BEER BUDDIES
With deep sorrow in our hearts but profound gratitude to G*d for a life well spent, we regret to announce the death of- G*d forbid bad thing!!!
Although the thought has crossed my mind on several occasions and truly, I hope to make heaven but, the thought of actually dying is not a topic I actively linger on.
Take for example my incidence with the “unholy hooligan”…
I was reading for my exams, occasionally going across the block to Suashi’s (my classmate I only talk to during exam period) room and she to mine until it got to the point when I stopped asking “who is it” when there was a knock on my door.
Later that night, I was feeling sleepy and decided that listening to 2face’s old album (the one with that track ‘ole’) would keep me awake. I had skipped to track 8 and made halted attempts to swing my tired waist to the rhythm when there was a hesitant knock on my door.
I knew it was Suashi and wondered why she was knocking like a hungry rat that had just finished paying child support. Still I asked who it was and her response was “Tabby it’s me, don’t open” buh, did I hear wrong or was Suashi knocking and telling me not to open? Thinking it was early-distress-examination-related-syndrome and not heeding the warning, I pulled back the bolt and swung the door open only to come face to face with the ugliest sight I pray to ever behold. It was a masked marauder with his right arm around her neck and a gun nestled snugly on her temple.
The first thing that came to my head was that the devil had become man and was staring right at me. Without thinking, I pointed a finger at him and began to pray. I was commanding the devil to flee from my presence and telling him that the light was no place for darkness, I was getting close to speaking in tongues (am not sure if it was the effect of the prayers that got to him or not) when the ‘human’ flung Suashi at me and cocked his gun.
Unfazed, I continued to ‘kabash’ urging G*d to send down fire and brimstone. He advised Suashi to shut me up else, she would be the next to die after me. When she got up, she tripped on the chord of my reading lamp, pulling it out of the socket and throwing the room into darkness. Before our assailant became royally pissed, we rushed to switch on the fluorescent light and told him it was an accident. Not believing either of us, he pointed the gun from me to Suashi then back to me before letting out a warning, he was like: “I’d shoot somebody”. On hearing him, I began my prayer session again, this time praying that the lord would receive my soul because I was so sure that I’d be the first target he’d choose to ‘X’. Suashi’s whimpering and tears finally got me to shut up. Luckily, I left my phones and laptop at Faruk’s the only thing of value were my jewelries and barely worn Nike sneakers. He took them and left [tears].
Suashi fainted while I stood rooted to the spot not believing that my zodiac sign pendant was really gone.
He came on two other occasions gradually turning me into a nervous wreck until Faruk suggested I buy a crate of beer and invite him to rest for a while before going about his ‘business as usual’ the next time he came. He was like, there could be a huge probability that the guy liked me but, lacked the proper approach to get to me.
After the 3rd attack, I figured there might be truth to what Faruk said and went ahead to buy the beer.
Lucky me, he must have discovered a more attractive and willing host than me because after I loaded my fridge with a crate of beer, I never saw him again.
He had succeeded in turning me into a nervous-jumpy wreck, flinching each time I got a knock at my door after 8pm, making sure there was always beer in my fridge and double checking my bolts every other hour.
If I ran into a doctor in that state, he’d have booked me into the nearest ward for people with mental illness with a possibility of cerebral shock. Imagine me, death by anxiety?
Buh, who cares if he never returned to ‘break bread’ over the bottles of beer I had purchased for him? I know I don’t!
Its good riddance to bad rubbish!!
- Tabby
*special edition
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
Entry 27
WHEN FISH JUMP
I hate the rain- I hate the rain- I hate the rain- I hate the rain (I hate the season), I hate the rain! Buh, I hate the freaking rain!!
In movies, the guy and the lady might walk under the rain, sing love songs while looking into each others eyes and tra-la-la; it would seem oh so romantic but, really, try that in 9ja na?
Not only would you catch a bloody cold, your 10,000 Naira and above ‘Brazilian’ hair would be gone in the wind! This is not including the time and energy that would be spent on doing the extra laundry or the ruined leather shoes that weren’t water repellent!
I wasn’t such an anti-rain person until the storm settled above my roof and brought along with it horrible evil clouds. It looked through the list of all the citizens of earth and decided to send thunder and lightning to the household of my friend Ivy.
My beloved friend Ivy!!
She is in pain, she is hurting.
I am at loss for what to do.
I have thought of almost every and anything to do to cheer her up but, none is working. Each attempt only leaves me feeling powerless, useless… weak.
How do you cheer up a soul that has lost its will to live?
A while back, I was saying how much fun weddings were, how it brought me Stanley and all; the joy and the hopes, the dreams, magic and miracle of two people finding themselves and making that solemn promise: “till death do us part”.
How was I to know that Ivy would never attend another wedding without tears in her eyes? Petunia, Ivy’s elder sister that had crazily put off having a ‘white’ wedding until after she had a first baby, the same petunia that threatened to sue the doctor for confirming her pregnant then going ahead to tell her the sex of the child [she said he ruined her surprise] .
The very same person!
She was planning a wedding for late august, three months after the baby was due.
I keep asking; why wasn’t the wedding done last year after the native law just like normal people would do? I can’t explain how or if that would change anything. What I know is that Ivy is inconsolable, Petunia’s husband is devastated and her parents…
Funny, daring, ‘evil’, crazy, amazing Petunia! Petunia who gave herself various traditional names from Dumebi, Omozele, Omawumi, Ekene to Aisha and even Chi-chi! [She did it to spite her parents for naming her after a flower]
Petunia.
She was the life of the party, eager to please more so to help. Just like that, sweet kind petunia is dead.
Here today, gone tomorrow.
She had malaria, everybody has malaria right? I mean, I have malaria at least twice a year or more. Yet no one can bear witness me writing tabs from the ‘great beyond’.
Why her? Why malaria? Why Petunia?
I can’t cry, I badly want to do that, but I can’t; I have to be strong. Ivy needs a friend to lean on, Ivy needs me.
Bad enough that the morning of the same ill fated day, results for the session were released and it so happened that I had done badly in not 1, 2 but 3 core courses.
Weighing 4 credits each, I had an ‘E’ in two of them and the 3rd was a missing result. I was biting my nails and brooding when Ivy burst into my room howling like a baby.
It’s raining again, buh, I so hate the rain!
So far, I have learned that malaria kills between 1-3 million people each year and it is spread by the female anopheles mosquitoes. Although it is a sickness associated with poverty it very well may be the cause of poverty! Imagine our future leaders and brains dying at the age of 10 who where lies the nations hope?
Aside from cerebral malaria killing younger children within 8- 48 hours, if left untreated it can cause anemia coma and ultimately… death.
Petunia is dead.
The intensity of rain has increased, at this moment I need to be with Ivy; I tried convincing her to go home but she refused. She insists on staying in school to read her books.
I am afraid for her.
When she feels I am not watching she stares into space while tears run freely down her cheeks.
Imagine losing a sister and an unborn niece at the same time.
Petunia had a brief illness, don’t we all?
She was complaining about the regular malaria symptoms (fever, shivering, joint pain etc) but after a couple of days she felt better and decided to make a dash to her mother in-laws place to discuss about the wedding caters (besides she was missing the old lady and was itching to see her).
Early that morning, she began her journey to the woman's place of residence.
All through the 4 hour trip, she felt well and fit (Her husband had instructed his driver to turn the car around and bring her home if his wife should let out even a little sneeze).
It was later that night after calling him and her parents to say that she had arrived safely that she began convulsing and throwing up.
Each time she came up for air, she screamed; “help my baby!”
She was rushed to the hospital and placed on I. V.
She died that night.
The stupid rain wouldn’t stop falling! I am sure all the mosquitoes are busy doing 'the bunny hop' and breeding waiting for their next victim to attack.
I want do hit somebody, I want to hit something, badly!!
Who am I to blame?
- Tabby
I hate the rain- I hate the rain- I hate the rain- I hate the rain (I hate the season), I hate the rain! Buh, I hate the freaking rain!!
In movies, the guy and the lady might walk under the rain, sing love songs while looking into each others eyes and tra-la-la; it would seem oh so romantic but, really, try that in 9ja na?
Not only would you catch a bloody cold, your 10,000 Naira and above ‘Brazilian’ hair would be gone in the wind! This is not including the time and energy that would be spent on doing the extra laundry or the ruined leather shoes that weren’t water repellent!
I wasn’t such an anti-rain person until the storm settled above my roof and brought along with it horrible evil clouds. It looked through the list of all the citizens of earth and decided to send thunder and lightning to the household of my friend Ivy.
My beloved friend Ivy!!
She is in pain, she is hurting.
I am at loss for what to do.
I have thought of almost every and anything to do to cheer her up but, none is working. Each attempt only leaves me feeling powerless, useless… weak.
How do you cheer up a soul that has lost its will to live?
A while back, I was saying how much fun weddings were, how it brought me Stanley and all; the joy and the hopes, the dreams, magic and miracle of two people finding themselves and making that solemn promise: “till death do us part”.
How was I to know that Ivy would never attend another wedding without tears in her eyes? Petunia, Ivy’s elder sister that had crazily put off having a ‘white’ wedding until after she had a first baby, the same petunia that threatened to sue the doctor for confirming her pregnant then going ahead to tell her the sex of the child [she said he ruined her surprise] .
The very same person!
She was planning a wedding for late august, three months after the baby was due.
I keep asking; why wasn’t the wedding done last year after the native law just like normal people would do? I can’t explain how or if that would change anything. What I know is that Ivy is inconsolable, Petunia’s husband is devastated and her parents…
Funny, daring, ‘evil’, crazy, amazing Petunia! Petunia who gave herself various traditional names from Dumebi, Omozele, Omawumi, Ekene to Aisha and even Chi-chi! [She did it to spite her parents for naming her after a flower]
Petunia.
She was the life of the party, eager to please more so to help. Just like that, sweet kind petunia is dead.
Here today, gone tomorrow.
She had malaria, everybody has malaria right? I mean, I have malaria at least twice a year or more. Yet no one can bear witness me writing tabs from the ‘great beyond’.
Why her? Why malaria? Why Petunia?
I can’t cry, I badly want to do that, but I can’t; I have to be strong. Ivy needs a friend to lean on, Ivy needs me.
Bad enough that the morning of the same ill fated day, results for the session were released and it so happened that I had done badly in not 1, 2 but 3 core courses.
Weighing 4 credits each, I had an ‘E’ in two of them and the 3rd was a missing result. I was biting my nails and brooding when Ivy burst into my room howling like a baby.
It’s raining again, buh, I so hate the rain!
So far, I have learned that malaria kills between 1-3 million people each year and it is spread by the female anopheles mosquitoes. Although it is a sickness associated with poverty it very well may be the cause of poverty! Imagine our future leaders and brains dying at the age of 10 who where lies the nations hope?
Aside from cerebral malaria killing younger children within 8- 48 hours, if left untreated it can cause anemia coma and ultimately… death.
Petunia is dead.
The intensity of rain has increased, at this moment I need to be with Ivy; I tried convincing her to go home but she refused. She insists on staying in school to read her books.
I am afraid for her.
When she feels I am not watching she stares into space while tears run freely down her cheeks.
Imagine losing a sister and an unborn niece at the same time.
Petunia had a brief illness, don’t we all?
She was complaining about the regular malaria symptoms (fever, shivering, joint pain etc) but after a couple of days she felt better and decided to make a dash to her mother in-laws place to discuss about the wedding caters (besides she was missing the old lady and was itching to see her).
Early that morning, she began her journey to the woman's place of residence.
All through the 4 hour trip, she felt well and fit (Her husband had instructed his driver to turn the car around and bring her home if his wife should let out even a little sneeze).
It was later that night after calling him and her parents to say that she had arrived safely that she began convulsing and throwing up.
Each time she came up for air, she screamed; “help my baby!”
She was rushed to the hospital and placed on I. V.
She died that night.
The stupid rain wouldn’t stop falling! I am sure all the mosquitoes are busy doing 'the bunny hop' and breeding waiting for their next victim to attack.
I want do hit somebody, I want to hit something, badly!!
Who am I to blame?
- Tabby
Friday, August 13, 2010
Entry 26
WHEN FISH FLY
Like so, after all my years of begging, cajoling, blackmail and threats to put myself up for adoption to better and more caring parents with the answer being adamantly no, it finally took the intervention of mothers gentlemanly boyfriend captain Dash…
(- CAPTAIN DASH – an honest to G*d naval officer. I have never seen a man look so gorgeous in gray hair! If I were X years older and half as hot as mother, captain Dash would change to Captain Tabitha’s!! I'd brand him with my initials; T S T and like the proud owner of a pure breed, I'd show him off to all who care to look! I believe it should be against the law somewhere for a man to look that handsome! Before I get carried away on captain Dash and his criminally good looks, I’d stop and get back to me!)
… Like I was saying, it finally took the intervention of ‘her’ boyfriend to get her to budge.
To make matters worse, I was not even aware of her plans neither was C D (my pet name for captain Dash he is cute!! Mother filled an online form for herself and me then surprise-surprise on Easter Monday she was like “guess what Swahita, we are going to the United State embassy next week. I’ve booked an appointment for the both of us for Tuesday. If you are given a visa, we’d spend your next holiday at Vegas!! Wouldn’t that be fun?”
Buh, I was happy and gingered at the prospect of becoming a ‘been-to’ but, 5 days later, cooling my heels at the super cold US embassy while waiting for my number to be called up I began to think about the wisdom of my ways.
From what I could see, a blond chick [that looked no more than 18 give or take 23] calls you up, asks you personal questions, gets you to admit to your worst fears then kindly tells you that your request has been denied because ‘the fat cow jumped over the moon’ or in other words; “you don’t have sufficient emotional attachment”. I mean, what does that mean? How emotionally attached do have to get for a visa to the US? Should I go get a ‘hubby’ at the pet store because I want to spend 2 weeks of my life spending mine and mothers money on a card table in Vegas? Should I strive to work for Adenuga just to I’d be a respected citizen good enough for the blond with blue eyes?
Last I checked, we were advised to invest in what we loved; work with professions we were comfortable with not what we 'think' would impress others.
Come to think of it, Nigeria is my country. Warts and all, I love the bugger. What makes Minnie blue eyes think that ‘I’d shoot and sky?’ to think that they pay rent, that they are tenants in my country and still have the audacity to embarrass me because I dared to dream.
William Bell, Albert Einstein and (would you believe?) Mr. King jnr were all dreamers!
As I suspected and prayed to avoid, by the time it got to my turn, I was all nerve and bones. I got the blue eyed blond [I wish I got the red haired guy with gray eyes. He seemed much nicer and cuter too!] I was so nervous that my teeth were clattering while my fingers shook [or was it because of the air conditioning? Buh, the place was so cold, I can imagine “when hell freezes over!!] I stuttered when she asked me for my name and what I did for a living, I asked her to repeat the question, twice! (Mother was hovering about. from the look of things, am sure she assumed Mother was a pimp shipping me off to the US for G*d knows what function)
At the end of it all, I got a letter that said I didn’t have sufficient emotional attachment to allow them give me visa but however, it would be okay if I take some time off to take stock of my life and come back again for another shot. [In my words of course!] I was so sad.
This was the first time I looked forward to something so bad only to be told NO! Because my nose wasn’t the proper shape or whatever reason she could dream of. I cried until my throat was hoarse, I refused to talk to mother somehow, I blamed her!
It was captain Dash who whisked me off my feet dragging mother along, that brightened my day. He took us on a ship cruise! He is so cool! I wish him and mother would have a ‘more serious’ arrangement. I never bothered with his real name but I’m sure it would be something sexy and suave.
Talking about whisking mortals away, I spotted xxx and xxx at one ‘koro’ giving each other tongue paints.
Hum, small world!
- Tabby
Like so, after all my years of begging, cajoling, blackmail and threats to put myself up for adoption to better and more caring parents with the answer being adamantly no, it finally took the intervention of mothers gentlemanly boyfriend captain Dash…
(- CAPTAIN DASH – an honest to G*d naval officer. I have never seen a man look so gorgeous in gray hair! If I were X years older and half as hot as mother, captain Dash would change to Captain Tabitha’s!! I'd brand him with my initials; T S T and like the proud owner of a pure breed, I'd show him off to all who care to look! I believe it should be against the law somewhere for a man to look that handsome! Before I get carried away on captain Dash and his criminally good looks, I’d stop and get back to me!)
… Like I was saying, it finally took the intervention of ‘her’ boyfriend to get her to budge.
To make matters worse, I was not even aware of her plans neither was C D (my pet name for captain Dash he is cute!! Mother filled an online form for herself and me then surprise-surprise on Easter Monday she was like “guess what Swahita, we are going to the United State embassy next week. I’ve booked an appointment for the both of us for Tuesday. If you are given a visa, we’d spend your next holiday at Vegas!! Wouldn’t that be fun?”
Buh, I was happy and gingered at the prospect of becoming a ‘been-to’ but, 5 days later, cooling my heels at the super cold US embassy while waiting for my number to be called up I began to think about the wisdom of my ways.
From what I could see, a blond chick [that looked no more than 18 give or take 23] calls you up, asks you personal questions, gets you to admit to your worst fears then kindly tells you that your request has been denied because ‘the fat cow jumped over the moon’ or in other words; “you don’t have sufficient emotional attachment”. I mean, what does that mean? How emotionally attached do have to get for a visa to the US? Should I go get a ‘hubby’ at the pet store because I want to spend 2 weeks of my life spending mine and mothers money on a card table in Vegas? Should I strive to work for Adenuga just to I’d be a respected citizen good enough for the blond with blue eyes?
Last I checked, we were advised to invest in what we loved; work with professions we were comfortable with not what we 'think' would impress others.
Come to think of it, Nigeria is my country. Warts and all, I love the bugger. What makes Minnie blue eyes think that ‘I’d shoot and sky?’ to think that they pay rent, that they are tenants in my country and still have the audacity to embarrass me because I dared to dream.
William Bell, Albert Einstein and (would you believe?) Mr. King jnr were all dreamers!
As I suspected and prayed to avoid, by the time it got to my turn, I was all nerve and bones. I got the blue eyed blond [I wish I got the red haired guy with gray eyes. He seemed much nicer and cuter too!] I was so nervous that my teeth were clattering while my fingers shook [or was it because of the air conditioning? Buh, the place was so cold, I can imagine “when hell freezes over!!] I stuttered when she asked me for my name and what I did for a living, I asked her to repeat the question, twice! (Mother was hovering about. from the look of things, am sure she assumed Mother was a pimp shipping me off to the US for G*d knows what function)
At the end of it all, I got a letter that said I didn’t have sufficient emotional attachment to allow them give me visa but however, it would be okay if I take some time off to take stock of my life and come back again for another shot. [In my words of course!] I was so sad.
This was the first time I looked forward to something so bad only to be told NO! Because my nose wasn’t the proper shape or whatever reason she could dream of. I cried until my throat was hoarse, I refused to talk to mother somehow, I blamed her!
It was captain Dash who whisked me off my feet dragging mother along, that brightened my day. He took us on a ship cruise! He is so cool! I wish him and mother would have a ‘more serious’ arrangement. I never bothered with his real name but I’m sure it would be something sexy and suave.
Talking about whisking mortals away, I spotted xxx and xxx at one ‘koro’ giving each other tongue paints.
Hum, small world!
- Tabby
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Entry 33
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS
I woke up with an eerie sense of foreboding to the dying sounds of the radio presenter’s voice. Although I did not hear what was said, I felt I had heard him say it a thousand times and more. Instinctively, I knew that knowing what the words were would ease the panic that threatened to choke me with fear and soothe my feeble nerves. But, what was it?
I decided to have my bath and go for lectures; I got a call from Faruk immediately I stepped out of the shower (Since my incidence with those useless-good-for-nothing armed robbers, he checks in on me every other hour. Buh! I shouldn’t have told him I was traumatized, he is acting like a nanny now!)
My day went by in a haze.
I kept on trying to recall that which I could not phantom, the feeling that something has happened before or something is going to happen, something that would shake the foundation of your existence if not prevented. Is that déjà vu?
In class, I laughed with my friends; I teased some of them, buh! I even got picked on by ‘Mr. Lecturer’ yet somehow, it felt as though I wasn’t there, I wasn’t present, an observer; how poetic.
Faruk thinks he is the cause of my withdrawn state, he also thinks the armed robbers are to blame. I tried convincing him otherwise but, he wouldn’t listen to reason.
Finally, so there would be peace; I told him that he was the cause. I lied that I was mad at him and needed some space.
He believed that [boys!]
I was depressed and feeling claustrophobic. I tired different legal means to get rid of the feeling (I got dolled up and left campus, I went to the shopping complex and strutted my stuff in front of eligible/capable looking [hopefully] bachelors, I even took myself out for chicken and chips with ice-cream) all to no avail.
Disappointed, I sighed in defeat.
On my way back to school, I passed a billboard advertising a radically different drink.
That cheered me up a bit, maybe it was because the guy on the poster reminded me a lot of one of Mother’s past boyfriends, maybe it was the shape of the bottle. Maybe it was just maybe. Whatever the case, for that moment, I enjoyed happiness.
It was when my phone rang and the caller ID read Dr. Dash that I felt my heart slam on the walls of my chest.
TROUBLE!
I remembered.
The words of the radio presenter that had failed my memory all day came in a rush. The words were clearly voiced, it was like he stood behind me, held me by my shoulders and whispered fiercely into my ears; “every woman is at the risk of breast cancer, examine yourself today.”
My heart rate quickened.
I am needed at home, Mother is ill.
- Tabby
I woke up with an eerie sense of foreboding to the dying sounds of the radio presenter’s voice. Although I did not hear what was said, I felt I had heard him say it a thousand times and more. Instinctively, I knew that knowing what the words were would ease the panic that threatened to choke me with fear and soothe my feeble nerves. But, what was it?
I decided to have my bath and go for lectures; I got a call from Faruk immediately I stepped out of the shower (Since my incidence with those useless-good-for-nothing armed robbers, he checks in on me every other hour. Buh! I shouldn’t have told him I was traumatized, he is acting like a nanny now!)
My day went by in a haze.
I kept on trying to recall that which I could not phantom, the feeling that something has happened before or something is going to happen, something that would shake the foundation of your existence if not prevented. Is that déjà vu?
In class, I laughed with my friends; I teased some of them, buh! I even got picked on by ‘Mr. Lecturer’ yet somehow, it felt as though I wasn’t there, I wasn’t present, an observer; how poetic.
Faruk thinks he is the cause of my withdrawn state, he also thinks the armed robbers are to blame. I tried convincing him otherwise but, he wouldn’t listen to reason.
Finally, so there would be peace; I told him that he was the cause. I lied that I was mad at him and needed some space.
He believed that [boys!]
I was depressed and feeling claustrophobic. I tired different legal means to get rid of the feeling (I got dolled up and left campus, I went to the shopping complex and strutted my stuff in front of eligible/capable looking [hopefully] bachelors, I even took myself out for chicken and chips with ice-cream) all to no avail.
Disappointed, I sighed in defeat.
On my way back to school, I passed a billboard advertising a radically different drink.
That cheered me up a bit, maybe it was because the guy on the poster reminded me a lot of one of Mother’s past boyfriends, maybe it was the shape of the bottle. Maybe it was just maybe. Whatever the case, for that moment, I enjoyed happiness.
It was when my phone rang and the caller ID read Dr. Dash that I felt my heart slam on the walls of my chest.
TROUBLE!
I remembered.
The words of the radio presenter that had failed my memory all day came in a rush. The words were clearly voiced, it was like he stood behind me, held me by my shoulders and whispered fiercely into my ears; “every woman is at the risk of breast cancer, examine yourself today.”
My heart rate quickened.
I am needed at home, Mother is ill.
- Tabby
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