TAHILITA AND THE DRAGON
Would anyone believe I almost forgot how beautiful the setting sun is?
My phone keeps ringing, but I wouldn’t pick it.
I know who the caller is; I gave him a caller tune, long before I decided he was my special one.
My throat feels sore; it’s from all the crying.
These are supposed to be happy days for me, buh! I should be relieved, I should be rejoicing, I should be doing the remix of the ‘garala’ dance!!
I fought my addiction to drugs, it wasn’t an easy task (I shall remain forever grateful to my special one) but instead, I am hurting inside, inside, I am cold.
I feel so cold.
I had always known he had another side to him but, I had refused to live in fear of that, things were going so well for us, I thought to myself ‘this is it! I have finally found him; I have his missing rib, we’d complete ourselves.’ still on some level, I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
How it ended, I never would have expected it in a million guesses...
Lying, cheating, stealing, either one of those, compared to this, they are a forgivable minor offenses! Worse off, I was labeled the guilty party, I was labeled the thief, I bore the stigma, me.
I didn’t ask him for anything, i didn't make any demands. All I wanted was for him to be true to me (i guess that is too much to ask from him, from any man).
In the face of a mere trial, he swung back his neck and struck, he hit me, he hit me hard, he hit me where it hurt the most.
If I close my eyes, I can still see the spite in his face, his disappointment and the accusing fingers pointed at me. I can hear the hurtful words he spat.
The tears that run down my cheeks feel hot against my skin, what makes them boil? Is it anger or pain?
I don’t want to linger on clouds from the past the bottom line is that it is over, I wish it ended some other way but, ‘no regrets’ right?
Me and my special one? Over!
To cut the long story short, his passport, flight ticket and some American dollars went missing, without even asking or checking, he dragged me by the throat and accused me of doing away with it. He said I was still an addict and was pretending to be clean so I’d get him to trust me again.
Buh, trust.
He embarrassed me, had me arrested and beaten up by the police.
I don’t recall the exact point at which I swallowed my pride and called mother all I know is that the pain was too much to bear, I wanted out.
She came to my rescue and told him to stop, that if he should even look at my shadow in his lifetime, life as he knew it would cease to exist.
She swore on my father’s grave that she would get him a one way ticket to the frozen center of hell after first ripping out his entrails and feeding them to rabid dogs. She meant it and he knew.
Mother was really pissed; I had never seen her that way.
Off course, she wasn’t happy about what I had gone through for the past months and she beat herself for not noticing how far off I had gone.
As for my special one, after all my cries and pleas for him to believe me, to trust me that I was innocent, (appeals that he turned deaf ears to) it took the intercession of a pastor and a repentant night guard to reveal to him that his money was stolen by the combined efforts of himself (the night guard) and the boy that laundered his clothes [the night guard was having spiritual problems, the pastor, ministered to by the holy spirit told him that if he ever wanted to progress in life, and be healed, he had to return the life he had taken and the money that went with it]. Shamed faced and repentant, my special one returned. He came to me with the story and an apology.
It was too late; the damage had already been done.
The damage is already done.
Forgiveness buh? I think not!
For a man that is not my husband, father or brother to put me in such a situation, for strangers to mark my body with strokes from a leather belt, for me to spend the night in a prison cell, forgiveness?
I have been through incredible things in my life but this is by far the worse, with time I’d heal, with time I’d forgive but now, I am just not ready.
The setting sun is so pretty, it gives me hope, the weather has suddenly turned chilly, it’s time to go inside the house, first, my face (mother must not find out I have been crying again).
I’d do mothers nails, we’d watch a movie together next week, I’d return to school.
Life goes on
- Tabby
[End of Entry 13 – 24]
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Friday, June 25, 2010
Entry 23
DEATH OF PANDORA
I woke up to find myself scantily dressed, legs and arms bound and lying in a gutter in an awkward position.
The first thing that occurred to me was how badly I needed a smoke. It took a while for it to dawn on me that I was lying almost naked in a gutter.
I screamed and tried to jump out.
Moving like a worm, I used my knees and elbows to crawl out of the gutter then struggled to rid myself of the ropes. The twigs and debris that fell to the floor as I tried to straighten out the not so present clothes gave me the creeps.
I had no idea whether it was early morning or late evening. I could taste bile in my throat and the chill that ran through my spine was not from lack of clothes.
Fear.
By G*d, I needed a smoke.
How had I ended up in the gutter?
The last thing I remembered, I had gotten away with stealing money from mothers purse and also selling my laptop in order to buy ‘quality stuff’ [it was a rip-off]. I realized soon enough that the money I paid for the stash wasn’t worth the quality; I was broke and needed my money back.
Ifeoma had promised to introduce me to some people who would deal mercilessly with the boys and get double my money back.
My head throbbed.
I ran my hand across my face and flinched in pain. Buh, my eyes were swollen.
Did I have a fight with Ifeoma or was I beaten? Did I fall into the gutter or worse?
I reached into my pocket and searched for my wallet, nothing. There was no form of identification on me, no phone and no loose change in the pocket of my once blue jeans [very unlike me]nothing.
I stood for a while, no direction, nowhere to go.
I began to wander then, after walking for a while, I spotted a row of houses with light burning at a distance. I limped in the direction of the house closet to me and knocked on the door. Lucky for me, the owner was a kind spirited man and did not question my appearance, after offering me a towel and water to wash up as best as I could, he loaned me his phone; I called my special one.
In minutes, he was there at the door begging to be let in. he trapped me in a tight embrace and kissed my swollen face. He said I had been missing for two days, he had been worried sick.
My special one tried to press some Naira notes into the kind stranger’s hand as a show of gratitude but, he turned him down.
We said thank you and made our way out.
Repeating “this has to end” like a mantra, he took me to his house.
He had been suspicious about my addiction for a while longer than I had tried to hide it. He trusted me and had initially waited in the hopes that (me being a reasonable person) I’d handle it on my own but seeing how I had endangered myself and caused him so much worry, he wasn’t taking chances anymore.
He locked me up in the bathroom with just a bottle of water.
I banged on the door begging to be let out.
I had broken into a sweat, I was shivering, my hands were shaking and goose pimples had erupted on my forearms.
Losing my mind, I needed a smoke. I needed something, anything! I begged him to give me a stick, just a stick for G*d’s frigging sake!
After I tore apart his bathroom cabinets and lockers, not finding anything to smoke or inhale and cut my finger on a broken glass I was pulled to reality.
It was the sight of my blood shining brightly on the white bathroom tile that made me pause.
I began to cry, I wanted to die! Why was this happening to me, why me? Why was I the one always having failed relationships, dead fathers and broken body parts, what did I ever do to deserve it? And now look at me, just look at me! I was a mess, my life is ruined!!
Where did I go wrong? Why me? Why? Why?! Why!
I had myself to blame, just me.
I single handedly choose to destroy my life and now, I was paying for it.
I had a wonderful life, people who loved me and the comfort of a home.
Was G*d watching? Did he see? Why didn’t he stop me? Could he see me?
I prayed to G*d silently through the hot tears burning down my cheek. Although I suspected he was fed up with me, I still prayed.
I am Tabitha Swahita Tahilita, I am an addict.
- Tabby
I woke up to find myself scantily dressed, legs and arms bound and lying in a gutter in an awkward position.
The first thing that occurred to me was how badly I needed a smoke. It took a while for it to dawn on me that I was lying almost naked in a gutter.
I screamed and tried to jump out.
Moving like a worm, I used my knees and elbows to crawl out of the gutter then struggled to rid myself of the ropes. The twigs and debris that fell to the floor as I tried to straighten out the not so present clothes gave me the creeps.
I had no idea whether it was early morning or late evening. I could taste bile in my throat and the chill that ran through my spine was not from lack of clothes.
Fear.
By G*d, I needed a smoke.
How had I ended up in the gutter?
The last thing I remembered, I had gotten away with stealing money from mothers purse and also selling my laptop in order to buy ‘quality stuff’ [it was a rip-off]. I realized soon enough that the money I paid for the stash wasn’t worth the quality; I was broke and needed my money back.
Ifeoma had promised to introduce me to some people who would deal mercilessly with the boys and get double my money back.
My head throbbed.
I ran my hand across my face and flinched in pain. Buh, my eyes were swollen.
Did I have a fight with Ifeoma or was I beaten? Did I fall into the gutter or worse?
I reached into my pocket and searched for my wallet, nothing. There was no form of identification on me, no phone and no loose change in the pocket of my once blue jeans [very unlike me]nothing.
I stood for a while, no direction, nowhere to go.
I began to wander then, after walking for a while, I spotted a row of houses with light burning at a distance. I limped in the direction of the house closet to me and knocked on the door. Lucky for me, the owner was a kind spirited man and did not question my appearance, after offering me a towel and water to wash up as best as I could, he loaned me his phone; I called my special one.
In minutes, he was there at the door begging to be let in. he trapped me in a tight embrace and kissed my swollen face. He said I had been missing for two days, he had been worried sick.
My special one tried to press some Naira notes into the kind stranger’s hand as a show of gratitude but, he turned him down.
We said thank you and made our way out.
Repeating “this has to end” like a mantra, he took me to his house.
He had been suspicious about my addiction for a while longer than I had tried to hide it. He trusted me and had initially waited in the hopes that (me being a reasonable person) I’d handle it on my own but seeing how I had endangered myself and caused him so much worry, he wasn’t taking chances anymore.
He locked me up in the bathroom with just a bottle of water.
I banged on the door begging to be let out.
I had broken into a sweat, I was shivering, my hands were shaking and goose pimples had erupted on my forearms.
Losing my mind, I needed a smoke. I needed something, anything! I begged him to give me a stick, just a stick for G*d’s frigging sake!
After I tore apart his bathroom cabinets and lockers, not finding anything to smoke or inhale and cut my finger on a broken glass I was pulled to reality.
It was the sight of my blood shining brightly on the white bathroom tile that made me pause.
I began to cry, I wanted to die! Why was this happening to me, why me? Why was I the one always having failed relationships, dead fathers and broken body parts, what did I ever do to deserve it? And now look at me, just look at me! I was a mess, my life is ruined!!
Where did I go wrong? Why me? Why? Why?! Why!
I had myself to blame, just me.
I single handedly choose to destroy my life and now, I was paying for it.
I had a wonderful life, people who loved me and the comfort of a home.
Was G*d watching? Did he see? Why didn’t he stop me? Could he see me?
I prayed to G*d silently through the hot tears burning down my cheek. Although I suspected he was fed up with me, I still prayed.
I am Tabitha Swahita Tahilita, I am an addict.
- Tabby
Monday, June 21, 2010
Entry 22
IF I WERE A BOY
I discovered that whenever me and my neighbor Ifeoma do ‘that thing’, I get so hungry, it’s like the more I drag, the emptier my stomach becomes, buh, there has to be a way for us to channel it into a weight loss program.
We have decided to try it out for a week and see if there is any change [Ifeoma is the one who needs to lose weight, me? my special one likes me just the way I am and so do I!].
Gosh, Ifeoma is so cool, I like her personality, character and style. She sees what she wants and goes for it. She doesn’t let anyone or anything stand in her way, not even the weather!!
I ran into Brian, [Von’s boyfriend whom I consider the catch of the century] he looked so distraught. He said that Von had given him an ultimatum: all her friends have one (a BB phone) therefore, she wants one too. Either their boyfriends or their ‘Aristo’ brought theirs for them. Now, she was the only one left out and was not okay with not belonging.
She said that it was either he didn’t love her enough or he was seeing someone else.
My heart went out to him on one hand because, he really loves the girl and has been known to go to crazy lengths to make her happy [imagine unmarried university undergraduates wearing matching outfits to church and parties? It has to be the cutest thing since dogs in purses] but on the other hand, I called him an idiot! Did he not know what he was getting into when he asked an ‘It’ girl out? Now would not be a very good time to remind her that he was a dependent; just an ordinary university student surviving on the cast-offs from his parents.
I laughed at the thought of Von telling her next boyfriend [should they decide to break up] that she left him because although he was faithful, loving and honest, he couldn’t get her a ‘BB’.
Mother is upset because I prefer now to hang with Ifeoma than even pick her calls. Buh, it not my fault though.
Mother is driving me insane! She is too needy for my liking abeg. Tabby, where are you? Tabby your classmates say you do not attend lectures, Tabby why are people saying you owe them money? Tabby why wouldn’t you come home? Tabby, Tabby, Tabby arrgh!!
She should get herself a hobby or something.
At the moment, it’s just my special one that I am concerned about. He doesn’t understand what me and Ifeoma are trying to accomplish, it is not like we are smoking for the highness or something like that [she quit for crying out loud!!] we are just testing out a theory.
He has turned me into a petty liar now because I’d rather lie to him than see a frown on his adorable face.
One more week and I am through with all things to do with inhalation and I mean it!
- Tabby
I discovered that whenever me and my neighbor Ifeoma do ‘that thing’, I get so hungry, it’s like the more I drag, the emptier my stomach becomes, buh, there has to be a way for us to channel it into a weight loss program.
We have decided to try it out for a week and see if there is any change [Ifeoma is the one who needs to lose weight, me? my special one likes me just the way I am and so do I!].
Gosh, Ifeoma is so cool, I like her personality, character and style. She sees what she wants and goes for it. She doesn’t let anyone or anything stand in her way, not even the weather!!
I ran into Brian, [Von’s boyfriend whom I consider the catch of the century] he looked so distraught. He said that Von had given him an ultimatum: all her friends have one (a BB phone) therefore, she wants one too. Either their boyfriends or their ‘Aristo’ brought theirs for them. Now, she was the only one left out and was not okay with not belonging.
She said that it was either he didn’t love her enough or he was seeing someone else.
My heart went out to him on one hand because, he really loves the girl and has been known to go to crazy lengths to make her happy [imagine unmarried university undergraduates wearing matching outfits to church and parties? It has to be the cutest thing since dogs in purses] but on the other hand, I called him an idiot! Did he not know what he was getting into when he asked an ‘It’ girl out? Now would not be a very good time to remind her that he was a dependent; just an ordinary university student surviving on the cast-offs from his parents.
I laughed at the thought of Von telling her next boyfriend [should they decide to break up] that she left him because although he was faithful, loving and honest, he couldn’t get her a ‘BB’.
Mother is upset because I prefer now to hang with Ifeoma than even pick her calls. Buh, it not my fault though.
Mother is driving me insane! She is too needy for my liking abeg. Tabby, where are you? Tabby your classmates say you do not attend lectures, Tabby why are people saying you owe them money? Tabby why wouldn’t you come home? Tabby, Tabby, Tabby arrgh!!
She should get herself a hobby or something.
At the moment, it’s just my special one that I am concerned about. He doesn’t understand what me and Ifeoma are trying to accomplish, it is not like we are smoking for the highness or something like that [she quit for crying out loud!!] we are just testing out a theory.
He has turned me into a petty liar now because I’d rather lie to him than see a frown on his adorable face.
One more week and I am through with all things to do with inhalation and I mean it!
- Tabby
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Entry 20
JUST ME
Hum… who would have thought life could be so sweet? Me and my special one went to _ _ _ [would anyone believe me if I said church?] buh, that’s where we went to on Sunday.
Yup, church!!
Together in the presence of G*d, me and him? It felt so good! Afterward, we went to have cake and ice-cream at some ‘coded’ joint in town. If the stalk of flower he gave to me wasn’t a fake rose, I would have started to cry because obviously it would have been proof that these past weeks have been a dream. Still, I pinched myself to be sure and flinched at the pain I felt [phew].
I finally decided to stop punishing myself and him [him being my special one of course!] for a crime we were both innocent of, if I made a mistake once and fell for a yam-faced-serpent-tongued-slimy-skinned-two-timing-square in the past, it does not imply that all men are yam faced dash- dash- dash [besides, I kindda love yam! Fried with salt, pepper and onion, it is uh-um delicious!!] so therefore I should go lock up myself in a shiny old castle complete with a dragon and a wicked step mother.
Even if I was to do that, according to myth, wouldn’t it still be a ‘prince charming’ that would come to rescue me? (Although I am yet to come across a myth that the princess put herself in chains willingly and got rescued buh, that isn’t the point am driving at) my special one IS my prince charming.
He is nice, sweet, and courteous, laughs at all my ‘dry’ jokes, keeps to time and doesn’t talk much. Although I suspect under his façade of calmness and serenity, there is a coiled up python ready to strike one day I shall not, would not live in fear of that day.
he has a slight dimple that twinkles when he scrolls and deepens when he smiles fully. It makes him oh –so cute!! [He hates it whenever I remark on how cute it is and tells me “cute guys are gay”] most of all, he is warm, he is yummy, he is fuzzy he is just grrh!!! I like being around him.
He bought me a pack of band-aids in an adorable gift box just so I’d have something ready when next I decide to harm myself (buh, I doubt that would happen since he seems to always sense when I need him the most and makes himself available).
Ah well, life indeed is sweet.
I have a test on Thursday and I am busy day dreaming about a man! Writing ‘he is my special one’ would definitely not give me the 1st class degree that we all desire!!
I would call him, if we spend some time together now then later in the evening, I could go to the hostel and read with Ivy. Sounds like a good plan to me!
Signed: Mrs. Swahita dash- dash- dash.
- Tabby
Hum… who would have thought life could be so sweet? Me and my special one went to _ _ _ [would anyone believe me if I said church?] buh, that’s where we went to on Sunday.
Yup, church!!
Together in the presence of G*d, me and him? It felt so good! Afterward, we went to have cake and ice-cream at some ‘coded’ joint in town. If the stalk of flower he gave to me wasn’t a fake rose, I would have started to cry because obviously it would have been proof that these past weeks have been a dream. Still, I pinched myself to be sure and flinched at the pain I felt [phew].
I finally decided to stop punishing myself and him [him being my special one of course!] for a crime we were both innocent of, if I made a mistake once and fell for a yam-faced-serpent-tongued-slimy-skinned-two-timing-square in the past, it does not imply that all men are yam faced dash- dash- dash [besides, I kindda love yam! Fried with salt, pepper and onion, it is uh-um delicious!!] so therefore I should go lock up myself in a shiny old castle complete with a dragon and a wicked step mother.
Even if I was to do that, according to myth, wouldn’t it still be a ‘prince charming’ that would come to rescue me? (Although I am yet to come across a myth that the princess put herself in chains willingly and got rescued buh, that isn’t the point am driving at) my special one IS my prince charming.
He is nice, sweet, and courteous, laughs at all my ‘dry’ jokes, keeps to time and doesn’t talk much. Although I suspect under his façade of calmness and serenity, there is a coiled up python ready to strike one day I shall not, would not live in fear of that day.
he has a slight dimple that twinkles when he scrolls and deepens when he smiles fully. It makes him oh –so cute!! [He hates it whenever I remark on how cute it is and tells me “cute guys are gay”] most of all, he is warm, he is yummy, he is fuzzy he is just grrh!!! I like being around him.
He bought me a pack of band-aids in an adorable gift box just so I’d have something ready when next I decide to harm myself (buh, I doubt that would happen since he seems to always sense when I need him the most and makes himself available).
Ah well, life indeed is sweet.
I have a test on Thursday and I am busy day dreaming about a man! Writing ‘he is my special one’ would definitely not give me the 1st class degree that we all desire!!
I would call him, if we spend some time together now then later in the evening, I could go to the hostel and read with Ivy. Sounds like a good plan to me!
Signed: Mrs. Swahita dash- dash- dash.
- Tabby
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Entry 19
MOTHERS, DAUGHTERS, HELMET’S?
Buh, this is so freaking funny! My mother, my only mother, my only beloved mother is dating an okada rider!! I am going for a 7 days prayer and fasting session on her behalf [right after I release my new album. It’s titled WOMAN tracks include: UNDERSTANDING WOMEN, THE GAMES WOMEN PLAY and PROUD TO BE A WOMAN featuring Weird. Within it lays the secret partway to all females. Psych!!]
She claims that he is a sailor (or was it a marine? Well, he wears a uniform and lives on a boat! Or ship? Buh, whatever!!) on leave and enjoying his new hobby but unfortunately for her, every time I run into him, there is some person or the other [I’d call them ‘passengers’ for short] seated behind him and clinging to his back for their dear life. Now tell me if there isn’t truth in believing what you see?
He rides a super cool power bike (I’d give him that) and carries passengers from point A to point B after he receives gratitude [payment] so, all things being equal, he receives returns for services rendered therefore… okada na okada!!
For the past few days, my mood has been cheerful and gay; I have been so happy! I feel like a burden has been lifted off my chest and finally, I can breathe again.
The secret? Max!
I never knew the day would come when I would think of him and wonder what it was that was so awesome about him in the first place…
So, on the night of the BE, I went out with him and we ended up hopping from one club to the other until the wee hours of the morning.
This time, when I was with him, I wasn’t the love struck air head that saw wedding colors and matching china whenever he opened his mouth to speak. When we hung out, I played the role of the silent observer.
For the first time, I listened to him talk, I watched him move. I studied the way he handled situations that sprung up.
Sometime during our night out, something clicked in my head and then, I understood.
Max, although a wonderful man-and-probably-the-best-thing-that-could-happen-to-age-defying-women-since-Botox was human after all! That was the simple truth.
I admit I’d never meet anyone like him again and what we had was special but to stop living for the sake of a man that thought for just himself was plain suicide and in my case, since there was no bomb attached to my nappies, no one was going to give my remaining relatives a huge chuck of money for my unquestioned devotion to the faith.
I admit I was madly in love with him, I accept the fact. After comparing the reasons why I should kill myself for him with the reasons why I shouldn’t I came to the conclusion that if my country did not fall apart because of a missing [now late G*d rest his soul] president for a few months then I too would not fall apart then die because of a certain “home grown” Adonis not even from Greece!
I let go of Max and now, I am free.
Mother’s okada rider boyfriend has offered to take me for a ride.
For the sick pleasure of watching Nneka’s face turn green with envy when she sees me with him and the anticipation of hearing ‘my jist’ on Ibiela’s network news, I told him that if he brought his bike to my school and dropped me at class and picked me up afterwards, I’d take him up on his offer!
- Tabby.
Buh, this is so freaking funny! My mother, my only mother, my only beloved mother is dating an okada rider!! I am going for a 7 days prayer and fasting session on her behalf [right after I release my new album. It’s titled WOMAN tracks include: UNDERSTANDING WOMEN, THE GAMES WOMEN PLAY and PROUD TO BE A WOMAN featuring Weird. Within it lays the secret partway to all females. Psych!!]
She claims that he is a sailor (or was it a marine? Well, he wears a uniform and lives on a boat! Or ship? Buh, whatever!!) on leave and enjoying his new hobby but unfortunately for her, every time I run into him, there is some person or the other [I’d call them ‘passengers’ for short] seated behind him and clinging to his back for their dear life. Now tell me if there isn’t truth in believing what you see?
He rides a super cool power bike (I’d give him that) and carries passengers from point A to point B after he receives gratitude [payment] so, all things being equal, he receives returns for services rendered therefore… okada na okada!!
For the past few days, my mood has been cheerful and gay; I have been so happy! I feel like a burden has been lifted off my chest and finally, I can breathe again.
The secret? Max!
I never knew the day would come when I would think of him and wonder what it was that was so awesome about him in the first place…
So, on the night of the BE, I went out with him and we ended up hopping from one club to the other until the wee hours of the morning.
This time, when I was with him, I wasn’t the love struck air head that saw wedding colors and matching china whenever he opened his mouth to speak. When we hung out, I played the role of the silent observer.
For the first time, I listened to him talk, I watched him move. I studied the way he handled situations that sprung up.
Sometime during our night out, something clicked in my head and then, I understood.
Max, although a wonderful man-and-probably-the-best-thing-that-could-happen-to-age-defying-women-since-Botox was human after all! That was the simple truth.
I admit I’d never meet anyone like him again and what we had was special but to stop living for the sake of a man that thought for just himself was plain suicide and in my case, since there was no bomb attached to my nappies, no one was going to give my remaining relatives a huge chuck of money for my unquestioned devotion to the faith.
I admit I was madly in love with him, I accept the fact. After comparing the reasons why I should kill myself for him with the reasons why I shouldn’t I came to the conclusion that if my country did not fall apart because of a missing [now late G*d rest his soul] president for a few months then I too would not fall apart then die because of a certain “home grown” Adonis not even from Greece!
I let go of Max and now, I am free.
Mother’s okada rider boyfriend has offered to take me for a ride.
For the sick pleasure of watching Nneka’s face turn green with envy when she sees me with him and the anticipation of hearing ‘my jist’ on Ibiela’s network news, I told him that if he brought his bike to my school and dropped me at class and picked me up afterwards, I’d take him up on his offer!
- Tabby.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Entry 07
VAVAVOOM
I remember telling mother she looked ‘okay’ by the time she applied the fourth layer of makeup to her face. THAT was my mistake; I guess the ‘okay’ was the word that propelled her to reach for the tube of lipstick again.
I should have used words like ravishing, breathtaking, sexy, appealing or drop dead gorgeous.
Not feeling in any particular mood, I donned on ‘buba’ and ‘wrapper’, clasped a set of mother’s antique beads and chains around my neck and unceremoniously tied the matching ‘gele’ on my head.
Since mother was looking so glamorous, there was no need to compete with her and turn up looking like a pride of exotic birds for the wedding of a groom whose last name neither she nor I remembered.
Meanwhile, if she did not stop manipulating the contours of her face soon, she would end up looking like a ‘suicidal raccoon’. Luckily, Dr. dash arrived right on time!
After the bazillion hours long wedding, exchange of vows and blah, blah, blah, I stood outside holding mothers handbag for another 45minutes waiting for her to take pictures with every one; ‘friends of the bride’, ‘friends of the groom’, ‘classmates of the bride’, ‘classmates of the groom’, ‘alumni’, ‘ashewebi’s’, ‘ladies in pink’, ‘village groups’ and all other protocols (lousy excuse to delay hungry guest like myself from getting to ‘item 7’ if you ask me). Finally, she was through and walking to my side only to be stopped midway by an extremely tall and huge lady who was trying 'too hard' to look 20 years younger than her obvious age.
Buh, I mean! After you get to a certain age, miniskirts and tank tops are just not for you! Especially if you are a well rounded Nigerian woman with forearms that tend to be flabby and thighs that 'saw' better days Yuck!
I turned away in disgust and fanned my face with my fingers. Mother didn’t look uncomfortable though, she enthusiastically returned the hugs and kisses of ‘not so hot grandma’ and completely forgot I was there; tired and hungry! They walked up to me, she stared from my face to mothers and after a moments pause, was like “Gosh Lilly, you didn’t tell me you had an elder sister! Your mother must have been one strong lady. I mean giving birth to not one but two beautiful girls!”
As fake as her accent was, she was also an idiot! I rolled my eyes, grabbed the wedding invitation from mothers hand and spat out as I turned to leave “she is my mother!” (obviously, she hurt my feelings!! why would I be THE elder if we were siblings?) I walked away in search of Dr. Dash.
G*d save me from such women and their wahala abeg.
I didn’t see Dr. Dash by the car, I wondered where he was but was given temporary relief; instead of the missing Dr. Dash, about a foot away, leaning on another car and looking like he owned the world was Stanley! When he noticed me I gave a small smile and wove.
He walked up to me, complimented my outfit and asked about ‘the dog that was sent to the butchers’. I laughed and told him that ‘the dog’ happened to have a map of the city tattooed on its body; it broke out of the butcher’s cage and had gone in search of its missing elder brother.
After a photographer caught us together and took our picture, he brought me a much appreciated stick of ‘fun blast’ ice-cream. I told him I was now officially his servant! (Hum… me and Stanley?) Turns out weddings are a nice venue for hooking up with single attractive men.
- TABBY
I remember telling mother she looked ‘okay’ by the time she applied the fourth layer of makeup to her face. THAT was my mistake; I guess the ‘okay’ was the word that propelled her to reach for the tube of lipstick again.
I should have used words like ravishing, breathtaking, sexy, appealing or drop dead gorgeous.
Not feeling in any particular mood, I donned on ‘buba’ and ‘wrapper’, clasped a set of mother’s antique beads and chains around my neck and unceremoniously tied the matching ‘gele’ on my head.
Since mother was looking so glamorous, there was no need to compete with her and turn up looking like a pride of exotic birds for the wedding of a groom whose last name neither she nor I remembered.
Meanwhile, if she did not stop manipulating the contours of her face soon, she would end up looking like a ‘suicidal raccoon’. Luckily, Dr. dash arrived right on time!
After the bazillion hours long wedding, exchange of vows and blah, blah, blah, I stood outside holding mothers handbag for another 45minutes waiting for her to take pictures with every one; ‘friends of the bride’, ‘friends of the groom’, ‘classmates of the bride’, ‘classmates of the groom’, ‘alumni’, ‘ashewebi’s’, ‘ladies in pink’, ‘village groups’ and all other protocols (lousy excuse to delay hungry guest like myself from getting to ‘item 7’ if you ask me). Finally, she was through and walking to my side only to be stopped midway by an extremely tall and huge lady who was trying 'too hard' to look 20 years younger than her obvious age.
Buh, I mean! After you get to a certain age, miniskirts and tank tops are just not for you! Especially if you are a well rounded Nigerian woman with forearms that tend to be flabby and thighs that 'saw' better days Yuck!
I turned away in disgust and fanned my face with my fingers. Mother didn’t look uncomfortable though, she enthusiastically returned the hugs and kisses of ‘not so hot grandma’ and completely forgot I was there; tired and hungry! They walked up to me, she stared from my face to mothers and after a moments pause, was like “Gosh Lilly, you didn’t tell me you had an elder sister! Your mother must have been one strong lady. I mean giving birth to not one but two beautiful girls!”
As fake as her accent was, she was also an idiot! I rolled my eyes, grabbed the wedding invitation from mothers hand and spat out as I turned to leave “she is my mother!” (obviously, she hurt my feelings!! why would I be THE elder if we were siblings?) I walked away in search of Dr. Dash.
G*d save me from such women and their wahala abeg.
I didn’t see Dr. Dash by the car, I wondered where he was but was given temporary relief; instead of the missing Dr. Dash, about a foot away, leaning on another car and looking like he owned the world was Stanley! When he noticed me I gave a small smile and wove.
He walked up to me, complimented my outfit and asked about ‘the dog that was sent to the butchers’. I laughed and told him that ‘the dog’ happened to have a map of the city tattooed on its body; it broke out of the butcher’s cage and had gone in search of its missing elder brother.
After a photographer caught us together and took our picture, he brought me a much appreciated stick of ‘fun blast’ ice-cream. I told him I was now officially his servant! (Hum… me and Stanley?) Turns out weddings are a nice venue for hooking up with single attractive men.
- TABBY
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Entry 21
STILL ON THE MATTER
“Hi am Ifeoma, I am looking for camphor, do you smoke weed?” those were the first words said to me by my new neighbor Ifeoma. I would not call her new per say buh, she and I have been flat mates for over 8 months and had never known about each other’s existence until the intervention of a rainy night and her inability to get her hands on weed.
Although I was taken aback by her startling approach ( being used to the idea that neighbors in normal lands asked each other for a cup of sugar, a glass of milk, dash of pepper, spoon of salt and so forth but camphor? Weed?)
I happened to have an unopened packet of camphor which I had brought to place in my cupboard (to chase away Nneka’s little minions should they decide to nibble on my clothes). After I apologized for not having weed, I offered her the whole packet of camphor which she grabbed greedily form my hand and then disappeared(I believe I can fly!! He-he-he)
Days and weeks later, I thought I had dreamed the whole camphor slash weed affair until we started bumping into each other at odd places in school.
We never spoke though, just a slight nod to acknowledge each other’s presence.
It was a rainy night that played ‘cupid’ and brought us together again [Cockroaches are going to take over the world, and soon! I can feel it. They have been the one orchestrating all the recent kidnappings in 9ja I swear!]
Oh, where was I? Ifeoma, yes. So, while we were both trapped in the name [ha-ha, I wrote name. I was thinking rain. Name, rain, name. he-he-he, they sound alike] sorry, rain. I meant rain. While we were both trapped in the rain, she confessed that she didn’t know my name and wasn’t comfortable calling people ‘hey you’. I told her I was Tabby and followed her home.
We chatted for a while and got to know ourselves. My special one came calling so, I promised to see her some other time and left [ps, he doesn’t seem to like her, I wonder why… I see dead people he-he-he].
When it started raining this afternoon, I had that funny suspicion that I’d see her.
It wasn’t long before Ifeoma knocked on my door.
She was celebrating and did not want to be alone; today was the second month since she quit smoking and she decided to do a few sticks to prove that she was better than it, she had beaten her addiction. I invited her in and gave her a blanket to wrap up with (she looked cold). I sat and watched in awe as she expertly prepared, rolled the paper [lick, dab, roll, lick and woof-woof!! I am a dog. he-he-he] and lit the stick.
She offered me a drag, I initially said no! but later changed my mind; If she a final year accounting student with so much at stake could manage her addiction for so long then finally beat it then I Tabitha, a woman borne of a man with a mind so clear and a body untainted by such toxin could do much better than she.
I have better self control and a higher stamina than her. I can never get addicted to igbo, am I mad?!
Right?
Ifeoma passed out on my floor and seems to be sprouting another head he-he-he. [If I cut the other one away, would two grow in its place? If men don’t produce milk, why do they have nipples? Would she mind? Would she mind if I cut the 3rd head and more if they all sprout at the same time?] I don’t know if I should wake her because I can see my reflection on my wall, he-he-he it’s so funny.
Arrgh!!! There is a giant earth worm lying beside her, my light bulb is filled with worms, some fell on her. Splat-splat, eek!! I think I am going to throw up.
I am trapped! If only my room wasn’t airborne, I would have run out side to get some help.
Dear G*d, please help so we’d land safely; please help so we don’t crash.
- Tabby
“Hi am Ifeoma, I am looking for camphor, do you smoke weed?” those were the first words said to me by my new neighbor Ifeoma. I would not call her new per say buh, she and I have been flat mates for over 8 months and had never known about each other’s existence until the intervention of a rainy night and her inability to get her hands on weed.
Although I was taken aback by her startling approach ( being used to the idea that neighbors in normal lands asked each other for a cup of sugar, a glass of milk, dash of pepper, spoon of salt and so forth but camphor? Weed?)
I happened to have an unopened packet of camphor which I had brought to place in my cupboard (to chase away Nneka’s little minions should they decide to nibble on my clothes). After I apologized for not having weed, I offered her the whole packet of camphor which she grabbed greedily form my hand and then disappeared(I believe I can fly!! He-he-he)
Days and weeks later, I thought I had dreamed the whole camphor slash weed affair until we started bumping into each other at odd places in school.
We never spoke though, just a slight nod to acknowledge each other’s presence.
It was a rainy night that played ‘cupid’ and brought us together again [Cockroaches are going to take over the world, and soon! I can feel it. They have been the one orchestrating all the recent kidnappings in 9ja I swear!]
Oh, where was I? Ifeoma, yes. So, while we were both trapped in the name [ha-ha, I wrote name. I was thinking rain. Name, rain, name. he-he-he, they sound alike] sorry, rain. I meant rain. While we were both trapped in the rain, she confessed that she didn’t know my name and wasn’t comfortable calling people ‘hey you’. I told her I was Tabby and followed her home.
We chatted for a while and got to know ourselves. My special one came calling so, I promised to see her some other time and left [ps, he doesn’t seem to like her, I wonder why… I see dead people he-he-he].
When it started raining this afternoon, I had that funny suspicion that I’d see her.
It wasn’t long before Ifeoma knocked on my door.
She was celebrating and did not want to be alone; today was the second month since she quit smoking and she decided to do a few sticks to prove that she was better than it, she had beaten her addiction. I invited her in and gave her a blanket to wrap up with (she looked cold). I sat and watched in awe as she expertly prepared, rolled the paper [lick, dab, roll, lick and woof-woof!! I am a dog. he-he-he] and lit the stick.
She offered me a drag, I initially said no! but later changed my mind; If she a final year accounting student with so much at stake could manage her addiction for so long then finally beat it then I Tabitha, a woman borne of a man with a mind so clear and a body untainted by such toxin could do much better than she.
I have better self control and a higher stamina than her. I can never get addicted to igbo, am I mad?!
Right?
Ifeoma passed out on my floor and seems to be sprouting another head he-he-he. [If I cut the other one away, would two grow in its place? If men don’t produce milk, why do they have nipples? Would she mind? Would she mind if I cut the 3rd head and more if they all sprout at the same time?] I don’t know if I should wake her because I can see my reflection on my wall, he-he-he it’s so funny.
Arrgh!!! There is a giant earth worm lying beside her, my light bulb is filled with worms, some fell on her. Splat-splat, eek!! I think I am going to throw up.
I am trapped! If only my room wasn’t airborne, I would have run out side to get some help.
Dear G*d, please help so we’d land safely; please help so we don’t crash.
- Tabby
Entry 06
VOODOO DOLLS
My eyes must have been swollen and blood shot because I didn't notice when he came to seat beside me.
Even the sight of a dozen random guys ‘taking a leak’ outside on assorted spots for ‘target practice’ on my way to the library didn’t make me question them about their fascination with the ‘great out doors’ I mean, toilets were made for something!! I have been this way for about two-three weeks now.
All because of Max!
In Lagos, we promised to keep in touch and I told him ‘shun the consequences’ I’d come see him on more occasions than not buh, we were both caught up in the same fairy tale; I guess he woke up too soon.
For the first days, Max was the one to call me. He’d call me at dawn, before he went to bed and just because. Then later he’s calls became scarce; said he was busy, he said he came home tired. He said it was only people who were insecure that needed to be given a ‘reality pinch’ every time. Buh, I didn’t complain, I called him. I loved the sound of his voice, it reminded me of crisply baked chicken dipped in sauce; finger-licking delicious! but by the middle of week 2, I realized Max didn’t want me anymore.
To make matters worse, [I don’t know how she knew but I have learned the hard way never to doubt her] ‘Worldwide gossip machine’ Ibiela told me about one Nollywood celebrity’s latest boyfriend and would you believe it?
Out of the over billion population in Nigeria, Max happened to be the one! I called him and questioned him about it but, he neither denied nor confirmed the piece. He told me ‘Tabby cat, you are one special girl and there would never be one to replace you.’ now what type of statement is that?
I stopped calling him, I tried not to think of him but by G*d it hurts, it hurts so dam much. Even Nneka hasn’t said a word to me, I told no one about what happened in Lagos so, they don’t know what to make of my recent behavior. Mother was a bit concerned but Dr. Dash told her it is a normal pre-adult behavior (after asking me about my ‘pregnancy status’ and receiving a negative response) still, it didn’t stop me from crying when I thought I was alone.
Max? I hate him so much, I never want to see him again in my life.
I love him!
When he asked me about the dude on a piece of paper that I had been jotting on, I had to laugh. I had drawn several stick figures of Max with about a dozen daggers and knives stabbing almost every were 'vital organs' should have been. I wiped the tears away from my eyes and told him it was our dog; we just sold him to the butcher and I was having second thoughts. He shook his head and said he didn’t ever want to be the dog. He said the library was stuffy and asked if we could go for a walk. I shrugged and got up (walking was better than drawing stick figures of Max, killing them and crying). Most importantly ‘he’ was Stanley.
- TABBY
My eyes must have been swollen and blood shot because I didn't notice when he came to seat beside me.
Even the sight of a dozen random guys ‘taking a leak’ outside on assorted spots for ‘target practice’ on my way to the library didn’t make me question them about their fascination with the ‘great out doors’ I mean, toilets were made for something!! I have been this way for about two-three weeks now.
All because of Max!
In Lagos, we promised to keep in touch and I told him ‘shun the consequences’ I’d come see him on more occasions than not buh, we were both caught up in the same fairy tale; I guess he woke up too soon.
For the first days, Max was the one to call me. He’d call me at dawn, before he went to bed and just because. Then later he’s calls became scarce; said he was busy, he said he came home tired. He said it was only people who were insecure that needed to be given a ‘reality pinch’ every time. Buh, I didn’t complain, I called him. I loved the sound of his voice, it reminded me of crisply baked chicken dipped in sauce; finger-licking delicious! but by the middle of week 2, I realized Max didn’t want me anymore.
To make matters worse, [I don’t know how she knew but I have learned the hard way never to doubt her] ‘Worldwide gossip machine’ Ibiela told me about one Nollywood celebrity’s latest boyfriend and would you believe it?
Out of the over billion population in Nigeria, Max happened to be the one! I called him and questioned him about it but, he neither denied nor confirmed the piece. He told me ‘Tabby cat, you are one special girl and there would never be one to replace you.’ now what type of statement is that?
I stopped calling him, I tried not to think of him but by G*d it hurts, it hurts so dam much. Even Nneka hasn’t said a word to me, I told no one about what happened in Lagos so, they don’t know what to make of my recent behavior. Mother was a bit concerned but Dr. Dash told her it is a normal pre-adult behavior (after asking me about my ‘pregnancy status’ and receiving a negative response) still, it didn’t stop me from crying when I thought I was alone.
Max? I hate him so much, I never want to see him again in my life.
I love him!
When he asked me about the dude on a piece of paper that I had been jotting on, I had to laugh. I had drawn several stick figures of Max with about a dozen daggers and knives stabbing almost every were 'vital organs' should have been. I wiped the tears away from my eyes and told him it was our dog; we just sold him to the butcher and I was having second thoughts. He shook his head and said he didn’t ever want to be the dog. He said the library was stuffy and asked if we could go for a walk. I shrugged and got up (walking was better than drawing stick figures of Max, killing them and crying). Most importantly ‘he’ was Stanley.
- TABBY
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Entry 16
PRAYING, JUMPING AND FLYING FISH
My leg hurts like mad dogs on stray cats! To make matters worse, I’m grounded. Who would believe that? Since when do parents ground their children? In Nigeria!!
Nneka and mother are now two peas in a pod (I suspect it was Nneka that put ‘that’ idea into mothers head).
Mother says I’m accident prone, she warns that all she needs is for me to come home with just one more scratch and that’s it for my university education! She says she’d have me home schooled or if she’s feeling generous, make me do online slash distance learning [from my room at home!!]
Buh, it’s not like I dig up manholes for myself, cover them with leaves and branches then happily dance makossa on top o, it was a simple miscalculation of step, popularly called ‘an accident!’ caused by a gang of bible carrying-I-would-not-say bullies.
Since I stopped attending fellowship, they have refused to let me be! They keep sending ‘outreach’ units and visitation committee to come and talk to me. I tell them that their way of communing with G*d does not ‘shiver me timbers’ buh, would they hear?
I was heading home when I got a call from sister Blessing; she said herself and brother Emeka were coming to my place I hurriedly told her that I wasn’t home unfortunately for me, sister Taiwo saw me leaving the lecture theater and was coming behind. So, instead of boldly telling them to ‘back off or I’d shoot’ like any reasonable person would do, I decided to cut expenses, take the chickens alley and dodge both parties. The only obstacle blocking my escape was a tree and a gutter. I should have followed the path which everybody was taking o! but because of my fast guy approach, I took it upon myself to jump over the gutter and follow the longer route home and so I did. There was no way I would have known that the pile of grass I had initially intended to land on was actually a ditch covered with a rotten plank.
I remember using catwalk to jump over the gutter then screaming ‘ouch’ and ‘ewo!’ when lying on the floor in an awkward position, the world began to spin.
The crowing point of my whole ordeal is that when I found myself lying on the hospital bed with one leg hanging in the air, I looked at my cast and had to smile. Every inch was signed on by members of NAG fellowship. The same people that caused me to have the fracture.
Now that I am crippled and can’t run and hide, I get lots of visits from particular ‘caring’ friends [all the time!!]. Guess who?
- TABBY
My leg hurts like mad dogs on stray cats! To make matters worse, I’m grounded. Who would believe that? Since when do parents ground their children? In Nigeria!!
Nneka and mother are now two peas in a pod (I suspect it was Nneka that put ‘that’ idea into mothers head).
Mother says I’m accident prone, she warns that all she needs is for me to come home with just one more scratch and that’s it for my university education! She says she’d have me home schooled or if she’s feeling generous, make me do online slash distance learning [from my room at home!!]
Buh, it’s not like I dig up manholes for myself, cover them with leaves and branches then happily dance makossa on top o, it was a simple miscalculation of step, popularly called ‘an accident!’ caused by a gang of bible carrying-I-would-not-say bullies.
Since I stopped attending fellowship, they have refused to let me be! They keep sending ‘outreach’ units and visitation committee to come and talk to me. I tell them that their way of communing with G*d does not ‘shiver me timbers’ buh, would they hear?
I was heading home when I got a call from sister Blessing; she said herself and brother Emeka were coming to my place I hurriedly told her that I wasn’t home unfortunately for me, sister Taiwo saw me leaving the lecture theater and was coming behind. So, instead of boldly telling them to ‘back off or I’d shoot’ like any reasonable person would do, I decided to cut expenses, take the chickens alley and dodge both parties. The only obstacle blocking my escape was a tree and a gutter. I should have followed the path which everybody was taking o! but because of my fast guy approach, I took it upon myself to jump over the gutter and follow the longer route home and so I did. There was no way I would have known that the pile of grass I had initially intended to land on was actually a ditch covered with a rotten plank.
I remember using catwalk to jump over the gutter then screaming ‘ouch’ and ‘ewo!’ when lying on the floor in an awkward position, the world began to spin.
The crowing point of my whole ordeal is that when I found myself lying on the hospital bed with one leg hanging in the air, I looked at my cast and had to smile. Every inch was signed on by members of NAG fellowship. The same people that caused me to have the fracture.
Now that I am crippled and can’t run and hide, I get lots of visits from particular ‘caring’ friends [all the time!!]. Guess who?
- TABBY
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