Sunday 30 August 2009
Thursday evening 49 Bode-Thomas Street Surulere.
Osaze Oyakilhome angled the light of the lamp to the couch, stared at the flushed expression of his brother and the red face of the girl avoiding eye contact and knew exactly what he had interrupted. He was glad he decided to weather the storm and make his way home in the end…this should be an interesting evening.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” he asked with a cheeky grin
“I believe you are capable of introducing yourself” Esosa responded. Osaze smiled, his brother was still upset over their argument earlier today and so was he as a matter of fact, which is why he was going nowhere despite the looks Esosa threw at him.
“Hi I’m Osaze. Esosa’s younger brother. I live here as well” he said in his most charming voice
“J-Jennifer” the girl stuttered. He took her hand, felt the soft palms and wondered where his brother found this ajebota from. She didn’t look like she had ever known suffering. All three of them exchanged looks, the lamp casting shadows on their face making it appear they wore masks. Osaze simply hopped over and made himself comfortable. Snuggling right in and kicking his shoes off he lay facing them. Making it obvious he was staying put.
“Osaze” Esosa said in a serious tone
“Oh sorry broda” he replied and got up to place the shoes neatly by the door, returning back to his position and settling in with a “hmm”
“Perhaps we should turn on the gen” Esosa suggested
“Ah ah who are you trying to impress. Generator only comes on at weekends” Osaze said in their native tongue. Jen hid a smile
“Jen is from Benin” Esosa said, annoyed that she had to hear that
“Kóyò” Jen said greeting him hello
“Oops” Osaze said not looking embarrassed at all
“Whereabouts?” he enquired and Jen responded. “This is our sister now” he chuckled to Esosa who didn’t smile back. It appeared his brother still thought he’d be venturing out into the rain.
“Vbè ore 'nì rue?” Osaze asked
“Jennifer” Jen responded, hoping he wouldn’t ask for her Edo middle name so he could tease. Osaze shook his head and smiled
“érhá” he asked with a determined look, asking for her father’s name. Jen, for her full name- Jen volunteered thanking the Lord for the millionth time that her father wasn’t involved in politics.
Osaze looked like someone who was angry at the world, Jen was very observant and it appeared with every question he asked; however innocent- he was judging.
“Ób’ókhían” he greeted her
“Ù rú èsé” she replied
So far, from his charm it appeared she had passed, but still it was a little cute to see someone looking out for Esosa. Even if he didn’t appreciate it, sitting on the reading chair sulking like a boy who had been denied a treat.
She easily relaxed with Osaze, and forgot that a couple of minutes ago her bra was about to be unhooked by his brother on the very couch he now lay on.
“Have you been given a tour?” he asked
“I still say you got the better bed” Jen leaned in and whispered.
“Oh definitely” Osaze agreed patting a cushion of the couch
“If it wasn’t raining cats and dogs I’d have shown you the piece de resistance?”
“Oh Esosa’s shown me the balcony” Jen said with an inviting look to Esosa to join in the conversation
“Really! You are the only one to comeback alive then” Osaze teased
“What can I say? My chi is strong”
“You are from a good breed” Osaze mimicked a typical Benin man and Jen laughed her head off. He did a couple more and soon Jen was grabbing her stomach in stitches. Jen relaxed completely in his company and decided to leave Esosa to his own devices so he could cool down a bit.
Osaze couldn’t be anymore different from his older brother. He was blessed with charm right from the onset and Jen was enjoying his company like it was originally her plan to visit him. She could now correlate the restless explorer in him with the lead character of his favourite book. They spoke about Gulliver’s at length and Osaze confessed that he always wanted to travel the world. He told her he was studying English at UNILAG because it was his dream to be an English teacher in someplace foreign. Jen asked where? Osaze said it didn’t matter but he wouldn’t remain in any one place for longer than 18 months at the most. He probed Jen for where she’d been to and Jen replied not that many places. As comfortable as she was she was not as unbecoming as to play the role of middle-class baby and rattle off the countries on her passport. So she told a white lie- stating her only destinations as England where she schooled and next door Cardiff where she once vacationed.
Esosa stared at the pair of his brother and Jen already annoyed that he had to come interrupt. He watched Jen sway as Osaze reminded her of folk songs she had not heard sung since she was a child, they laughed over stupid things and Esosa just prayed for the rain to stop so he could kick his brother out. Osaze had always been easy around people, growing up he was always defended by his older siblings and had learnt to get by on his charm, and this unfortunately had rendered him lazy. So lazy that he had yet another carryover from one of modules at University this year. Again. Esosa couldn’t understand why the boy did not apply the same work ethic to his books that he did to forming friendships with people he just met. His truancy and repeated number of skipped class lectures had gotten them into an argument just this morning, Osaze wasn’t rude; he wouldn’t dare, but he still managed to come off as flippant before leaving on an errand that he claimed would take hours. Esosa merely assumed he would spend the night with a friend sending a text to say he would be home the next day. But here he was home early, and treading on a private moment between him and Jen just to fluster him. It was moments like this that made Esosa reflect. Esosa tired of playing the role of father and brother to him, it was difficult to be stern on one hand and then ask for privacy the next so he could spend some alone time with a girl, but he promised his stepmom- Osaze’s birth mother that he would care for her son and that is what he intended to do.
“Will you join us?” Jen asked Esosa pointing at the ludo game Osaze had unearthed. He shook his head no and waved them on with a smile
“Oh come on” Jen coaxed
“I’ll referee” Esosa said
“It’s because he always wins” Osaze told Jen
“How? It’s a game of luck”
“Not when you are the brilliant Esosa its not” Osaze replied
“Well not me, I’m horrible” Jen confessed
“Thank God me too. Tell you what; we each get a chance to cheat twice” Osaze propositioned
“It’s a done deal” Jen said and they shook hands on it.
The divided up the primary colours that marked up the starting squares, Jen took blue and green which displayed the pictures of Fela and Tupac and Osaze took on red and yellow- Michael Jackson and Oliver de Coque- and they began to race their token of selected colours from start to finish by rolling the dice. It took them both ages to roll sixes and they laughed at their sad luck.
“Ye evban” Osaze would occasionally tell Jen. Pointing at a square he wished her to send her token, which would place it in his path so he might overtake and win
“You wish” Jen would roll her eyes
The game lasted for over thirty minutes and when Osaze attempted to cheat a third time Jen called him out on it, soliciting the designated referee for back up. Esosa merely waved them on and Jen got annoyed with his determination to pursue his sulking. When the game ended with Osaze the clear winner they hoped to roll again but the light of the electric lamp began to wane. Esosa called to his brother to bring out the spare behind the bar but Osaze confessed to not charging it.
“But when I asked you…”
“I know broda I’m sorry”
“Laho” Osaze apologised. Esosa grunted
“Laho Esosa” the minute Jen said that she regretted it. The annoyed look that crossed Esosa’s face indicated she had taken his younger brother’s side for more than just a rechargeable lamp issue.
“Khue Osaze” he said and reaching behind the table lamp for a torch light attempted to make his way up the stairs. Jen didn’t know if that was to be a joke, but she didn’t find it funny. In a voice employed by her mother when she intended to scold Jen stood up and bid Osaze goodnight while climbing up the stairs to Esosa’s bedroom.
“What was that all about?” she asked “Telling me to pursue your brother”
“Oh you didn’t find it funny?” Esosa said as he sat on his bed
“I am waiting for you to make your point” Jen said with her hands on her waist, she was sick of his petulant behaviour. She was enjoying the kissing too, but there was nothing to do for it. Osaze lived here as well and it was pouring outside; she made the best of the situation, why can’t he?
“You shouldn’t encourage him. He’s lazy and when you jump to his defence like that you give him license to act cheeky” Esosa told her
“I wasn’t. I am sorry I didn’t mean to interfere” Jen apologised
“Osaze is used to having things slightly easier than my siblings and I”
“Isn’t that the way it should be? He’s the youngest”
“Yes. You’re right” Esosa left it at that but Jen looked at him so he continued
“He’s not doing well in school and I don’t understand the problem. Its not girls or drugs, those I can deal with, he’s just unserious. I don’t know how to get him to focus. Take school seriously”
“He wants to travel, not school”
“I am not helping with his school fees so he can go gallivanting the world”
“If you stop being so stern you will see that there are other ways to reach him than scolding”
“He’s a child”
“He’s only two years younger than I am” Jen said
“Well its different for you isn’t it”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jen blinked
“It doesn’t mean what you think it does Jen” Esosa said to pacify
“Really because what I meant was stimulating him with something else; perhaps, by encouraging him to look for a job during his holidays as a flight attendant. That way he can experience travelling and earn some money as well, that should help Osaze re-focus plus it will show you support him.”
Esosa looked humiliated after Jen explained
“You obviously meant the fact that I had my father pay for everything when I was in Uni” Jen looked at him
“I am sorry, it just came out. It was a stupid remark. It was in no way a personal attack or reflection of you. You already know I think you’re a wonderful person”
Jen looked at him upset and declared
“I’m going downstairs to make sure I have everything I came with, I wouldn’t want to disturb Osaze when he’s sleeping in the morning” and she turned on her heel and climbed back down; making out the shapes in the darkness with her hands, upset that she didn’t think to grab the torch off the bed before marching out. Well she couldn’t go back now could she? Osaze was putting away the board game and didn’t appear startled to see her materialise out of the darkness.
“Sorry to disturb you” Jen said
“No not at all. Can I help with something?” he asked looking for Esosa behind her
“Just making sure I didn’t leave anything behind”
As Osaze helped look around for foreign belongings Jen saw a bag of unopened plantain chips
“Oh can I have some?”
“You eat that? Posh girl like you”
“Meaning what?” Jen laughed
“Meaning I thought u only snacked on Pringles or Walkers crisps” Osaze said, there was no laughter in his voice
“Ah ah why would you think that” Jen said wondering at his change in tone
“You’re madam money bags now. Madam international passport” he jeered
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jen said for the second time that night
“Why are you here?” Osaze stopped searching behind cushions to stare at her. Jen looked at him confused
“Really you think you’re fooling me” Osaze said with a low laugh
Jen was confused, wasn’t this boy the one she just played ludo and sang with?
“All these rich girls who want to see what’s its like on the other side, abi? Squat in a one bedroom at the opposite end of town for the experience of ‘managing.’ Before running home to air-conditioned houses and housegirls and maiguards.
“In what position are you to judge me like that…?” Jen felt like she was talking to a different person
“Do you even like my brother?” or is he just a game to you? Something fun”
“My relations to your brother involve only your brother” Jen responded
“Esosa does not mate for fun. So if this is some sort of social experiment to you, then just leave now”
“Where are you getting all this from?” she enquired
“Oooh I know ur type all too well…sophisticated girls but lacking in substance, drive round in expensive cars and wear expensive clothes but pretend to understand the life of a common man because you spare a couple of minutes to chat. You think that makes you emphatic to their suffering?”
Esosa was right Jen thought. Osaze is a child; still angry at the world for what happened to their father. Not in the noble way that Esosa was by refusing to work for the people who disappointed his family but in a selfish way. All Osaze knows is that one minute they lived on the Shell estate with a driver and the next he was being placed in public school. He feels the whole of Nigeria owes him an apology.
“Your fight is not with me…” Jen began “but everyone who made you feel inferior for having less Osaze, and let me tell you now, that until you are proud of what u have achieved, u will never be content. Your brother is and he doesn’t apologise for it. That’s why I’m here, because he works hard and has the confidence of a man who built everything himself and hence has something to say.”
“Yeah whatever material girl” Osaze hissed in her direction
Esosa thundered down the stairs then, to check on Jen and before her very eyes Jen watched Osaze transform to his charming self, handing her phone and bidding them both a goodnight. Appears he was only nice to be respectful to his brother, he didn’t care for her, and Jen didn’t know what she had done but guess you can’t win them all. Can you.
She climbed back up to Esosa and when they reached the landing he apologised again and Jen told him not to sweat it. In his bedroom he had created a makeshift sleeping area on the floor for himself and left her the bed with the covers on. He also offered one of his shirts to sleep in and handed her the torch so she could make her way to change in the bathroom. Jen returned and climbed in uttering a quiet good night, she heard Esosa turn on his side severally so she wasn’t surprised when he started talking into the darkness.
“My mother died when I was young, I don’t remember how old and my father re-married shortly after. All my early memories are of íyé are Osaze’s mother. She loved me like I was her own and though she bore six more children- four girls and Osaze- she never stopped caring for me. After my father got a bad back that pushed him into early retirement, things got hard. We never knew when the pension would come or how much so we struggled to make ends meet.” Esosa took a deep breathe he wasn’t used to pouring his heart out
Jen kept really still lest she frighten him
“My parents were adamant that Osaze try to live the way we were intended to” Esosa continued “that meant no manual labour for him, just school. Lots of it. We didn’t mind, if anything we were glad to raise the baby of the house as middle-class as we could afford. Just look what’s it’s done to him now. He’s gotten so used to everyone toiling on his behalf that he doesn’t listen to advice anymore. I will not always be there to fix everything; I just wish he would take responsibility instead of having his head in the clouds.” Esosa exhaled and continued
“Jen its not that I don’t support him, I don’t want you to think that I will ever be that cold, I am only looking out for him”
“I know” Jen whispered “It was not my place to tell you how to raise him”
“Raising Osaze” Esosa frowned in the dark “my father would have known what to do”
“I’m sure he’s proud of you”
“He died shortly after I returned from Ghana. He never even got to see me move from my uncle’s couch into my own place”
“I’m sure he’s proud of you” Jen said with certainty
“Osaze isn’t a bad kid. He just resorts to truancy because he wants attention. You’re a tough act to follow you know. Maybe he just feels that because he can never excel academically like you did, he might as well not try. “Jen gasped “I apologise I’m doing it again aren’t I? Psycho analysing”
“No please” Esosa said “It takes a woman to know these things”
“Your brother loves you. He’s very protective of you” Jen said
“And I of him” Esosa said with such resolve that Jen smiled into the darkness
“Good night Jen”
“Good night Esosa” she replied and when he fell asleep leaving only his gentle snoring for company Jen knew for certain she had fallen for him; because she had seen the sort of person he could have let himself become: bitter and resentful. She understood him more and with each layer she peeled back she liked what she discovered. Esosa the Economist. Esosa the friend. Esosa the First Son. Esosa the Lover? Jen rolled on the bed till she leaned over the edge looking at Esosa sleeping on the floor, his hands underneath his head and the steady rise and fall of his chest. She wished she could study him in better light but that would mean shining the torch in his face, Jen smiled when she realised that she would enjoy watching him sleep.
She had fallen for Esosa Oyakilhome.
Saturday 29 August 2009
Friday evening, 44 Glover Road Ikoyi.
Halima Dansabe did not claim to know a lot of things but what she did know was hard facts.
She was beautiful and Kabir loved her.
These are the simple certainties that Halima wore atop her head like a crown. It morphed the steps she walked, formed the words her lips uttered as she bowed her head in prayer five times a day and ultimately dictated the rest of her life. She was in her early twenties and yet to discover her shortcomings. She didn’t have any, it was that simple. Schooling abroad she had encountered other girls, mostly non-Hausa and non-Muslim, who thought it weird that she hung on to beliefs and did not “experiment”. They harboured pre-conceived notions of northern girls and would stare at her half-expecting tears and tales of how subdued her lifestyle was. She never complained. What was there to complain about? She did not know “want”- never had. Her every wish was and always had been granted. She had also never felt inferior- to whom? Her father was the richest man in Northern Nigeria- she was royalty. Eventually she grew accustomed to the looks of envy she received from such girls. The looks they pretended to coat in pity. Hating the fact that she wore her long skirts and hair scarves with a confidence their skin tight dresses couldn’t give them. Girls who claimed to be sexually liberal but fucked around hoping to find the love Halima was handed as she walked late into her Math class at age 15 angering the head boy who turned to scold her but instead smiled and introduced himself as Kabir. Girls, who claimed to be adventurous- with clothes, hairstyles and face paint- tried in vain to coax fake hair down to shoulders, like hers naturally did. Girls who pierced or tattooed certain parts to enhance their appeal, Halima only adorned herself with colourful waist beads fragrant in sandalwood that jiggled when she hurried by. Girls who tried desperately to twist their tongues into a dialect foreign to their mouths in ridiculous “fone” barely speaking one or the other, Halima voiced in Hausa, Kanuri and Arabic. Her skin was kissed by northern sun, her features blessed by her mothers Kanuri heritage, and her irises sparkled like that of a woman who was properly loved by the man of her dreams. So, yes Halima Dansabe didn’t know a lot, but she knew that the most inner desires of a woman lay in beauty and love. She was beautiful and she was loved.
Lately, one of the two things she knew stopped seeming so certain. Kabir was different. She could not place it nor could she label the feeling as woman intuition for she never chanced upon an opportunity to develop that trait. She knew Kabir, trusted him and she loved him. There was never any need to doubt him. He was romantic, charming and devoted. She loved him. It was just that lately…
Some things had been missing of late from their relationship; they laughed less but kissed more. It shouldn’t seem weird for an engaged couple but she missed their conversations on Politics, Religion and Travel that lasted long into the night. On her return from Kano, he picked her up at the airport and as expected kissed her like a man possessed but there was something…
Last night as she lay in his arms, she pushed the thought aside. Stop being silly she scolded herself. Afterwards they watched for the new moon, having a late dinner on his lawn as they stared at the starry sky for the glimpse of the crescent moon that would indicate the start of the Holy month. The kissing began again in earnest when she brought up his lack of interest in the wedding plans, although he had already apologised profusely for his tone with her the other day over the phone. Her brain turned to mush and her tongue forgot what it was trying to articulate. “Anga wata” she finally managed to say winning the contest by being the first to spot the silvery outline behind rain clouds. With a kiss on his cheek she left his townhouse returning to the apartment she shared with her sister Jummai in Victoria Island.
That was the early hours of this morning but presently they sat on his carpet in his expanse of a living room staring at the television awaiting the first call of Maghrib that would signal the end of the working day and the end of the fast. Kabir had a far away look that Halima had seen once before. Halima had laid the rug for the Iftar meal and she stared at the food on show. Had she displeased him? There were bowls of dates and a glass of ice water to soothe his parched thirst. Two glass bowls held generous portions of fruit salad, a covered cooler housed kosai and the flask contained akamu. There was kunu and zobo in the fridge and she planned to heat up the tuwo shinkafi and kuka for later. How had all this upset him? By now they would be exchanging stories of temptation from the day. Friends and colleagues who mistakenly; or in Femi’s case knowingly; kept offering food and drink throughout the work day. There would be laughter…but instead the only sound was the drone of the TV as it displayed a large clock, ticking its way towards 7.20pm when the call to the evening prayer would be broadcast. She glanced at him once more in his sweats as he lay on his leather couch lost in thought. An awful gnawing in the pit of her stomach…now she knew something was wrong.
Kabir sank to his plush dark purple carpet feeling more like a stranger than the man of the house. He caught her stare and made his muscles relax enough to smile; rubbing his belly and hoping that she would take his silence for hunger.
“Mai ka damun ka?” she asked with a concerned look.
“Nothing.” Kabir said “nothing is wrong”
“Kariya ne” Halima stated
“I am not lying” Kabir said slowly
“Kariya” she repeated. Kabir sighed she seemed ready for a fight. He reached out and stroked her face to soothe her. “Ba komai” he said with a strained smile. She turned into his touch and smiled into his palm and in that instant Kabir felt cheap. He felt his lips form the words before his brain had time to give permission.
“I’m not happy” he said.
Halima’s head jerked up. Kabir looked at her for a long time after that. So this is it he thought. He convinced himself that he could love her; he had done it for 8 years happily. After Jen became someone he did not understand, he told himself that Halima would always remain the same: beautiful and uncomplicated. She knew that he meant the best for her, even if he sometimes phrased it as a command rather than a suggestion, she would base his feelings for her in how he treated her and not how polite he was to people who weren’t involved in their relationship. She knew him. Explanations weren’t necessary because she understood his moods. Without raising her voice she made her point clear, not having to resort to name-calling, she would never jump out of the car in the middle of traffic. She was not Jen. Kabir sighed; that exactly was the problem: she was not Jen. Halima latched on to his fingers; she was still staring at him waiting for him to continue.
“D” she called him by his pet name “Abinchi ne?”
“No it’s not the food” Kabir assured her
“Then what?” she reverted to English
Kabir wanted to tell her that he did not want to be loved by her anymore. That he wished she wasn’t such a good person, that she didn’t look at him like her entire happiness rested on his shoulders. He wanted to tell her that he really honestly tried to get things back to the way they used to be. He swore he would make up for his infidelity and devote himself to her. So he kissed her every opportunity he had, became more involved in the wedding and was willing to marry her to make her happy because she deserved to be happy. He wanted to tell her that he told himself that his life would be directed by her dreams. Then he couldn’t think of what they were, all he came up with was her unwavering support for his. His aspirations and his goals, and he realised that he’d been a bad boyfriend because he couldn’t remember the last independent decision he allowed her to make. He didn’t remember if she was capable of a decision that didn’t involve him anymore. He wanted to tell her that in the dark of the night he realised that everything Jen said about him was true. He realised that he wasn’t the perfect catch he thought he was. He wanted to say that before this moment he was going to love her Halima like she deserved, but with the fast weakening his resolve he forgot to play the part of doting boyfriend, his body was adjusting to the first day of Ramadan, his stomach contracted and his throat sore from thirst and he forgot he was on a stage performing. Kabir wanted to say all this but he didn’t know how he would start.
Halima was still staring at him and Kabir could only voice “you know how I feel about you. How I’ve always felt”
“Yes” she whispered but Kabir couldn’t go on. He tried to get the words straight but everything he thought of sounded wrong. His wordsmith abilities escaped him and he was dumbfounded.
“Why don’t your eyes sparkle anymore?” Halima asked
“What?” Kabir stared at her
“Your eyes, the gold in them is gone”
“Err…” Kabir couldn’t speak, alas for all his acting, Halima wasn’t convinced
“What took it away?”
“Who took it away?” Halima’s voice shook. Kabir ran his fingers through her thick hair. Her scarf hung around her shoulders and her hair dark as ink fell in light waves to her shoulders. She was so beautiful and she loved him. What was he doing?
“Ba ke bane” he said close to her mouth
“I didn’t ask if I caused it. I asked who did” Halima replied sternly. Kabir didn’t answer. He met her gaze and it was friendship that made him speak, because she was his best friend and he wanted to be honest with her. A flurry of words came tumbling out and he didn’t pay attention to the fact that the series of events weren’t properly arranged or the fact that they didn’t make much sense, he just kept talking. Halima’s face went through a variety of expressions and Kabir lost count to how many times her eyes filled and spilled over. He hoped his disjointed words conveyed the fact that he loved her but he was no longer in love with her, he hoped the words expressed how much better than him she could do.
They didn’t hear the call to prayer even with the surround sound so when Halima used shaky hands to raise a glass of water to her lips, Kabir did the same. They ate in silence, Kabir had no more to say and Halima had grown tired of asking “why?”
There was tension but they ate because they had too. They did not pick off each others plate for “ladah” they simply chewed and swallowed, tasting nothing.
“Barka da shan ruwa” Kabir greeted her on breaking her fast. She did not answer, he got up to take the dishes away and Halima continued to stare at the space between them. It was over.
Halima jumped up when he returned from the kitchen, he looked at her afraid of what she might do. Before him, Halima knelt down and begged him to love her. She had never knelt before anyone but her pride was broken and she needed him to know that she would beg, steal and serve for this love. Kabir pleaded with her to rise, but she couldn’t, her heart kept her there. “Tell me what to do” “Teach me how to better love you” she recited over and over again hopping between English and Hausa till her voice went hoarse. She wasn’t in denial, she could fix this…it had to work. It just had to. An hour later Kabir grew tired of trying to force Halima to her feet so instead sank to the floor and listened to her weep. Why does he keep hurting the people he loves? As exhaustion washed over her, Halima began to sway and Kabir caught her in time before she slumped to the floor. She had not eaten enough since she broke her fast and Kabir laid her on the couch as she slept. He did not know what to do; he also knew that when she awoke his face would be the last she’d want to see. He called Jummai to his house and on her arrival, he helped load Halima into her car; replying her every enquiry with “Your sister will tell you”. As he closed the passenger door of her BMW quietly, Jummai hugged him in the familiar manner whispering “Sai anjima” Kabir bid her farewell knowing that would be the last time she would ever speak to him that kindly.
The next morning Kabir was bombarded with insults from the Dansabe sisters: Jummai, Samira and youngest sibling Aisha. They called to speak to him and on realisation that he meant the break-up told him about himself. It appeared everybody thought he was a jerk, but Kabir knew it was early days yet. The family was yet to be informed; it was then that it would really hit the fan. By Monday, Kabir ached to see Halima, the friend in him wanted to console her, make sure she was alright but he knew he couldn’t dare approach within at least 50 yards of the house without fear of death. He planned his entry like an assassination, bribing the security guard at the entry gate, to alert him to Jummai’s departure. On reaching the apartment door later that night he opened the door with the spare key Halima had made for him a year ago and let himself in. The room was dark and unventilated and Kabir called her name silently, Halima appeared from under the covers on the couch and involuntarily smiled at him- remnants from couple dom- before adjusting to a scowl. He squatted besides her staring into her red swollen eyes and asked how she was. Had she eaten? What could he do? To each she replied what do you want? Why are you here if you don’t love me? Kabir told her she was his rock and not marrying her did not mean he no longer cared. She told him that his platonic love confused her, told him to get out and screamed until he did. Kabir returned the next day, and the next till Halima went from denying the break-up to hating him. She spewed words at him, the kind he had never seen. Every misdemeanour from their relationship was hacked and brought to light in the stillness of her apartment. Kabir hunched in a corner and said nothing. He deserved it and was not leaving till he had fully explained the situation to her, she needed to know and until she was strong enough to ask the question he would take her stabs.
It was in the second week of Ramadan that his mother called crying down the phone. Did he know what he had done to the family? She sobbed to him. All the years of familial relations down the drain. Old classmates, mutual friends and everybody else and their uncle called and visited to know if he was insane. To each enquiry of Halima’s misgivings Kabir replied “she is perfect. I just don’t love her the way I used to”. The two families back north pointed fingers and called names, ties were severed and allegiance retracted. Such a messy affair, after so long it was hard to remember what belonged to whom, drawing boundaries, building up walls and forever erasing traces of the Tijani-Dansabe association. It was civilised anarchy between their households and Kabir would have sold his soul to shoulder the blame alone. Halima hid from the brunt of shame in her flat, she had stopped going to work and spent her days fasting and praying. Praying to heal. Kabir did not end his visits and she was tired of trying to break him. Even with the added advantage of knowing where to hit, reminding him of his every falter and failure. He merely stared at her and apologised, told her how wonderful she was and how lucky he had been to have her for the time he did. He stuck the knife in himself mentioning short comings she had never seen in him and asking how she had put up with it. The arrogance and self-assurance in him was gone and Halima saw that the boy she fell in love with was no more. As he sat with hunched shoulders on the chair after a particular gruelling round of “I hate you” from her, Halima got tired.
“I am not going to make this easy for you” she stated. He didn’t look up.
“Coming here every evening and letting me tear into you will not make me forgive you” Still he said nothing.
“What do you want from me Kabir?” she asked “you will not be here if you didn’t want something”. Kabir still kept silent.
“Answer me” she ordered.
“I want you to get better” he whispered
“Better. BETTER” she shrieked. “I am not sick Kabir. You dumped me.” Does this- she pointed to the rumpled up tissues that littered the base of her couch- “look like medicine to you”
“No.” Kabir did not need to follow her gaze to see what she was referring to. At one point she had a nose bleed and her blood stained handkerchief was clutched in her palm.
“I love you and if hurting me makes you feel better…”
“You are no longer allowed to say those words to me. Ever” Halima warned. Kabir conceded and apologised
“When did you stop loving me?” she asked. Kabir looked up and saw the determination in her eyes. She had detached herself from the situation. She was gone past denial and through the anger, she had accepted it and now she could ask.
“Four months ago. It was a Thursday” Kabir replied truthfully,
“You know this for certain”
“It was the day I met Jennifer” Kabir said
“Jennifer?” Halima asked. She was sure he mentioned the name last Friday but she couldn’t recall the events that led to the loss of her marriage. “Tell me” she commanded and he did. Everything. Every single detail was explained, his every whereabouts’ accounted for and Halima cried into more tissues over the course of the three hour confession.
“And you love this Jennifer more than me” Halima slurred over the name causing the fire in his eyes to blaze for the first time in weeks; that was her reply. Kabir’s unconscious jump to the girl’s defence was Halima’s reply. Halima was silent for a while as she gathered her thoughts, then a bitter laugh sounded. Kabir looked at her like she was crazy
“Are you with her now?”
“Does she want to be with you?”
“Then why tell me? Why not return to me and spare me this humiliation and pain”
“I tried to but even on my best pretence you could tell something was wrong. I couldn’t carry it on forever”. They both fell silent again then Halima asked him to leave.
That night as she sat on her praying mat for taraweeh- a long recital of the Qur’an- she had an epiphany. Her eyes adjusted and she felt her heart stilled for a moment. Why was she here? In Lagos? Halima couldn’t recall ever wanting to venture south. Surely there must have been a reason… Oh she remembered…for him. That’s why she was here, for Love, because that’s what you did when you loved someone, you made sacrifices. She left behind her life. She left behind attending functions with her mother, lunching with her friends, tending to her fathers estate and debating politics with her uncles so he could apply for a job and embark on a new chapter. So she applied for employment in the same establishment and told herself she would love it.
She hadnt fallen in love with Lagos
She hated the crowds and the noise. Daily commute bombarded with sticky humidity. She missed the easy appreciative pace of the north, not this rush that was always abounding in Lagos especially the claustrophobic feel. She longed for the arid plains of her home, the acres of land that stretched out with cattle grazing on the soil. The cattle herders wore floppy hats and chewed on long blades of grass. Mallams speaking in her native tongue as they bid her good day, the call to prayers from Gidan Makama mosque echoed around the town. She longed for fresh fura bought from Fulani milk maids, danwake and proper masa and suya not the oily tough version sold over here. She missed the make-shift shops that sold woven baskets along with kuturn yaji, barkono, tonka and other kayan miya. She missed the open celebration of Eid, the horse men in Sallah Durbar festival. She missed gossiping with her cousins under shaded mango trees their palms darkened with henna and fingers sticky from Hwanke dipped in honey or smothered in Man shanu. She missed Kano.
When Kabir returned the next evening her sister gleefully told him Halima had left, that she was presently handing in her resignation at Holloway. Kabir raced to the office but missed her; Halima had left without warning and as suddenly as he had broken off their engagement. He was in no moral position to feel hurt but he did, he would have liked a chance to say goodbye. Ramadan ended five days later.
Thursday 27 August 2009
The best part is that it is CHEAP! and comes in huge quantities. This combination is why Americans are overweight.
3)Pride-Americans LOVE america!! Gosh it is unreal!!! You'll see people with american flags on their homes, cars, keyrings etc. Since it is essentially a country of immigrants, everyone has the right to claim it as home. A Mexican, Cuban, Indian or Black American all have the same sense of self-worth. I mean a Black man who is the son of an immigrant can be the president. An immigrant like Arnold Swarchenegger can be an actor and them become the governor! A talk-show host can rise to become one of the richest and most powerful woman in the world.
In jand, if you are not British, you will never be under any illusion that you are home. Even those that are British do not send that much. All they do is whine, moan and bitch about every little thing-the weather, Gordon Brown, David Beckhamp, the credit crunch, council tax, delays on the tube, the weather, bills, immigrants, queues.............Chai British people can complain!! The majority, i.e working class do not seem to have that national pride and charisma that Americans have, unless they are abroad or complaining about immigrants running down thier country!!
So thats my list. I will write the things I do not like about the States in my next post.
Enjoy and feel free to tell me what you guys like/dislike about both!!
Monday 24 August 2009
and then you have clowns like these babes (who auditioned last year as well) why do people embarass themselves like this??
and ofcourse theres ALWAYS a Nigerian that feels d need to disgrace us, more than usual, in this case Eguono Okiti was that person!! Oh and she just had to do Mariah Carey's Without You. This song has been raped in so many positions by so many people, I can never enjoy it again.
It started with this lady in Bulgarian idol, that remixed it to "ken Lee"
I just loveeee reality t.v auditions. The Naija ones are just as good. There are a couple of really talented people like this babe called Tamara below:
But more importantly i lovee these West African Idon audtions. Every time I'm having a bad day and I need to laugh, i just watch these clips. I swear they get funnier each time. LOOL!
And there is this babe in South African Idol that looks sane but is possessed!!
Mr Lonley LMAOO
The funniest thing is they seem shocked when they are told they cannot sing. Thank God for truthful friends.
Saturday 22 August 2009
Subject: RE: FBI ESTA CODE APPLICATION.
ANTI-TERRORIST AND MONITORY CRIMES DIVISION
FBI HEADQUARTERS IN WASHINGTON , D.C.
FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION
J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING
935 PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE,
NW WASHINGTON , D.C. 20535-0001
RE: COMPENSATION OF SWINDLED VICTIMS.
Greetings from the office of the Federal Bureau of Investigations (FBI), Washington D.C. This email exchange is an investigative exercise carried out by the Federal Bureau of Investigations (FBI) routinely to check email traffic on the internet.
Our Home Office has been prompted to write you an email regarding the presence of unsolicited emails traced to your email account which was reported to our agency from Google search and has been filed for record purposes.
We believe you are a victim of a scam heist which has been traced to West Africa and we are already in communication with the Western Union agents in both United States and United Kingdom where money exchanged hands and have currently made some arrests in West Africa .
Your name has been drafted for compensation and you are to receive the sum of $65,000.00 as compensation funds .Under the United States Customary law ,you have been mandated to submit all necessary documents as proof that there was an on-going transaction before such compensation is paid out.
We apologize for any inconveniences and embarrassment you must have encountered in the past and expect you to apply for an Electronic Security Transfer Account [ESTA CODE ACCOUNT].
In order to apply for your ESTA CODE ACCOUNT, you are required to contact Agent Anderson through the FBI Mailbox on 1  666 5138.
Send in the following:
-Present contact address*****
-Scanned copy of Identity card*****
-How much lost*****
-Preferred means of Transfer****
Do respond to this mail within the next 72 hours.
Tel:  443 602 9971
Fax :  443 602 9972
Chai these people are getting smarter oh!!!LOL!
Wednesday 19 August 2009
So I have been hyped about seeing this movie since I saw the preview below on Bella Naija.
The synopsis of the movie: “In what seems like a perfect life, three beautiful women who are pushing thirty make bold attempts to change their lives even when destiny plays its joke on them. With a marriage that seems almost doomed from the beginning, to an affair with an unlikely candidate and the endless pursuit of love, three friends will learn the harsh lessons of life, the challenges of marriage, the fatality of falling in love and the rewards of having a good laugh in the mist of sorrow."
I saw this movie and was blown away. It is 9/10 by African standards. It revolves around 3 friends and thier love-lives in modern day Ghana. It stars Jackie Appiah, Lydia Forson, Naa Ashorkor Mensah-Doku, Chris Attoh, Adjetey Annang, Nana Kwame Osei-Sarpong and KSM. It adds to an increasing genre of African Romantic comedy, not melo-dramatic over-the-top romance that saturates Nollywood.
The picture quality, sound, and editing are on point, and the three main xters are excellent in thier roles. There are several points about this movie that are notable:
1) It has ALOT of sex scenes. By African standards this an 18! There is no nudity or anything, but there are enough sexual talk and inferences keep your mind blown. The movie is basically about SEX SEX AND MORE SEX! LOL But it is done in a classy way I think. It is no more vulgar than the way normal people converse, it is just the first movie I have seen that portrays this, so it gets bonus points. It helps that men are all HOT, but Chris Attoh, who stars as the main guy is just sex on legs!!! OMG he tall, dark and STUNNING....but I digress...
2)The scenery is amazing. Its all plush gardens, enormous buildings, beautifully decorated homes, clubs, bars resturants and pools. For a second I was like is this the Ghana I visited? I definately have to go back and look for these posh places!lol
3)The soundtrack is on point. I was so hooked that I went to download one of the songs called "Obi do wa a do ni bi"(love the one that loves you back) and I have been singing in Fante ever since!
The only problem is that certain storylines are a blit cliche, and the main xter is outshined by the other ladies. Their stories are more intruiging and Lydia Forson who plays Dede(the wayward friend, yes there is always one, and we all have one) does an excellent job! It also tends to dragg onnnnnn, a bit and I got inpatient after a while.
Regardless, it is a must-watch for rom-com lovers, so grap your popcorn and enjoy!
You can watch the movie HERE or HERE!
Personally, I have never given the matter any thought until I read the article. I guess I assumed I would change my name once I got married or get a hypen with my maiden and married name, but I have never seen that as meaning I am any less my own person, or loosing my original identity by adopting his. Afterall, my current surname is my father's which my mother adopted, and my father's mother adopted as well. So any concept of ownership are lost because, although I am claiming not to belong to my husband by changing my name, I am still claiming to belong to my father thereby loosing any feminist points.
Women like Angelina Jolie and Jenifer Aniston, both married to Brad Pitt, but never adopted his name have brought this issue further into the light, but to be fair, hollywood has alot of issues that mean they have unique considerations that do not apply to us mere mortals!
At the same time, great women have been recognised on their own merit regardless of adopting thier husbands' name. A good example is Winnie Mandela. Although she is the ex-wife of Mandela, she never changed her name after the divorce and is still respected based on her own achievements.
I guess at the end of the day, it is left to the dynamics of the couple in question. If a woman feels the need to keep her surname, then I salute her for that. Normally I am feminist, but on this issue I do not really see it as proving any points.
Saturday 15 August 2009
LC: Hello,thanks for granting my interview
OA: No worries I don’t usually do interviews ,but its all good.
LC: OK!!! so lets get to know you a bit more.
LC: So who is Olisa:
OA: I’m JUST an average guy trying to get by.
LC: No..now..more like a brief history to the Olisa movement.?
OA: Im involved in electronic media
LC: Could you tell us about what you did to get to where you are today? Like the stages you went through?
OA: Actually im not very good about talking about myself, ask me about what I do
LC: Fair enough,What made you get into radio?
OA: Well I felt there was a challenge I had not faced, Most people start off from radio to television but I did mine the other way round, I started off from theatre then I went to television then radio as I wanted to become a fully rounded entertainer.
LC: So how far back was this?
OA : I started right after I came back to Nigeria, right about 1989 there abouts.
LC: Where were you living prior?
OA: I was living in England.
LC: Could you tell us about the beat fm?
OA: The beat fm is a brand new station ,we started on the 1st of may 09. Targeting youths … the hip people from age 14 up wards. You can be young at heart and still love the beat. And im saying this not cause I work here but I mean we have a combination of everything, you get a bit of hip hop, garage a bit of grim, bashment, reggae, soul a bit of rock and of cause Nigerian music. In fact quote me on this. “This is the first time a station has put Nigerian music on high priority” and on heavy rotation, im talking about a 24 hour cycle.
LC: So are you a stakeholder in the beat fm?
OA: Yes I am., I am a stakeholder and fully involved
LC: What are the major challenges, the station faces entering the market?
OA: Challenges have being all sorts, mainly technical because most of the technology and equipments we are using has never being used in Nigeria before, Like our software. I mean with hi tech material comes hi tech problems. Biggest challenge has being the power sauce; I mean we are operating with the generator for 24 hours, So you can imagine what we spend in terms of diesel and also maintenance of the generator. So yeah its not easy.
LC: You guys have some smart alternative revenue drivers in the form of the beat mobile. Can you tell us a bit more about it?
OA: We are everywhere, we are on face book, we are on twitter we also have a website with online streaming. I mean what we are starting is a movement. Its not just a radio station. We are gonna have so many events so many gigs . It’s a shame we are only in Lagos rite now but we are gonna take it everywhere. We haven’t even launched properly yet.
LC: So how long have you being on radio
OA: I have being on radio full time since 1998 but I have been in media for over 20 years
LC: Cool so If you could re-count your most liberating moments on air so far, what would they be?
OA: Wow, there have being so many great moments. I can’t really think it’s hard. I think everyday you have moments where its that interaction between you and the listeners. That instant karma you get, the joy when someone calls in or sends a txt,when a listener comes in to collect their prize, when you play a particular song and people are feeling it. That’s the joy.
LC: I totally get you, the number of times I have had OMG moments on the drive to work courtsey of your station. Ok so correct me if I’m wrong but we hear you are one of the founders of Storm records, Could you tell us more about your dealings at Storm?
LC: What are your comments on Darey living Storm Records
OA: Darey is a friend we are like family,he joined us back in Cool Fm , I have known him since way back I’m friends with his mum I worked with his father back when I was with NTA back in 1988.
LC: You worked with NTA?
OA: Yeah I worked “with” not for; I was on contract as an independent producer, going back to Darey. Darey is a very talented guy, he felt he didn’t need Storm and he could do things on his own and We wish him the best of luck . I am glad to see he is doing good things. A lot of artist announce that they are living Storm and a lot come back through the back door when they see that the grass aint so green on the other side. They underestimate the leverage we have and the power of our push.
LC: Now we know its all still in the brew, but could you give us any inside scoop on what to expect from storm anytime soon?
OA: Neato C, Tosan Martins,Sasha , Sauce Kid all releasing albums. Gt the Guitar man
LC: Oh yeah heard you guys signed Gt up?
OA: Yeah the long awaited album will be out, we have spent four years cooking it..its a killer album.
LC: You also anchor the television talent scout show NAIJASINGS, which is like another POP IDOL. How did you get involved with that?
OA: Naija sings is not trying to be like Idols , I mean when we get to the final fourteen we’ll be doing different nights with Nigerian music and international music we wanna merge what is happening in the contemporary scene with our own indigenous material. We wanna bring the old music and mingle it with the new. As well as expose our musical culture I mean our heritage is so rich we have kinda forgotten it and we need to bring it back.
LC: How did you get involved with hosting the show and how do you see television production in Nigeria at present and in the near future.
OA: I mean I have done some projects with Mnet before, I had co-hosted the show with a lovelly girl called michelle, But this time Storm was involved in the creative process. Storm and a company called Nevermachine were part of the creative process. And we are part of the production process (that is Storm 360). I didn’t really want to host it to be perfectly honest, but the problem was the programme needed a host with a musical knowledge that is beyond average in order to educate people properly. So it was after holding auditions and not finding someone to articulate this that I had to step in and do it. I am not saying I am the best presenter in Nigeria but that it’s a very specialised show.
LC: There has being a massive debate on the depth of lyrical contents of the records from the modern Nigerian artists brought on by journalist Ruben A’s article “A nations identity crisis”,not sure if you heard about it ,could you comment on this debate.
OA: Ruben is a very intelligent man but I think he bit a little more than he could chew, I think the problem was the article was generalised way too much. Cause I mean there are a lot of young people doing great things. In any generation of music there will always be throw away songs. Not every song is gonna deep and meaningful and have a message it could just be a happy sing along song from Chris Okotie back in the day. Not every song Onyeka sang was deep and meaningful not every song Fela sang was deep as well Fela could sing a lot of throw away songs back in the day that just made you feel good. So you can’t just be too hard on the younger guys. Even in the States you get throw away songs that don’t mean anything. So I think it was just a bit too harsh.
LC: Where do you see the Nigerian music industry presently or in the future?
OA: The present is good…but what I’d want to see is where artist get their right cut from album sales, they currently make the bulk of their money from performances. We need to attack the piracy issue and I’m glad to see we have a good man at the NCC at the moment, I want to see when Neato C will sell a million copies and get the benefit of selling those copies as opposed to just earning money from performance. We are starting a movement. I want to hear a white kid in Arkansas singing to Neoto C . I mean I was at the airport in Nairobi and they were playing P-square through the public speakers, You go out to a bar in J’bourg and its Nigerian music. We wanna take Nigerian music international. Then Next stop for Storm would be Movies
LC: Oh you mean like Nollywood?
OA: Na better than Nollywood ,we’ll be using celluloid cameras.
LC: Finally to wrap up, could you offer any advice to any up and coming media personalities and artists?
OA:Lets try put it simply. Don’t follow the Money,follow the dream.
For more information on the storm record and Beat movement check out there websites . http://www.storm360degrees.com/ and http://www.thebeat99.com/
Thursday 13 August 2009
Hey bville, just thought I'd share a question and answer session with Mc extraodinaire of the moment Mr Incredible aka MI . This session was brought to you courtesy of the drive time show with Gbemi on the Beat99.9 fm.
Q: What was the last book you read?
MI: The Bible, I read it cause I needed to mark reference for some lines I'm about to drop.
Q: What movies have you watched more than five times.
MI: That would have to be Love Actually,Notting Hill..Well im a bit of a rom com fan . oh and Jayz’s performance at Glastonbury.
Q: What did you last steal..as in what item have you stolen of recent.
MI: That would have to be my mums jewelry….yes I'm shamed face…actually stole it for a girlfriend..cant mention her name just incase she is listening
Q: Have you ever been heartbroken?
MI: Yes I have been. I think it was back in 2000 or there-about
Q: So tell us,are you in a relationship at the moment?
MI: No im not.
Q: What about you and Kel
MI: Shout out to Kel my baby mama....jokes im joking but na we never dated.
Q: If you could date any woman in naija who would it be?
MI: That would be Rita Dominic..and no jokes men I think she is Hot!!
Q: What did you first buy after you had your big break?
MI: That would be a car
Q: What model was it…oh what would be your dream car?
MI: Ha..that is an X6 a BMW X6
Q: Where would you love to travel to that you have not been to already?
MI: I would like to have one of those hoidays where you rent a bicycle and go backpacking around,like in Italy for a year or something like that.
Q: What would be your dream collaboration both nationally and internationally?
MI: Nationally I think Asa…and Dbanj but yeah im friends with Dbanj so that might just happen soon..im actually friends with a couple of them guys 2face,Banky W..actually myself and Banky W workout together
Q Ohhh can I come watch.....
MI: LOOL, ..Then internationally ..I would like to work with my man Kanye men….
Q: Boxers or Briefs?
MI : Boxers
Q: Cats or Dogs?
MI: Dogs I’m actually about to get a bulldog.
Q: Whats you favourite food?
MI: Pounded yam and eforiro soup..men my top three meal would be pounded yam with draw soup and pounded yam with another soup.
Q:What is your favourite colour?
MI: The point at which blue and green met.
Q: Who are your best friends?
MI: JC Cell and Ice prince
Q: Who is your role model?
MI: That would be my Father.
Q: Do you think you are a role model?
MI: By default yes I think to a certain extent and I must add its intimidating.
Q: Could you share any crazy groupie stories?
MI: Yeah there was one chic,I can actually mention her name Ada, and she was trying to show off how much of a party girl she was by drinking a lot and she ended up fallin asleep in her own vomit…Oh and if there is an ada standing next to you saying she is not the one..then she probably is…
Q: How old are you,or should we say how young are you?
MI: Well lets just say im older than 25 but younger than 28
Q: So whats your spec in women?
MI: For me its all about having a great mind and a great behind..thats our ability to hold a deep conversation.
Q:Have you got any bad habits that you would rather not have.
MI: That would probably be biting my nails.
Q: Are you right or left handed?
MI: Right handed
Q: Do you have any body parts that you are insecure about?
MI: Well I guess I already know Im not a fine boy ..so im really not sure.
Q: If you could have any super powers what would they be?
MI: I'cd be invincible
Q: Have you ever dated anyone taller than you?
MI: Yeah I have ,she was actually taller and older than me…she was about 6inches taller and 4 years older .
Q: What is your favourite female body part?
MI: Well I want to own an Aston Martin one day and I really like astronauts..you get my drift.. lol…(errrrr.....ok)
All in all Mr incredible came off as a very pleasant guy and really down to earth and funny…ok ok maybe this is my own groupie story….We'll keep trying to get our own personal interview so we can ask him all the questions you naijadaydreamer followers want to ask him… Check out his new song “God bless you” which he said was written about himself and how he feels when he is constantly on the road and he finally gets back home to family and friends ..and cough cough..Her…...
Wednesday 12 August 2009
I know I havn't posted any write-up in a long time. I just never have time to sit down in one-spot. I have been crazy busy, but I have so much ramdon thoughts to write about.
The title is based on this post by Linda Ikeji, one of my fave bloggers, and it definately moved me. She was brutally honest and genuine, and I admire her so much more now. I usually found her blog more like a magazine, and less like a blog, but this post erases that perception. I have been having the same problem with my posts. Because my blog is not anonymous, and has put me in trouble several times(yes I have gotten calls from random people about my posts), it means I am more and more careful about what I write. I have been avoiding putting any personal stuff on it, and focused on writing articles, kinda like Linda's blog. But like she said, there is not point having a blog and not being able to express yourself, so I will try to hold back as little as possible now. Here goes nothing::
I am worried. I am at cross roads in my life, and I am not sure what to do. Majority of the big decisions in my life have been taken in conjuction with my parents. Thankfully, they have never directed me wronglly, and I have no regrets. But it has gotten to the stage where they always ask me what I want, and the truth is that I do not know. I have a rough idea but I do not know for sure. I am constantly second guessing myself and in doubt, and it is a shit feeling. I am worried about:
My dissertation- It is proving difficult and elusive. As usual, I left it to the last minute, so I have 2weeks to write on a topic that I have barely researched on because I was working most of the summer in London. I am just hoping for a pass right now.
Getting a job- This is my biggest worry. I am even scared of completing my dissertation because then I have to figure out what to do next. Right now I am hoping to get a job here and work till next year June before I go to law school. But there is the option of going back home and starting my NYSC. This is not something I want to do right now, but the prospects of getting a satisfying job are very very slim, especially in law. Legal jobs are so hard to get, it is unbelievable. The truth is that I am not really interested in working a random 9-5 job just to get by, as I know it is only a matter of time before I get bored and want to jump out of the office window. I am restless and constantly need a challenge to stay sane. If only I could get paid to blog all day........dreams.......
The other option is to do the LPC and become a qualified lawyer here, I am not really interested in doing that, as I do not see the point if I am not going to stay here in the long-run. Besides, it is mostly property, equity and public law which I hated during my undergrad, and I dont want to go through that again. I think I want to work for now.
I hate cross-roads. I have never been in a position where I do not know what I am doing next, and it is a shit feeling.
Homelessness-I get kicked out of my apartment in 2 weeks, to co-incide with the end of uni, and I am homeless. I might have no choice but to live my relatives, and that is definately a last resort. Because I do not know where I might get a job, I do not want to get another flat here, and be stuck with a 6months tenancy that I do not need. I love having my own space so this sucks.
Relationships-This year has been so dramatic in the love department. Too many guys have come and gone, and I have again come to my conclusion that Nigerian guys are mostly useless, lol. Miss L.C always says it is not about quantity but about quality, and the quality around is so low, its almost non-existent. I have met so many guys that are so full of shit that it is part of thier DNA! But at the same time, I have met several special guys that have given me alot of love(and troubles). I am worried that I am losing my faith in the male species, and losing the belief of finding the one. I am worried that I will never find someone I can be in love with long enough to get committed to, or worse still get married. Which leads to my other problem: I get bored so easily. I find it exciting when I meet someone new, and I am getting to know them, feeling infatuated, and then ............I get bored. It is a pattern with me, that few guys have been able to break. I am worried that a time will come when I will find someone great but will eventually get bored!
Settling Down-I am worried about the thought of having to commit to one person for the rest of my life. The thought of forever and ever daunts me like crazy. I was at my cousins wedding in New York a week ago, and everyone kept praying for my own time to come, and it was all so funny to me. At least I have the excuse of school now, once I start working, the calls from my mum, aunts and relatives will start piling in, like they have for all my older cousins and it worries me. The worst part is that those same cousins that went through the whole thing and were complaining are the ones giving me the same lecture about settling down. This also brings me to my next worry
Flirting- I am a flirt. It is a problem I have had since the day I discovered boys. Also I find it challenging when a guy I am flirting with does not respond. I take it as a personal affront and do not take rejection very well. This is a very deadly combination. I have yet to find a guy who I like enough to make stop me flirting with other guys. Therefore I am worried that if I do settle down, I will have to stop flirting, and I do not know how. And no, I am not a slag!LOL
Health- I am worried about my health. Lately, I have been very well, but I am worried it will not last. Most importantly, I am worried that I when I move back to Nigeria, I will not have access to the medicines and healthcare I have here. Coupled with the threat of Malaria and other tropical diseases, I am worried I will cannot cope there anymore.
Writing- I am worried that I am not a good writer. Because I love writing and reading so much, I constantly compare myself to other amatuer writers such as S.B and my fear that I do not measure up seem to be getting greater. I was recently asked to write for a Nespaper in london, and I have not been able to submit anything because like I said earlier I have a fear of rejection(is there a dictionary word for that fear lol)
Failure-And finally, I have a fear of failure. Because I am drifer and dreamer, I have never had one direction/focus. I love/enjoy so many things that I have always had a fear of being a jack of all trades. I never stick at one thing long enough to be great at it. I am always average.The best example is sports. I have done fencing, badmington, table tennis, yoga, pilates and lately swimming. But I never go for more than 10 classes in any of them before I get bored and give up!LOL I am worried that this will be a life pattern. I guess I can console myslef becauseI have never quit school. I just hope I dont give up on this blog someday!
Those are my worries, it feels good to share!
Monday 10 August 2009
We adjusted Part 6 and so this is the new one! Enjoy!
Doubling back Esosa led Jen up the wooden staircase to reveal yet another long hallway with doors at opposite ends. Esosa pointed down the right as his room and towards his left as the bedroom. Looks like Osaze slept on the couch.
The balcony was a large space- almost as large as the whole lounge downstairs. Tall metal railings ran along the edges, doubling as a protective barrier and a seating area. The space was bare apart from a circular wooden table and two chairs. The white tablecloth that was draped across the table lifted in the wind and two dark blue coolers rested heavily to stop it soaring away. It was much cooler out here and Jen wished she held on to her sweater.
Jen pushed it aside when she heard his voice at the door “You can’t hide in there forever”“Yes I can” Jen replied opening the door and smiling. Esosa pulled her out gently “Seriously with the rate this rain is going the electricity will give out soon. I want you where I can see you”“I want you where I can see you” Jen repeated in a bad imitation of his voice. He nudged her playfully as they walked downstairs turning on the light. Jen sat on one end of the sofa comfortably as he switched on the reading lamp in the room casting the shelves in spotlight; Jen and Esosa exchanged a look as the rain begins to thunder heavily on the roof- really heavily.
Esosa let her go immediately perhaps sensing her hesitation, as soon as she was released Jen started to think that maybe being in bondage would be great. Her body enjoyed the uncomfortable position it had been twisted in. She locked eyes with him not saying a word and Esosa fastened her knees in the position it had previously been in, Jen made no noises as with a gentle jerk Esosa brought her to him, his knees around her back. Jen did not uncross her arms or stop frowning; they were playing a game now; Esosa uncrossed her arms and laid her palms on his chest one after the other. Bringing his head to hers, he laid his fore-head on her hair, breathing in the scent of rain. Stylishly giving her time to refuse, Jen did not move- this was a night of possibilities right?