UNAPPRECIATED
Arrgh!! Everywhere is wet, slimy and sticky. My room smells like a wet dog covered in a wet blanket lying on a wet mattress and chewing on a stolen wet leather slipper. Buh! Would someone please turn off the rain switch and let the freaking sun come out to play?! It’s at times like this that I blame mother for not getting hitched to some white man and birthing me in a country with four season’s (South Africa, Greenland and Iceland not included). The month of October is supposed to be the start of autumn for crying out loud. All those books she got me with stories of leaves turning brown and shedding their summer clothes should count for something buh. In October, there should be fewer rainy days, things drying up and all that but instead what do I get?
Wet!
Truth be told, if I were honest with myself (given that I am not really a rain and water person), I’d admit that most of my anger with the weather is coming from the fact that Lanre turned out to be a law man worse, not just a regular law man but a yellow fever to boost!
Since when do they recruit nice looking, well spoken and good mannered people into the force? The fairytale way he appeared out of nowhere and assisted me in crossing the road should have been the clue I needed to know that something was up. That he offered to help me carry some of my groceries and talked me into having snacks and a drink is something that would have set off alarm bells if only the darkened clouds overhead was not making me quite an agreeable person in a bid to be out of the way should the rain decide to reign. The fairytale would have been bliss if I did not decide to renounce the expected “African time”, borrow a car and go early for our second “date” serves me right though because my beloved Lanre was just getting off duty decked in his orange shirt and black trousers.
The thought of Nneka pointing her French tipped fingers and laughing at me for dating a “yellow fever” was enough to scare me into pushing Dr. Dash’s car into reverse and backing out of the street before he could spot me. As luck would have it, just when I had gotten to the end of the one way and was about switching to the right side of the road, a yellow fever ran out of G*d knows where and jumped into the car before I had time to hit the locks. He brought along his assistant whom I called Goldilocks under my breath and they had a swell time embarrassing me, making me beg and plead.
An hour, a phone call and five thousand naira later, I was free of them swearing to have my revenge on all members of the Nigerian law enforcement agencies et al (maybe I’d marry a politician and make him pass out a bill or something, hmm).
Walking back to my place in school after I figured nothing could go wrong anymore, the fates waited until I was crossing the road before sending a nice young gentleman in a purple Rav4 jeep to zoom past dousing me with nice, warm and dirty water from the puddle in a pothole. Great, just great! Lucky my lips were closed, set in a straight line from the frown that manifested on my face since I returned Dash’s car after the ‘yellow fever’ incidence (I wonder what they are called in real life, “Fanta police”?) or else the thought of having a little taste of water mixed with the run-off urine passed out by men who hear this call from the great spirit of the outdoors and answer by pissing by the roadside, saliva and catarrh from individuals who aren’t emotionally balanced until they have a little spitting and nose blowing session and all things gross would have sent me straight to paranoia land or a hospital.
Eww! Either a flying snake spat on me or birds have learned a new trick. Buh, there’s another one! Well what do you know! The rain is here again, I have neither a raincoat nor an umbrella. Good thing am heading home already because at this moment, I don’t really care if my day gets any worse. C’mon madam rainfall, hit me with all you’ve got!!
- Tabby
Showing posts with label nigerian short stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nigerian short stories. Show all posts
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Entry 44
UNFAZED
The first thought that entered my head was ‘Nneka has done it!’ I screamed at the highest note my voice could hit, hopped from one foot to the other and wrung my fingers like freshly laundered sheets before it occurred to me to stop panicking and think. The problem was; being faced with a burning frying pan, a smoke covered kitchen and imagining the gas cooker going “Boom!” at any instant thinking became a novel idea. Somewhere in my head, I pictured Johnny Bravo (a cartoon character) in a fireman’s outfit saying ‘stop, drop and roll’ it gave me comfort for a while till I tried to figure out how the burning pan was going to stop, drop and roll. I out of the kitchen through the back door, packed sand into a rubber pail and brought it inside but throwing sand at the gas didn’t seem like a good plan. I considered making a solution with detergent and pouring it on the frying pan but with the gas still burning brightly, I didn’t think that too would have been a good idea. That loud voice in my head that tells me to do bad things (not the tiny one that gives advice which I often do not take) was screaming panic Tabby! Panic!! The kitchen is on fire, we are all going to die (“we” being the loud voice, the quiet voice and myself). The voice seemed quite certain of the outcome from the day’s event and gave a grim survival ratio. I was close to believing it before it occurred to me to use the oven mittens which were hanging happily from the hook above my head to pick up the burning frying pan, drop it outside and run back to turn off the gas. Thankfully the plan worked! After I short of threw the frying pan (fire and all) out the back door, ran to turn off the gas (which by the special grace of G*d had not exploded) and began opening windows to let in more air. Next, I took in deep breaths in an attempt to calm my racing pulse and staggered to the guest room.
I unplugged the standing fan from the wall socket, rolled the cord around the body and brought it to the kitchen turning it to face it the area with the most of the smoke before plugging it to another socket in order to hasten the removal of the choking smell and smoke that had ensued.
Just after the kitchen was back to ‘near’ normal, the blasted phone rang. Everything happened so fast that I almost forgot how it began in the first place. Buh, it serves me right.
Mother had said I should go visiting with her, Annabel and Dr. Dash but I refused making up a lousy excuse that she brought.
A while later, tired of painting my face and haunting the house, I realized I was hungry and decided I’d eat fried plantain and wash it down with the bottle of wine I had been hoarding from the Christmas party mother hosted a few days earlier.
The can of vegetable oil was empty.
Too lazy to refill it from the pantry, I decided to bleach palm oil and use instead. I had cut the plantain and poured oil into the pan when I heard my phone ringing in the other room. It was a text message from an unknown number.
The message ended with a wink. Curious, I sat down and replied. After a few exchanges I discovered the ‘texter’ was Dotun the younger brother of one Dr. Eyikimi’s colleagues.
He was being sweet and “Tabby liked very much”. I curled up in the sofa and continued 'texting' forgetting all about the oil I was bleaching in the kitchen.
It was not until Dotun asked if he could come take me out to lunch that I remembered what I left on the burner. Without responding, I threw the phone down and ran to the kitchen. The rest they say is history.
The number was unknown; I picked up the phone and connected the call warily. It was Dotun. He wondered why I didn’t respond to his text. I let out a sign of relief, smiled and shook my head telling him that even if I gave him forty chances to guess, he will not be able to get the reason why. Still shaken from my ordeal, I spoke a little gibberish and made my way to the back to see how much damage had been done to the frying pan (that was one of mother’s favorite frying pans). It was burnt beyond repair I shook my head in disbelief. He made the offer to take me to lunch again, I said sure. Why not? I was not in the mood to risk cooking another frying pan, the bottle of wine might as well stay for another week and I was certain that turning mothers kitchen to ‘the scene of the crime’ was not going to score me any points with either herself or Dr. Dash. I asked him to give me sometime (so I could make an attempt to clean up the mess) and ran to my room to get dressed. When mother and Dr. Eyikimi returned to the house, I was going to be doing a lot of talking. So, it is for the best I went out for lunch and forgot about my worries for as long as I could
- Tabby
The first thought that entered my head was ‘Nneka has done it!’ I screamed at the highest note my voice could hit, hopped from one foot to the other and wrung my fingers like freshly laundered sheets before it occurred to me to stop panicking and think. The problem was; being faced with a burning frying pan, a smoke covered kitchen and imagining the gas cooker going “Boom!” at any instant thinking became a novel idea. Somewhere in my head, I pictured Johnny Bravo (a cartoon character) in a fireman’s outfit saying ‘stop, drop and roll’ it gave me comfort for a while till I tried to figure out how the burning pan was going to stop, drop and roll. I out of the kitchen through the back door, packed sand into a rubber pail and brought it inside but throwing sand at the gas didn’t seem like a good plan. I considered making a solution with detergent and pouring it on the frying pan but with the gas still burning brightly, I didn’t think that too would have been a good idea. That loud voice in my head that tells me to do bad things (not the tiny one that gives advice which I often do not take) was screaming panic Tabby! Panic!! The kitchen is on fire, we are all going to die (“we” being the loud voice, the quiet voice and myself). The voice seemed quite certain of the outcome from the day’s event and gave a grim survival ratio. I was close to believing it before it occurred to me to use the oven mittens which were hanging happily from the hook above my head to pick up the burning frying pan, drop it outside and run back to turn off the gas. Thankfully the plan worked! After I short of threw the frying pan (fire and all) out the back door, ran to turn off the gas (which by the special grace of G*d had not exploded) and began opening windows to let in more air. Next, I took in deep breaths in an attempt to calm my racing pulse and staggered to the guest room.
I unplugged the standing fan from the wall socket, rolled the cord around the body and brought it to the kitchen turning it to face it the area with the most of the smoke before plugging it to another socket in order to hasten the removal of the choking smell and smoke that had ensued.
Just after the kitchen was back to ‘near’ normal, the blasted phone rang. Everything happened so fast that I almost forgot how it began in the first place. Buh, it serves me right.
Mother had said I should go visiting with her, Annabel and Dr. Dash but I refused making up a lousy excuse that she brought.
A while later, tired of painting my face and haunting the house, I realized I was hungry and decided I’d eat fried plantain and wash it down with the bottle of wine I had been hoarding from the Christmas party mother hosted a few days earlier.
The can of vegetable oil was empty.
Too lazy to refill it from the pantry, I decided to bleach palm oil and use instead. I had cut the plantain and poured oil into the pan when I heard my phone ringing in the other room. It was a text message from an unknown number.
The message ended with a wink. Curious, I sat down and replied. After a few exchanges I discovered the ‘texter’ was Dotun the younger brother of one Dr. Eyikimi’s colleagues.
He was being sweet and “Tabby liked very much”. I curled up in the sofa and continued 'texting' forgetting all about the oil I was bleaching in the kitchen.
It was not until Dotun asked if he could come take me out to lunch that I remembered what I left on the burner. Without responding, I threw the phone down and ran to the kitchen. The rest they say is history.
The number was unknown; I picked up the phone and connected the call warily. It was Dotun. He wondered why I didn’t respond to his text. I let out a sign of relief, smiled and shook my head telling him that even if I gave him forty chances to guess, he will not be able to get the reason why. Still shaken from my ordeal, I spoke a little gibberish and made my way to the back to see how much damage had been done to the frying pan (that was one of mother’s favorite frying pans). It was burnt beyond repair I shook my head in disbelief. He made the offer to take me to lunch again, I said sure. Why not? I was not in the mood to risk cooking another frying pan, the bottle of wine might as well stay for another week and I was certain that turning mothers kitchen to ‘the scene of the crime’ was not going to score me any points with either herself or Dr. Dash. I asked him to give me sometime (so I could make an attempt to clean up the mess) and ran to my room to get dressed. When mother and Dr. Eyikimi returned to the house, I was going to be doing a lot of talking. So, it is for the best I went out for lunch and forgot about my worries for as long as I could
- Tabby
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Entry 40
UNCONCERNED
Tabitha Swahita Tahilita, Tabitha Tahilita Swahita, TTS? Nope. TTS is so not me! Sounds like a ‘T- something – T – something ‘syndrome some toxic disease or worse. Tabby is perfect!
I wonder if this entry would smell different or end with a ‘plop’ because of my location. Call me gross, nasty or dirty but I am eighty nine point one percent certain that I wouldn’t be the first to ‘drop’ from this perspective. At one point or the other, certain people have made life changing decisions while in the toilet so blah!
I wasn’t jobless yesterday, I was erm, I was – I was inspired!
I stood in front of the main auditorium and realized that from there, the living quarters for students could be sectioned into four quadrants. The north behind me, the east, the west and “down south”! While considering how far down south could stretch to and if the hostels built by different banks should be added to the south mandate Kufre miraculously appeared in my line of vision!
Not being in the mood to paste a smile on my face and say nice things to him I looked the other way and held my breath praying he would walk away if I didn’t make any sudden move (this trick worked in the past when I bumped into two wicked looking dogs who approached me like they had just concluded the grace before meal) I’d like to say that next I slipped, fell into a hole, hit my head on a broken vodka bottle and passed out only to wake up a few hours later in his arms well taken care of, without a single tell tale scratch and wearing a pretty pink frock but am not that accident prone and pink is not really my color. What really happened was he turned and caught my eyes. For a while we stood holding each others gaze, waiting for who would make the first move. Getting tired of the staring contest, I blinked and made to walk away only to be halted by him calling out my name and taking giant strides towards my direction.
He came to a stop ‘in my face’ wearing this irritatingly cheerful smile that made me want to puke (or clean his teeth with a mechanic’s greasy rag) he apologized for making me wait and for starring at me without speaking saying I looked different. Next he begged me to go with him to the Plaza. I think at that point he read my mind and knew I was going to say no because in the next breath, he swore he would not take no for an answer. We were still standing in front of the auditorium and passersby were nodding approvingly in our direction as if to say “what a cute couple”. I made faces at a few of them, shrugged and said okay.
I hadn’t been to the Plaza in a while so I was a bit surprised to note that during “school hours” the place was bustling with activity (some people really should get a life buh)!
When Kufre didn’t complain when I took my time in ordering my drink (this was new), I asked him about “Bambi” the half Pinocchio girl he left me for. After telling me it was not nice to call people names and asking how I’d feel if I was referred to as Jumbo or Ariel the marine spirit the answer he gave was quite vague something like “words are from alphabets” or so and then turned the conversation around. The idiot that said men love to talk about themselves should be given a solid knock on the center of his or her head! Since I can remember, I have been blessed with males who have turtle butts for mouth; once in, it is difficult to get out and if you attempt to take it by force, you are strictly on your own.
Still at the plaza, I asked for two more straws inserted them into the bottle, sucked my drink noisily and watched the people around me. I saw the girl Ibiela swore was dating her lecturer! She stood at the entrance to the plaza (she was either making or receiving a call). When she was through, she walked into the bar opposite me and was in for a while, coming out finally with a huge plastic bag (maybe it was filled with loads of food; goat pepper soup, peppered chicken, whole goat head? There was an irregular bulge to one side; I wondered what it was hmm a bottle of groundnut as well? It could be that her and the said lecturer were disappearing for the weekend and needed food for the road). I bent my neck continuously like a turkey to see where she went as she walked away from the Plaza; if there was a car waiting for her or if it was the man in question. Kufre was being a spoil sport and refused to share in my speculation. I was enjoying myself but remembered every now and then not to let down my guard. I and Kufre had gone down this road before and to my knowledge Walt Disney was still making cartoons so, there were other Disney characters for him to leave me for. He seemed different though, or maybe it was the new haircut. Whatever it was, I was willing to explore. Besides, Christmas is just next month and it would be nice to get a present from someone at least so why not him!
When I got to my room, Nneka was waiting by my door. The first question she asked was what I was doing with Kufre. I didn’t bother to ask how she knew I was with him (I swear that girl is not of this world). First she gave me a hug, let go then held unto my wrist looked solemnly into my eyes (scaring the sh*t out of me) before saying she cared deeply about me and only wanted what was best for me. She promised me that Kufre was bad news and was only going to hurt me. I eased my hand from her grip and told her thanks for the love but as for me and Kufre we’d just have to see.
Come to think of it, why didn’t I notice then that her talons sorry fingers look like they were painted blood red? Maybe it wasn’t paint, maybe it was blood! She might have gotten a premonition while she separated a suicidal rat from its entrails (that would account for her blood red nails). Wish I had told Kufre that I didn’t think Jumbo was a bad name and Ariel too! She was a princess after all buh, not marine spirit!
Okay, this is awkward. The sink is wet as well as the top of the toilet tank. There is no way am going to drop my note book on either of the surfaces letting it get wet in the process. What’s it with water everywhere?!
Ha! Nice, the tissue on the roll is only enough for one thing.
What to do? What to do? Buh, am Tabby, I’d figure something out.
Oops!
- Tabby
Tabitha Swahita Tahilita, Tabitha Tahilita Swahita, TTS? Nope. TTS is so not me! Sounds like a ‘T- something – T – something ‘syndrome some toxic disease or worse. Tabby is perfect!
I wonder if this entry would smell different or end with a ‘plop’ because of my location. Call me gross, nasty or dirty but I am eighty nine point one percent certain that I wouldn’t be the first to ‘drop’ from this perspective. At one point or the other, certain people have made life changing decisions while in the toilet so blah!
I wasn’t jobless yesterday, I was erm, I was – I was inspired!
I stood in front of the main auditorium and realized that from there, the living quarters for students could be sectioned into four quadrants. The north behind me, the east, the west and “down south”! While considering how far down south could stretch to and if the hostels built by different banks should be added to the south mandate Kufre miraculously appeared in my line of vision!
Not being in the mood to paste a smile on my face and say nice things to him I looked the other way and held my breath praying he would walk away if I didn’t make any sudden move (this trick worked in the past when I bumped into two wicked looking dogs who approached me like they had just concluded the grace before meal) I’d like to say that next I slipped, fell into a hole, hit my head on a broken vodka bottle and passed out only to wake up a few hours later in his arms well taken care of, without a single tell tale scratch and wearing a pretty pink frock but am not that accident prone and pink is not really my color. What really happened was he turned and caught my eyes. For a while we stood holding each others gaze, waiting for who would make the first move. Getting tired of the staring contest, I blinked and made to walk away only to be halted by him calling out my name and taking giant strides towards my direction.
He came to a stop ‘in my face’ wearing this irritatingly cheerful smile that made me want to puke (or clean his teeth with a mechanic’s greasy rag) he apologized for making me wait and for starring at me without speaking saying I looked different. Next he begged me to go with him to the Plaza. I think at that point he read my mind and knew I was going to say no because in the next breath, he swore he would not take no for an answer. We were still standing in front of the auditorium and passersby were nodding approvingly in our direction as if to say “what a cute couple”. I made faces at a few of them, shrugged and said okay.
I hadn’t been to the Plaza in a while so I was a bit surprised to note that during “school hours” the place was bustling with activity (some people really should get a life buh)!
When Kufre didn’t complain when I took my time in ordering my drink (this was new), I asked him about “Bambi” the half Pinocchio girl he left me for. After telling me it was not nice to call people names and asking how I’d feel if I was referred to as Jumbo or Ariel the marine spirit the answer he gave was quite vague something like “words are from alphabets” or so and then turned the conversation around. The idiot that said men love to talk about themselves should be given a solid knock on the center of his or her head! Since I can remember, I have been blessed with males who have turtle butts for mouth; once in, it is difficult to get out and if you attempt to take it by force, you are strictly on your own.
Still at the plaza, I asked for two more straws inserted them into the bottle, sucked my drink noisily and watched the people around me. I saw the girl Ibiela swore was dating her lecturer! She stood at the entrance to the plaza (she was either making or receiving a call). When she was through, she walked into the bar opposite me and was in for a while, coming out finally with a huge plastic bag (maybe it was filled with loads of food; goat pepper soup, peppered chicken, whole goat head? There was an irregular bulge to one side; I wondered what it was hmm a bottle of groundnut as well? It could be that her and the said lecturer were disappearing for the weekend and needed food for the road). I bent my neck continuously like a turkey to see where she went as she walked away from the Plaza; if there was a car waiting for her or if it was the man in question. Kufre was being a spoil sport and refused to share in my speculation. I was enjoying myself but remembered every now and then not to let down my guard. I and Kufre had gone down this road before and to my knowledge Walt Disney was still making cartoons so, there were other Disney characters for him to leave me for. He seemed different though, or maybe it was the new haircut. Whatever it was, I was willing to explore. Besides, Christmas is just next month and it would be nice to get a present from someone at least so why not him!
When I got to my room, Nneka was waiting by my door. The first question she asked was what I was doing with Kufre. I didn’t bother to ask how she knew I was with him (I swear that girl is not of this world). First she gave me a hug, let go then held unto my wrist looked solemnly into my eyes (scaring the sh*t out of me) before saying she cared deeply about me and only wanted what was best for me. She promised me that Kufre was bad news and was only going to hurt me. I eased my hand from her grip and told her thanks for the love but as for me and Kufre we’d just have to see.
Come to think of it, why didn’t I notice then that her talons sorry fingers look like they were painted blood red? Maybe it wasn’t paint, maybe it was blood! She might have gotten a premonition while she separated a suicidal rat from its entrails (that would account for her blood red nails). Wish I had told Kufre that I didn’t think Jumbo was a bad name and Ariel too! She was a princess after all buh, not marine spirit!
Okay, this is awkward. The sink is wet as well as the top of the toilet tank. There is no way am going to drop my note book on either of the surfaces letting it get wet in the process. What’s it with water everywhere?!
Ha! Nice, the tissue on the roll is only enough for one thing.
What to do? What to do? Buh, am Tabby, I’d figure something out.
Oops!
- Tabby
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Entry 42
UNDECIDED
I could have sworn it was a mosquito making buzzing sounds in my ear until the buzz turned into a menacing voice forming the words “Nneka my dear, the queen of killers”. That’s when I realized I was dreaming.
In the dream, I searched for the owner of the voice because it was important for the voice to know that I was neither Nneka nor the Queen of killers for that matter. I began to panic when I found myself standing in the middle of a room with several doors; all closed. The voice was laughing, sending its echo from behind one of the shut doors, my pulse quickened, blood was pumping rapidly within my veins and I could taste fear. Frantically, I searched for the source of the voice opening one door after the other and shouting at the same time. “I am Tabby, I am no killer!!” the room began to get warm and I could see fire coming at me from a distance with the face of Anubis.
In one room was my baby sister Annabel, I couldn’t see but I could hear her laughing happily; she was getting a bath, strange.
The voice came again, closer this time “Queen of murderers, Nneka” followed by evil laughter. I shouted back to it. “I am Tabby! Its Nneka you want, I am Tabby!!”
I forgot about my sister and resumed flinging doors open my legs were clouded in smoke, I could smell roasting meat, I was on fire!
Would I say luckily for me or unluckily for me now but whatever the case, I felt a bug crawl into my nose and this wasn’t a dream!
I woke up with a start and reached for the tissue paper beside my bed but no matter how hard I blew, I couldn’t dislodge the bug.
Lying sideways on the floor red heart in hand was a teddy bear, present from Max; I flung my pillow at it and turned the other way.
Recalling how we begun our game of charades again this time, I got up from my bed, picked up the hated ball of cotton and stuffed it in the trash can.
That foolish text he sent to me weeks ago claiming to be a secret admirer! Buh he can be so sweet when he chooses to be but at the slightest sign of dawn, he slinks back into the shadows like a cursed creature (here’s an idea; I could take holy water from church sprinkle on him and watch what happens, buh, these days one can never be so certain).
This thing between me and Max has to be the solution for the best kept secret. No matter how much distance I put between the both of us or how many pins I stick into the voodoo doll I made of him, we keep having reruns and pointless drama.
Destiny or should I say fate is definitely a mad man so, his sick sense of humor doesn’t surprise me buh, I wonder who the joke would be on if I lay my hands on him, pin him down and shove 50 ripe mangoes up his /whoohaa/.
I can’t shake the eerie feeling that I woke up with, it is that foolish dream I had of being crowned heir apparent.
Do I have a subconscious desire to be herself (Nneka)? Or have I bought so much pirated movies enriching “Iyke d Don” so much that now he is sending me “wireless” packages?
Whatever the case, I am so not in the mood for such.
The year is coming to an end once more. Taking stock of my life and planning for the New Year takes premier priority as for Nneka and her lot? I can’t shout!
- Tabby
I could have sworn it was a mosquito making buzzing sounds in my ear until the buzz turned into a menacing voice forming the words “Nneka my dear, the queen of killers”. That’s when I realized I was dreaming.
In the dream, I searched for the owner of the voice because it was important for the voice to know that I was neither Nneka nor the Queen of killers for that matter. I began to panic when I found myself standing in the middle of a room with several doors; all closed. The voice was laughing, sending its echo from behind one of the shut doors, my pulse quickened, blood was pumping rapidly within my veins and I could taste fear. Frantically, I searched for the source of the voice opening one door after the other and shouting at the same time. “I am Tabby, I am no killer!!” the room began to get warm and I could see fire coming at me from a distance with the face of Anubis.
In one room was my baby sister Annabel, I couldn’t see but I could hear her laughing happily; she was getting a bath, strange.
The voice came again, closer this time “Queen of murderers, Nneka” followed by evil laughter. I shouted back to it. “I am Tabby! Its Nneka you want, I am Tabby!!”
I forgot about my sister and resumed flinging doors open my legs were clouded in smoke, I could smell roasting meat, I was on fire!
Would I say luckily for me or unluckily for me now but whatever the case, I felt a bug crawl into my nose and this wasn’t a dream!
I woke up with a start and reached for the tissue paper beside my bed but no matter how hard I blew, I couldn’t dislodge the bug.
Lying sideways on the floor red heart in hand was a teddy bear, present from Max; I flung my pillow at it and turned the other way.
Recalling how we begun our game of charades again this time, I got up from my bed, picked up the hated ball of cotton and stuffed it in the trash can.
That foolish text he sent to me weeks ago claiming to be a secret admirer! Buh he can be so sweet when he chooses to be but at the slightest sign of dawn, he slinks back into the shadows like a cursed creature (here’s an idea; I could take holy water from church sprinkle on him and watch what happens, buh, these days one can never be so certain).
This thing between me and Max has to be the solution for the best kept secret. No matter how much distance I put between the both of us or how many pins I stick into the voodoo doll I made of him, we keep having reruns and pointless drama.
Destiny or should I say fate is definitely a mad man so, his sick sense of humor doesn’t surprise me buh, I wonder who the joke would be on if I lay my hands on him, pin him down and shove 50 ripe mangoes up his /whoohaa/.
I can’t shake the eerie feeling that I woke up with, it is that foolish dream I had of being crowned heir apparent.
Do I have a subconscious desire to be herself (Nneka)? Or have I bought so much pirated movies enriching “Iyke d Don” so much that now he is sending me “wireless” packages?
Whatever the case, I am so not in the mood for such.
The year is coming to an end once more. Taking stock of my life and planning for the New Year takes premier priority as for Nneka and her lot? I can’t shout!
- Tabby
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Entry 46
UNPRECEDENTED
*dancing* my birthday is coming, my birthday is coming!
Buh, I love to make me believe I am a love child sometimes. I mean, its not easy to be born in the month of February.
February is a very special month because for one, its the only month that can decide the number of days it'd have. Two its the month for lovers and three? ITS THE MONTH I WAS BORN! Ideally if I had been born September, October or November, I'da been sure my parents did the \umbalumba/ in the month of February (on St. Valentine's Day maybe?) But, since I WAS BORN February, I might have been conceived on any regular day when my daddy decided to play hooky and call in sick from work and blah-blah-blah.
I wish my daddy were still alive, it's been almost 10 years since he's been gone but it doesn't make me miss him any less.
Sean is a great person, a great dad even but, he is not my daddy.
I get so scared when sometimes, I can't remember certain stuffs about my daddy, like the way his eyes would light up when he laughs at a funny story, how he's eyes would twinkle by candle light in the darkness when we sat making shadow people while 'watching and waiting' for NEPA to return power. I am afraid that soon, my daddy would become another face in my picture album.
Birthdays are depressing.
On the bright side, I got a call. *wink*
Out of the blue, one Engineer Tom proposed a birthday fiesta for me.
I wouldn't bother too much on how he knew my birthday or what 'birthday fiesta' entails. My only pause is the unanswered question: does this dude understand the meaning of being married? As in the for-better-for-worse-and-eyes-only-for-you kindda thing? Maybe if am feeling generous, I'd spare a lesson in "love and mutual respect" for him. That aside, let the games begin! February 4th can't come soon enough.
Right after February 14th, lovers day. Although not my birthday (thank G*d) it still pulls quite a measure of weight.
Right after Christmas and Easter, comes the next best day for massive sales and market movement.
From rushing to boutiques to purchase killer dresses with 'a touch of red', to planning the perfect day and finally doing last minute shopping for 'thoughtful' gifts for 'that special one' *batting eyelashes* (yeah right)
Buh, people become so caught up with the business aspect of the day that they lose focus of what St. Valentine Day really is about. Buh, talk a walk to any popular shopping complex say two days to the Saints feast. Believe me, your center of gravity would tilt just a teeny bit. There'd be so much cute little red hearts, Cupid's hanging from strings and glossy red balloons that you'd be sure to "see red". Granted am not forming Saint Tabitha (buh the lady prophet from the bible is enough 'holy Tabitha' to last for a while) and denouncing all little velvet boxes and candy treats geared towards getting me all "musshied" up in knots buh, getting musshied up is good! (He had better send me loads of red boxes or else...)
My point is that, it is Valentines Day after all!
A time for love and affection, right?
So, rather than worry if I'm going to get "any" or not, I should concern myself with positive means of sharing and giving.
One funny fact about the day is that the feast contains vestiges of both Christian and ancient roman tradition!
The feast begun in a bid to Christianize the pagan 'Lupercalia' festival (-some sort of fertility gig that the ancient Romans had going, it involved a couple of dead dogs and goats, I wouldn't want to linger too much on "that" topic) so, the big guns gathered in the place of meeting and were like: since the birds were already having a fun swing at the month of February as the month of coupling (picking mates and pairing up) why not the humans too? Hence a day was born!
The Catholic Church recognizes 3 saints named Valentine (all of who were martyred) one a priest at Rome, one a bishop and the last lived and died in Africa (yippee).
At this point, I'd like to confess that I am quite confused. When I begun this entry, I had it in mind to preach fire and brimstone on all who took advantage of the Feb. 14th propaganda but that was when I was seated all by myself in the reading hall. I looked up to discover this 'fruit of the earth slash brown sugar' he's looking quite edible seated all by himself with his head bent into a book. I tried to ignore him but with the way my pulse has been ticking and all the blood pumping in my ears, to do so any longer would prove disastrous (to my health that is). So it being the month of love after all, I'm going to close this educational books of mine and shimmy down the hall.
Exams starts like tomorrow but who cares right?!
- Tabby
*dancing* my birthday is coming, my birthday is coming!
Buh, I love to make me believe I am a love child sometimes. I mean, its not easy to be born in the month of February.
February is a very special month because for one, its the only month that can decide the number of days it'd have. Two its the month for lovers and three? ITS THE MONTH I WAS BORN! Ideally if I had been born September, October or November, I'da been sure my parents did the \umbalumba/ in the month of February (on St. Valentine's Day maybe?) But, since I WAS BORN February, I might have been conceived on any regular day when my daddy decided to play hooky and call in sick from work and blah-blah-blah.
I wish my daddy were still alive, it's been almost 10 years since he's been gone but it doesn't make me miss him any less.
Sean is a great person, a great dad even but, he is not my daddy.
I get so scared when sometimes, I can't remember certain stuffs about my daddy, like the way his eyes would light up when he laughs at a funny story, how he's eyes would twinkle by candle light in the darkness when we sat making shadow people while 'watching and waiting' for NEPA to return power. I am afraid that soon, my daddy would become another face in my picture album.
Birthdays are depressing.
On the bright side, I got a call. *wink*
Out of the blue, one Engineer Tom proposed a birthday fiesta for me.
I wouldn't bother too much on how he knew my birthday or what 'birthday fiesta' entails. My only pause is the unanswered question: does this dude understand the meaning of being married? As in the for-better-for-worse-and-eyes-only-for-you kindda thing? Maybe if am feeling generous, I'd spare a lesson in "love and mutual respect" for him. That aside, let the games begin! February 4th can't come soon enough.
Right after February 14th, lovers day. Although not my birthday (thank G*d) it still pulls quite a measure of weight.
Right after Christmas and Easter, comes the next best day for massive sales and market movement.
From rushing to boutiques to purchase killer dresses with 'a touch of red', to planning the perfect day and finally doing last minute shopping for 'thoughtful' gifts for 'that special one' *batting eyelashes* (yeah right)
Buh, people become so caught up with the business aspect of the day that they lose focus of what St. Valentine Day really is about. Buh, talk a walk to any popular shopping complex say two days to the Saints feast. Believe me, your center of gravity would tilt just a teeny bit. There'd be so much cute little red hearts, Cupid's hanging from strings and glossy red balloons that you'd be sure to "see red". Granted am not forming Saint Tabitha (buh the lady prophet from the bible is enough 'holy Tabitha' to last for a while) and denouncing all little velvet boxes and candy treats geared towards getting me all "musshied" up in knots buh, getting musshied up is good! (He had better send me loads of red boxes or else...)
My point is that, it is Valentines Day after all!
A time for love and affection, right?
So, rather than worry if I'm going to get "any" or not, I should concern myself with positive means of sharing and giving.
One funny fact about the day is that the feast contains vestiges of both Christian and ancient roman tradition!
The feast begun in a bid to Christianize the pagan 'Lupercalia' festival (-some sort of fertility gig that the ancient Romans had going, it involved a couple of dead dogs and goats, I wouldn't want to linger too much on "that" topic) so, the big guns gathered in the place of meeting and were like: since the birds were already having a fun swing at the month of February as the month of coupling (picking mates and pairing up) why not the humans too? Hence a day was born!
The Catholic Church recognizes 3 saints named Valentine (all of who were martyred) one a priest at Rome, one a bishop and the last lived and died in Africa (yippee).
At this point, I'd like to confess that I am quite confused. When I begun this entry, I had it in mind to preach fire and brimstone on all who took advantage of the Feb. 14th propaganda but that was when I was seated all by myself in the reading hall. I looked up to discover this 'fruit of the earth slash brown sugar' he's looking quite edible seated all by himself with his head bent into a book. I tried to ignore him but with the way my pulse has been ticking and all the blood pumping in my ears, to do so any longer would prove disastrous (to my health that is). So it being the month of love after all, I'm going to close this educational books of mine and shimmy down the hall.
Exams starts like tomorrow but who cares right?!
- Tabby
Thursday, May 13, 2010
once again
Why the chicken crossed the road would always remain one of life's mysteries.
Why NEPA switched its name to Power Holding Company with no visible change in the state of electric power supply in the country probably has a good explanation but, I am yet to discover what it is.
Why we have so many beautiful states in Nigeria with no pliable roads to reach them is the million dollar question.
A citizen of one of the most beautiful countries in Africa; Nigeria. Its hard to hate the country.
When you listen and hear the different sounds and voices the place has to offer, our diverse culture, the rhythms of our native tongues, the delicacies each tribe urges you to try and savor? You can't help but fall in love!
I have been called dysfunctional, maladjusted, impulsive and crazy. What can I say? You be the judge.
Laugh with me, criticize me, praise me, condemn me, leave a comment, say whats on your mind! I am Tahilita Swahita Tabitha and these are my tabs.
Enjoy!
Why NEPA switched its name to Power Holding Company with no visible change in the state of electric power supply in the country probably has a good explanation but, I am yet to discover what it is.
Why we have so many beautiful states in Nigeria with no pliable roads to reach them is the million dollar question.
A citizen of one of the most beautiful countries in Africa; Nigeria. Its hard to hate the country.
When you listen and hear the different sounds and voices the place has to offer, our diverse culture, the rhythms of our native tongues, the delicacies each tribe urges you to try and savor? You can't help but fall in love!
I have been called dysfunctional, maladjusted, impulsive and crazy. What can I say? You be the judge.
Laugh with me, criticize me, praise me, condemn me, leave a comment, say whats on your mind! I am Tahilita Swahita Tabitha and these are my tabs.
Enjoy!
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