Saturday, September 7, 2013

Randoms.(1) I spent the early years of my life thinking of all the things I wanted to be, the things I surely wanted to do. At 12, my personal aspirations had become clearer. It's midnight already.. this reminds me of the nights I stayed up fantasizing about my achievements after my daily routines. One thing was certain, only God's grace and hard work could birth all my aspirations(I learnt from my parents) I had personally decided to heed these words which made more meaning to me as the years rolled by. Something happened! I knew little about these people who are often 'represented' in almost all the offices I have had to visit; an established pot bellied man saying, "this is Nigeria", a middle age woman willing to disregard due process in want of naira notes that have obviously been unable to hide her financial challenges and certainly an ignorant youth willing to yield with a disgusting glee. ....So when I put in that extra effort in my activities, overlook the frivolous affairs of contemporaries, it's not because I am trying to be 'super human' but because I want to be one of the several examples why hard work pays when coupled with GOD'S GRACE, I want to stand out for those who will choose to do be upright in the midst of moral decadence. Finally, the white walls which I shall subsequently be enclosed by shall represent ACCESSIBILITY, JUSTICE and those who may have decided to remain on the "other side" would never dare ignore the conviction that they have no business with the corridors of those walls where I shall breathe at noon on weekdays(whenever).

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

TWO WRONGS Busying myself with the bizarre pleasure of stretching my hair, muttering over the tardiness of my old microwave while defrosting a plate of food as usual would have seemed more worthwhile than this, but I had found my way to Harvey lane again. The thought of this drove me crazy; I unconsciously displayed my disgust by banging my steering thrice. I would have lowered my glass to tell the bus driver beside me, who had made vain efforts to overtake me, how dead he would be if I noticed even a crack on my wing mirror but I sped off instead. Jumoke, my six year old daughter ran towards me, caging my legs after I had slid the parlor door open. She was saying too much at a time, words I had no patience to decipher tonight. "Mummy needs to rest," Grace said, pulling Jumoke away, relieving me of my office uniform. "Grace, you have to wash that right away,"I said. "Yes ma, ma, do you...” I had hushed her with by signaling a NO to whatever questions she was about to ask, with my right hand as I walked up the stairs. I poured myself a glass of wine, making way for my ash chair. I had followed the soap opera displaying on my television for fifteen minutes then suddenly I realized I did not deserve any form of pleasure. What seemed appropriate was this irresponsible twenty-eight year old wife, mother, and medical doctor thinking of how to clear this mess. I resolved to pretend everything was fine, shut up about this and move on, like I had done before but this Dutch courage would vanish once my husband sets his eyes on me. I had no excuse, none! I had everything, everything but my husband to stop me from wandering into the arms of another lad. I thought I had heard Ade, my gate man open the gate. I hurried to peer through my window. I felt a brief relief, seeing him strain to listen to BBC news, I could guess, on his black portable radio. I retired to my recliner, thinking about all that had happened today. How I should have saved myself this stress by telling Stanley to take his hands off my shoulders the first time he did in my office earlier in the day. As we both hurried into his apartment at Harvey lane, an inner voice had told me to stop my foolishness and drive home, it had reminded me of the dangers of being caught, how I had promised God four months ago that if he let my affair with Stanley disappear without being revealed I would never indulge in the stupidity of adultery again. His kisses made me weak, giving in was the only thing I, Funke could do; a woman whose husband was busy chasing naira notes, if he had ambitions of competing with Bill Gates, I did not know. All I knew was we had too much already. I felt a sudden chill when Dabota, Stanley's fiancĂ©e had walked in, I covered myself, hurrying out of his apartment as she cursed. "What a shame...”she yelled. I did not wait to hear all the facts she had to spill, after all we both worked at the Marina General Hospital, she had all the details which were perfect enough to keep me within the confines of my mansion, she knew how I toured countries for vacations, she had never seen me wear a particular dress a second time, that confirmed the whispers around the office on the number of clothes in my wardrobe. Perhaps she was not as detailed as I thought, if she could not figure out my husband, Daniel practically lived in his office, had little or no time for his family. Dabota had threatened to reveal this, I didn't care. All I thought about was Daniel, I had no clue what his actions would be if he heard about this. I had dozed off, getting off the bed by 11:45pm only to find Daniel snoring beside me. I did not see right, I mused, staring at the lipstick stains all over his shirt. Definitely those red patches on his shirt belonged to a broad-lipped woman, I could tell from the conspicuous patches she had left. Whore! I yelled inaudibly. It had been several hours of arguments after I had managed to rouse Daniel, he had no remorse for his actions, he lied about the glaring signs of an affair and my fury had forced me into telling him about Stanley who has gladly been filling his space. That had earned me simultaneous blows, heated arguments followed. "Get out,” he said, with revulsion as he pointed at our bedroom door. In no time he had rolled one of my boxes throwing it angrily towards the staircase. It's 1.18am, Daniel did not think of that when he chased me out of his house without my daughter. By Merit Gogo-fyneface.

Friday, January 25, 2013


I did not fall in love with Yemi because he promised me the whole world. Whenever I walked along the street he was there, on occasions. Our first stares grew into first words, first words ripened to a first visit and here my story begins. I am Adiba, calm and easy going. My albino skin is 19years old and my brown eyes does not make me prettier and for this cause people would rather keep their distance. When Yemi tells me I'm beautiful, my head sparks and there is a shocking sensation in my bones because for him only, I am dark. Ordinarily, I should cry but I can't for all the tears I should shed now had dried up in my childhood where several humiliating and isolating experiences lay. I did not cry. I looked straight in his eyes and he said it again this time with a depth of sincerity in his voice that hastened lip locking and before one could say jack, I had toured that filthy path that made me forget Sunday school lessons. Soon, the remorse I had felt each time I left Yemi's was history and all I could do was yearn for more moments with the only man that didn't see the awkward colour of my skin. I had learnt to love him, to trust every word he said. If the whole world would not associate with me; knowing Yemi cared made me care less. Everything seemed perfect till one beautiful morning. One morning just like the others something changed, with me precisely a lot of things I could not comprehend. Days later, the nurse told me I had acquired the dreaded disease (HIV) and if I regularly took the necessary drugs, I may live longer but if not death was near, but before I die if I had to; my mother would kill me for there was no place to go, no where else to watch this belly of mine grow since she was all I had and Yemi for whom I was beautiful and dark, I lately repelled.........