Today, the 16th of November, is the International Day of Tolerance.
Here is a link to my guestblog post on Write Paragraphs, a UN Volunteer initiative to observe the date.
Copy and paste link into a new browser window to read.
Thank you.
http://writeparagraphs.blogspot.com/2014/11/the-wall-between-us-guest-post-for.html?m=1
Please copy and paste the link into a browser to follow the article to SabiNews. We are unable to produce the entire article here...
Here is a sneak at it though:
“Pam one, chop two, kanta balance and chop all!”It is all a game to you all after all, isn’t it? APC today, PDP tomorrow, APGA the day after. The cross carpeting is beginning to induce nausea in the populace. Half the time, we do not know whether you are going or coming. Meanwhile in the middle of it all, you find time to sit together and share drinks, clink glasses and laugh at the useless masses, we, The Pipus, as we fight and scratch our eyes out, spitting fire and brimstone across the invisible divide we have built up..."
http://www.sabinews.com/all-news/letter-speaker-tambourine-politicians-viola-okolie/
http://www.sabinews.com/all-news/4-reasons-fayemi-bought-2-beds-n100m-viola-okolie/
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.
"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.
I love Asa's "Fire on the Mountain", very poignant song that speaks to a whole spectrum of situations, but the one verse that resonates so much with me?
This one:
Tell me, who's responsible
For what we teach our children?
Is it the internet?
Or the stars on television?
Why o why o
Recently, there has been a lot of talk about Nicky Minaj, Beyonce, Tiwa Savage etc... They are a negative influence on our children. They way they dress could influence our children wrongly, blablabla
I honestly am beginning to think that no parent worth their weight in salt (or onions), should ever hold or voice that opinion.
What is the longest a music video starring perhaps Tiwa Savage in her latest, sheer, all but the modesty patches, net outfit, can run? Maximum of 5 minutes. So, do we assume that someone who carried a child in her womb for 9 months, after so many months of trying, suckled her child at breast for long enough (or maybe not), raised the child through the toddling stages, through elementary school et al suddenly exposes that child to 5 minutes of a music video and that is it?
Poof! All your years of careful raising gone. The child suddenly finds him/herself dressing in figure hugging and revealing outfits, sports tattoos all over their bodies and generally goes around being the exact opposite of whatever you raised him or her to be?
Come off it please. Tiwa Savage is not your babysitter. You cannot pay her enough to do that. Neither is Nikki Minaj or Beyonce. If you think these ladies are role models for your little ones then listen carefully to the following Public Service Announcement: No they are not! You are! You SHOULD be.
My nine year old follows me around the house and I see her trying sometimes, to do things the way I would do them. She wants to dress up like me sometimes, wants to cook the way she sees me do, likes to dog my footsteps. If I can not raise a child that looks up to me and says, "I want to be like mummy when I grow up, maybe even better", then I most definitely should not blame the stars on television if my child chooses an alternative lifestyle.
Perhaps Charly Boy's father is yet to find someone to blame for his son's flamboyant outlook on life.
You are the one your child was entrusted to. You should be your child's role model. Make out time to be with your children and instill in them the values you want them to have. While doing that, acknowledge the fact that once they are old enough, they will chart their course and go their own way and there might be absolutely nothing you can do to stop that.
Whatever you do, stop blaming the stars on television when YOU have so clearly abdicated your responsibilities as a parent.
Tenkiu!
Just a little tenderness
At the end of the day
Is all a woman needs,
to take her fears away
Just a little tenderness
With the lights down low,
When the world is just two people,
And love is all we need to know...
She hugged her knees close to her chest, rocking herself to the rhythm as Diana King's velvet tones with a hint of patois crooned out the lyrics. It enveloped her like a blanket, wrapping its warmth around her, drawing her in, holding her close. The chill slowly dissipating as the warm tendrils of hope filtered through. She cuddled deeper, losing herself in the lyrics, the rhythm, afraid to move lest a flinch from her sets off the downward spiral. Warmth.
She needed warmth... and fire.
Without warning, the chill started again, a slight tingling in her toe, spreading slowly, until she was caught in the jitters... trembling, shivering, teeth chattering, she looked over at the home stereo, but lacked the strength to stand up and turn it off. And so, it continued to churn out its offering, which had been on constant replay since she got in, and hunkered down in the corner, struggling to escape her reality.
Just a little tenderness
At the end of the day
Is all a woman needs,
to take her fears away
Just a little tenderness
At the end of the night
When the world is just two people,
And everything's gonna be alright....
"Gawd", she moaned as the sobs started.
From a place deep within her, it began to well up and spill out, it overflowed, it ran wild and loose... and free! She clutched her hair and yowled. She screamed and tore at her clothes, possessing a strength she knew not where from, she ripped the clothes off her body, sank her nails deep into her flesh and pulled. As the skin stung her, she scratched some more, feeling the deep welts begin to swell and raise like cornrows on a little girl's head. She felt the pain each new ridge left in her body and yet, she sought out the most painful spots and dug in with more determination. Perhaps, if she could scourge her body, her restless spirit, her weary soul would be purged... And still she yowled, and screamed.
===========================================================================================================================================
Emeka, arm around his wife as she snuggled up to him, stilled.
He held out the remote control and turned down the volume of the television. Nky looked up at him, worried, as they both listened to the sounds coming from the flat just beside them. Semi detached they called the houses, but they could easily be flatmates as it took a lot of willpower to pretend not to hear the sounds coming from there.
The yowls, the screams, decipherable in their nature, but muffled by the thin wall separating them could easily be coming from their room and could mean only one thing: she was walking THAT path again, fighting her demons.
"Honey", Nky started but was shushed by her husband.
"Baby, I have told you times without number, to ignore the sounds coming from that flat. You have seen the way that girl lives her life, flitting from man to man as if the thing wan expire. Leave her to do penance for her sins and stop trying to get involved".
"But Honey, here we are, we have lived beside her for almost a year now and we do not even know her name. Perhaps she needs company, is lonely, needs a shoulder to cry on. How can we profess to be christians when we live next door to such a tortured soul. Biko, baby m, let me go and..."
"If you move a step from here, please continue walking from there. Keep walking until you get to your parents' house. I have told you I do not want us to get involved but if you want to act like you own yourself, who am I to stop you"?
With a deep sigh, she laid her head back on his shoulder and listened as the howling continued. As a tear trickled down from her eye, Emeka lifted up her head and looked deep into her eyes. He planted a kiss on her forehead,
"Baby, I know how you feel, but some demons are best left to be fought personally. This could be her karma, her penance. We cannot, must not get involved. Don't worry, I have already commenced the search for another apartment. Soon as our rent expires, we will move. We can NOT continue to live like this". As he bent his head down and planted his lips on hers, she knew, deep inside she knew... she hated him.
He returned to his football match on the telly, she placed her head back on his chest and let her mind wander...
There but for the grace of God, would have been her. Emeka never knew the details of her past, the secrets she kept away from everybody, sometimes perhaps, even from herself. He believed that she had had only two longstanding relationships before he met her, because she had carefully edited out the days of longing and yearning. The days of compromise and ill thought out relationships, all in a bid to find love. She laughed a bit as she remembered involving herself in a threesome with her boyfriend of the day then, striving hard to please. To show him she could be all he ever needed in a woman and more. Little did she know that while she bent over backwards to please him, he was planning a wedding to a peri-virginal undergraduate and had in fact rented and was furnishing, a 2 bedroom flat elsewhere. The days of jumping from relationship to relationship. Seeking commitment where there was none to be found, until she had a chance encounter at a filling station, and met him.
Instinct had nudged her to clean up her act and she had, playing faithfully along until the validating proposal, 6 months into the relationship. The marriage and wedding formalities 3 months after, and five years and three kids down the line, she relived her unshared past, exhumed her unexorcised ghosts, retreated into her unwelcoming darkness, as she listened to her unknown neighbor do "penance".
===========================================================================================================================================
Cold, cold di world so cold
Mi waash someone to have and to hold
Ina di nite, when di feelings a bite
Hug mi up, squeeze mi up mek mi feel right
Forget di problems, everybody have dem
Tonight mi just naah feature dem
I, just wanna lay with you,
And be an island in this sea of confusion...
She stilled. The only sign that there was still a little life left in her, the shallow rise and fall of her chest. She had just ridden the storm, a wild whooping ride through the thickest jungle on the back of the fiercest tiger, yet she knew, her demons were unforgiving, they were relentless. From the deepest dungeons in hell, they sought out their victim, dug their claws in and rode like a breeding stallion.
She shivered. Tremors of exhaustion shook her frame as she lay face down. Before she left the house today, she had known today would be the day she would kill or be killed, eat or be eaten...
Three months... her relationships, her life could be defined by those two words... three months.
She had always struggled to push beyond the three month mark, but wanderlust always began to creep in, a yearn for treasures so deep buried, even she was unsure as she searched, that they could ever be found and unearthed. A longing, a craving to sate a hunger so primal, she was convinced the sating would leave an even worse emptiness. Here today, gone tomorrow. The fear of loneliness pushed her into relationships, the fear of rejection forced her out of them and at the end of each, she would struggle to exorcise her demons, promising herself that each one would be the last. Would be the one to last...
And she had exceeded the three month mark this time around, when her restless feet began to itch to move on, she had immersed herself in mundane activities which unknown to her, had endeared her even closer to him. She would wash and clean, fuss and fret, tidy and pick up. From coming home everyday to a lonely apartment, he would walk into a fresh and clean space, hot meals at the ready, her luscious body responding at a moment's notice, excellent conversation that could keep going for hours. She ran her own businesses, had people who worked for her and so, could take out time to care, and care she did.
Tim could not believe his luck at landing her. Built like a goddess, he had paid for her suya when they met at a crowded joint in Abuja. Well actually, he had mistakenly paid for hers, they still giggled at the quirky twist of fate that arranged their meeting. She had seemed a bit distracted, he had been watching her, but somehow, she seemed at the same time lost deep in a world of her own. His tally had been called and then hers. They walked up to the counter to pick up their orders and he had settled his bill without thinking.
As he stepped out, he heard someone call out "Excuse me please".
He turned and saw the goddess holding out a thousand naira note. "Sorry", she tinkled, "the silly boy at the counter thought we were together and had added my tab to yours".
He reached out, and enveloped her hand in his, squeezing the palm shut over the money. She had a cool, little palm, soft and welcoming. He wanted to hold on to her forever, he did not know why, but he felt at ease with this palm...
"Don't worry, I did not notice. It's nothing, I had already paid for it, so you can have it".
"Thank you". She turned and picked out a table in the attached sit-out, and settled down to unwrap her barbecue, pulling a bottle of coke out of her bag.
Immediately, he reversed the decision to make a meal out of his when he got home, suya sandwich had always been the lazy bachelor's go to food, and walked up to her. She had looked up, accepted his request to sit at the table with her and from there, they had stuck up a friendship that quickly, led to romance and a budding relationship.
Earlier on in the day, as she left her house, she knew the demons were winning. A relationship that had no issues whatsoever was about to be brought to a screeching halt.
She had made his favorite meal. Walking through the door, the aroma of fresh egusi soup picked his senses up and body slammed them against the floor. Her egusi was Olympic gold medal worthy and as he walked to the table and lifted the covers off the dishes, he could tell at a glance that this was not the floured pounded yam thingie, but the real deal. Still standing, he rinsed his finger tips in water, cut off a bit of pounded yam and ate it raw. Then cut off a lump and as he dipped it into the soup, snaring a piece of dried fish alongside, she walked out of the kitchen and playfully hit him with the dishcloth in her hand...
"Boo, na you get the food na. Why you dey rush am, dey sneak am like say e get who dey drag am with you"?
This was something else that popped his innards like popcorn. Her ability to switch from the most polished of Queen's English to ghetto waffi and back at a moment's notice, always had his stomach pay a brief visit to his knees and back again.
He grinned, swallowed the lump in his hand, licked off his fingers and walked up to her. He could feel her naked body underneath the tee shirt she wore as he gathered her into his arms. This was the life! This was what he had always wanted! These were his dreams come true...
He returned to the table and settled down to his meal, rushing slightly, not even looking up as she dropped a kiss on his forehead and sashayed off to the bedroom. He needed to get this feast over and done with and move on to the feast in the bedroom. She was like illicit drug in his veins, he could never get enough...
Hours later, sated and spent, he lay back exhausted and cuddled her close. He sensed a little tenseness in her, but knew she would relax and he stroked and patted her back as he began to slip into sleep. Somewhere in his subconscious was the strident warning to ask her, to talk, ease whatever was making her so tense, but sleep gripped him in its iron claws and did not let go until he succumbed.
She lay still and tense in his arms, listening to his ragged breathing slowly even out. As he found a rhythm, she carefully crept out of his arms, stood up and began to dress up. If she stayed over the night, she knew she would stay forever, but she did not want that. She craved stability and at the same time pushed back at it when it came calling. Yearned for a routine yet ran from any semblance of a settling in. She would keep running, she knew.... run Lola, run!
Returning back home, she had flung her car keys on the ground, hit play and set the stereo on repeat, walked around the sitting room in circles, pausing now to hit her palm against her head, struggling with the decision to go back or to remain in her house. When the decisions running around in her head suddenly turned to a stampede, she had thrown herself, hunched up into a corner, and wailed as Diana King crooned in the background.
===========================================================================================================================================
Mummy Tinu let the curtains she had held aside to try and peep into the flat across from hers fall. O to have xray vision, to be able to see through her windows, the curtain of darkness, past the windows across from her and the thick drapes, into the sitting room and perhaps pierce through to the very soul of the young lady in that flat.
"Abiku", she hissed. She must have escaped an early death and now plays regular host to the spirits she had long denied if not, why would such a beautiful, apparently succesful young lady have such devilish incidences? This one pass power o. She shrugged her shoulders, whirled her hands around her head and snapped her fingers in the direction of the flat. Moving was not an option. Left alone by her useless husband who had run after the nurse in the neighborhood hospital, abandoning her to take care of their three children, the flat was within a comfortable price range and near enough to the children's school, and the market where she sold provisions and foodstuff.
Since moving was not an option, she had retreated deep into the arms of her faith, to shield herself and her household from any marauding demons that could be unleashed from the legion that occupied that flat opposite hers. It was not her portion. She and her children would never fall victims to what they knew nothing about. In one corner of her sitting room was a mini altar, draped with a rosary and daily devotionals from as many Men of God as she could lay her hands on. Hidden under the cloth on the altar, was a bottle containing the murky waters washed off a slate by the neighborhood alfa and underneath the bed in her room, was the double protection her mother had brought from the village high priest the last time she had come visiting.
"Atinuke, Atinuuuuuuke",
"Yes Mummy", her 14 year old daughter had answered from the bedroom
"Call Sijibomi and Jomiloju, let us have our night prayers"
They knelt down and closed their ears to the storm raging in the apartment across from them as Mummy Tinu went into one of her long, windy and winded prayer sessions. Since tonight was an attack night for their neighbor, it was obvious that the gates of hell had been thrown open and the witches, wizards and blood sucking demons were on patrol. The only guard against them, was prayer... and pray she did.
Ignoring the fidgeting and fussing of her children, even when Sijibomi began to nod, his head repeatedly hitting the table in front of which they knelt, and then getting snatched back up again. When Atinuke's "Amens" reduced in fervency and began to come reluctantly and when Jomiloju's light snores began to vibrate and increase in intensity, still she prayed...
Where Atinuke knelt, her mind wandered into the flat opposite. Aunty was a nice lady who listened to her and talked to her like an adult. She helped her with her homework sometimes and was the only person she had turned to when she had encountered her young life's worst challenge. She did not know who had reported her closeness with Aunty to her mother but that day, her mother had called her into her room, locked the door behind her and threatened to kill her if she made a noise. She had then proceeded to pull out the horsewhip from underneath the bed and had lashed her furiously with it.
Forgetting that she had sworn her daughter to silence, she Mummy Tinu had screeched about how her daughter wanted to bring disgrace to the family name. Wanted to be possessed with demons, wanted to be a wayward girl... and this and that... and this and that.
For a few days after the scourging, she had avoided Aunty's flat until she had felt the darkness enveloping her and had sneaked in there when Maami had gone off to the shop. She could always find comfort and a listening ear in Aunty who, aside from the times when she was possessed, was a very gentle and understanding being.
She was the only one who believed her about Gbolahan.
Gbolahan was her uncle. Her maternal grandfather like her own father, had a thing for nurses in rural hospitals and so, had abandoned his first family to go start another family with the nurse that had recently been transferred from Umuahia Specialist. Gbolahan was the third irresponsible fruit of that union and had come to Abuja to sit his JAMB. Having written, and failed JAMB umpteen times in the past, this was an attempt to try the exam for the last time at another location and see if he would fare better this time around. His father had threatened that if he failed JAMB, he would apprentice him out to the village furniture maker.
And so, Gbolahan found himself in Abuja and was enrolled in extra murals. That fateful afternoon, Maami was away at the market as usual and Tinu had fed her younger ones. Homework done, they were already taking their afternoon nap when she heard Gbolahan's creaky voice squealing her name. "Tinu, Tinu", the voice had a measure of urgency and she had run into the boys' room.
In a flash, he had locked the door, grabbed her and wrestled her to the ground. Before she could contemplate screaming, still struggling to understand what was going on, he had forced her knees apart, positioned himself in between her thighs, pushing her panties aside with one hand. The first scream escaped her lips as he pierced her and then one hand holding her hands together above her head, the other clamped shut over her mouth, he humped himself out in her. The hand remained over her mouth, the body remained over hers as she screamed futilely and struggled. Eventually, when the strength began to leave her and her silent scream died out, her body weakening, he shifted a little and lifted his hand off her mouth.
She could not scream, only stared at him, eyes wide in terror as he pleaded with her, smoothed her hairline, forced his mouth on hers and his slimy tongue down her throat. She could not understand what was going on, but began to comprehend from his words that this was a secret, their secret. He would do a lot of good things for her. He would take her abroad when he passed his JAMB and got admission into a university in America. He would buy her lots of icecream and she could perm her hair. He would get her a nanny to take care of her every need. Look, he would buy her sweets and biscuits from the corner shop down the road, and ribbons to tie up her lovely hair. He talked and talked and talked and slowly, her child's mind, uncomprehending of the sacrilege that had just occured began to listen and the second time around, he took her like a woman.
Three days after, Gbolahan wrote his JAMB and disappeared from her life. Aunty had seen her moping at the tap one week later, the bucket of water she was fetching filled to overflowing, spilling over and pooling around her feet. Aunty had switched off the tap and touched her shoulder, a touch that had triggered off a flood of tears and when Aunty took her into her flat to calm her down, had managed to coax the story of what could be troubling this little girl so much out of her. Her story told, Aunty had calmed her down, offering her soft drinks and biscuits, then asked for the address of Maami's shop.
She would never know what happened that day but Maami had returned from the shop in a rage, dragged her into her bedroom, locked the door behind her and after the usual threats if she so much as uttered a peep, proceeded to thrash her, all the while screaming and screeching all sorts of invectives at the top of her voice... How she was a useless girl, wayward like her father. How she wanted to spoil the family name and bring shame on them. How she was associating with prostitutes and people of questionable character. How she was helping her by flogging her now so that she would not be a disgrace to herself in the future. How the bible said foolishness was in the heart of a child, but the rod and reproof would drive it far from her... and this and that ... and this and that.
Only Aunty had believed her.
And told her her own story.
Of how she was also wrongfully used as a little girl. For three months of her life, her own father "loved" her more than her siblings, until one morning, he stopped loving her and walked out on them, till date she had not set eyes on him.
"In Jeeeeeeeeezes name we have prayed", Maami rounded off the prayer session, the call jolting Tinu back to the present.
"Aaaaaaaamen". She stood up, rubbed her hands across her face, roused her siblings and walked them in that somnambulent state, to bed.
===========================================================================================================================================
Everybody´s got an idea
Of what's right, what's right for me
I'm just tryin' to survive and
Live my life positively
This one wants to educate me
That one wants to dominate me
The other one tryin' to wear me down
Talkin' outta both sides of the mouth, oh
I, just wanna lay with you, And be an island in this sea of confusion
She dragged herself off the floor and stood shakily up. Her feet wobbled and trembled from the force that had passed through her, but she was determined to stand and remain up now.
She walked shakily over to the stereo and stood in front of it... I, just wanna lay with you... and be an island in this sea of confusion.
"Timone", she groaned.... "Timone".
She had laughingly asked him that first day, "So, what should I call you"?
"Oh, Timothy, Tim, Ebi, worreva..."
"I think I prefer 'worreva'"
He had thrown his head back and laughed at her crazy sense of humour. Just thirty minutes sitting with her and it seemed like he had known her a life time.
"Don't even think about it".
"Okay, I kinda like Timone in the Lion King, so you will be Timone".
"Okay miLady".
And he had been Timone to her since then. An anchor. A rock. An oasis... an island.
She walked into her room and straight into the shower. The cold water stung as it hit her lacerated skin, stinging like the piercing of so many needles, yet she withstood it. She walked out of the bathroom, struggled into her underclothes and threw a slip of a dress over her head. She glanced at the clock beside the bed... it was 4 am.
She would go back.
She was at a crossroads and today would decide, if she would keep running, or if she would hang up her running shoes.
She would bare it all, try to find that Island, reach out for the anchor, hide under the rock, quench her thirst at the oasis...
Win or lose, today, she would fight her demons one last time.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=qIWMLuGsGYQ
As he slowly became conscious of his surroundings, he felt a dull ache in his joints. The kind of ache that came with sleeping in a curled up position, knees drawn up as far as they could go, arms entertwined around each other or a pillow, the kind of ache that could only be eased by stretching the limbs out to their full length and then some.
He tried to ease the limbs, to bring sweet climactic relief by stretching out his full 6 foot plus, but felt hindered. Almost physically shackled. As he struggled to bring his mind round and focus his consciousness on wherever it was that had such foreboding darkness, a rank feral odour, he slowly began to realise, that something was biting into his flesh. Like a band, it wound round and round about his wrists, and then his arms... then his torso, around his middle, he felt his legs bound and trussed, and felt the same bond around his neck.
His brain sluggishly began to process his surroundings as panic began to set in...
=======================================================================================================
Yemi stood up from his seat and stretched himself out to his full length. 6 foot plus of muscly, sinewy maleness, Ola had always laughingly called him a perfect male specimen. "V shape of Life", she would tinkle in her near perfect voice and he would respond, "Bestie of Life".
By chance, they had met on social media. A silent member of a faith based group, he had never noticed her presence or participation in that group, but had increasingly grown alarmed at how doctrine and manipulation had slowly begun to creep into a group that had sounded like a refreshing escape from the "hounds in white dog collars", life as a Nigerian "christian" had exposed him to.
Now, the group wanted to start taking offerings and tithes and it was causing an uproar among the members.
For some who had been properly indoctrinated, they felt the group answered to their spiritual cravings and as such, deserved to receive offerings and "tithes" in order to help them "propagate the gospel further", or as one of the cynical rabble rousers in the group put it, "move the ministry to the permanent site".
It was, in his opinion, a very mischievous suggestion, revealing the hidden intent of the group and just as he was about to activate the "Leave Group" button, his eye caught a comment that just popped up:
Omolola Aanuoluwapo: My people perish for lack of knowledge. This misguided attempt to fleece innocent Nigerians already groaning under the weight of an inept leadership is symptomatic of the various ills we have to endure in this society. We suffer and smile daily and recourse to our belief system for the palliative benefits, however ephemeral. It is therefore preposterous that even this system should fail us in such a blatantly, neo-imperialist manner. Until we are able to cast off the shackles that hold us so firmly, both in social, traditional, religious, ethno-political and intellectual terms, we will only progress as far as beyond the starting points of our journey. I suggest this misguided post is taken down and the administrators of this group apologise to all its members for this attempt to hoodwink them into circumventing the truths inherent in the Word. Perhaps if that is done, we may consider proceeding as if this unfortunate event never occured.
Involuntarily, he let out a chuckle, and found himself "liking" the comment. Perhaps, emboldened by her fortrightness, others began to concur to her position and before long, a full drawn out battle was raging. For almost 24 hours, she held her own and even when the previously prim and proper, holier than thou administrators of the group began to fling mud and insults, she held her grounds. Insisting that the thread must be pulled down and apologies tendered and such deceitful tactics avoided in future, for the benefit of the group.
After 24 hours, the thread was taken down and a half hearted apology, blaming the "devil" for "tempting" the group admin with the lure of "filthy lucre", was put up. He did not know which caused the greater mirth, reading the silly apology, or seeing the same name pop up directly underneath.
Omolola Aanuoluwapo: Better. You people should think twice before attempting to pull the wool over our eyes next time. Nigerians are no longer the "ignorant sheeple" you take us to be. Oh, this will also be my last post on this group as I will take my leave of the group today.
He actually roared out loud with laughter before he could help himself. What a dynamo. What passion. Yes, this was what he was talking about. He had just mentioned it to his friend Edu, over a chilled bottle of "Black is Better" the other day, that what this country needed to pull it out of the doldrums was passionate youth, who were not afraid to speak up for what they believed in AND follow it through to a logical conclusion. He was still laughing to himself as he reached out and tapped the "Leave Group" button, ending his own reluctant journey with the wolves in sheeps' clothing, in an internet instant.
That was that!
Somehow, the name stuck. He was in a relationship, it was so-so, the fire their passion had managed to ignite had begun to fizzle out, I mean, there were only so many positions in which to dance the "horizontal mambo", he began to yearn for a conversationalist. Someone with whom he could also rub minds on an intellectual bases. She had begun to press for mutual exclusivity. He had begun to yearn for outright closure. She did not know he was completely faithful to her. She was okay, but he wanted more.
"Hey honey, back from work? I made your favorite for dinner tonight".
"How do you want it tonight sweets, I want to blow your mind".
After that, what? It was pretty ho hum, he wanted more. His brain wanted more. He began to yearn for stimulation that had no sexual undertones. He was the world's biggest reader and longed to discuss passages from his recent readings with her. He began to tire of hearing how this "Brazilian" was better than that "Peruvian". He sincerely thought initially, she was referring to footballers, rude awakening happened thereafter. The religious near fanatical worship of war paint always fascinated him. Every time she "took down her face" before climbing into bed, he had to summon his entire will power not to run screaming into the bathroom, reaching for the toilet bowl to release the contents of whatever culinary masterpiece he had just chowed down. It was like going to bed with Denzel Washington, but stepping out of the house with Rihanna. Go figure!
She was an excellent cook though, skilled bedmatician..... he wanted more! Finis!
===========================================================================================================================================
Two months after, his relationship with Adiya was almost fully wound down now, he preferred an easier route to ending relationships. He had found out in the past that the clinical talk about how "our ways had grown apart" and we needed to "explore other options", always ended up stretching out the relationship for far longer than he intended. Because of his physical attractiveness, his financial generousity and his emotional attention, it was a task convincing them to let go and so, he would rather begin to withdraw his attention and affection, generally make himself as unavailable as possible until the girl decided to "end the relationship". Yes, it might be cruel in the final analyses, but at least, she could then brag to her friends about how she jilted that pompous Yemi Osunkiyesi. What could be better. Win-win as far as he was concerned.
He had recently joined a food group and would silently browse through the pictures and recipes they put up, once again, prefering to remain in the shadows and just appreciate the expertise and creativity than be in the centre when a picture popped up. It was an exquisitely arranged dish of fried rice, peppered chickens and cole slaw. Nothing extraordrinary about the meal, nice arrangement, same old same old, then he looked at the name - Omolola Aanuoluwapo. Same profile picture, same person apparently. He "liked" the post, and made a comment: Beauty, brains and a good cook to boot. Excuse my impertinence, but you are a rare find. Keep on being you. Thank you.
He waited.
An internet second later, an alert: Omolola Aanuoluwapo liked your comment on her post in FoodIsUs
He waited...
Five minutes later, he clicked on her picture and sent her a friend request. A minute later, she accepted the request, and just like that, he found himself in her world!
He spent the first week scanning through her old posts, looking at her pictures and marvelling that he had not bumped into her before now. Just as he was wondering how to approach her and try to find mutual grounds off LookPage, he stumbled upon an old post:
"Dear friends, LookPage is NOT a dating site, last I checked! I accept all friend requests because I discuss issues that I believe should be of interest to all. I sometimes receive opinions that for some reasons the brain behind might be reluctant to state on my wall. I acknowledge and respect that, but I consider it the height of infantile infamy, for anyone to attempt to patronise me inbox. Going forward, I would take such inane comments as "xup", "lovely eyes", "hey beauty", and ther ilk, as an attempt to patronise me, and block such people WITHOUT further notice".
He let out a guffaw and thanked the stars for drawing him to that post and immediately began to restrategise. He wanted her, and he wanted her for keeps.
Slowly, he began to involve himself in discussions on her wall, and oh, how varied the topics always were. There was no knowing what she would come up with from day to day. He instinctively knew that she would be open to fortrightness and honesty and never hid his opinions or attempted to tailor them to match in with hers. In a non-confrontational,interactive manner, he would state his opinions exactly as he felt them and like her, not caring whose ox would be gored in the process.
Initially, she would just like his comments as she would for every other commentor on her wall.
Then she would mention his comment and give a brief response to it..
Then she would actually engage him in rapid fire discourse...
He always left each session feeling physically, psychologically and yes, sexually drained. He could not understand this hold, this pull she had on him...
So, while she planned how to take over governance from the crop of recycled politicians, he planned how their wedding day would be. While she spoke rules of law and points of order, he thought of making homes and raising children. While she plotted and strategised on how to move Nigeria forward, he strategised on how to merge his silent activism with her fiery brand IF they eventually became one...
One day, when their discussion was beginning to get extra heated, he took a chance and went inbox
"I know we may never see eye to eye on this issue, but I am privy to certain information I would never feel free to discuss on your wall. However, the fact still remains that there is a need for bringing balance to every situation, irrespective of what our instinctive inclinations should be. I assure you, your passion for your country is raw and if you can ignite that fire in even half of your followers and get them to replicate that as they go, we would be halfway to fixing Nigeria. I respect your intellect and opinions, you stand out".
"Thank you Yemi. Since you are obviously privy to information that can not be shared, I will respect the fact that the government has to be circumspect with the release of information in order to protect itself and the citizens and end the engagement on my wall. I would however want you to note, that we would prefer sketchy information with a promise to fill us in with the details as soon as circumstances can allow, than these half truths and whole lies we are being fed on a daily bases. We are no longer as stupid as we used to be".
"Your point is taken, Ola. Thank you for giving me the opportunity".
":-)".
From that day, they began corresponding inbox, and he began slowly, to move the conversation into the realm of personal issues. The segue from friends to "friends" was so seamless that she found herself blurting out one day:
"Who ARE you? I mean, I know enough details from what you have told me and from what I can get off your completely open profile, but I usually do not allow anyone breach my personal space on social media. It seems like I have known you forever, I had to check back today to confirm i just added you as a friend less than 6 months ago. Who ARE you? And what exactly ARE you trying to do?"
He chuckled to himself as he replied:
"Hmm, well, I can give you an opportunity to find out if you are willing to take this friendship off LookPage. Like you already know, I am not an axe murderer, if you have a few minutes to spare, you might be more comfortable coming to my office, or inviting me to yours. Coming to my turf would however assure you that I am for real and the pictures etc on my wall are not trumped up so... your call"!
She mused over it briefly and replied:
"I will come to you".
Appointment set, she went to the bank, requested for him by name, and was pleasantly surprised when she was ushered into the office of the Branch Manager.
From that first off line encounter, they set more dates, began to tentatively explore a relationship and within three months were officially dating. The first day she put up a picture of the two of them seated together in a park, having a picnic, he sat back and watched amused at the influx of likes, comments, queries, insinuations. She never said a word in response, but some on the thread began to make insinuations, justifications, accusations, he enjoyed every moment of it, and the wisdom and maturity that instictively told her that a picture, was indeed worth a thousand words...
===========================================================================================================================================
She was not beautiful in the conventional sense of beauty, but he could not imagine a better specimen of woman hood and began unconsciously to align himself to the leagues of whatshisname, you know, the husband of Oby Ezekwesili and Dora Akunyili and Joe Odumakin and the rest of them. The world could have its' definition of beauty, he was in the class of men that had found beauty beyond compare, and had been graced with their acceptance and their heartfelt and genuine love and respect reciprocated.
He was always walking on air...
One year after their first offline encounter, wedding was held as planned. They had both agreed on a low key event filled with experience, memories and symbolism. He had planned a society event, he wanted the whole world to know he had made a catch, she had allowed him spend N500,000 out of the budgeted N5m and he had watched as she had carefully spent half of the "saved" amount on charities and causes after her heart. He had indeed hit the motherlode!
Exhilarating...
They had adjusted to life together, mild disagreements, passionate make ups, emotional encounters, hilarious fails,anything and everything possible experienced within the space of 6 months and the future filled with hope for more. No, they had not waited for the wedding night to explore their passions, things had followed a normal uninterrupted and uncoerced course. It had happened when it had happened but almost like as if the gods were also smiling benevolently and giving their silent nods to the union, she had taken in almost on their wedding night.
Perfectement!
But what was he doing lying in this dark room trussed up like a goat, feeling a sticky wetness all down the side of his body that was in contact with the floor. Why did he try to scream but no words were issuing forth? What was the meaning of the cottony fullness in his mouth, almost blocking his air supply? Why could he not move a limb? Why did he feel bound, no scratch that, why was he bound?
What was going on?
As he struggled to free himself from his bonds, he slid around on the floor until he made contact with another warm heaving mass and suddenly realised, he was not alone in this.
Why was he here?
He remembered standing up from his seat in the office yesterday? Was it even yesterday? His concept of time was totally blurred. He had stretched, and walked down to the car park to pick his car. It was way past 8 pm, in characteristic fashion, he was the last to leave the office. As he got to the parking lot, he had noticed a young man in blue jeans, his tri color "Hacket shirt" with turned up collar well pressed, close cut hair stylishly wavy and cool sneakers walk up to him. The man had asked for directions to go to somewhere and as he explained and noticed the growing confusion, he had walked the man up to the gate, stepped outside and turned the corner with him on foot to point out the directions. He had noticed a Hilux van parked just around the corner, but taken no notice of it. As he was pointing out the way to go and offering to get a cab, the young man had moved in closer to him and the last thing on his mind as he felt a thud at the nape of his neck, saw a bright, blinding flash of darkness and then the lights go out abruptly, was his 6 month old pregnant wife, her last status update demanding to be given information on the shoot out that had happened in and around the Nation's seat of power the previous day, and the whatsapp message informing him that dinner tonight would be beans porridge with fried yam - his favorite.
What would be going through her mind now?
He did not know if this had happened yesterday, today or many years ago, he was that confused. As he struggled to get a grip on his emotions, the door creaked open. In the dim light that filtered in, he saw that there were at least 6 other young men and 2 women in the room, all hog tied, with the exception that the women were completely naked. One of the men was in some sort of military attire, he could not decipher what. He swivelled his head back to the door, and saw four paurs of legs clad in mid calf length baggy cotton pants, feet in slip on sandals and his heart began to thunder.
No!
They were resident in the Nation's capital. Considered a safe haven from the extremist scourge currently rocking the Northern zone.
No!
There must be some other explanation for this.
As he watched in horror, he heard whispered consultations and watched two pairs of feet walk up to him. They released the cords around his ankles and knees and cut the rope connecting them to the one around his neck and roughly dragged him to his feet. He looked down into crazed eyes, wild and unkempt beards, decaying teeth. The men looked up into his face and laughed at the terror displayed there. The wild maniacal terror immediately reset his brain and he resolved, that however this would end, he would do Ola proud. His bestie of life would know, that her man, was a MAN! Slowly, pride and indifference pushed back the fear on his face. He knew there was no going back from this point.
Some one else was chosen from the other men, the man dressed in a military uniform, while both women were loosened from their shackles completely. All four walked out of the room, herded by the four maniacs, who were wielding sub-machine guns. Along the corridor of what looked like a dilapidated, ramshackle building, the women were roughly pushed into another room and the door shut. As he and his companion were dragged into a room opening out into the corridor and made to kneel before a pile of blocks arranged into slabs on the floor, he watched as another door along the corridor opened, and four unarmed men came out, walking into the room where the women had been thrown. The door shut behind them, and few seconds later, screams were heard, followed by slaps and blows, then silence. As they waited for, he knew not what, he watched the endless stream of unkempt men, going to and from the room.
His heart bled.
Suddenly, from behind him, he heard the whirring of cameras...
Watched as his fate appointed companion's neck was laid out on the chopping block in front of him...
As someone behind him began to speak, words he could not understand, into the whirring video camera, he watched in horror as another man stepped out of the shadows, slowly honing a wicked looking knife against a file.
Without any bidding, Yemi lay his head, neck out on the chopping block in front of him, shut down his senses to all going on around him...
... and waited...
Opium....
Flooding his brain like a tidal wave, overcome by the alexithymia of it all, he reached out and grabbed her hand. Pulling her closer in, he sank his head in her hair and took in a deep breath....
Opium....
Overwhelming his senses.
"Jaaneman", he breathed, over and over again, slowly, huskily... his voice caught at the ragged edges of his throat and he swallowed. A gulp that freed out his Adam's apple and she could feel it bob up and down against her skull.
"Jaaneman, you will not be the death of me". She tinkered that laugh of hers that always set his heart beating a thousand beats too fast and pulled back slightly. Their upper bodies, thus intertwined, was cordiformed. It seemed like their fate had been written in the stars and their destinies sealed long ago. How could he ever have enough of her? It seemed an impossible, wicked and foolish task. A curse on anyone who tried to separate him from this one. He had waited long and hard and when he first met her, almost missed the opportunity as he was focused on other things... The physical attributes.
It had not been a chance meeting, it was properly arranged by a friend of theirs. At first sight, he had hissed to himself. Which kain woman be this na? He had been told she was a potential hit and he had come to check her out to assure himself the hit would be worth his while. She was not model thin, not ebony skinned with fake tresses falling to just beneath her waist line. Sapiosexual that he was, he could see at a glance that she was not even the brightest penny in the drawer. He loved striking women. She was not striking! She was just....... attractive.
He would have been a master fabulist to deny that the pull he felt from her that day was stronger than that of absinthe to the experienced palate. Suddenly he felt his heart warm up. It was extremely apricious. The apricity was so overwhelming, he felt he was floating, walking on water, gliding through air, arms outstretched, reaching for the galaxy.
Nemesistically, he tried to shrug off the warmth in his heart. No, his heart had been painfully pierced in the past and he was not about to succumb. And then she reached out her hand, he clapsed it in his and sank into heaven, he released himself and permited the Orenda of her to enfold him in her ample bosom. This was heaven, this was bliss.
He likened being with her to having a shot of opium delivered directly to the brain. Whenever they spent time apart, the zweisamkeit of it all was almost gibellious. Zweisamkeit became a part of him, hollow longing and desire always by his side. He would not let this one go... ever!
She shrugged herself out of his grasp and playfully cuffed his chest. Gathering the sheets around her, she stood up off the bed and walked down to the dresser in that slow sensuous manner that she knew would set his blood aflame anew, she threw a glance over her shoulder and smiled at the realisation that his body had responded exactly how she knew it would.
She pushed back the sciamachy that briefly threatened to cloud her brow, sat down and began to expertly apply her make up. Within a manner of minutes, she was done, her eyebrows expertly arched, her eyelashes properly fluffed out and the cordiform of her lips exquisitely highlighted. She shrugged into her clothes and turned back to face him as he lay on the bed, gently carressing himself as he watched her, and held her arms out...
Alexithymia rose in him again as he rolled off the bed and walked towards her, enveloping her in his warm embrace and soaking himself deep within the intoxicating headiness of her. God, he was a fool. He was lost in her. Addicted! Woefully so.....
"Honey", she whispered against his chest, "I really have to go now, but you have promised me you would be home all through today haven't you?"
He swallowed down the nemesism that threatened to burst forth at the thought of this temporary separation and nodded his head.
"My love, I promise you I will be back and I promise you, you will not regret it"
It was with a great deal of sciamachy that he nodded his head, knowing that only an extreme fantasist would deny her her right to walk free. He was not as fabulist as others, he knew he had no hold on her yet, but he intended to remedy that as soon as time and circumstances would allow. For now, he would comfort himself with the brief encounters they had. She was like an orenda inside of him, he had grown used to gibelousity in her absence.
As she walked out and closed the door behind her softly, he let out a soft laugh. Here he was, the most wanted armed robber in the entire land, as fierce and dangerous as he was, turned to putty in the hands of a married mother of four, living only for the stolen moments in her company.....
She lifted her upper body up off the bed first, swivelled and dropped her feet to the ground. She scrambled around with her toes until she found the bathroom slippers where she had tucked it away. Slipping her feet into them, she picked her wrapper from the bedside stool where she had carefully folded it and wrapped it securely around her body.
She looked back at the bed where "Johnny" was still lying replete. Like a Boa Constrictor, he was sprawled out on her bed, his chest rising and falling and a stupid grin spreading all over his face.
She had begun to call them all "Johnny", it made no sense listening to the small talk they attempted to make during the long walk from the road, to the one room she occupied in the "face me i face you" compound. Her mind was always on one thing, always after one thing. As she walked languidly, a pace ahead of the Johnny, she would be mentally nilling off her bills against the agreed fee and calculating to see how many more she could accomodate before she could relax for the month.
Monthly rent - 5,000
Food. - 20,000
Utilities. - 3,000
Bus fare. - 1,000
Condoms. - 1,000
Clothing - 10,000
Cosmetics. - 1,500
Treats. - 3,000
Sometimes, her bills threatened to overwhelm her, especially since she also had to save and send some money down to support her parents. That item on her budget alongside her projections for condoms always made her laugh out loud!
Her parents accepted her money thinking she was working as a "secretary" in a law firm in Abuja.
When her clients rejected the proferred condoms, she never argued with them. It was their choice to choose to play Russian Roulette with their health and lives. She knew she was as protected as she could ever hope to be....
E go better jare! No condition is permanent. If e no kill you, e happen make you learn lesson from am!
Johnny rolled over, got off the bed and walked up to her, attempting to enfold her in a hug but she stepped back and held out her hand. She had met her own part of the deal, his turn now....
He fumbled around and came up with his trousers, extricated his boxers from them and struggled into it. Putting on and zipping up the trouser, he fished deep into the back pocket, brought out his wallet and began to count out the shiny N200 notes. Silently, she counted along. Ten shiny pieces. N2,000. The market value for an hour with her.
Bus fare and condoms covered for the month.
As he stretched out the money and she reached out her hand to take it, he snapped the money back...
"Angela, why you dey do me like dis na? I don beg you make you leave dis pio-pio work wey you dey do. I love you, I wan marry you".
"I love you wen una dey use collect jara for ashi hand ba"?
She hissed at him and snatched the money out of his hands
"Love ko? Love ni! Na today we don dey hear love matter? Abeg leave matter for Mathias joor"!
Wetting her thumb on her tongue, she quickly counted through the money. Complete! She stood, arms folded across her breasts, feet tapping out time on the floor while she waited...
... and waited.
He stood, arms held out by his side, cutting a pitiable sight in his trousers, boxers showing just slightly above the waistline of his trousers. He was a clean shaven boy, with a small diamante studded earring in his right ear lobe. His side burns had been carefully carved and his mohawk of tight black curls stood out sharply against his extremely light complexioned skin. He was a fine boy. It was a bit ironical that he was here, pleading for some love out of her, a mere prostitute, he who could have any woman he wanted at the snap of a finger, he was THAT much of a hunk but.... they had history.
Her insistence on calling him Johnny always brought tears to his eyes...
His insistence on returning to her shanty regularly always brought tears to hers...
She recalled vividly the day she had made the mistake of sitting on the bed while waiting for him to dress and leave. Next thing she knew, he was on her, kissing her the way she had never allowed any of her other clients to. He had fondled her breasts and to her greatest surprise, she had found herself begin to respond to him. From struggling to push him off her, she had slowly begun to thaw until she sudddenly found all her resistance melting away from her, like wax from a candle placed too close to the fire.
That day, she had mentally stopped counting down the minutes in her head and he had opened her up to a new world of possibilities. He had refused to allow her use any of her well practised tricks on him and each time she had attempted to, he had gently pushed her back and continued to tease and thrill her. It was way beyond her wildest imaginations. She felt so vulnerable, like a little child once again.
The best words to describe what she felt would have been a little girl, running around in the rain, naked save for a pair of panties....
She had woken up with a start the next morning to the unfamiliar feeling of being cuddled. The strange familiarity of a heart thudding close to hers at first soothing, then with a start, she recollected herself and pulled herself out of his grasp. As she jerked up, he had sat up and reached out for her..
"Angel..."
"Johnny, abeg come wear cloth make you dey go. Ah don tell you say ah nor dey do TDB"
"Baby..."
"Nor Baby me joor, abeg abeg. Na who wan pay for all this time wey you dey here now ehn? You wan take style collect osho free?"
"Please dear", he scrambled around on the floor, retrieved his trousers and pulled out a wad of crisp N200 notes which he dropped on the bed by her side, "I will pay baby. Please come back here and let us talk"!
"Ah nor wan talk joor. Come dey go, you no know say time na money? Abeg, Johnny, come dey go make I arrange my life joor"!
He turned his back to shield the tears that suddenly sprang to his eyes and missed seeing the sudden flash of despair that flew across hers.
He had left that day and she had collapsed on the bed in tears.
Tears for dashed hopes and failed dreams...
Tears for stolen innocence....
Tears for tarnished virtues
Tears for shattered hopes and misplaced trust....
Some situations could never be remedied, but she was determined to make the best out of it. For herself and her son.....
===========================================================================================================================================
Watching her tapping her foot to an unknown rhythm, he felt emotions overwhelm him and reached out slowly for his undershirt and then slipped on his Polo Teeshirt, the straightness of the mallet held aloft by the horseback rider on the teeshirt an attestation to the fact that this was the real deal.
He could not for the life of him fathom what had led Angela down this path and it had come as a shock to him the first day he saw her plying her trade.
Driving past the girl leaning against the lamp post, he shook his head wryly and then almost ran into the car in front of him as his heart took a nosedive, straight into his rectum. He knew that face, as distinctive as the nose on his face. He recalled seeing that face on campus, an eager jambite being led from office door to office door by her parents, he a wizened 200 level student of the same department had chuckled to himself while he observed their slow progress. He had walked up to them and offered help which she had shyly declined initially, but suddenly set adrift by her parents who had to rush back out of town to attend to other engagements, she had as shyly, walked up to him and requested to know if the offer for help was still open.
Roaring with laughter, he had taken her firmly by the hand and proceeded to sort out accomodation, registration, faculty dues, etc in record time. From then, they had been almost inseparable.
Even though he always felt his heart stirring within him, somehow, he was reluctant to sully the innocence that radiated from her with the actualisation of the thoughts running around in his own head and so he had hovered around her like an over protective elder brother while indulging on frequent short bursts of amorous relationships all over campus.
He knew his presence scared off all the campus lover boys flocking around her like bees around a honey pot. No one could precisely define the relationship between them but no one was willing to risk his ire and attempt a proper toasting. He could also see her gratitude for his "protection" as she always showed up bearing some cooked offering or the other. In addition to her sterling qualities and brilliant mind, she was a good cook.
He had it all mapped out, He would propose as soon as he graduated. That would ensure that during his one year of NYSC, she would be focused and secure in the knowledge that he was still there for her. Then immediately after his service year, when she would be graduating, they would hold the introduction and traditional marriage. The wedding proper would hold just before she was due to depart for her service year to ensure she would be posted back to his state. The future was well planned out, in his head at least. He had no fears of financial security, as the only child of two fiercely competitive business moguls, he had informed his parents that he would consolidate the businesses and run them as one as soon as he finished his NYSC.
As always happened to the best laid plans of mice and men, his parents had proposed a three month stint in the UK, US, Dubai and South Africa to gather research materials for his final year project. As an International Studies student, they felt the experience garnered from the trip would help flesh out his discussion and place it a world above others.
Angela's face crumpled when he told her.
"But Somtee, how am I ever going to cope without you"?
"Don't worry Angel, you will get by. I will make adequate arrangements to ensure you are well taken care of in my absence"
"But...."
"But me no buts!" He growled in the tones of Professor Amanyi, their Head of Department, and she collapsed in laughter.
Tipping her chin up with his hands, he looked deep into her eyes. "Listen my dear, wish me well okay? When I return, I will have a pleasant surprise waiting for you but you must assure me you will continue to do extremely well in your studies. Make me proud of you"
She nodded and he reached down and achingly, brushed his lips against hers. It took all his will power not to ravish her there and then, but the package was meant for him. Why pick at the wrappings?
When she came to see him off the next day, he plucked his gold crucifix off the chain on his neck, slipped off the chain on her neck and fixed the crucifix on it before placing it back on her neck. Turning her hand over in his palm, he slipped off the tiny gold ring she wore on her engagement finger and affixed it to his own chain before placing it back around his neck.
He smiled to himself. Simple gesture but now, he had the right measurement for the perfect engagement ring.
He handed her over to his best friend and room mate Ikechukwu, once again brushed his lips against hers, and got into the back seat of the car that would take him off on his adventure.
That was the last day he would ever set eyes on her.
Upon his return back to campus, Aikay could not give a reasonable account of her disappearance
"My guy, e be like say them say the girl papa want make she marry, me I no know"
"But I for marry her now", he brought out the platinum engagement ring with inset diamonds and showed it to his friend
"You know say women get light brain na. You see na, she no know that one na"
Something about Aikay's responses, something about the cavalier attitude did not quite ring true with him but he ignored the misgivings, resolving to travel down to her parents' house in search of her after his project defence.
She was such a brilliant girl and it seemed unlikely that she would abandon her studies in her final year and vanish into thin air. Her parents were quite comfortable and so the idea of an economic marriage did not quite sound right to him. Her phone lines were not going through and when he finally found the time to visit her home, was repelled by the sudden icy reception he received.
Three years on, he still wore the ring on the same gold necklace around his neck. He had had several relationships, but had sadly broken off each one in the nick of time. There was always a missing x factor. Somehow, his heart refused to give up on his Angel.
What then were the odds that having consolidated his parents' business as threatened, leaving them to oversee the administrative arms of each entity in Imo and moving off to the Nation's capital city to set up and run the headquarters, that he would run into Angel leaning against a street lamp?
What were the odds that taking a short cut to avoid traffic and nipping down a back lane, he would feel his heart suddenly leap out of his chest and gallop six years back down memory lane?
He reversed the car to where she stood and as she leaned in through the window, he saw first recognition, then shock and finally disbelief chase themselves across her face.
"Angel"?
"Johnny, short time or TDB"?
===========================================================================================================================================
When he left the room, shutting the door behind him, Angel slowly unfolded her arms, allowing the tension to leave her body.
It was unfair that fate had to treat her this way. From that day he had kissed her on campus, her heart knew. It had known long before then, but it had not been sure the feeling was mutual. When he brushed his lips against hers, her heart took off on a wild tango. She had resolved to wait and had cherished the crucifix he gave her. She ran her hand around her neck and fished it out, still on the necklace where he had placed it, an unwilling spectator to all the depravities she had indulged in, yet a silent reminder of a love long lost!
His was the last face she had expected to see trolling the streets that day. She had been shocked but had succeeded in masking the emotions fleeting across her face. When he persisted, coming out of his car to grab her arm as if in an attempt to shake some recognition out of her, she had raised an alarm and her "colleagues" had quickly gathered around her, eager to shield her from the violent john. He had immediately let go of her, promising to be back.
It was ironic that she had taken such firm measures to protect her self and her son: she never followed the Johnnys home. It was either back to her shanty or no deal. After being interrupted mid session by her then two year old son who had suddenly woken up needing water, she had always arranged to drop him off with any of her colleagues who was "off work", she never cased a street alone and never accepted money on the streets; yet the one thing she had failed to protect was what betrayed her the most now - her heart.
She sighed as she cast her minds back to the events that happened after Somtee left her with Aikay
She had sought the privacy to read that she always had in his room and had used her key to open the door. Aikay was lying on his bed reading and she had greeted him, exchanged the usual banters and sat on Somtee's bed to read. After some hours of reading, she had suddenly begun to miss him and sniffing back tears, was surprised to see Aikay squatting in front of her, offering her a hanky. She took it and blew her nose while he kept "comforting" her by running his hands down her laps, thighs and back. When his hand moved too dangerously close to her breast, she had packed up her books and hurriedly made for the door. He followed and walked her down to her hostel, pleading with her not to misunderstand, that he was just trying to comfort her. She kept nodding and reassuring him there was no problem, but she just needed to get back to her room as quickly as possible.
Since then, she carefully avoided him. Sneaking into the room when she needed to read only when she was sure he would be out of the room. Sometimes, the room would be untidy and she would quickly straighten it up before settling down to read. At other times, hungry herself, she would make a quick meal, leaving a sizable portion for him. She would ignore any obvious gifts left lying around for her and since she had a good idea of their lecture schedules, would leave well before he was due back from lecture.
That fateful day, knowing he had a three hour lecture, she had let herself in early in the morning and sat on the bed to read. She must have dozed off because it was the pressure on her wrists and ankles that woke her up...
Aikay and four of his classmates, one anchored on each of her wrists and ankles, her skirt pushed up above her waist
As she attempted to struggle, Aikay pulled out a sharp and dangerous looking knife and placed the point against her throat
Immediately, the struggle drained out of her, the scream dried up in her throat.
Cussing, he tore open her shirt,
"Harlot. You think i am my friend that you deceive with your innocenti look. Today na today. We go teach you a bitter lesson. Harlot. You go dey tempt man pikin anyhow. Idiot"
He tore off her panties and went to enter her, felt the resistance and deflated. As he looked up in confusion and met her eyes, he saw the proud determined look in her eyes. They would take her body but not her pride, she would not scream or shout for mercy. She would not close her eyes or blank out the incident. As they raped her body, she wanted them to look into her soul and see an uncowed being.
The anger rose again in Aikay and he forced his way into her. Spent, he moved aside and took one of her ankles. Again, she kept her eyes open, not a single whimper escaped her. Their sounds and raucuous laughter died down as each took their turn defiling her. For each, she coldly stared into their souls and they each went through the motions, because they had to validate themselves to their cronies. As each stood up from her, they could neither meet her eyes nor the eyes of their cohorts.
Since Aikay never mentioned the fact that that rape also doubled as her deflowering, none of them could guess the impact the brutal assault had left on that innocent soul. How in one second, she had metamorphosed from the innocent naive Angel to the hardened fighter they left behind.
She had gone back to her room, packed up her belongings and left the campus same day.
No explanations given to anyone.
She had told her parents she had finished with course work and they believed her, until the vomiting spells started. At her mum's insistence, she went to the hospital where after a series of tests, she was handed two results.
Going home with both results in her hand, she did not know how to approach her parents. She kept putting it off until she began to grow and show
Her angry father had packed her off to the village to stay with her grandmother while she put to bed
Three months after delivery, tired of the taunts, jibes and naggings from her grandmother, she had simply picked up her bag and her baby one day and walked out of the compound. There was no clear destination in her mind until she got to the motor park. At the park, she boarded the nearest bus headed to Abuja and after two nights of sleeping rough on the streets, bumped into a kind hearted lady of the streets who permitted her sleep in her room when she did not have an overnight john, or in the compound when she did. Making the decision to join the trade was easy for her. She simply reached towards that same resolve that helped her face her ordeal unflinchingly, and made the decision to join in her benefactor's profession in order to secure some form of sustenance for herself and her son.
===========================================================================================================================================
She walked across the compound and knocked on her friend's door, the door opened to admit her and she walked in to pick up her sleeping son.
Back in her room, she kicked the door shut and walked across to lay him on the bed. Straightening up, she was almost at the door when it burst wide open. Somtee stood there, framed against the door post, breathing like he had jut survived a fall off a very high cliff.
"Angel, it has been almost one year of these games since I found you. I am at breaking point now. If you do not talk to me today, I cannot guarantee you that I will live to see tomorrow"
He saw the flicker of fear pass across her face and moved away from the door to grasp her by the arms.
"My Love, we end this today. Up till now, i have played by your rules. You have agreed to see me only as a paying client and I have obliged. Coming everyday, sometimes paying for more than one hour just to be in your company and keep you off the streets. I apologise for the times I have allowed my body get the better of me and taken advantage of you, but I swear, I cannot hold back from you a minute more. You had such a bright promising future, a family that doted on you and a man that loved you. Yes, you knew I loved you, still do, I can see my crucifix still hanging around your neck. How could you have left all that for this...."
As he spoke, his hand swept around the room, his eye followed suit, fell on the sleeping form on the bed and his mouth fell open, staring......
Angela slowly walked to the door, locked it and walked back to Somtee. She took him by the hand and led him to the bed. As he slumped into it, she pulled out the small stool, placed it by his feet and sat sideways with her profile to him. As usual, since the day of the rape, she reached within her and found the strength to confront the task ahead of her...
As she began to narrate her story, her brash street attitude dropped and once again, he could see the naive little baby he had had the priviledge of knowing way back when....
Her voice, that voice that always melted him back in the days, softly whispering what needed to said...
All her anguish and inner turmoil poured out, her self hatred for being naive enough to keep going back to the room after that first clumsy attempt by Aikay.... but she missed Somtee so much and somehow being in his room was her comfort zone, like a well known and loved blanket wrapped around her....
Her regret for not screaming out and taking a chance that Aikay would have killed her and gotten it over with (he flinched at that one but thanked God for the inner strength that made her go through the ordeal and survive it - His Survivor)....
The beatings, neglect, taunts and naggings, first at the hands of her parents who felt she had let them down and set a bad example for her younger ones, then at the hand of her grandmother who took out the shame of caring for a great grand child without having first taken wine on behalf of her grandchild on her....
She spoke softly, sometimes he strained to hear her. He turned once or twice to look at the sleeping child whenever she made reference to him and surprisingly, all he could feel in his heart towards the boy was love. Pure undiluted, swelling love. He even caught himself thanking God no one would have the guts to step up and fight his claim to this child.
Yet, he felt something had been left unsaid....
As he pulled her up and molded her into his body, she came willingly this time, she had reverted to the sweet Angel he used to know. There was no fighting, no holding back, no reserves and yet......
She pulled back and looked beyond him to her son sleeping on the bed. Her mind went back to the day she picked the results from the hospital. What one report had predicted lay, thumb in mouth, softly snoring on the bed. She walked over to the box on the cupboard, pulled it down and pulled out an envelope. As she walked back to him, she heard the doctor's words playing back, over and over in her mind....
Low CD4 count
High Viral Load
Strain 1
Anti Retrovirals
... She held out the piece of paper to him, the second test results, the contents of whicb she had never breathed to any other soul dead or alive. As he took it, she took a step back, bowed down her head, and waited..........
Thank you for reading
Verity shook her head as if to clear it.
She glanced around her as it dawned on her that once again, she was the sole audience to the performance going on in her head.
Discordant yet rhythmical, the tunes rose and fell.
And then, it began to crescendo,
Now it rose, now it fell. Again and again, she tried to banish it by gently shaking her head. To no avail, the rhythm persisted. It was here to stay. It pulsated with every beat of her heart and as she looked around at the expectant faces staring enquiringly at her, she knew she needed a respite, and fast.
Beyond the heads, she glanced at her assistant standing at the back of the conference room, behind the whirring projection equipments, and mouthing to her:
"What's up?"
She shook her head at the assistant and reached out a shaky hand to the glass of water standing beside the laptop on the podium. She took a sip and then another, then without pausing for air, gulped down the entire contents of the glass. She willed her mind to take control of her shaky hands as she poured the rest of the water in the bottle into the glass and again, gulped the entire contents down.
As if in response to a magic word, the rhythm sharply subsided: finally, reluctantly, crawling to a halt. Beads of sweat stood out on her forehead as she struggled to focus her eyes back on the group seated in front of her. She needed this deal to seal her promotion, almost as badly as she needed air itself, and knew she would need to call up her best skills to talk around what just transpired.
"Sorry", she trilled to her clients, "Seems like a little piece of that marvellous fried fish we had for lunch went down the wrong way".
She flashed her hundred watt smile at the baffled group and turned her attention briskly back to the projected slides.
"Now, I would like to crave your indulgence to flip through the documents you hold to slide 18. Here is where we look at the SWOT of the proposed alliance between your firms and how we intend to nurture a seamless transfer into a mega holding that would best mine the inherent USPs of the individual firms. These we would then consolidate into a mega ......"
===========================================================================================================================================
As she turned into the shopping complex on her way back from work, she sighted the couple on the rubbish dump. She had first noticed them about three months ago when they had suddenly materialised as if from thin air and proceeded to make themselves as comfortable as you may please. Setting up home amidst the stench and rot, the male unit would lay back and stretch out his legs. Sometimes, he would sit up suddenly, look up into the stars and commence an excited and highly animated interchange with some unseen being. He would fling his hands around to buttress his point, now he would scream, now he would listen. Now he would curse and spit and at some other time, he would seem almost penitent.
In the background, the female unit would hustle and bustle, rummaging through the shopping mall food court's contribution to the rubbish dump. From her scavengings, she would put together a meal fit for a king, arrange them in any receptacle that came to hand and take them over to her spouse. Going down on her knees, she would coyly present it with a fluorish, remaining there until, rant exhausted, he would look down and notice her.
Washing his hands in an imaginary bowl of water, he would tuck in, selecting one or two morsels and delicately placing them in her mouth, he would tickle her chin, tousle her har and stroke her dimples. Suddenly, in the middle of the meal, he reached out and gave her a sharp jab with his heels, sending her tumbling off the rubbish heap. He fished around in his mouth, extracted something alien he had encountered in his meal, maybe a piece of meat more decomposed than its ilk, and proceeded to wave it at her, shouting curses and threatening brimstone.
Verity smiled to herself as she got out of her car and walked briskly into the supermarket.
Watching the couple in their lucid lunacy, was akin to a night at the movies. The cosy comfort of their interaction, always perversely heartwarming. An attempt to intervene at the instance of the mall owners and relocate them from the rubbish heap by the state welfare authorities had met with such stiff resistance and when they had eventually been forcefully taken away, had resurfaced after a couple of days, and continued "life" as if the interruption never happened.
Shopping done, Verity stepped up to her car and inserted the key in the lock. At that instant, the skin on the back of her neck prickled and she turned to find herself staring, across the distance, into the eyes of the madman. As if transfixed, they locked gazes for a stretch of time. In the far reaches of her mind, the call started.
She could not tear her eyes off him.
Suddenly, he stood and moved towards her. That movement seemed to break the spell. Hurriedly, she turned the key in the lock and tore open the car door, flung her shopping into the car, launched herself after them and dragged the door shut. Pinning the lock just in time.
Heart racing, she fearfully glanced at the face pressed up close to the window. He jabbered at her, motioning for her to open the door, turn down the window, he hammered on the glass with both hands and attempted to snatch open the door. As she glanced around for help, he ran around the car towards the passenger side and seizing the moment, Verity threw her car in reverse and screeched out of the mall.
The sound in her head conflicted with her racing thoughts and her heartbeat seemed magnified so much that she could separate its loud beatings from the clashing rhythm in her head.
As she turned the car towards home, she glanced in the rearview mirror and saw him, standing with palms open wide, face turned towards heaven and wailing a lament. She hoped the mall authorities would intervene and get them off that rubbish heap before morning
===========================================================================================================================================
Driving into her compound, for once since that crazy day had begun, a wide smile stretched across Verity's face. The sight of the Silver Sienna parked in her compound, engine running, always brought a smile to her face. She slid her car smoothly in behind it and as she turned off the ignition, opened the door and stepped out of the car, she stepped straight into the arms of love. Her love!
She gazed up expectantly and he obliged. Careless of prying eyes, he took her lips into his mouth and kissed her like she was the giver of life.
After a few seconds, he released her and stepped back, holding her at arm's length.
"I missed you my love"
"Missed you too my own. How was your day?"
"Great my love. Yours?"
"As well as could be, since I spent the whole day thinking of you..." She flashed her smile as she answered and leaned back into the car to retrieve her bag and shopping.
He took the car keys from her and motioning her towards the house, began to pick the shopping from the car. Once inside the house, he pushed the door closed with his feet, dumped the bags on the floor, ignoring her shriek of "careful, there are eggs in there", and walked purposefully towards her. Once again, he took her into his arms and proceeded to, as he always laughingly called it, kiss her properly.
In his arms, she always felt safe. Safe from the call that followed her around all day, safe from the cares and worries of the world, safe from the "big girl, professional, working class lady" persona, safe from her private thoughts.
She was to him, a heady scent. Rising and filling his senses when he least expected, yet once his back was turned, he wanted more of her. He could never get his fill of her. One year into their relationship and the passion between them was still as raw as ever.
He had intended it to be a conquest. Woo her, wine her, win her. Once he had breached the castle defence, he intended to continue on his merry way. He had not reckoned on love.
With her calm, mature ways, intelligent and spirited conversations and instinctive actions, he had found himself falling deeper and deeper into her spell until one day, he turned around and realised he was trapped. It was sweet surrender as he released himself into a proper relationship with as wide a range of feelings as he had prevented himself from ever experiencing in the past.
This was bliss.
This was heaven.
This was..... home.
He broke the kiss, stepped back and surveyed her once again. He had never been one for the skinny girls and her buxomy confidence always knocked him for six.
"Nke mu nwa"
He leaned in for another kiss, slower and more sensuous this time, his hands began to undo the buttons in her shirt. Soon, the shirt lay on the floor and his hands found the clasp and zip at the back of her skirt. As the skirt pooled around her ankles and she stepped out of them, he disengaged from her lips and began to trail kisses down her body, heading towards her secret place.
He pulled her down into the soft pile carpet, pulled up her knees and sunk his face inbetween her hips. Her back arched in pleasure and the moans escaping her lips grew louder and louder as he teased her special spot. Finally, he looked up at her and held her gaze as he began to disrobe. He held her, still clad in her lacy, low cut bra and thongs, just the way he liked it, against his now naked body for a few seconds, then slowly, he plunged into pleasure.
===========================================================================================================================================
Verity suddenly sat up as if doused in ice water. It was just gone past midnight. At first, she could not place a finger on what had pulled her out of the deep slumber. She looked around and slowly brought the room into focus. They were still lying on her living room floor, passion spent, clothes strewn all over the place, shopping still lying where they had been abandoned on the floor. From one of the bags, she could see a trail of egg albumen. Tammy was still deep in slumber. His arm in which she had been cuddled a few seconds earlier, still flung out beside him.
All seemed normal, yet nothing was.
It had begun again. The call in her head. The wild rhythm, the crazy beats. She looked around her in terror, searching for the source of this music that now seemed to be playing far within the deepest enclaves of her soul, now without. She shook her head furiously trying to clear it and suddenly, she felt a pull.
The pull.
She felt herself lifted as if by unseen hands and reaching out tremblingly, she unlocked the door and stepped into the enveloping arms of the velvety rich darkness that lay beyond.
Now she jerked along as if manipulated by a puppeteer's string, now she tried to resist, but the pull was stronger than her. She screamed and shrieked until her vocal cords felt sore, yet no sound escaped her lips. The noise was all around her, yet nobody heard but her. The cacophony within swelled until the rhythm began to play out in the gyrations of her body. Now hestitant, now determined. Now arhythmic, suddenly composed. Eyes darting helterskelter, the mind searching for escape from the clutches of the call, the heart pressing on, following the pull to.....
Whatever awaited beyond.
Blissfully unaware, that in her bra and thongs, with her voluptuous and plush figure, hers was indeed a sight for sore eyes.
===========================================================================================================================================
At the break of dawn, three figures were seen slowly making their way out of the town. On closer inspection, the first two were the couple from the shopping mall dungheap, cradling and cuddling a third, slightly familiar figure, dressed in a shabbily poked through garbage can liner, underneath which the faint outlines of a high end shop lingerie set could be seen. Head clasped in her hands, she went.... willingly, hestitantly, sometimes she would stop and look back as if searching for something left behind, then she would jerk as if responding to a pull, a call.... and then plough resolutely ahead.....
===========================================================================================================================================
Tammy struggled out of sleep as the alarm shrilled. Groggily, he reached out to pull Veri closer into his embrace. They always had a few minutes after the alarm went off each morning to snuggle, and for him to get his "Veri fix" for the day. He fumbled around a bit and when he realised she was not there, he sat up, switched on the light and noticed the disarray in the room. Everything was exactly where it had been abandoned while they gave in to the passion yesterday but for one small detail, the door was thrown wide open....
