Her Letter...

Hey baby!

It is your birthday in a week or two and I wasn’t really sure what to get you because I want to give you something from my heart and you also said I should be creative so I hope this is creative enough for you.

I have had this in mind for a very long time but I almost didn’t write it anymore because you said something very hurtful to me last night and you didn’t send any message to apologise; and I found that very strange. I also have a weird feeling that something is on your mind and you are not telling me… … anyway, this is supposed to be a love letter and birthday present so I don’t know why I am ranting.

You see, when I first met you, I never thought that we would end up like this, that you will come to mean so much to me and be a part of my life. Sometimes we lose touch of ourselves, make each other cry and say hurtful things, but we always find our way back.

I am not sure how this love happened to me, I can’t tell when I fell in love with you but somewhere along the random chats on Facebook, the long talks on the phone, the big laughs, all the keke rides to my house, the confrontations, the crazy fight and tears, the poems that I always thought were about me (even the ones you wrote before we met) and the jealousy I felt when I realized there used to be someone else (sigh! My life of drama) and the way you stand by me through it all… … somewhere along the line, I FELL IN LOVE WITH YOU!

We have been together for a while now and we have some great / not so great memories. When I am with you I feel 100% comfortable and complete. The way you move, make me laugh hard when I don’t even want to smile, you talk all my worries and insecurities away, you make tomorrow worth the wait and yesterday worth remembering.

I am not the prettiest woman, not the perfect / ideal girlfriend, but remember I will always love you (even the times when you are not so loveable, like last night), I will always take care of you and always be there for you, cheering you all the way; whether you are winning or losing. I am your number one fan, I will always stand by you no matter how big the problem may be. Though times are tough right now and circumstances are keeping us apart, as long as we are together, nothing else matters.

Happy birthday baby. Happy birthday my boothang. The winds beneath my wings, my break from the world, my happy ever after. Yes it is your birthday, but I got the gift… … you in my life for another year… … you are priceless!
May God continue to bless you in all your endeavours and cause strange me to favour you!

I LOVE YOU
                MY FAIRYTALE PRINCE!

He and Her (1)

He backed off and turned away from her, vigorously shaking his head as if to ward away ghost fingers that were icily creeping across his face to cover his note and shut out the air supply. But this was no dream - it was real and she would not go away.
"Can't you see...?" She said as she rounded the table which had been a physical barrier between them to stand in front of him again. Her eyes boring deep into his. Then she said the words which up to that point, no one else had mustered enough courage to say for fear of breaking him any further. "If she wants out, then it means her heart has drifted far, further away than you can ever reach. There is no other explanation!"
The gloom re-settled on his face and the earth-shattering howl inside could have been heard a thousand miles away but the demeanor outside did well to shackle it in the hallowed chambers. For a long time, he stared back at her with foreign, glassy eyes. Long and hard, distant and dead. She whispered to him gently as moved closer and a soothing hand placed gingerly on his shoulder; soft, blue eyes pleading to be let in to offer more comfort and warmth. "She doesn't deserve you. You don't deserve to be treated so, let me..."
"No!", retorted sharply and took a step backward beyond her touch. "If anyone is undeserving, it is I!" With that, he turned slowly and reached for the door, leaving it open and not once looking back.
With tears in her awe-struck eyes, she stared at the hunched frame and bowed head as he sauntered away into the welcome embrace of grief; and wondered how a man could love a woman so that in his eyes, she could do no wrong!

Doesn't feel like a 'Happy' New Year...

In many ways, it's been a start to the year I would have wanted and then again, it's not. It is a total mix bag I cannot explain... every experience, utterly memorable in striking, varying contrast. Evoking emotions, way too far apart they cannot be mistaken or mixed. Different instances, places and people; yet so closely inter-woven and close to home they hit with a blend of raw pleasure and pain.

First of, one of my elder brothers finally takes the big step over the mythical broomstick and ties the knot with his soul-mate. A second brother and cousin who I haven't seen in years, both return home for the event and a joyous reunion. Two bosom friends finally commit to their long time flames and two more, welcome their very first bairns - as one of them aptly put it, his "heir". Our sick dad finally has something to cheer, something to lift his spirit and boost his health. Mum is smiling; proud and joyous. The ladies are not at each other's throats' as everybody basks in the euphoria of peace, unity and love once again!

Through this all, just when I finally begin to feel the tide of happiness tugging at my ankles, showing me the way to go; I somehow conspire to lose the one thing away from family that gives me the greatest joy. The one person in all of the world that can put a stop to all of my troubles with a smile; wipe that scowl off my face and wrap my heart in the warmth of sunshine without even saying a word. The one companion I want to have while navigating through life's many swivels, twists and turns!
Well, what can I say... all of a sudden, it just doesn't feel like a "Happy New Year" anymore!

Elusive

Well... 
I can only hope the things I see aren't as they seem. Sometimes they make me just want to turn around, look back at all the not-so-clear mileage that has already been covered and seriously consider heading that way, rather than towards the ever thickening mist that appears to loom ahead.
I see good happening to everyone else around but never to me it seems. The smiling faces, happy lives, the certainty of knowing what belongs where... No blurred lines or blank spaces; just clarity - one that eludes me, still!

The Dream

It was a gathering, a meeting of sorts. We were inside the living room of a house - the setting very much like the living room of my family house. I was seated in the dining section, chair half-turned to a position which enabled me to see the only access door as well as other people the room seated in the reception area - people, whose identites, I coud not make out. Somehow, I felt like I was not meant to be a part of the group; that I was a mere observer, on the outside looking in.
You walked in carrying a tray, probably to serve something to the people gathered around. What was on the tray, I cannot tell. What followed is the mystery. Some guy stopped you right after you stepped in and you exchanged pleasantries. Apparently you were both well acquainted. Then you shared a hug and he made an attempt to kiss you, I thought I saw you try to resisting... at this point, things were a bit fuzzy.

Enter the next frame and you were on your back on a sofa, he was on top of you grappling, still struggling, it seemed, to get that kiss. There was nobody else in the room but me, yet somehow it felt like I was not actually there. I was still seated, frozen, stuck in a trance staring at it all; didn't move, couldn't even breathe. Then some obstacle got into my line of sight and blocked my view off completely, so I couldn't see anymore. I looked up and was staring into the face of your brother. By the time I got a clear view again, you were back on your feet, the tray you were carrying was nowhere, nothing was spilled, destroyed or out of place. You were in tears, yelling at the guy while pointing in what I thought to be my direction and saying, "my boyfriend is over there…"
Then you stormed out sobbing, the guy was there for a couple of seconds addressing the other unidentified, still entities in the room, as though in defense. "But she wanted it...", is all I could hear. Then he went out the door too. At this point, I snapped out of whatever vise that had held me and went after him, you, the both of you... I am not sure. I turned the corner by the side of the house, you were not there but he was. Curiously, my elder brother and two close friends I could identify (even in the dream), were seated in a car outside. Calmly, I approached the fella, extended my hand to him which he took and while still locked in the shake, I said to him, "abeg free her, na my girl..." I cannot tell if replied or not, I did not hear any but he left me standing there, rounded the corner and entered a car. Again another grey spot; it was unclear if he entered a different car or sat at the back seat of the one my brother and pals were in, but what was clear was he did not leave that vicinity immediately. All this while, you were still nowhere in sight. So, I signaled my bro and pals, they came and I narrated to them all that had transpired. It seemed I was very bitter about the whole incident despite my calm disposition while confronting the guy because apparently I suggested that we; myself, bro and pals gang-up and accost the guy again. My brother seemed to be in opposition, because he said, "I dey see two of dem since. Dem dey go up and down here na..."
At this point, I woke up.

Groundhog Day

You wake up early with the rest of the "white collar household" - parents, relatives, older (or younger) siblings - actively participate, directly or indirectly, in getting them all set for work. All the usual chores; clean the cars if any,  sort out the work attires, assist to fix meals, package the take-away packs or food flasks and perhaps even play chauffeur, joining that early morning throng rushing to beat traffic and make it to their various workplaces in time.
Then you return home and almost the very same applies for the kids; nephews and nieces most likely. The wee, adorable "brats" you can never seem to get enough off - still young enough to be in kindergarten, but definitely old enough to leave a room looking like it has just been hit by a tsunami. If you are fortunate, there is already a grand-ma, nanny or relative on hand who has already tended to most of their needs and you just have to weigh in your bit before they are ferried off to their school or playgroup. If you are not, well... it is all on you!

After all of this, of course, it is highly probable that your family living quarters would need some major face-lift - who would bother much about the mess they are leaving behind when they are in a race to beat the clock at work!? So from your perspective, that is just some more work that sadly cannot be overlooked. You are absolutely swarmed by it all - the house needs tidying; all the strewn toys and stray pieces of clothing have to be put back in place. The bathroom, toilet, bedrooms, living room, cleaned up, water to be fetched, laundry and errands perhaps... the list is potentially exhaustive. 
Without warning, there goes the day, trickling away slowly, "sand-in-hourglass-like" and before you know it, noon has passed, heading well into the afternoon and the sun is over-head, blazing fiercely, scorching the earth as though in a fit of rage over some wrong-doing; and you... you have barely had a bite, talk less of a bath. From there onwards, witnessing the transition from into nightfall is nothing short of frustrating by the minute, before your eyes are other things you may have wanted to do or achieve are all strewn by the wayside and everybody else returns at nighttime to meet you in more or less the same state you were when they left in the morning. It is like everybody, everything else is moving forward and you are just stuck on one particular spot without a prayer.
The worst part of it all is, you arise to do it all over again tomorrow. Everyday is the same day!

Alone!

I sat alone directly across to the young couple, so I was forced to view the spectacle that ensured I was 'mentally tortured' all through the evening.
They clung close and whispered what I imagined to be sweet, endearing words to each other. No use maintaining such proximity if they were going to be spilling vitriol all over themselves. They pecked, kissed, giggled playfully and kissed some more while taking turns to give each other sips of Pina-Colada. All this was only adding to the already pent-up irritation I was feeling. At a time, I was beginning to get the impression they were delighting at my discomfort and putting on this show specifically for that reason. The thought only served to further heighten my irk; silently I prayed for any form of distraction, anyone or anything that would take me away from there and out of my misery but fate seemed to be conspiring against me and none came forth.

Just as I was getting to the point where I could not bear it any longer, the young man got to his feet and lovingly took his lady’s hand, she got on her feet and wrapped her arm around his waist. A pair of matching smiles and happily dancing eyes that could light up a dark room greeted me as they silently mouthed their good nights and made their way to the exit, their radiant buzz of joy all too evident for everyone to see.
The relief I had anticipated would come upon their departure never came. Instead there was a deep gnawing inside of me. My eyes settled on the empty space in front of me that they had just vacated and suddenly the room felt larger and I, as tiny as a speck of dust. There and then, I felt it… I felt alone!

On your mark, get set… “Port”

It’s just over a week ago now that the Nigerian Communication Commission (NCC) announced the introduction of the Mobile Number Portability service into the Nigerian Telecommunication industry.
For the non-techies or plain Jane un-savvies, Number Portability is simply technology that allows the movement of a GSM number from one network operator to another without the number changing. Meaning, for example, you can decide to stop using GLO and change to Etisalat or stop using Airtel and change to MTN; and your GSM number will still remain the same. Did I just hear someone scream, “American Wonder!”? Yes, it is “do-able”… how it is done, is another matter entirely; but yes it is!

Basically, the motivation whole idea is to create “healthy” competition amongst the network operators and sort of force them into improving the quality of their services being and (or) at the same time, bring down prices significantly. Also, giving the user the “freedom” of choice – the freedom to move from one network to the other without the hassles of losing contacts, the freedom to end their relationship with any operator they are not happy with. That is the official line from the NCC, but could there be something else in it that we do not see yet!?

So, while the mass of teeming GSM users await the new Number Portability scheme to kick-off in earnest. The Telco companies have wasted no time in launching not-so-subtle attacks against each other. Not quite the dividends Nigerians are expecting from the introduction of “porting”; hopefully they will soon drop the bickering and get down to the real business of improving their services and reviewing their tariffs for the betterment of all.

So get ready Nigeria… a new word may just have been added to our already vast, unique collection of slangs; and knowing how humorously creative the average Nigerian can be, I have no doubt that we will definitely be seeing and hearing several exquisite variations and use of the word “port” in the coming weeks!

The Birthday Message...

It was just past midnight and I'd been roused by the alarm on my mobile phone. I didn't need to read the notice on the reminder; it had been there for years. Even when the phone type and model changed, neither the date nor alarm tone was altered. So also the overwhelming mixed feelings that accompany the chimes.

Once upon a time, this used to be a very special day... and it still is; but now in a vaguer, indistinguishable sense which is neither here nor there and yet, somehow, here and then. 
Sweet memories still linger aplenty but then, so are sadder ones, way fresher and glistening clear like waters of a natural spring.
Though we are hardly on friendly terms anymore, I still had to send her the customary message. Old habits die hard and when they become tradition, even harder. So I opened up a new text message page and stared at it without seeing anything. My brain worked away ceaselessly, churning out words that ended on the tips of fingers which were just frozen on the tiny keypad.

My heart wanted the message to echo the wail I'd held inside for so long. She so dearly wanted for me to let her speak; perhaps I would once again reach out to those depths you had said no one had ever come close to until I broke down those walls with a Rose, a Kiss and three words. She wanted you to see my tears in the words. To see a man; mere mortal… frail, fallible but in love!
But my head would have none of it!
He delved deep into the annals of my memory banks for hard proof. Replaying incidents, scenarios from the past, dissecting every detail with the aloof precision of a practiced surgeon. Step by step; applying the laws of logic, “analytics” and reasoning to will that “sentimental cloud” which was slowing creeping up my pectus.

In the end, with these marauding thoughts still brothing inside, my shaky fingers, off their own accord, somehow managed to print out a curt, terse, unrevealing "happy birthday" on the screen and hit "send"!

Strangers... Friends... Lovers

I alighted from the bus at the bus-stop which was about twenty-five meters from my street. I did not have to because there was another stop only a few meters to my street, but it had become a habit of sorts and the little stroll in the evening helped to calm my nerves after a hard day's work, followed by the hustle and bustle of Lagos traffic.
I was only an I.T stude...nt at one of the large O&G marketing firms situated in Marina owned by a well-known mogul who ran his vast business empire with a tight, iron fist. So it did not really matter if you were a "mere intern", everyone had to abide by the rules to the letter and it was not an easy especially for a novice as myself.

At the point of passing the junction of the street before and running parallel to mine, I turned my gaze westward to observe the going-ons in my immediate vicinity and caught a faint feminine outline in the distance against the backdrop of the darkening sky. Whilst this wasn't
one of those striking, ultra-curvaceous sights that a man beholds and momentarily takes leave of his sanity, but it was just appropriate enough to ensure I was not mistaking the gender of the owner.
For reasons, I could not fathom, I felt a pull towards that figure; some sort of attracting force drew me to her and even though I could not see put a face to her because she was walking away from me, my heart told me, "there is a rare gem, right there!". The grace with which she moved, the hem of her gown dancing around her ankles, the imperious set of her shoulders and the 'bun' of hair bouncing jauntily atop her head against the wind like a bejewelled crown were glorious to behold and in that instant, I just fell in love. It would have torn my heart in two if I had let walk away without knowing the identity of this "mystery", I would have died a little inside if I did not behold that beauty that I could not see but yet fellt so strongly.

Without a thought, I swiftly changed course and hastened to catch up with her, I did not make it. She stopped just when I was a few feet shy and entered a compound that had a little kiosk inside. I hesitated, not knowing whether to go in or wait outside; in the end I followed suit. She stood at the counter waiting, hands akimbo, looking like a queen in the in spite of the filth and grime around while the genteel old lady that minded the shop went to get kerosine for her.
With no script or though-out plan in hand, it was an awkward few seconds, after which, I managed a weak smile and shaky "hello" and politely introduced myself. She smiled back and replied with a very assured "hi", her voice a sweet melody to my ears. Relief coarsed through me like a tidal wave and from then on everything else became a blur. She was a really quiet, reserved individual but for some reason she did not mind talking to me (or rather, responding to my questions). As though she had known I would come and had been waiting. We spoke for a couple of minutes as I escorted her back to the gate of her compound then took my leave, making certain I thanked her for giving me audience; adding a slight, courteous bow and gracious smile for good measure.

Till date, I cannot recall a word that was said that evening but I felt magical; like I had just been in my own fairy-tale. The rest of that day was spent with a huge grin on my face and an even bigger one in my heart. The following day, I took a chance and made certain I was on that same path around that time I'd seen her the previous day and it seemed as though fate wanted us to meet again because she was there, standing by her gate in full majesty.

Days after that, we would meet at her gate and take lengthy strolls as the sun begins to rest in the bosom of the clouds. Nothing was said, no verbal agreement reached; our hearts lead and we followed... and so it was, that from total strangers in a sea of everyday faces, we became friends and then, lovers.

Three years!

Exactly three years to the day, I opened a blogger account and designed my first blog(http://mypoetrycrib.blogspot.com). This one you're reading is its sister that was borne much later.

Below is the poem that kicked off my poetic expedition. Reading it now still gives me goose-bumps all over again. It is titled "forever yours", dedicated to one woman I know not.

"You moved slowly,
Patiently watching and waiting,
Never rushing,
never insisting,
Held my hands and walked by my side,
True commitment in every step,
A pillar of strength at bleary times,
Inspiration in the forlorn days,
Extra shoulders to carry life’s wonted burdens,
The pool that dammed my every tear…
That’s why, I’m forever yours…"

Sadly, three years on and I am still searching for that nameless, blameless, faceless woman who was the source inspiration for this piece... I sincerely hope I do not have to wait another three or more!

Finally, I understand...

How many times have we said “I understand how you feel” to someone who is going through some torrid trying times in their lives without fully grasping the person’s plight. So often we assume we can identify with other people’s pain, even without walking as much as a meter in their shoes, talk less of a mile. Oh, how so wrong we are!

About half a year ago, I was tentatively diagnosed of having high Intraocular Pressure (IOP) – which basically means the pressure inside my eyes is higher than normal.

Yesterday, I got substantive confirmation that I had, what is known in the realm of ocular medicine as, “the silent thief of sight” and it has been playing on my mind like a broken record player ever-since.

You know how it is when you are oblivious to a cut or wound on some part of your body, suddenly you notice it and that’s when it starts to sting, when all the while it didn’t!!!? Exactly how I feel now, but much more!

Naturally, ever since I discovered I had bad eye-sight, I’ve always been protective of my eyes. Nothing provokes me to action more than someone making a move towards that region no matter how innocuous. My response is usually swift, instinctive and sometimes unsavoury to the recipient. After hearing this news, I am even more conscious, sensitive about my eyes than ever before.

At the present, there’s an irremovable nagging fear in my mind; every little twitch or itch is greeted with grave concern. Every five minutes I am looking in the mirror. I despair at the thought that one day; I will wake up to pitch blackness (or whiteness) and so it’d be till my last breath.

Now, I gaze at everything I see with re-invigorated reverence as would a new-born whose eyes have just been opened to the marvels of this world. I take it all in, sumptuously guttling all the sights around me – the straight, crooked, tiny, grandiose, pure, tainted, detailed, sketchy, beautiful, ugly… I devour them as would a hungry monster. These ailing eyes committing all to memory as much as I possibly can for all I know, there might yet come a time when the impressions in my head will be all there is left to see beneath the imposing sheet of cecity.

Maybe I now understand how it feels to be living on the edge… fearing the unknown, the unseen. So just maybe; when I say, “I understand how you feel”, I really do!

T.A.S.K and Me…

We spent a short period together but somehow still spoke to great depths or so it seemed. I thought we had struck a chord; reached an understanding, familiarity of the rare breed, far beyond mere acquaintanceship and independent of time. I saw in her a difference; different, removed from the rest. An individual far more ambitious than the narrow minded females floating about, who seemed so intent on hooking a life-partner so much that little else mattered.

She spoke of her aspirations, passion and drive; where, other than there, she would rather have preferred to be and listening to her was refreshingly stirring, heart-warming even. She spoke as though she’d known me for decades; no inhibitions, no holds barred, no demands of reciprocation and it felt divine to listen without being made to feel guilt as though I was hoarding.
She said above all, more than anything else this world could offer, what she wanted the most was love - pure, true and unbridled. Finally, she said she was satisfied; not completely happy and fulfilled but sufficiently gratified enough not to be consumed by the race to beat the biological clock. My heart fluttered.

When she looked at me, her eyes seemed to beckon and in my heart I harboured hope, desire of a future together. I thought I had finally found a real woman. One patient enough to work and wait for what she wanted, yearning for the best yet making the most of her life in its absence. In that instant, I dared to dream; dared even to think that she loved me as much as I did her. For there were many who desired her attention, who would give arm and limb to be her man but she turned my way with rapt admiration. How wrong I was.

Looking back now, I cannot help but feel crestfallen. It dawns that she probably never really shared her true self, true feelings or story. Perhaps, I was just a means to an end, the proverbial “Guinea Pig”…just one in a long line of “eligibles”; drawn from the hat and eliminated when not deemed viable an option to meet that dreaded deadline only a woman at cusp of her prime knows too well. I will never know for sure but I am left with the feeling of being fed dirt in return for handing out chocolate-coated candy bars.

It is possible I come to this conclusion in ire, hence sound a tad unfair. Maybe like in the fairy-tales and happy-ending romance flicks, cupid did in fact manage to find her the true love she yearned for, a very worthy suitor - her very own 'Knight in shining armour' - and the feeling of love and respect between them is mutual. After all, I am only on the outside looking in, but from where I stand, it is so extremely hard to discard objectivity and go along with the heart's fancy inclinations. The photo of she and her man together didn’t look very good; I could not see the sun, her smile or love’s warmth, I only sensed convenience and it gnawed at heart every time I saw it…that guy there should be me!

Love strikes again...

It is said to be a proven fact that lightening doesn't strike twice in the same place...but what if 'place' was a person and 'lightening', heartbreak; surely it can strike as many times as possible any given where. Love has struck again and I find myself on the wrong end of the blow.

So again, it is the same sad story. Again, it is explicable but yet defies logic...again question marks all round me...again!This time its eerie, sometimes even bordering on the edges of comic...but I can't laugh, instead a 'hard' tear rolls down my cheek.
Besides the barest hints of regret, its just numbness...nothing but a vast empty hollow with the words echoing up and down, caught in pendulum of never ending reverberation. There is no inquest this time...there is no need for one; my hands are not soiled but they are just not deemed firm enough - it's my gift, also my curse - innocence unbelievably sincere that can only be seen as guilt in disguise!

For what it is worth, I still live to love another day...so, with this new scar and fresh purple heart, I trudge on in good faith, praying that tomorrow holds better for me and you!

Stranger on my FB page...

Fair lady, wherein hath thou materialized from and what is it you seek of me, I cannot help but wonder aloud! I did not recognize the face but accepted the 'request' all the same. Now I had a bit more access to whatever information she had put on her profile.
First, I browse through her photos, the majority of them taken while she is alone and perched, a tad uncomfortably, in front of an archaic-looking IBM notebook, in what appears to be a small-scale business office of some sorts.She was far from drop-dead gorgeous but the long fluffy hair that ran all the way down to her shoulders, I suspect did a lot to cover any flaws and enhance the finer features of the face, making it passably attractive. From the sitting position, I can tell
her figure is just about right, nothing like Beyonce but enough to receive its fair share of considerable ogling from guys wherever she goes.
Onwards I move, onto the brief 'bio' - did not find much there to suggest the kind of personality I was dealing with. At best just the bland, regular everyday kind of girl.
Undeterred, I plow on looking for a 'chink', anything that would throw some light on the identity and (or) intentions of this young lady who has somehow materialized out of the blue and thrust herself unceremoniously into my 'cyber-life".
Still bemused, I take my eyes off the page and mentally scroll through my head for any clues to remind me if I may have met this person somewhere in the course of my daily sojourns but none is forthcoming. Thankfully I have the smallest imagineable memory bank on such matters, this due to the fact that I don't get to meet that many females and hardly make any impression of note on the very few I do meet. So mercifully, this isn't a particularly tedious task. Search result returns a null.
So back to the computer screen I turn, her profile gives her location as Abuja...hmmm Abuja, I've only ever been there once in my entire life and in the three days spent, I only spoke to guys - cab drivers and office workers. Jev comes to mind, she could be somehow related to Jev...dude resides in ABJ not so!? So I check again for any mutual relationships...no, not Jev but Ehis. Now this is super odd. Ehis doesn't know anywhere beyond the Warri-Benin express road. Not that he can't know or have folks in ABJ, but trying to imagine that guy anywhere else but the Edo-Delta axis is like taking a fish out of water...I can just see him in a fit gasping for breath!
All options exhausted, I see she is available on chat and send her a brief, chirpy message to try establish some form of camaraderie and get none in reply. After several tries and flustering hours of watching her chat status change from 'online' to 'offline' and back again like batting eyelids, I throw in the towel for the day.
Invariably the curiosity wanes with time like old make-up...and she becomes another 'friend', albeit familiar only on the pages of FB!

In the everyday hustle...

Standing in line at the ticket sales point of aero contractors in MM2, amidst the constant hum, buzz and chatter prevalent in this environment, I overhear fragments of a conversation...the reasonably appreciable voice of a female marketing agent trying to sell some sort of product or service to an adult male, who just happened to have the gruffest of grunts as voice and didn't sound like a nice or easy to deal with person at all.
"Sir, please let me just show you some of our..."
"I do not have that kind of time...My business determines my location at any time."
"Where do you have...?" The airport noises made it difficult to hear as much as I would have loved to, especially the saleswoman’s pitch…the scene had an odd ring about it; like a madly driven, love-stricken woman trying to win the attentions of a man. For a moment, I’d gone off-beat, the gruff voice broke me out of the reverie.
"Dubai, UK, America, France, Germany, India, China..." Seemingly showboating now.
"Sir, if we were to give you seven days at any location of your choice where would that be? We have facilities in Asia, Europe..."
"I have told you before; business determines my location at any time."
"Sir, where are you based, I can..." At this point, the marketer is rather rudely and abruptly cut-off by the increasingly impatient and totally unpleasant gruff voice.
"Look young lady, I am a very busy man; you have my card...call me to find out where I am." With that and a quick shuffling of feet, this signalled the end to a conversation even I found as disturbing and discomfiting as perhaps the lady did.
At this juncture, I couldn’t help but turn around to catch a glimpse of the actors.
The ghoul of a man (and I mean it literally), clad in a white, simply cut native attire; neck, wrists and fingers, bejewelled extravagantly, carrying a laptop bag and an array of handheld electronic devices that make SLOT look like an antique shop; just about dragged his considerable mass over to one of the ticketing cubicles of another air carrier and proceeded to deliver a harangue to the unfortunate occupant.
The marketer, a pretty, black, petite lady spotting jeans and a brown tee-shirt with the insignia of some kind of travel agency, tourism group or leisure resort stood alone a feet or two behind me. She was bent over a file folder, rapidly scribbling away on a notepad, more in a bid to avoid embarrassing stares than anything else I suspected. She caught my stare and just for an instant I can sense a bit of dejection and frustration in her eyes. I smile and offer what I hoped to be an assuring nod. She smiles back and returns to her jotting.
It’s crazy…the things we have to go through, all the B.S we have to take, dues we have to pay just to make this money!

Back to work again...

After an absolutely torrid five week hiatus of going from hospital to hospital for
various health reasons, I am due to return back to work. Believe me, you do not want to
work where I do, things can get really treacherous in many unimaginable ways and without warning too.
The night before, am curled in a nice hotel bed somewhere deep in the heart of Old Warri, I call
my colleague and room-mate to confirm when he was due to return to work, good company is very necessary to keep your head above the water here and sometimes, this could be literal. He told me
he wasn't going to be returning as scheduled because he was planning for his
marriage...and here folks begins my torment!
Ok...so Ifayemi is getting married; how is that my headache!!?
I get to the office the next morning at the usual 'ungodly' hour of 0415hrs, while Odogbolu is still cozily wrapped up in sweet slumber, Ekulobia is still as dark as hell is hot and Hadejia, don't even mention...'life' generally starts to come to life around 1000hrs on a 'normal' day there. The stately, always jolly Engineering Manager, Durwood Morris walks in ten minutes later stops himself just short of my ajar door and quizzes "is that Douglas in there?" I am usually the only one person who ever beats him to the office, almost the only one person permitted to get to the offices ahead of him - if
it'd been someone else, I could just picture the unfortunate fellow cuffed, gagged and
being hauled away by security.
He opens the door and walks, "how are you doing young man...welcome back!" (all this in yankee fo'ne - he is African-American). "You were away for quite sometime son...what's up!?" Then suddenly he reaches out and grabs my left hand and visually scans the fingers, no doubts looking for a ring. Lets out a long, heavy sigh, "C'mon man...you and Funsho are the only ones left on this block." Funsho is one of the Document Control folks.
"Ok, seriously. You do like women, don't you...!?" He asks with a mischievous grin.
Well, what could I say to the old man. I just stood there, stupid smile on my face and made some very incoherent, barely discernible sounds. The joke was on me, no escape route. He completes his rather boisterous greetings and welcomes then ambles on to his office which is just a door
away from mine.
As if that is not enough harrasment for one morning, later I go to attend to a user's PC issues and the next thing that escapes his lips after the fairly routine hailings like "good morning, welcome...when did you come back...how your people!?" is "Oge dey marry tomorrow oh, dey there dey form fine boi...shebi he met you here on this project!?"
Soon enough the mist gets clearer but not my mounting mixture of shame, defiance, confusion and ultimately frustration simmering in my head. Minutes later, I walk past the notice board in one of the hallways and see the cause of all this early morning furore...four wedding I.Vs tacked to the board announcing various weddings coming up within a short span of time; all guys known to me one way or another. I look up and see one of the QC Piping Inspectors, Maduka strolling towards my direction, mischief written all over his ill-fitted face...no prize for guessing what is coming up next.
Shuuoo, make una free me nah!

The 'below average' Nigerian Child

There is a very popular but quite ancient, rustic bicycle repair/rental shop in a street around the Works/By-pass bus-stop area, in the general vicinity of Oyemekun, Akure. It seems to be the only one of its kind for miles because in just a little under one year, I have scoured the nooks of the town and not heard off or seen another. Either this or the owner of this particular establishment is so darn good, competitors aren't worth consideration.
After school hours, the kids in the neighborhood flock here to rent and ride bicycles, of course, for a token fee. Some of them still clad in their school uniforms, bare-feet, covered from head to toe in red dust, scars, bruises and sores all over their bodies...but they ride seemingly happily till late into the evening until you begin to question if they really have homes and families to return to.
This neighbourhood is far from the sunniest you will find in the sunshine state, I dare say not the very worst the city or Naija as a whole can offer but certainly bad enough to provide an apt enough illustration of the state ‘sorry’.
Around here, one is more prone to hear very frightening threats and verbal abuse like (excuse my attempt at Yoruba writing) oti ku leni, ma gba ori e or tin ba fun e igba'ju hurled at the children at such a rate that strangers unfamiliar with the native tongue would have little choice but to mistake them for compliments.
The environment is filthy and unkempt; some of the buildings, short of falling apart any minute, are barely fit for occupation and so crammed together there is barely room to stretch... and it doesn't take a certification in HSE to spot scores of hazards visible at every rise and fall in the extremely rough, bumpy patch of the street road just waiting to become recordable incidents or worse, fatality.
In the face of this apparent desolation, to see the children's happy carefree laughter as they ride back and forth, is a cheery sight but more disheartening are the many disturbing questions that accompany the cheer...what if they get hurt? who is watching over them and tending to their needs? Where are their parents or guardians? Do they not see the dangers that this little ones are being exposed to? Inwardly, I shudder because I know something unpleasant is going to happen someday (probably already has) and will recur...but who seems to care!? With all the fear, uncertainty and insecurity that surround them, I cannot help but dread for the present and future health/safety of these children!
I am also very saddened by the fact that I did or can do little to improve their lot...as a slogan in my workplace goes with regards to unsafe or hazardous conditions, "you see it, you own it." I didn't particularly own this situation or even try to and am not proud of that.
As at the time I was drafting this, one of 'em was peering over my shoulder at my Blackberry phone, sheer wonderment in his curious eyes...I wonder if he could tell I was writing about them!?

Blame it on the white man...always!

Have you noticed that almost every single social commentary, analysis, discussion or debate about some of the perceived ills or unconventional behavior observed is most likely to culminate in the blame or reason being attributed, in no small measure, to the influence of foreign culture or what is popularly referred to as ‘western civilization’ into the fabrics of our society?
From same-sex amorous relationships to abortion, unorthodox religious practices to dress modes, crime, morals and ethics…it is fast becoming norm to hear that so and so was never like this until the colonial masters came, usurped our lands and totally redefined laws and customs of our forefathers. Frankly, I suspect even some primary school toddlers must be tired of hearing this same lame excuse over and over again.
So I think to myself…if we are truly off the belief that there is nothing utterly novel under the sun and that everything that we see or can think of now has been previously done or conceived, albeit not exactly, by someone else in the past; how and why then do we come to the conclusion that some of this controversial issues, ills or anomalies were never present in our society until the White man came…!!?
Hmmm...serious food for thought, don’t you reckon?

Message to my grieving heart...

Sometimes when the options in front of you have dwindled to nothingness, there's not an awful lot a man can do but save face and try bite the dust with some grace. No matter how excruciating, you have to face the music...swallow the bitter pill, take out the sore tooth without the cushion of analgesics...and yes, if your feelings are true enough and the pain runs deeper than the superficial, deep enough it touches the very core of your heart; find a corner where you can lay your head, along with it your pride and cry!

Suddenly everything is enshrouded in uncertainty. She doesn't call, text or ping you anymore...and appears to be drifting out of your life, out of your world. She avoids your company and is reluctant to speak, listen or respond to your presence. In fact, all general forms of acknowledgement lessen by the day, as though you do not exist and if you did, you simply did not matter anymore, at least not in her world. These, my friend, are the signs that tell your time is nigh!
You may desperately want to hold on - cling on to straws, as would any drowning being. Fight that sinking feeling in your gut with every bit of strength your ol' battered heart can muster. Pray, save your breathe son...not all battles are to be fought, not all wars are meant to be won.
My tuppence, take the cue, hit the road and live to fight another day.
Beware of the old enemy - that which brings momentary calm, a false sense of relief, hope, sometimes even promise...it usually comes in the form of a smile, "hello", some brief obscure conversation or kind gesture, borne more out of courtesy than feelings once held...they'll set your pulse racing again, offering the faint impression of a glimmer of hope. Tricks, mirages, illusions thats all they are - devises that will pull you back, sink you further into the dark pits of depression just at the moments when you are about to find your feet; about to strengthen your resolve, at the very verge of the initial steps onto the path of recovery.
Make not the mistake to think them a change in your fortunes...fall not into the trap of having your hopes unduly raised for soon enough they will be dashed when the uncertainty returns and once again, your heart is embroiled in inexplicable turmoil, which is only just prelude to a heart-shattering finale. See them only for what they are - attempts to thrust that dagger in deeper, so when the time comes to remove, it hurts the more and the wound takes even longer to heal.

Many will advice you to hang on in there...they'll tell you that persistence eventually pays. But persistence pays in ONE of TWO ways only; and it just might not be the fee you wanted.
Take it from an old, seasoned gambling hand. Hard as it is to accept, there is no use hanging around where you are not wanted whilst a vast world is out there for you to explore.
Chalk it as loss...chin up...move on!