Defending the Indefensible? Read this!

http://www.sabinews.com/all-news/4-reasons-fayemi-bought-2-beds-n100m-viola-okolie/

Aso Rock Tales - Debut column with SabiNews

On the flip side, we also discovered that in addition to their medical skills, military strategy skills, leadership skills, journalistic abilities etcetera, the crop of cyberzens otherwise known as “intellectuals” were also skilled bankers even though their experiences at banking had been largely limited to walking in to withdraw or deposit cash from ATMs. Suddenly, people were digging out credit manuals, prudential guidelines, bank account opening forms, one or two even displayed a rubber band they had picked from a banking hall and an uncompleted deposit slip, all in a bid to prove they had earned the right to tell us that a N27m loan to purchase an election nomination form was a bankable transaction. “Collateral ke? For a man that has so many cattle? The cattle can be used as collateral joor.”

http://www.sabinews.com/all-news/aso-rock-tales-shoes-money-viola-okolie/#

Mirror, mirror on the wall...

Sometimes, her mirror lied.

She knew that much and even though she could prove it, she was forced to live with the lies the mirror told, but only for a few days.

It was as easy as ABC, you look in the mirror, it takes your image from you distorts it a little bit and flings its own concept of what you should look like back at you. Now, it was your choice to take it or leave it, and she chose most of the time, to leave it.

It didn't matter, the deep purple rings around her eyes - those could be hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, matter of fact, she had done so several times in the past before, the mirror could keep its opinion. The scar right across her forehead she masked with a generous layer of MAC and its companions. Loyal confidantes to the secrets that lay beneath, co conspirators in the plot to keep the tale hidden for as long as possible.

The lips were the easiest parts. When they blistered and flowered, it was easy to slap on some lipstick, her penchant for a deep ruby hue ensuring that her lips were always perfect.

Take that mirror!

See, it was easy to whip the mirror back in line whenever it took matters a little bit too far... make up is a girl's best friend.

She wanted to be free again, to walk out of the house with a face that was not hidden under a thick layer of make up. To pick up chocolates and her favorite bagel sandwich at the corner shop.

To sink her teeth into a decadently delicious triple chocolate chip muffin, no guilts. Her favorite used to be blueberry, but she soon weaned herself off them when they reminded her too much of the fading welts on her face.

Now, her friends avoided her and she was no longer invited to the intimate girls' nite out at the pub she had always cherished. Lots of cocktails and mocktails, ogling the pretty boys, gossiping, getting drunk and staggering back home in the dead of the night, attempting to get past the creaky step on the stairs, failing and having to stand, attempting a mortified look while the parental units scolded.

Soon as she could, she had moved out and into her own apartment, getting by. Cherishing her increased freedom and friday nights at the pub which could go on forever, but she had stopped getting invites. Well, maybe because she was the one doing the avoiding.

Her friends had become increasingly nosy in recent times, hiding under the facade of caring for her, they asked too many questions and offered too many solutions. She felt it was none of their business and found an easy way to stop them. She removed herself from their company.

There was so much "girls' nite out" a girl could do anyway, besides she considered herself a full grown woman now, not a girl.

Make up done, she dragged herself wearily to the window and stood there gazing out. She watched two women at the street corner walk up to each other, embrace and kiss before walking down the street arm in arm. As they passed underneath her window, she could see that though one looked younger with her hair down to her shoulder blades, and the other wore hers in a fashionable short bob, they could easily be mistaken for twins, excepting the fact that the one with the shorter hair had greying temples, and was a little bit pudgier than the other.

Mother and daughter... She missed her mommie!

The last time they had met, she had walked into her mommie's arms determined to spill it all out but when the overflow of concern rushed out at her, threatening to knock her over like a tidal wave and she had recoiled in horror. She had cringed and held back.

"What's wrong with your face?"

"I walked into the bus on my way home yesterday."

"You walked into...", her mother's voice trailed off in disbelief. "Come on honey, how does that even begin to happen?"

As her mum reached out to trace the faint bruises that had escaped her elaborate make up, she flinched and drew back and before she could restrain herself, all the resentment she felt came bubbling up, and out... They had had a shouting match and with fleeting ghosts of similar shouting matches in her childhood pursuing her, she had fled the house. Back to her sanctuary of sorts...

She let the curtains fall, walked over to the dining table and set herself gingerly on the edge.

Eyes on the clock.

Any minute now... She hoped today would be a good day.

She heard his key in the lock downstairs... She hoped she would not have a confrontation with her mirror tomorrow morning.

The heavy tread of his boots on the wooden floor rang through out the house.

She hated those boots.

So many times, she had had close encounters with the boots to not loathe and detest them like crazy.

His key in their apartment door, she stood up and nervously smoothed down the creases in her dress.

She was prettily made up the way he liked her to be, the house was neat and tidy, his meal was waiting on the table.

She looked around nervously as she heard the door handle click, her tongue slicking out and nervously licking her glossy lips.

She prayed tonight would be a night of love and not war.

Missed Connections...

"My legs are hairy"

"Well...", for once, she was shocked into total silence, then let out a sharp blast of laughter "whatever did you have to go and tell me that for?"

"Dunno. Seemed like you did not know what to ask, and I mean, this is useful trivia!"

"Useful triv..." She collapsed on her bed in laughter, hand held up to her face like she could push the roiling laughter back into her belly where it had crawled up from. The other hand held her phone tightly to her ear and as she laughed, she could hear him chuckling down the line at her.

"Gawd. How do you even work out the useful trivia bit? You are like different shades of cheeky."

"Yeah, I know, but look at it this way, politics is good for conversation, but how is that going to help you and I? What matters are my legs. They are hairy, you need to start getting used to the idea now!"

"Cheeky you".

Every time she thought back to that conversation as she prepared for her day, she would smile, sometimes burst into laughter. That was one thing she liked about him. He had an odd, quirky sense of humour and had the ability to make her laugh. She needed to laugh, sometimes she felt laughter was more important to her than food. Maybe slightly less important than air truth be told, but she knew she could live on air and laughter if it came to that.

She had had dark days and crazy experiences. Sometimes, she would step right back, take a look at her world and think to herself, "I deserve a medal. Really I do. I have been through so much, life has squeezed me and I have also squeezed a fair share of it but... I survive. I sound like I should be awarded a medal even if I have to give one to myself".

And so, one day, walking down Kensington High Street, she had ducked into the little shop there that sold artefacts, trophies and medallions and bought a gold trophy and medal. On both, she had a thumbs up sign and the word "SURVIVOR" engraved, then gave them both pride of place on the mantel.

Fully dressed, she walked out of her room in the flat she shared with her friend Ru, the crazy one who dressed all in black with heavy boots and metal chains hanging from every possible appendage on her clothes and body. Her auburn her was feathered and died black, with peacock highlights. Ru took one look at Jade's face, her eyes flitting cynically over the careful dressing and snorted...

"The queen is having some one over to dinner tonight, amirite?"

"Come on Ru, I told you, I will be meeting with Jake today, first date, he sounds like a nice enough guy, the least I could do is put my best foot forward."

Ru sat, steepled her fingers, and looking through them declared. "Jade, you are one hell of a survivor. I mean look at me, I am off men for life. Don't think women are my thing though, still trying to find a comfortable place, but you still sound soooo optimistic that somewhere out there is the perfect man for you."

"Well, a girl can hope Ru. A girl can hope. Wayne was a first grade yob but I also have seen beautiful and healthy relationships, I have memories of good relationships and know that he is the exception rather than the rule. I admire strong women who can afford to step back and dispense with relationships once and for all, but I am a nurturer. I have sooo much love in me and I know I will meet someone who will mesh into my life and I in his".

"Yeah right." Ru stood up, swung her black rucksack with different colored feathers attached on her back and ran a finger down her throat, mock retching. "Wake me up when the cheesy barf fest is over okay? Loads of luck but appreciate your freedom girl. Enjoy it while it lasts. Men are fecktards, don't want any of them".

She laughed as Ru let herself out of the house, that girl, must be one cuckoo short of the loony bin. She was crazy, but sometimes messed up relationships leave you that way, striving hard to run away from the situation that at a point, defined you. Ah well, she shrugged her shoulders and made ready to leave the house too.

She liked to sit on the top deck of the bus and observe London. Today was one of those days when traffic seemed a bit slow and the 7 minute bus ride seemed like it had doubled in time. She leaned back in her seat and thought back to Jake. They had met online, on one of the chatty forums not designed as a dating platform but somehow, while discussing issues like the just ended elections, whether to vote Labour or Conservative, they had clicked and had taken their relationship off the group forum and begun to chat along more personal lines. They had exchanged phone numbers shortly after and spent hours on phone chatting and generally just getting to know each other, having fun. It already felt like they had known each other for ages yet ever the careful one, she had purposely held back a little, just to adjust to the idea of having a relationship once again and to give this one time.

Three months after, here they were, arranging to meet for the first time. Fingers crossed, this ought to be good...

She stepped off the bus when it got to Hammersmith bus station and walked down the stairs, glancing at her watch, she had 30 minutes more to date time and she decided to browse the mall a bit, window shop while she waited, anything to calm down the butterflies in her stomach. She was at the accessories store window, looking in at the colorful baubles on display when she sensed rather than saw his presence.

He had put up these pictures of a buff, dark man in his late thirties, with a hint of a mustache and a 5 o'clock shadow. Open faced with a pleasant smile and piercing gaze, he fit every opinion she had of her dream guy.

She had not put up her picture, preferring to use an avatar she had created from a graphics site. She had also teased him mercilessly about falling in love with an online presence, and each time he had responded, "The heart is what matters. Our hearts have connected, our hearts know, and that is it for me". 

Looking through his profile pictures, she had thought, chance would be a fine thing if she could land someone like him. And so, feeling his presence, she turned round scanning the mall and saw a smallish, hestitant looking figure in his early to mid 50s, desperately dressed to appear with the times and sadly missing the mark by a long range!

She ducked into the shop, standing where she could observe but not be seen, dialled his number and watched in dismay, as early to mid 50s picked. In measured tones, she explained how her bus was running late but should be there any minute, then waited for the little group of tourists at the counter to finish their purchases.

As they approached the door, she mingled in with them, walked back up to the bus stop and caught the next bus out.