to Rooney (yes I know Rooney...gimme some credit people) who takes a shot at the net and hey...GOAL BALL!!! I'm sorry I could never keep track of all the names and faces. I think am an Arsenal fan though. Atleast my last boyfriend was an Arsenal fan *shrugs*.
Anyway back to the field, soccer gets tiring at times. But you wanna know when it doesn't. Whenever Nigeria is playing. Boy, don't try me! I turn football expert, commentator, analyst and critic all at once (Oh yes..I threw a tantrum during that whole "Kaita" saga). I get REALLY passionate whenever Nigeria is on the field...I'm patriotic like that :D
The only other times football wasn't boring? The last two episodes of Fun Turf Soccer Fiesta. I guess it had something to do with the fact that the players were of my age range (not all them granddads claiming football ages...we see you Yakubu). The events organized by the Tactics IQ team were a fusion of football, people, fun and food and boy was it a great time!
There was always something interesting happening. If the Beatfm team were not losing; Seyitan, Jola and Debola were taking penalty shots; Mofe and Mr. Faf were fooling around with the mic; we (Tayo and I) were getting barbeque, gisting with friends, having a laugh at some peoples' dress senses; introducing ourselves to some of our twitfam who were in attendance; shuffling to the music or just trying to/not to give that cute guy eye contact. Whichever the case, the last two soccer fiestas organised by the Tactics IQ team were off the chain and with #TIQSF (Tactics IQ Soccer Fiesta) Season 3 coming up on August 6th...me ayaff kukuma go and buy my parry dress...(more like I've made my outfit...AYABA's gonna be in the house..whoop whoop!).
So people clear your calenders, the date is August 6th 2011; the day is Saturday; the Event is Tactics IQ Soccer Fiesta; the Venue is the newly refurbished, state of the art Campos Mini Stadium (on Catholic Mission Street Lagos Island); the time is 12pm, the fee is N2000 and the whole package promises to be ON POINT!!!
So whether you're there to cheer on your favourite team, set summer P, cop some AYABA items, or just ogle the fine boys like I do...It's #TIQSF baby!!!
However, when it comes to soccer, all I see is one fine boy(Theo Walcott), passing the ball to that african guy (Adebayor), and that afin/albino guy if you wish (Scholes) intercepting it and passing the ball on to Rooney (yes I know Rooney...gimme some credit people) who takes a shot at the net and hey...GOAL BALL!!! I'm sorry I could never keep track of all the names and faces. I think am an Arsenal fan though. Atleast my last boyfriend was an Arsenal fan *shrugs*.
Anyway back to the field, soccer gets tiring at times. But you wanna know when it doesn't. Whenever Nigeria is playing. Boy, don't try me! I turn football expert, commentator, analyst and critic all at once (Oh yes..I threw a tantrum during that whole "Kaita" saga). I get REALLY passionate whenever Nigeria is on the field...I'm patriotic like that :D
The only other times football wasn't boring? The last two episodes of Fun Turf Soccer Fiesta. I guess it had something to do with the fact that the players were of my age range (not all them granddads claiming football ages...we see you Yakubu). The events organized by the Tactics IQ team were a fusion of football, people, fun and food and boy was it a great time!
There was always something interesting happening. If the Beatfm team were not losing; Seyitan, Jola and Debola were taking penalty shots; Mofe and Mr. Faf were fooling around with the mic; we (Tayo and I) were getting barbeque, gisting with friends, having a laugh at some peoples' dress senses; introducing ourselves to some of our twitfam who were in attendance; shuffling to the music or just trying to/not to give that cute guy eye contact. Whichever the case, the last two soccer fiestas organised by the Tactics IQ team were off the chain and with #TIQSF (Tactics IQ Soccer Fiesta) Season 3 coming up on August 6th...me ayaff kukuma go and buy my parry dress...(more like I've made my outfit...AYABA's gonna be in the house..whoop whoop!).
So people clear your calenders, the date is August 6th 2011; the day is Saturday; the Event is Tactics IQ Soccer Fiesta; the Venue is the newly refurbished, state of the art Campos Mini Stadium (on Catholic Mission Street Lagos Island); the time is 12pm, the fee is N2000 and the whole package promises to be ON POINT!!!
So whether you're there to cheer on your favourite team, set summer P, cop some AYABA items, or just ogle the fine boys like I do...It's #TIQSF baby!!!
Jul 13, 2011
PART THREE: Bestfriends or Lovers?
Kaine:
There was a great battle in which I fought myself. Rationality vs Irrationality. My head vs My heart. And amidst it all I asked myself this question. If I wasn't in love with Wale, what was I doing beating myself up for?
Oh snap!
I WAS IN LOVE WITH WALE.
And with the realization, a great fear engulfed me.
I wasn't one to chicken out, I had always believed in facing my fears. That was my ready advice to anyone who cared to listen. But it wasn't so easy when the tables were turned. Its one thing "giving out" advice and another "taking it".
Was I to tell Wale how I felt? How was I to begin?.
I sat in front of my mirror, practicing with my reflection.
"Wale there's something I have to tell you...", I began...No, too cliché.
"Wale do you have feelings for me?..." Nah! Too cheesy.
"Ok..here's the deal...I like you. Love you maybe..." Too direct I thought, as I ruled that out aswell.
Sigh.
Boy and Girl Palava.
A passing glance at my watch, and I realized Wale was due to pick me up in 20.
Oops!...I hurried to get ready.
Wale:
(At wale's pad. He's sprawled on the floor playing Fifa 11 while Kaine is sitting flipping through a mag. It had been an unusually quiet evening)
Me: K you ok?
Kaine: errr..sure..why wouldn't I be?
Me: Aii..just checking
I returned to my game which if Kaine had been looking, she would have realized I had since stopped playing.
But she wasn't looking she had refused to look at me all evening. Her face was buried in that boring health mag. That was discouragement enough..I almost faltered..but a guy had to do what a guy had to do.
"Wale", Kaine called at the same time I said "Kaine".
Then followed quiet.
Me: You were saying?
Kaine: No you go first.
And as our eyes jammed we both knew what the other wanted to say.
"When did you know?" I asked. "I guess I'd always known but I was denying it", she replied. You?, she asked. "I was smitten from the very first day", I replied, holding her gaze, more sure of myself now that I knew she felt the same way.
"So what happens now?" Kaine said.
THE END
And I leave the rest to your imagination. What do you guys think happened?
There was a great battle in which I fought myself. Rationality vs Irrationality. My head vs My heart. And amidst it all I asked myself this question. If I wasn't in love with Wale, what was I doing beating myself up for?
Oh snap!
I WAS IN LOVE WITH WALE.
And with the realization, a great fear engulfed me.
I wasn't one to chicken out, I had always believed in facing my fears. That was my ready advice to anyone who cared to listen. But it wasn't so easy when the tables were turned. Its one thing "giving out" advice and another "taking it".
Was I to tell Wale how I felt? How was I to begin?.
I sat in front of my mirror, practicing with my reflection.
"Wale there's something I have to tell you...", I began...No, too cliché.
"Wale do you have feelings for me?..." Nah! Too cheesy.
"Ok..here's the deal...I like you. Love you maybe..." Too direct I thought, as I ruled that out aswell.
Sigh.
Boy and Girl Palava.
A passing glance at my watch, and I realized Wale was due to pick me up in 20.
Oops!...I hurried to get ready.
Wale:
(At wale's pad. He's sprawled on the floor playing Fifa 11 while Kaine is sitting flipping through a mag. It had been an unusually quiet evening)
Me: K you ok?
Kaine: errr..sure..why wouldn't I be?
Me: Aii..just checking
I returned to my game which if Kaine had been looking, she would have realized I had since stopped playing.
But she wasn't looking she had refused to look at me all evening. Her face was buried in that boring health mag. That was discouragement enough..I almost faltered..but a guy had to do what a guy had to do.
"Wale", Kaine called at the same time I said "Kaine".
Then followed quiet.
Me: You were saying?
Kaine: No you go first.
And as our eyes jammed we both knew what the other wanted to say.
"When did you know?" I asked. "I guess I'd always known but I was denying it", she replied. You?, she asked. "I was smitten from the very first day", I replied, holding her gaze, more sure of myself now that I knew she felt the same way.
"So what happens now?" Kaine said.
THE END
And I leave the rest to your imagination. What do you guys think happened?
Jun 12, 2011
PART TWO: Wale's Monologue
And there I sat listening as Kaine went all chatty-chatty about her good fortune with a smile on my face.
"Oh dear, I've done it again. I've let my mouth run off. Aii luv, u should get back to work now", Kaine said.
I was about to brush off her concern and urge her to keep on talking when Tola, my colleague walked in.
"I'd call you once I'm done. Bye baby", I reluctantly brought the call to an end.
"You can wipe that smile off your face lover boy", Tola said as he dropped a folder on my desk and whistled out the office.
I hadn't even realized I was smiling. But as usual, Kaine made me smile.
Talkative yet sweet; Stubborn yet wise. She had all the qualities a guy would want in his woman.
All the qualities I wanted in a woman.
I wanted Kaine.
I had wanted her from the very first time I set eyes on her.
She had this magnetic quality about her.
To know her was to love her.
And love her, I did. Though she had no idea. Any form of love I expressed to her was taken to be platonic. To her I was her best friend. Her guy. She once told me I was like a big brother to her...I almost choked on my drink. If only she had known the thoughts that filled my head even as we spoke. Big brother my ass!
That was back then when she was with that Subomi. How I hated his guts...Mr. Smooth Talker. But she'd never have guessed..I was a real sport about their relationship. Giving her advice on how to deal with her man issues. Ever so supportive even when it killed me to be.
And now? I was right there torn between telling her how I felt and risk loosing our friendship or keeping my feelings to myself and never finding out if they were mutual. Tough place to be in especially for a best friend figure who had kept his feelings well hidden for two years. And trust me that wasn't an easy feat especially as I had no inkling as to how she felt about me. It had been a trying two years. Sometimes I just wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled and scream "Can't you see this guy is head-over-heels, socks inside-out in love", and then gather her up in my arms and kiss her till she was out of breath!
I had to tell her how I felt. I had waited long enough and Heaven forbid that another guy take her from me while I was yet dulling..being the best friend while I could be both best friend and boyfriend.
Yes...I had to tell her. The sooner the better too. What was the worst that could happen? She would brush it off as a joke and I'd take whatever I'm served. At least I'd know I gave it a shot and it just wasn't meant to be.
Tomorrow I'd tell her, I resolved.
Haven made a decision, I felt as if a weight had been lifted off my chest. I opened the folder Tola had brought in and as I looked down at my note pad I saw a "chicken scratch-like" doodle spelling "K-A-I-N-E"...and I burst out laughing at myself.
"Dooood...you are way in over your head!" I said aloud, shaking my head and getting to work.
"Oh dear, I've done it again. I've let my mouth run off. Aii luv, u should get back to work now", Kaine said.
I was about to brush off her concern and urge her to keep on talking when Tola, my colleague walked in.
"I'd call you once I'm done. Bye baby", I reluctantly brought the call to an end.
"You can wipe that smile off your face lover boy", Tola said as he dropped a folder on my desk and whistled out the office.
I hadn't even realized I was smiling. But as usual, Kaine made me smile.
Talkative yet sweet; Stubborn yet wise. She had all the qualities a guy would want in his woman.
All the qualities I wanted in a woman.
I wanted Kaine.
I had wanted her from the very first time I set eyes on her.
She had this magnetic quality about her.
To know her was to love her.
And love her, I did. Though she had no idea. Any form of love I expressed to her was taken to be platonic. To her I was her best friend. Her guy. She once told me I was like a big brother to her...I almost choked on my drink. If only she had known the thoughts that filled my head even as we spoke. Big brother my ass!
That was back then when she was with that Subomi. How I hated his guts...Mr. Smooth Talker. But she'd never have guessed..I was a real sport about their relationship. Giving her advice on how to deal with her man issues. Ever so supportive even when it killed me to be.
And now? I was right there torn between telling her how I felt and risk loosing our friendship or keeping my feelings to myself and never finding out if they were mutual. Tough place to be in especially for a best friend figure who had kept his feelings well hidden for two years. And trust me that wasn't an easy feat especially as I had no inkling as to how she felt about me. It had been a trying two years. Sometimes I just wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled and scream "Can't you see this guy is head-over-heels, socks inside-out in love", and then gather her up in my arms and kiss her till she was out of breath!
I had to tell her how I felt. I had waited long enough and Heaven forbid that another guy take her from me while I was yet dulling..being the best friend while I could be both best friend and boyfriend.
Yes...I had to tell her. The sooner the better too. What was the worst that could happen? She would brush it off as a joke and I'd take whatever I'm served. At least I'd know I gave it a shot and it just wasn't meant to be.
Tomorrow I'd tell her, I resolved.
Haven made a decision, I felt as if a weight had been lifted off my chest. I opened the folder Tola had brought in and as I looked down at my note pad I saw a "chicken scratch-like" doodle spelling "K-A-I-N-E"...and I burst out laughing at myself.
"Dooood...you are way in over your head!" I said aloud, shaking my head and getting to work.
Jun 1, 2011
PART ONE: Just Friends
"Hey sweetie, guess what?"
I excitedly typed into my blackberry, still in my high horses at being chosen to partake in an event I'd been pining for, for the past three weeks.
Wale: Hi lover.
What? Lightening struck and as your life flashed before you and you realized I was your one true love? ;)
Me: Oh please, take another guess.
Wale: As you were dozing off mid-lecture, it was revealed to you to propose to me before midnight or your ass will get smaller?
Me: Lol..silly nilly.
Ooooo..Wale be serious jo
Wale: But I am baby, I am.
I sigh and repeatedly roll my eyes at his semi_flirty_jokes.
Wale: Ok..Ok..I've run out of good guesses. Tell me.
Me: So I received a text message 30 minutes ago saying that I'd been invited to partake....
ON AND ON I TYPED. This was going to be a long one.
Suddenly I was interrupted by Yemi Alade belting out.."leave me alone..fimisile..I just wanna party..fimisile..you've been here a while..." as my phone rang.
I cut her off mid-falsetto.
"Wale, I was replying u already, u didn't have to call",
I said on picking the call.
Wale's baritone voice caressed my eardrums. "I know of your excruciating love for details, I couldn't wait that long. So spill. What's got lil miss prudy pants all excited?", He replied.
"I was invited to co-host The Love Me Project. Can u imagine!!! Me! The message was so random I didn't know what to make of it.....", I excitedly began to explain.
And there Wale sat listening to me going all chatty-chatty about my good fortune.
"Oh dear, I've done it again. I've let my mouth run off. Aii luv, u should get back to work now", I reluctantly said, catching myself.
"I'd call you once I'm done. Bye baby" He replied and Click went the phone as the call was disconnected.
Call duration: 12:43sec.
Had I really been talking for that long? I shrugged. After all it was Wale. The whole world and their neighbor knew we spent forever talking on the phone anyway.
Claire who had been right beside me all along threw me an "oh_please_you_and_Wale_get_together_already" look.
I was VERY FAMILIAR with this look.
"What?" I asked defensively. "I was just telling him my good news."
"Of course you were darling", she all too sweetly replied.
They just didn't get how Wale and I could remain "just friends" for all of two years.
"Come on," my friends would tease me, "can you honestly say you feel nothing for him?"
"All the hours spent in each others' company and you've never kissed?" One will ask.
"You weren't jealous of his ex while they were together?" Another will chime in.
"And all the ‘darling_hunnie_sugarplums’ mean nothing? A fourth will ask.
As I adamantly respond negatively to all the questions thrown my way.
"And what about him?" My sister'd ask. "He's never tried to….you know?", giving me a pointed look.
"He kinda did when we first met, but you know I was with Uche at the time so it was a No-No, and besides we've since fallen into a friendship that works fine for both of us...So..." I let my words hang unfinished in the air.
And to my mum, "He's my best friend" I'd say, as she smiles knowingly in return.
Why was it that nobody wanted to believe there was nothing going on between Wale and I? WE ARE JUST FRIENDS, I'm tempted to scream at all the disbelieving eyes staring back at me.
"But why are you trying so hard to convince everyone" a gentle voice called out.
I'd never heard this voice before but I immediately recognized it as my conscience. The voice I'd always relegated to obscurity in "Wale-related" matters.
Weren't you a basket case that week that you had a fight and didn't speak to each other?
Doesn't your face light up when you receive his calls or messages?
Didn't it light up just now?
Weren't you jealous when he almost dated that Barbara chic that hated your guts?
Didn't you say to me on saturday at the movies when his arm hung lazily around your shoulders, how you'd have given anything for him to lean over and kiss you right then?
Why do you share a favorite song?
And all of songs, Michael Buble's The More I See You?
Why do u get so shy and take your eyes away when he throws you that smothering gaze that makes you warm all over?
WHY???
I excitedly typed into my blackberry, still in my high horses at being chosen to partake in an event I'd been pining for, for the past three weeks.
Wale: Hi lover.
What? Lightening struck and as your life flashed before you and you realized I was your one true love? ;)
Me: Oh please, take another guess.
Wale: As you were dozing off mid-lecture, it was revealed to you to propose to me before midnight or your ass will get smaller?
Me: Lol..silly nilly.
Ooooo..Wale be serious jo
Wale: But I am baby, I am.
I sigh and repeatedly roll my eyes at his semi_flirty_jokes.
Wale: Ok..Ok..I've run out of good guesses. Tell me.
Me: So I received a text message 30 minutes ago saying that I'd been invited to partake....
ON AND ON I TYPED. This was going to be a long one.
Suddenly I was interrupted by Yemi Alade belting out.."leave me alone..fimisile..I just wanna party..fimisile..you've been here a while..." as my phone rang.
I cut her off mid-falsetto.
"Wale, I was replying u already, u didn't have to call",
I said on picking the call.
Wale's baritone voice caressed my eardrums. "I know of your excruciating love for details, I couldn't wait that long. So spill. What's got lil miss prudy pants all excited?", He replied.
"I was invited to co-host The Love Me Project. Can u imagine!!! Me! The message was so random I didn't know what to make of it.....", I excitedly began to explain.
And there Wale sat listening to me going all chatty-chatty about my good fortune.
"Oh dear, I've done it again. I've let my mouth run off. Aii luv, u should get back to work now", I reluctantly said, catching myself.
"I'd call you once I'm done. Bye baby" He replied and Click went the phone as the call was disconnected.
Call duration: 12:43sec.
Had I really been talking for that long? I shrugged. After all it was Wale. The whole world and their neighbor knew we spent forever talking on the phone anyway.
Claire who had been right beside me all along threw me an "oh_please_you_and_Wale_get_together_already" look.
I was VERY FAMILIAR with this look.
"What?" I asked defensively. "I was just telling him my good news."
"Of course you were darling", she all too sweetly replied.
They just didn't get how Wale and I could remain "just friends" for all of two years.
"Come on," my friends would tease me, "can you honestly say you feel nothing for him?"
"All the hours spent in each others' company and you've never kissed?" One will ask.
"You weren't jealous of his ex while they were together?" Another will chime in.
"And all the ‘darling_hunnie_sugarplums’ mean nothing? A fourth will ask.
As I adamantly respond negatively to all the questions thrown my way.
"And what about him?" My sister'd ask. "He's never tried to….you know?", giving me a pointed look.
"He kinda did when we first met, but you know I was with Uche at the time so it was a No-No, and besides we've since fallen into a friendship that works fine for both of us...So..." I let my words hang unfinished in the air.
And to my mum, "He's my best friend" I'd say, as she smiles knowingly in return.
Why was it that nobody wanted to believe there was nothing going on between Wale and I? WE ARE JUST FRIENDS, I'm tempted to scream at all the disbelieving eyes staring back at me.
"But why are you trying so hard to convince everyone" a gentle voice called out.
I'd never heard this voice before but I immediately recognized it as my conscience. The voice I'd always relegated to obscurity in "Wale-related" matters.
Weren't you a basket case that week that you had a fight and didn't speak to each other?
Doesn't your face light up when you receive his calls or messages?
Didn't it light up just now?
Weren't you jealous when he almost dated that Barbara chic that hated your guts?
Didn't you say to me on saturday at the movies when his arm hung lazily around your shoulders, how you'd have given anything for him to lean over and kiss you right then?
Why do you share a favorite song?
And all of songs, Michael Buble's The More I See You?
Why do u get so shy and take your eyes away when he throws you that smothering gaze that makes you warm all over?
WHY???
May 13, 2011
Of Women and Cheating
As the world embraces the need for literacy, women worldwide are calling for equal rights as men.
If a man can fly a plane, so can a lady.
Where there’s Super Eagles, there’s Super Falcons winning trophies
Where there’s a male presidential candidate, there’s a female equally giving it a shot
So if there are men that cheat, it only follows that there are women that cheat...after all what a man can do, a woman can do better...right? RIGHT?!!!
While I cannot say that women cheat more or better than guys (is it even a competition?)...the fact remains that a percentage of them cheat.
Why so? You might ask?
Well just as I did in my last post “Of men and cheating”, I asked three ladies the simple question Why Do Women Cheat? Here’s what they had to say.
Girl #1
In my opinion, I believe babes cheat simply because they want the best of both worlds, just like men do. A woman wants (and in most cases needs) stability in her life, so yeah she'll have a boyfriend. On the other hand, some women love all the attention that comes with flirting with another guy. You know that feeling of being "wanted" by someone else...maybe seeing two guys at the same time makes them feel like a bad babe..some say its for security. (You must have heard of assistant boyfriends). It doesn't mean they don't love their boyfriends, most of them believe its harmless fun, I mean guys do it so why the fuss when a babe does the same.. We all know its a man's world out there so I won't dwell on this. Another factor is money. As a girl you have a man that is working hard for his money and provides for you to the best of his ability but because you want to "keep up with the Jones", you have an affair with another guy, who showers you with cash, in most cases a married man aka Aristo aka Sugardaddy aka Helper aka Uncle or whatever girls call them these days.
~ Tayo Olaofe (@temitee14)
Girl #2
Mind trip: I personally define this as the conversations in your head that spur you on to act!
I'll look at cheating from two angles;
-- Nymphomania
Let me just state here that a nympho, IMO (in my opinion) has a case of "overdosed mind trip sessions"
Susan is a nympho the only conversations she has in her head is lying to herself that sex is wht keeps her alive. Susan has a boy friend, Tobi, who has an average sexual libido and therefore can't keep up with her. She is aware that she exhibits excessive sexual desire and behaviour and has told Tobi about this but he would NOT try to help so Susan cheats on Tobi with other men.
Which leads me to the "Ex-Factors aka Okafor's Law
-- Still in sex with my ex
Apart from the obvious reason that home girl is still hung up on her ex emotionally or atleast physically, the okafor's law for (full explanation see thetoolsman's blog) basically postulates that "the seduced will always go back to the seducer, even despite the fact that he/she is in another relationship. Now why would anyone think they could get away with/hide such trysts from a new partner? Is it that blinded by the thrill or danger of the illicit affair, the seduced believes they are invisible...possibly! But I think it is often times a case of self deception and placing false importance in what you and your ex had going on brought on by too many conversations with ones self.
The mind is a special place, always analyzing and arguing with itself, this case its analyzing and comparing sex with current boyfriend and ex-boyfriend..
~ Sophia Ike-onu (@Kechilauren)
Girl #3:
The ones you love are the ones who hurt you the most and vice versa.
Some girls who cheat do it because their partners have hurt them in some way and the most likely way to get back at them is to cheat. In such cases cheating is synonymous with getting even. Then again some cheat out of defiance, rebellion or to maintain a modicum and shred of independence. Some girls who are in-over-their-heads in abusive relationships or overly suspicious boyfriends do it out of the mind set of "whether I cheat or not, he will abuse me so I might as well do something to deserve what I am getting" or just to have a part of them no matter how tiny, immune to the influence of the guys over their lives.
~ Moyo Larmie (@larmoy)
Ayaba Says:
The workings of a woman's mind is very complex and it is this that influences her actions. A lady can cheat for a number of reasons ranging from the need to validate her sexuality/womanhood (more rampant with married women), to gullibility or fallling out of love with her current partner. What do you know, it might even be induced by emotional abuse such as rape and battery. However for what ever reason, the one thing that I and all the contributors strongly agree on is that CHEATING IS WRONG. There is always a way around things. You crave someone constanting at your beck and call? Get a dog!, Your partner no longer makes you happy? End the relationship and start off with someone who does.
Be brave..be innovative and seek other less hurtful and degrading options!
xxx
If a man can fly a plane, so can a lady.
Where there’s Super Eagles, there’s Super Falcons winning trophies
Where there’s a male presidential candidate, there’s a female equally giving it a shot
So if there are men that cheat, it only follows that there are women that cheat...after all what a man can do, a woman can do better...right? RIGHT?!!!
While I cannot say that women cheat more or better than guys (is it even a competition?)...the fact remains that a percentage of them cheat.
Why so? You might ask?
Well just as I did in my last post “Of men and cheating”, I asked three ladies the simple question Why Do Women Cheat? Here’s what they had to say.
Girl #1
In my opinion, I believe babes cheat simply because they want the best of both worlds, just like men do. A woman wants (and in most cases needs) stability in her life, so yeah she'll have a boyfriend. On the other hand, some women love all the attention that comes with flirting with another guy. You know that feeling of being "wanted" by someone else...maybe seeing two guys at the same time makes them feel like a bad babe..some say its for security. (You must have heard of assistant boyfriends). It doesn't mean they don't love their boyfriends, most of them believe its harmless fun, I mean guys do it so why the fuss when a babe does the same.. We all know its a man's world out there so I won't dwell on this. Another factor is money. As a girl you have a man that is working hard for his money and provides for you to the best of his ability but because you want to "keep up with the Jones", you have an affair with another guy, who showers you with cash, in most cases a married man aka Aristo aka Sugardaddy aka Helper aka Uncle or whatever girls call them these days.
~ Tayo Olaofe (@temitee14)
Girl #2
Mind trip: I personally define this as the conversations in your head that spur you on to act!
I'll look at cheating from two angles;
-- Nymphomania
Let me just state here that a nympho, IMO (in my opinion) has a case of "overdosed mind trip sessions"
Susan is a nympho the only conversations she has in her head is lying to herself that sex is wht keeps her alive. Susan has a boy friend, Tobi, who has an average sexual libido and therefore can't keep up with her. She is aware that she exhibits excessive sexual desire and behaviour and has told Tobi about this but he would NOT try to help so Susan cheats on Tobi with other men.
Which leads me to the "Ex-Factors aka Okafor's Law
-- Still in sex with my ex
Apart from the obvious reason that home girl is still hung up on her ex emotionally or atleast physically, the okafor's law for (full explanation see thetoolsman's blog) basically postulates that "the seduced will always go back to the seducer, even despite the fact that he/she is in another relationship. Now why would anyone think they could get away with/hide such trysts from a new partner? Is it that blinded by the thrill or danger of the illicit affair, the seduced believes they are invisible...possibly! But I think it is often times a case of self deception and placing false importance in what you and your ex had going on brought on by too many conversations with ones self.
The mind is a special place, always analyzing and arguing with itself, this case its analyzing and comparing sex with current boyfriend and ex-boyfriend..
~ Sophia Ike-onu (@Kechilauren)
Girl #3:
The ones you love are the ones who hurt you the most and vice versa.
Some girls who cheat do it because their partners have hurt them in some way and the most likely way to get back at them is to cheat. In such cases cheating is synonymous with getting even. Then again some cheat out of defiance, rebellion or to maintain a modicum and shred of independence. Some girls who are in-over-their-heads in abusive relationships or overly suspicious boyfriends do it out of the mind set of "whether I cheat or not, he will abuse me so I might as well do something to deserve what I am getting" or just to have a part of them no matter how tiny, immune to the influence of the guys over their lives.
~ Moyo Larmie (@larmoy)
Ayaba Says:
The workings of a woman's mind is very complex and it is this that influences her actions. A lady can cheat for a number of reasons ranging from the need to validate her sexuality/womanhood (more rampant with married women), to gullibility or fallling out of love with her current partner. What do you know, it might even be induced by emotional abuse such as rape and battery. However for what ever reason, the one thing that I and all the contributors strongly agree on is that CHEATING IS WRONG. There is always a way around things. You crave someone constanting at your beck and call? Get a dog!, Your partner no longer makes you happy? End the relationship and start off with someone who does.
Be brave..be innovative and seek other less hurtful and degrading options!
xxx
Apr 25, 2011
Of Men and Cheating
Ever so often I hear new assumptions about the male folk. Here are some of the popular ones.
#1 Though, they act all macho, inside they are such big babies.
#2 They are a fiercely jealous bunch.
#3 If he takes time off his game to call you, he loves you.
#4 The way to a man's heart is through his stomach.
#5 All men cheat!
Now about that. Do all men really cheat? Or like every rule, are there exceptions? And why at all, do guys cheat?
To help us understand this long standing "norm", I asked 4 guys the simple question...Why Do Guys Cheat? Here's what they had to say.
Guy #1:
Please understand that I'm not justifying any of the reasons I am about to mention/elaborate on but in my opinion if I'm gonna cheat it's gonna be in line with any of the following reasons:
1. The "sex" issue:
This is quite simple, if I'm not getting it from my girlfriend then I'm probably gonna get it elsewhere.
2. Hot Babe:
So if I'm getting it from my girlfriend who I truly and completely love then why would I cheat still? Because the babe I'm cheating with is a complete hottie and I couldn't pass up the opportunity. Sometimes we just can't resist adding that hot babe to the resume, especially if she's on the list of the ones that got away.
3. Moment of weakness:
Every man has that moment of weakness, this may be alcohol induced, hormone induced, environment induced (it may be raining outside) etc. At this point, he would not ordinarily cheat but the circumstances just stack the odds against him.
~Timi Adesanya(@TweetTimi)
Guy #2:
Guys cheat because girls expect them to cheat. Given, there's peer pressure from other guys everytime we share a beer(usually more than a beer), and we take turns to brag about our sexual escapades and conquests to (re)assert our masculinity. The question "why do guys cheat?" on every girls' mind/lips presupposes that 'all' guys cheat! Say there exists this group of guys who don't cheat; but for the fear of being perceived as "lesser guys" by virtue of their non-cheating ability, seeing as girls fully associate "guys" with "cheating"- are then subconsciously driven to engage in cheating for the sole purpose of validating the girls' pre-conceived notion!
~Niyi, 24 (Pragmatic)
Guy #3:
In my days in Unilag, even if i had a girlfriend I might still have cheated because it was the “cool” thing to do. Being a club boy wasn’t just by mouth you had to be a ladies man. By the way,there are too many hot babes around who throw themselves at club guys knowing they've been around (women should share some of the blame because saying NO shouldn't be that difficult).Sometimes, we cheat just because we want to forget any excuses. Besides, guys had to have something to discuss with their friends, so they make sure it aint just all mouth but ACTION. Oh by the way, we have two heads,aint easy controlling the two of em at once.(JK).Most of us just have sex,nothing attached to these things, but to call a spade what it is...it is cheating.
(FYI I have a girlfriend I love and I'd never cheat on.)
~Dare Aliu (@dreeee1)
Guy #4:
Meet Ebuka..he's 35...young, accomplished and married. Infact he's got a 2yr old daughter. He provides for his family to the best of his ability. Simply put he's quite well off. He loves his wife. Heck..he chose to settle down with her didn't he? Of course he loves her. So why does he cheat? Simple~ Because he can. He's used to his wild ways and adjusting to monogamy isn't as easy as it seems. He still hangouts on the occasional friday night with friends and he sees all sorta endowed ladies ready to jump at the offer of a roll in the sack. Why not? All I said was that he was married, nobody said anything about him being a saint. So he'd have the occasional fling. No strings attached of course. And he'd give the young girl 25k for cab and that's goodbye. He buys his wife an expensive bracelet to rid himself of the guilt. He swears he loves her. But a little fun doesn't hurt, does it?
~ Folarin Rowland (Happily Married)
So there people now you know what's on the mind of the average guy that cheats which #IMO (in my opinion) doesn't justify cheating on the guy's part or the girl's (don't even let me start on that)...its wrong and selfish...#DearFutureBoyfriend IT ISN'T EVEN AN OPTION!
I'd love to hear your views, do comment below.
(Ps:The contributors are merely proferring reasons to why guys in certain situations cheat, their responses do not necessarily apply to themselves.)
#1 Though, they act all macho, inside they are such big babies.
#2 They are a fiercely jealous bunch.
#3 If he takes time off his game to call you, he loves you.
#4 The way to a man's heart is through his stomach.
#5 All men cheat!
Now about that. Do all men really cheat? Or like every rule, are there exceptions? And why at all, do guys cheat?
To help us understand this long standing "norm", I asked 4 guys the simple question...Why Do Guys Cheat? Here's what they had to say.
Guy #1:
Please understand that I'm not justifying any of the reasons I am about to mention/elaborate on but in my opinion if I'm gonna cheat it's gonna be in line with any of the following reasons:
1. The "sex" issue:
This is quite simple, if I'm not getting it from my girlfriend then I'm probably gonna get it elsewhere.
2. Hot Babe:
So if I'm getting it from my girlfriend who I truly and completely love then why would I cheat still? Because the babe I'm cheating with is a complete hottie and I couldn't pass up the opportunity. Sometimes we just can't resist adding that hot babe to the resume, especially if she's on the list of the ones that got away.
3. Moment of weakness:
Every man has that moment of weakness, this may be alcohol induced, hormone induced, environment induced (it may be raining outside) etc. At this point, he would not ordinarily cheat but the circumstances just stack the odds against him.
~Timi Adesanya(@TweetTimi)
Guy #2:
Guys cheat because girls expect them to cheat. Given, there's peer pressure from other guys everytime we share a beer(usually more than a beer), and we take turns to brag about our sexual escapades and conquests to (re)assert our masculinity. The question "why do guys cheat?" on every girls' mind/lips presupposes that 'all' guys cheat! Say there exists this group of guys who don't cheat; but for the fear of being perceived as "lesser guys" by virtue of their non-cheating ability, seeing as girls fully associate "guys" with "cheating"- are then subconsciously driven to engage in cheating for the sole purpose of validating the girls' pre-conceived notion!
~Niyi, 24 (Pragmatic)
Guy #3:
In my days in Unilag, even if i had a girlfriend I might still have cheated because it was the “cool” thing to do. Being a club boy wasn’t just by mouth you had to be a ladies man. By the way,there are too many hot babes around who throw themselves at club guys knowing they've been around (women should share some of the blame because saying NO shouldn't be that difficult).Sometimes, we cheat just because we want to forget any excuses. Besides, guys had to have something to discuss with their friends, so they make sure it aint just all mouth but ACTION. Oh by the way, we have two heads,aint easy controlling the two of em at once.(JK).Most of us just have sex,nothing attached to these things, but to call a spade what it is...it is cheating.
(FYI I have a girlfriend I love and I'd never cheat on.)
~Dare Aliu (@dreeee1)
Guy #4:
Meet Ebuka..he's 35...young, accomplished and married. Infact he's got a 2yr old daughter. He provides for his family to the best of his ability. Simply put he's quite well off. He loves his wife. Heck..he chose to settle down with her didn't he? Of course he loves her. So why does he cheat? Simple~ Because he can. He's used to his wild ways and adjusting to monogamy isn't as easy as it seems. He still hangouts on the occasional friday night with friends and he sees all sorta endowed ladies ready to jump at the offer of a roll in the sack. Why not? All I said was that he was married, nobody said anything about him being a saint. So he'd have the occasional fling. No strings attached of course. And he'd give the young girl 25k for cab and that's goodbye. He buys his wife an expensive bracelet to rid himself of the guilt. He swears he loves her. But a little fun doesn't hurt, does it?
~ Folarin Rowland (Happily Married)
So there people now you know what's on the mind of the average guy that cheats which #IMO (in my opinion) doesn't justify cheating on the guy's part or the girl's (don't even let me start on that)...its wrong and selfish...#DearFutureBoyfriend IT ISN'T EVEN AN OPTION!
I'd love to hear your views, do comment below.
(Ps:The contributors are merely proferring reasons to why guys in certain situations cheat, their responses do not necessarily apply to themselves.)
Apr 14, 2011
Slow Down: (D)anger Ahead
One fine morning, a young girl had just received an sms, and on opening it, discovered that a friend had topped up her phone with credit. What a beautiful surprise it was! To think she was yet to call her favorite uncle to wish him a happy birthday but for lack of credit.
Immediately she dialed her uncle's number and on picking up, he was full of joy. All pleasantries over, on and on he went, asking all sorta unrelated questions. You see he hadn't spoken to his niece in a while and wanted to catch up on all he had missed. She appreciated the concern but she sure hadn't anticipated this. To spend so long on the phone call. Several times, she tried to bring the conversation to an end but to no avail. He was relentless. This was getting annoying. He knew she was a student, the least she expected was for him to be considerate of her credit. Haba! Or should I end the call abruptly and pretend the service went off?, she thought to herself. But her conscience wouldn't allow her. This was an uncle who had "raised" her on several occasions when she was broke. She felt uncomfortable cutting him mid-sentence.
Sighing in resignation, she laboriously answered all the questions and asked a few of her own for formality sakes. Big mistake. A question on how his work was going, translated into a long and detailed explanation on the intricacies of his job. What a jerk! She thought. After what felt like an hour, he finally brought the conversation to an end. By this time, the girl was outrightly furious, as she hurriedly rushed him off the phone. She hadn't even thanked the person who sent her the credit, she fumed, and snapped "Bye uncle", as she cut him off.
Whew!
Call duration 10:36.
I hope I still have some credit left, she thought, rolling her eyes as she dialed *556# to check her credit balance.
"MtnPayGolBal: N1500.00", it said. Her credit was still intact. This was beyond amazing!
"Does it mean I wasn't being charged for that call all along? Ope O!" She exclaimed excitedly.
Finally she could call Bukunmi to thank him for the credit.
On going through her call log she discovered something that would have made her red with embarrassment had she been white.
All the time she had been upset with her uncle and he had been the one that had called her!
Apparently, when she called, he cut her off and called her back, but it happened within so short a while that she hadn't realized especially as her phone was permanently on silent and she wasn't looking at the screen.
No wonder he had spoken for so long!
As she was still pondering over this revelation, consumed with shame, she received another sms.
This time it was to inform her that her uncle who minutes ago she had called a jerk, had sent N3000 worth of credit to her.
This was too much.
Never had she felt so awful, mortified and embarrassed all at once.
As she called her uncle to thank him, he ended the call and called her back right away, telling her she needn't waste her credit on him.
She got off that phone call with a heavy heart.
Who was the jerk after all?
Me.
That girl was me minutes ago.
And here I am on Shame avenue off Anger road.
I learnt a big lesson today.
TO BE SLOW TO ANGER.
Sometimes things aren't what they seem. Its a process...but I'm pretty sure I shall be remembering this day when next I'm about to hit boiling point.
xxx
Immediately she dialed her uncle's number and on picking up, he was full of joy. All pleasantries over, on and on he went, asking all sorta unrelated questions. You see he hadn't spoken to his niece in a while and wanted to catch up on all he had missed. She appreciated the concern but she sure hadn't anticipated this. To spend so long on the phone call. Several times, she tried to bring the conversation to an end but to no avail. He was relentless. This was getting annoying. He knew she was a student, the least she expected was for him to be considerate of her credit. Haba! Or should I end the call abruptly and pretend the service went off?, she thought to herself. But her conscience wouldn't allow her. This was an uncle who had "raised" her on several occasions when she was broke. She felt uncomfortable cutting him mid-sentence.
Sighing in resignation, she laboriously answered all the questions and asked a few of her own for formality sakes. Big mistake. A question on how his work was going, translated into a long and detailed explanation on the intricacies of his job. What a jerk! She thought. After what felt like an hour, he finally brought the conversation to an end. By this time, the girl was outrightly furious, as she hurriedly rushed him off the phone. She hadn't even thanked the person who sent her the credit, she fumed, and snapped "Bye uncle", as she cut him off.
Whew!
Call duration 10:36.
I hope I still have some credit left, she thought, rolling her eyes as she dialed *556# to check her credit balance.
"MtnPayGolBal: N1500.00", it said. Her credit was still intact. This was beyond amazing!
"Does it mean I wasn't being charged for that call all along? Ope O!" She exclaimed excitedly.
Finally she could call Bukunmi to thank him for the credit.
On going through her call log she discovered something that would have made her red with embarrassment had she been white.
All the time she had been upset with her uncle and he had been the one that had called her!
Apparently, when she called, he cut her off and called her back, but it happened within so short a while that she hadn't realized especially as her phone was permanently on silent and she wasn't looking at the screen.
No wonder he had spoken for so long!
As she was still pondering over this revelation, consumed with shame, she received another sms.
This time it was to inform her that her uncle who minutes ago she had called a jerk, had sent N3000 worth of credit to her.
This was too much.
Never had she felt so awful, mortified and embarrassed all at once.
As she called her uncle to thank him, he ended the call and called her back right away, telling her she needn't waste her credit on him.
She got off that phone call with a heavy heart.
Who was the jerk after all?
Me.
That girl was me minutes ago.
And here I am on Shame avenue off Anger road.
I learnt a big lesson today.
TO BE SLOW TO ANGER.
Sometimes things aren't what they seem. Its a process...but I'm pretty sure I shall be remembering this day when next I'm about to hit boiling point.
xxx
Apr 9, 2011
One cold lonely night
Its one of those days.
As I type, I have no idea what I'm about to write. I just know in times like this when a lot is on my mind, I like to put my thoughts on paper, in the hope that it would make things clearer.
This time, it doesn't.
Its one of those days.
I have a lot on my mind but I don't know where to begin.
This is going to be a short one.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I guess I have nothing to write after all.
Its one of those days.
Maybe I just need a hug.
A kiss on my temple and nothing more.
Just warm hands holding me through the night.
But we can't always have what we want.
So I'd go get myself a cold cuppa chocolate drink.
I'd say a prayer and go to sleep.
Well I'd try.
And tonight "Schnukie" my torch light shaped pillow will have to do.
Its one of those days.
Or wait? Shouldn't it be "one of those nights"?
*Shrugs*
PS: Here's hoping MTN lets me post this.
As I type, I have no idea what I'm about to write. I just know in times like this when a lot is on my mind, I like to put my thoughts on paper, in the hope that it would make things clearer.
This time, it doesn't.
Its one of those days.
I have a lot on my mind but I don't know where to begin.
This is going to be a short one.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I guess I have nothing to write after all.
Its one of those days.
Maybe I just need a hug.
A kiss on my temple and nothing more.
Just warm hands holding me through the night.
But we can't always have what we want.
So I'd go get myself a cold cuppa chocolate drink.
I'd say a prayer and go to sleep.
Well I'd try.
And tonight "Schnukie" my torch light shaped pillow will have to do.
Its one of those days.
Or wait? Shouldn't it be "one of those nights"?
*Shrugs*
PS: Here's hoping MTN lets me post this.
Apr 6, 2011
Dear Mother
Every other month, I get a broadcast message announcing Mothers' Day and I wonder to myself why the world can't settle on a date to celebrate mothers like they did with lovers. Then I realize how difficult it must be to choose a single day outta 365, sometimes 366 days to appreciate a mother and momentarily I forgive them this annoying habit of forwarding broadcasts. So on this sunny afternoon i take a look at this special classs of women. Mothers.
Dictionary.com defines a mother as a female parent. Bleh! I've always thought their definitions inadequate anyway, so I give my own definition..feel free to quote me.
"A mother is a female who carries a burden for 9months, goes through excruciating pain in labour, and once she's put to birth becomes selfless, putting the concerns of her child ahead of hers all life long".
Put in another way;
She's a Producer- producing breast milk for her baby.
She's a Stylist- dressing you up at age 4 in little frocks and tuxedos.
She's an Alarm clock- waking you up in time for school.
She's a Doctor- nursing you back to health.
She's a Judge- settling disputes between siblings.
She's a Nutritionist- forcing you to eat vegetables when you hate it.
She's a Driver- taking you from place to place.
She's the Chairman of your fan club- rooting for you at the school play.
She's your Confidant- reservoir of your prized information.
She's your Intercessor- taking you to God's presence daily.
My Mum knows a whole lot- you say at age 6.
She's not so nice, she beats me- you say at age 10.
She's annoying- you say at age 14 when she won't let you do certain things.
She's hopelessly old fashioned- you say at age 18.
Maybe she might know a little about things- you say at age 23.
And you can't do without her opinion as you grow older.
She's a goldsmith, molding you into the best you can be.
She's a pilllar, doting on you for the rest of her life.
She's so much more, I couldn't possible put it all down.
She's an all rounder.
Simply put...She's Awesome.
This is dedicated to all mothers and especially to mine, my best friend and rock Mrs. Motilayo
Oladeleoluwa, you're absolutely, definately and totally AWESOME.
Dictionary.com defines a mother as a female parent. Bleh! I've always thought their definitions inadequate anyway, so I give my own definition..feel free to quote me.
"A mother is a female who carries a burden for 9months, goes through excruciating pain in labour, and once she's put to birth becomes selfless, putting the concerns of her child ahead of hers all life long".
Put in another way;
She's a Producer- producing breast milk for her baby.
She's a Stylist- dressing you up at age 4 in little frocks and tuxedos.
She's an Alarm clock- waking you up in time for school.
She's a Doctor- nursing you back to health.
She's a Judge- settling disputes between siblings.
She's a Nutritionist- forcing you to eat vegetables when you hate it.
She's a Driver- taking you from place to place.
She's the Chairman of your fan club- rooting for you at the school play.
She's your Confidant- reservoir of your prized information.
She's your Intercessor- taking you to God's presence daily.
My Mum knows a whole lot- you say at age 6.
She's not so nice, she beats me- you say at age 10.
She's annoying- you say at age 14 when she won't let you do certain things.
She's hopelessly old fashioned- you say at age 18.
Maybe she might know a little about things- you say at age 23.
And you can't do without her opinion as you grow older.
She's a goldsmith, molding you into the best you can be.
She's a pilllar, doting on you for the rest of her life.
She's so much more, I couldn't possible put it all down.
She's an all rounder.
Simply put...She's Awesome.
This is dedicated to all mothers and especially to mine, my best friend and rock Mrs. Motilayo
Oladeleoluwa, you're absolutely, definately and totally AWESOME.
Mar 30, 2011
For lack of words
"NOOOOOOO!!!" I screamed as I flung my phone on the floor on hearing of his passing. My sister sitting in the passenger side of the car turned back in alarm as she asked me what was wrong. I tried to find words but as my mouth opened all that came forth was a weak sob as tears coursed down my cheeks. And down it went. Wetting my top till it was damp. My throat tight as I gasped for breath in between the downpour. How do I tell my best friend. After all my reassurances that "everything will be ok". How do I now be the bearer of bad news. My heart was breaking into little pieces. The little pieces, into littler pieces. "GOD!!!!!" I exclaimed. Careful in my devastation not to ask "why", lest I question God. Though my mind in disobedience was asking this very question, "WHY?". I picked up my phone hoping by some weird chance, I had read wrong, but as I looked at the phone through eyes unclear with tears, "Tomiwa, Ade's mum confirmed he's passed on", stared right back at me. As I read these words over and over again, it was like a hand was squeezing my heart tighter and tighter. And I remember the last time I heard his voice. On my birthday, where my friend, his girlfriend passed me the phone, telling me Ade wanted to wish me happy birthday. Just four days before. And now he's no more. But a cherished memory.
Then came the arduous task. Calling my friend. What do I say exactly. How does one comfort one who had just lost her boyfriend. I didn't know. Someone who minutes ago, before the news was broken to me, I had spoken to. What words could convey the way I felt inside. But the task had to be done. I told myself to be strong. I needed to be strong for my best friend. She needed me to be strong. But as I heard her wrenching cry over the phone, the tears I thought had abated came forth once more. The sounds of our tears comforting one another. I managed a few tearful "I'm sorries", but even to my ears, I knew how lame they sounded. I knew I needed to say more. Say something that would make the pain she was feeling go away. But then, the words wouldn't come. How ironic. Tomiwa who always had the right things to say. But not this time. This time words failed me. This time Tomiwa had no words.
As I stare into space, Adele's "rolling in the deep" playing somewhere in the near distance, there are so many things going through my mind. There are no more tears. Just a hollow in my heart. I feel sorry for my friend. Sorry I can't do anything to make her feel better. Sorry for her unimaginable loss. I'm so sorry. So so sorry. But alas "sorry" doesn't quite cut it.
May God keep us all. Amen
*name changed to Ade for privacy purposes*
Then came the arduous task. Calling my friend. What do I say exactly. How does one comfort one who had just lost her boyfriend. I didn't know. Someone who minutes ago, before the news was broken to me, I had spoken to. What words could convey the way I felt inside. But the task had to be done. I told myself to be strong. I needed to be strong for my best friend. She needed me to be strong. But as I heard her wrenching cry over the phone, the tears I thought had abated came forth once more. The sounds of our tears comforting one another. I managed a few tearful "I'm sorries", but even to my ears, I knew how lame they sounded. I knew I needed to say more. Say something that would make the pain she was feeling go away. But then, the words wouldn't come. How ironic. Tomiwa who always had the right things to say. But not this time. This time words failed me. This time Tomiwa had no words.
As I stare into space, Adele's "rolling in the deep" playing somewhere in the near distance, there are so many things going through my mind. There are no more tears. Just a hollow in my heart. I feel sorry for my friend. Sorry I can't do anything to make her feel better. Sorry for her unimaginable loss. I'm so sorry. So so sorry. But alas "sorry" doesn't quite cut it.
May God keep us all. Amen
*name changed to Ade for privacy purposes*
Mar 22, 2011
5 Ways Twitter has Impacted on the Average Nigerian Youth
1. Keep Youths Informed:
I remember on Independence day last year, when people were tweeting (that's what we call updates on twitter) positive things about Nigeria, I twitted something close to this "Forget CNN, in Nigeria we've got Twitter". Apparently that was a very wrong move as I soon discovered by the amount of people poking fun at me for haven suggested that Twitter was founded by a Nigerian. I remember that day in mortification. Lol. On the contrary, what I had in mind was more in the lines of Twitter being a medium of information dissemination. Not everyone is privy to watch/hear the news as it breaks, for a number of reasons ranging from power outage (thanks to PHCN), to lack of interest in news in general. However with the amount of opinionated youths on Twitter, a large percentage of what we know about happenings around the world is heard first on the social media with people making assertions about the causes of the events and their implications.
2. Increase Political Participation:
Call me ignorant, but I can't carry on a discourse on politics for more than 20minutes, even with you taking reins of the conversation. Ok, I'm sure I'm not that bad, but while I understand the importance of being in the know, especially as regards one's political environment, extended "political debacle" sees the beginnings of a mild headache for me. That was, until I was exposed to politics the Twitter way. On here, seeing your fellow youths passionate about the country and so well versed in politics does something to you. It challenges you. Awakens you to the realization that instead of complaining about the powers that be, you can contribute your quota to ensure that change is brought about in the political system. This is evident in the success of the recently conducted voters registration, in which Twitter was used as a medium of mobilization. So much so that voting or promoting it became associated with "being cool".
3. Promote Brands:
The average person is exposed to an avalanche of advertisements daily with the mass media promoting one brand or the other at a cost. The major idea being to sell goods and services. However, on Twitter, one needs little or no money to showcase oneself/ offering to the virtual world. On Twitter, the average youth is both copy writer and graphics designer; client and audience, responsible solely for packaging him or herself into a marketable brand worth paying attention to. Some great projects were birthed and promoted on Twitter, likes of Funturf Soccer Fiesta for example.
4. Build Relationships:
When you hear the word "relationship", the first thing that comes to mind is the romantic kind, between male and female. While Twitter is responsible for a fair share of romantic relationships, its also responsible for building other kinds of "ships"; Friendship and Partnership. One of the major functions of social media is "networking". Fostering relationships between and among people based on some common ground irrespective of age, sex or geographical location. On Twitter, you meet and interact with some of the greatest people who will remain a part of your life forever. There are the smart ones, the funny ones, the rude ones, the overly friendly ones, the intellectual ones, the boring ones, the flirts and of course the ones who are plain loco. Whatever your taste, its on the menu.
5. End Relationships:
There is a thin line between love and hate, it is often said, and in this case, Twitter is that thin line. It destroys relationships, just as fast as it starts them. Be it relationships born and bred on Twitter, or those outside of Twitter, its caused a number of them to hit rock bottom. There is a popular Twitter saying, "by their tweets, you shall know them" which is replied with yet another saying, "I'm not my tweets". Basically, the assumption is that you can tell a lot about a person by their tweets. While there is some sense in this, there are also those who have an alter ego on Twitter and as such lead a deceitful life on here . In a case where one party assumes a connection with this "alter ego" and starts off a relationship based on this assumption, the result most times is a full fledged bitter break up, upon finding out the other party's true color.
So there you have it. These are the top five ways Twitter has contributed to the average Nigerian youth, in MY opinion. Feel free to agree, disagree or comment.
I remember on Independence day last year, when people were tweeting (that's what we call updates on twitter) positive things about Nigeria, I twitted something close to this "Forget CNN, in Nigeria we've got Twitter". Apparently that was a very wrong move as I soon discovered by the amount of people poking fun at me for haven suggested that Twitter was founded by a Nigerian. I remember that day in mortification. Lol. On the contrary, what I had in mind was more in the lines of Twitter being a medium of information dissemination. Not everyone is privy to watch/hear the news as it breaks, for a number of reasons ranging from power outage (thanks to PHCN), to lack of interest in news in general. However with the amount of opinionated youths on Twitter, a large percentage of what we know about happenings around the world is heard first on the social media with people making assertions about the causes of the events and their implications.
2. Increase Political Participation:
Call me ignorant, but I can't carry on a discourse on politics for more than 20minutes, even with you taking reins of the conversation. Ok, I'm sure I'm not that bad, but while I understand the importance of being in the know, especially as regards one's political environment, extended "political debacle" sees the beginnings of a mild headache for me. That was, until I was exposed to politics the Twitter way. On here, seeing your fellow youths passionate about the country and so well versed in politics does something to you. It challenges you. Awakens you to the realization that instead of complaining about the powers that be, you can contribute your quota to ensure that change is brought about in the political system. This is evident in the success of the recently conducted voters registration, in which Twitter was used as a medium of mobilization. So much so that voting or promoting it became associated with "being cool".
3. Promote Brands:
The average person is exposed to an avalanche of advertisements daily with the mass media promoting one brand or the other at a cost. The major idea being to sell goods and services. However, on Twitter, one needs little or no money to showcase oneself/ offering to the virtual world. On Twitter, the average youth is both copy writer and graphics designer; client and audience, responsible solely for packaging him or herself into a marketable brand worth paying attention to. Some great projects were birthed and promoted on Twitter, likes of Funturf Soccer Fiesta for example.
4. Build Relationships:
When you hear the word "relationship", the first thing that comes to mind is the romantic kind, between male and female. While Twitter is responsible for a fair share of romantic relationships, its also responsible for building other kinds of "ships"; Friendship and Partnership. One of the major functions of social media is "networking". Fostering relationships between and among people based on some common ground irrespective of age, sex or geographical location. On Twitter, you meet and interact with some of the greatest people who will remain a part of your life forever. There are the smart ones, the funny ones, the rude ones, the overly friendly ones, the intellectual ones, the boring ones, the flirts and of course the ones who are plain loco. Whatever your taste, its on the menu.
5. End Relationships:
There is a thin line between love and hate, it is often said, and in this case, Twitter is that thin line. It destroys relationships, just as fast as it starts them. Be it relationships born and bred on Twitter, or those outside of Twitter, its caused a number of them to hit rock bottom. There is a popular Twitter saying, "by their tweets, you shall know them" which is replied with yet another saying, "I'm not my tweets". Basically, the assumption is that you can tell a lot about a person by their tweets. While there is some sense in this, there are also those who have an alter ego on Twitter and as such lead a deceitful life on here . In a case where one party assumes a connection with this "alter ego" and starts off a relationship based on this assumption, the result most times is a full fledged bitter break up, upon finding out the other party's true color.
So there you have it. These are the top five ways Twitter has contributed to the average Nigerian youth, in MY opinion. Feel free to agree, disagree or comment.
Feb 8, 2011
The Perfect Val's...Or Maybe Not
It was a sunny monday afternoon. I had just gotten back home after running some errands for my mother, and I was exhausted. I kicked off my shoes and settled in the reclining chair in the living room, right beside the open window ready for a mid day nap.
Hardly had I closed my eyes in preparation for my much needed siesta when I was jolted by the shrilling of the buzzer. "Hello, is anybody home", the cultured voice said. I had gotten used to this question from the buzzer whenever we had a visitor. Rolling my eyes, I got up grudgingly from the comfortable chair after what must have been a few good seconds and proceeded to the gate.
There he was, 6ft 2" of chocolately goodness. My face lit up immediately, what was Bobo doing away from work and at my doorstep on a monday afternoon?! Still with a silly smile plastered on my face, I watched him as he walked towards me, box of pizza tucked under his left arm, until I saw the bouquet of flowers in his right hand. "Bobo, what's going on?", I asked. Don't blame me, as a naija babe, a man with flowers was a strange, if not suspicious sight to behold. He smiled as he drew closer and kissed my nose, "Happy val's day baby", he said.
Oh snap! In my running around I had completely forgotten what day it was. The much celebrated February 14th. "Somebody sure looks fetching", he joked as he took in the sight of my faded jeans and rumpled hair. Far from embarrassed, after all I was in the presence of Bobo, I grinned and replied, "oh you fancy huh?" Which left us both in fits of laughter as we walked into the house. He handed the flowers to me and I bent my head to take in the smell as I had often seen them do in movies, and graced him with a sweet smile and a, "oh Bobo, you are the sweetest thing", to which he replied "of course I am", with a wink.
Flowers safely in a vase, I returned to the living room, where Bobo had made himself comfortable, pizza on his lap. Taking my position beside him on the rug, "I thought you said you couldn't make it, with the meeting and all...", I began with a bemused and quizzical expression on my face. He shot me a look, "Did you really think I was going to pass on the opportunity of seeing you, val's day or not?" And without waiting for an answer, "besides my boss let me off early", he continued, as he fed me a bite of Debonnaires "something meaty" pizza. As I laid my head on his shoulder, I couldn't help thinking with a smile on my face, what a perfect valentines day it was turning out to be and laughed out loud as a thought crossed my mind. "What's the joke?" Bobo demanded as he tickled my feet. "Oh nothing really, I was just thinking what a perfect val's present your presence is and imagined the look on Louisa's face if her boyfriend put up such an appearance on vals day without an array of gifts in tow", I explained. This illicited a loud cackle of agreement from Bobo. "She will kill Charles", he commented of our mutual friend Louisa and her boyfriend Charles, if he were to pull such a stunt on her.
"And what about you?", he asked, " Don't you even feel the slightest bit expectant?". "Hmmmn, not really", I began, pretending to ponder over the question. " You know to me, vals day is just like any other day, and besides, you spoil me just fine as it is" I replied, as I fondled with the beautiful 24 carat gold locket on my neck, he had gotten me the previous week.
He was about to reply with a witty comeback when the shrill of the buzzer interrupted. "Hello, is anybody home" it went. First time. Second time. Third time it repeated the same question. I finally stirred and took in the environment. Where was I? I wondered, as I looked around disoriented. It took a few seconds before it sank in. I was in my sitting room on the reclining chair, right beside the open window. I had fallen asleep just after running errands for my mom. "Hello, is anybody home?", the buzzer went for the fourth time, as I hurried to answer the person I had kept waiting.
Hardly had I closed my eyes in preparation for my much needed siesta when I was jolted by the shrilling of the buzzer. "Hello, is anybody home", the cultured voice said. I had gotten used to this question from the buzzer whenever we had a visitor. Rolling my eyes, I got up grudgingly from the comfortable chair after what must have been a few good seconds and proceeded to the gate.
There he was, 6ft 2" of chocolately goodness. My face lit up immediately, what was Bobo doing away from work and at my doorstep on a monday afternoon?! Still with a silly smile plastered on my face, I watched him as he walked towards me, box of pizza tucked under his left arm, until I saw the bouquet of flowers in his right hand. "Bobo, what's going on?", I asked. Don't blame me, as a naija babe, a man with flowers was a strange, if not suspicious sight to behold. He smiled as he drew closer and kissed my nose, "Happy val's day baby", he said.
Oh snap! In my running around I had completely forgotten what day it was. The much celebrated February 14th. "Somebody sure looks fetching", he joked as he took in the sight of my faded jeans and rumpled hair. Far from embarrassed, after all I was in the presence of Bobo, I grinned and replied, "oh you fancy huh?" Which left us both in fits of laughter as we walked into the house. He handed the flowers to me and I bent my head to take in the smell as I had often seen them do in movies, and graced him with a sweet smile and a, "oh Bobo, you are the sweetest thing", to which he replied "of course I am", with a wink.
Flowers safely in a vase, I returned to the living room, where Bobo had made himself comfortable, pizza on his lap. Taking my position beside him on the rug, "I thought you said you couldn't make it, with the meeting and all...", I began with a bemused and quizzical expression on my face. He shot me a look, "Did you really think I was going to pass on the opportunity of seeing you, val's day or not?" And without waiting for an answer, "besides my boss let me off early", he continued, as he fed me a bite of Debonnaires "something meaty" pizza. As I laid my head on his shoulder, I couldn't help thinking with a smile on my face, what a perfect valentines day it was turning out to be and laughed out loud as a thought crossed my mind. "What's the joke?" Bobo demanded as he tickled my feet. "Oh nothing really, I was just thinking what a perfect val's present your presence is and imagined the look on Louisa's face if her boyfriend put up such an appearance on vals day without an array of gifts in tow", I explained. This illicited a loud cackle of agreement from Bobo. "She will kill Charles", he commented of our mutual friend Louisa and her boyfriend Charles, if he were to pull such a stunt on her.
"And what about you?", he asked, " Don't you even feel the slightest bit expectant?". "Hmmmn, not really", I began, pretending to ponder over the question. " You know to me, vals day is just like any other day, and besides, you spoil me just fine as it is" I replied, as I fondled with the beautiful 24 carat gold locket on my neck, he had gotten me the previous week.
He was about to reply with a witty comeback when the shrill of the buzzer interrupted. "Hello, is anybody home" it went. First time. Second time. Third time it repeated the same question. I finally stirred and took in the environment. Where was I? I wondered, as I looked around disoriented. It took a few seconds before it sank in. I was in my sitting room on the reclining chair, right beside the open window. I had fallen asleep just after running errands for my mom. "Hello, is anybody home?", the buzzer went for the fourth time, as I hurried to answer the person I had kept waiting.
Jan 4, 2011
Three words, Eight letters
It came to my attention recently that I hadn't written in a long time. Not poems or generalities, I mean really write straight from the heart (for lack of a better phrase). Now that would be falling short of my pledge (Re: Above) to write as it is in my heart and sometimes in yours. So to placate my slightly disgruntled readers (dare I say fans? nahhh..before I am swallowed without haven been cooked), I write.
This will be the right moment to interject this disclaimer; I AM NOT A RELATIONSHIP BLOGGER! (Lol..that almost felt like I was shouting). By now if you haven't figured out the theme of this blog, then I take it you don't watch the series Gossip Girls (the scene where Chuck said to Blair, "...three words, eight letters, say it and I'm yours..."), did I lose somebody here? My apologies. Yes, today I write on love. Again. I know. Forgive me, but as a youth I hear this everyday...Love, or so it seems.
Tina Turner asked years ago, "what's love got to do with it?" And frankly the answer is, most times among youths, love has little or nothing to do with it. Confused? Don't be. I'll explain in a minute. Picture this, let me use the couple in one of my previous posts (Re: A girl's story), Bukky and Bayo as a case study. Bayo is 26, Bukky is 23. Bayo has been dating actively since he was 17. Bukky is his 6th girlfriend (not counting flings). Now, Bayo is Bukky's 3rd boyfriend. She's been dating since she was 19yrs.
When Bayo was 17, fresh out of high school, hottest boy in JAMB lesson, he "kind of" dated Jessica. Even though it was her friend, Tope he really liked, Jessy was forthcoming so he settled for her. His text message to her must have read something like this, "I'll do anything for you, anything you ask me to, I'll go anywhere for you, anywhere you want me to...", I'm sure you know the rest,(yes straight from the lyrics of the Backstreet Boys classic), and Jessy would have swooned, especially at the "I love you that ended the text". A few weeks pass and he breaks up with Jessica. You see word around was that Tope liked him too, so when he wasn't busy fetching mountains for Jessica, he was chatting Tope up, and the lovestruck girl fell. Then he finds the lyrics of yet another song, maybe this time something by Westlife, and sends it to Tope, of course signed off with "I love you".
And so I ask, what's love got to do with it?
I'll skip his romantic escapades and jump to his 3rd year in the university. By this time he is 21, one of the most popular boys in school and the life of the party. He has girls craving his attention,some he gives audience, some he doesn't. But there was this one girl in his set, Chichi, that left him tongue tied. Try as he may, Chichi would have nothing to do with him. You see, she was one of the "good girls". But you know what they say about persistence, it eventually paid off, and so their romance began. They were the school's hottest couple. Bayo had reduced his infidelity to its barest minimum because he couldn't risk Chichi finding out. At some point, Chichi had agreed with Bayo that her friends were jealous, hence spreading rumours about him. You see Bayo "loved" Chichi, he just couldn't help the occasional straying. Maybe it was peer pressure, maybe it wasn't. Who knows! After all he had only his university days to play around as he had decided to be 100% committed after school. She was wife material so he was pretty sure his mum wouldn't mind that she was Ibo. But her parents had other ideas. They had arranged for her, the son of her father's business partner as her husband to be. Though she fought it, her folks eventually made her see reason. She broke it off with Bayo in a 5 paged text message that ended with "...I love you, always have, always will". Four months later she was married.
And so I ask, what's love got to do with it?
By this time, Bayo is heart broken and has sworn off love . He resorts to flings and reverts to his bad boy ways, falling in and out of relationships. Girls tried and failed to win his devotion as he was the toast of the town; young, good-looking and successful. He carries on this way till he is 24 going on 25 and then meets Bukky at a wedding. Well spoken, intelligent, beautiful, and with a body to die for, Bukky was perfect. She was the one. After all, it was time to think about settling down. He and Bukky hit it off immediately, they go on a date or two and 2 months into their friendship, they begin dating. Bayo could confidently say he loved Bukky. All his friends knew her, she was welcome in his family, she knew just how to cater to him, he called her at odd times just to say "I loveyou". As I said, she was perfect. Before you knew it, they were celebrating their 1st year anniversary in Dubai. Bayo stayed faithful for a whole year, and then in the middle of their 2nd year together, this Delilah was employed in his office as an NYSC student. SHE WAS HOT!!! Not in the same way as Bukky, but she held her own. While Bukky was mature and calculated, she was fun and impulsive. She just had this endearing persona, and what started off as office cordiality evolved into chemistry. He had 80%, but craved the remaining 20%. And so he cheated. This heralded the era of the phone calls that were sometimes not picked, and the meetings that lasted till 12am.
He loved Bukky....but then again, what's love got to do with it?
Don't get me wrong, I'm not a cynic. I believe strongly in love I'm even a romantic, but be that as it may, these questions fill my head.
Are we allowed to fall in and out of love as often as we change wardrobes?
Do all boys cheat? Do all girls?
Are there still single people out there?
Are we disillusioned to expect our loved ones not to cheat?
Do we love everyone we dated?
Is dating overrated?
Should we remain single till someone proposes?
Is marriage a guarantee for love?
Is love a sacred feeling to be shared between husband and wife?
What really is love?
While I don't have answers to all these questions, I mean, to each his own, I do know what love is. Or what it should be.
Love is patient; kind; doesn't envy; doesn't boast; isn't proud; isn't rude; isn't self-seeking; is not easily angered; keeps no record of wrong doing; doesn't delight in evil; rejoices with the truth; always protects; always trusts; always hopes; always perseveres; Never Fails. (1 Cor 13: 4-8)
So when next you go off writing or saying these three words, eight letters---I Love You, check if it meets all these parameters.
This will be the right moment to interject this disclaimer; I AM NOT A RELATIONSHIP BLOGGER! (Lol..that almost felt like I was shouting). By now if you haven't figured out the theme of this blog, then I take it you don't watch the series Gossip Girls (the scene where Chuck said to Blair, "...three words, eight letters, say it and I'm yours..."), did I lose somebody here? My apologies. Yes, today I write on love. Again. I know. Forgive me, but as a youth I hear this everyday...Love, or so it seems.
Tina Turner asked years ago, "what's love got to do with it?" And frankly the answer is, most times among youths, love has little or nothing to do with it. Confused? Don't be. I'll explain in a minute. Picture this, let me use the couple in one of my previous posts (Re: A girl's story), Bukky and Bayo as a case study. Bayo is 26, Bukky is 23. Bayo has been dating actively since he was 17. Bukky is his 6th girlfriend (not counting flings). Now, Bayo is Bukky's 3rd boyfriend. She's been dating since she was 19yrs.
When Bayo was 17, fresh out of high school, hottest boy in JAMB lesson, he "kind of" dated Jessica. Even though it was her friend, Tope he really liked, Jessy was forthcoming so he settled for her. His text message to her must have read something like this, "I'll do anything for you, anything you ask me to, I'll go anywhere for you, anywhere you want me to...", I'm sure you know the rest,(yes straight from the lyrics of the Backstreet Boys classic), and Jessy would have swooned, especially at the "I love you that ended the text". A few weeks pass and he breaks up with Jessica. You see word around was that Tope liked him too, so when he wasn't busy fetching mountains for Jessica, he was chatting Tope up, and the lovestruck girl fell. Then he finds the lyrics of yet another song, maybe this time something by Westlife, and sends it to Tope, of course signed off with "I love you".
And so I ask, what's love got to do with it?
I'll skip his romantic escapades and jump to his 3rd year in the university. By this time he is 21, one of the most popular boys in school and the life of the party. He has girls craving his attention,some he gives audience, some he doesn't. But there was this one girl in his set, Chichi, that left him tongue tied. Try as he may, Chichi would have nothing to do with him. You see, she was one of the "good girls". But you know what they say about persistence, it eventually paid off, and so their romance began. They were the school's hottest couple. Bayo had reduced his infidelity to its barest minimum because he couldn't risk Chichi finding out. At some point, Chichi had agreed with Bayo that her friends were jealous, hence spreading rumours about him. You see Bayo "loved" Chichi, he just couldn't help the occasional straying. Maybe it was peer pressure, maybe it wasn't. Who knows! After all he had only his university days to play around as he had decided to be 100% committed after school. She was wife material so he was pretty sure his mum wouldn't mind that she was Ibo. But her parents had other ideas. They had arranged for her, the son of her father's business partner as her husband to be. Though she fought it, her folks eventually made her see reason. She broke it off with Bayo in a 5 paged text message that ended with "...I love you, always have, always will". Four months later she was married.
And so I ask, what's love got to do with it?
By this time, Bayo is heart broken and has sworn off love . He resorts to flings and reverts to his bad boy ways, falling in and out of relationships. Girls tried and failed to win his devotion as he was the toast of the town; young, good-looking and successful. He carries on this way till he is 24 going on 25 and then meets Bukky at a wedding. Well spoken, intelligent, beautiful, and with a body to die for, Bukky was perfect. She was the one. After all, it was time to think about settling down. He and Bukky hit it off immediately, they go on a date or two and 2 months into their friendship, they begin dating. Bayo could confidently say he loved Bukky. All his friends knew her, she was welcome in his family, she knew just how to cater to him, he called her at odd times just to say "I loveyou". As I said, she was perfect. Before you knew it, they were celebrating their 1st year anniversary in Dubai. Bayo stayed faithful for a whole year, and then in the middle of their 2nd year together, this Delilah was employed in his office as an NYSC student. SHE WAS HOT!!! Not in the same way as Bukky, but she held her own. While Bukky was mature and calculated, she was fun and impulsive. She just had this endearing persona, and what started off as office cordiality evolved into chemistry. He had 80%, but craved the remaining 20%. And so he cheated. This heralded the era of the phone calls that were sometimes not picked, and the meetings that lasted till 12am.
He loved Bukky....but then again, what's love got to do with it?
Don't get me wrong, I'm not a cynic. I believe strongly in love I'm even a romantic, but be that as it may, these questions fill my head.
Are we allowed to fall in and out of love as often as we change wardrobes?
Do all boys cheat? Do all girls?
Are there still single people out there?
Are we disillusioned to expect our loved ones not to cheat?
Do we love everyone we dated?
Is dating overrated?
Should we remain single till someone proposes?
Is marriage a guarantee for love?
Is love a sacred feeling to be shared between husband and wife?
What really is love?
While I don't have answers to all these questions, I mean, to each his own, I do know what love is. Or what it should be.
Love is patient; kind; doesn't envy; doesn't boast; isn't proud; isn't rude; isn't self-seeking; is not easily angered; keeps no record of wrong doing; doesn't delight in evil; rejoices with the truth; always protects; always trusts; always hopes; always perseveres; Never Fails. (1 Cor 13: 4-8)
So when next you go off writing or saying these three words, eight letters---I Love You, check if it meets all these parameters.
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