UNFORGETTABLE
Max hasn’t called, why hasn’t he called? I know he’d call, he has to call.
Until then...
Imagine a blissfully cold December morning, the cool and cozy type that has you believing that Walt Disney studios gets its classic cartoons from real life situations, like you’d burst into song at any moment and your true love would appear from oblivion to sing the second verse, hum, let me see if I can paint a clearer picture. Today happens to be one of those mornings when you can almost smell Christmas in the air. I don't know what to liken it to but hammatan and dry season aside, there is this particular smell that screams December! It has me giddy with excitement and I start to believe in Santa Claus, cupid… the Easter bunny even! Buh, nothing was going to make me leave my bed!
I was about to close my eyes and give into sweet slumber when “saint” Ivy got the divine mission to call me (again!) to remind me it was Sunday and that it’d be a good thing if I went to church. Buh! I really wished I could tell her to ‘go suck a lemon and leave me alone’ or something not so nice but seeing as it’s the ‘ember’ months with the year coming to an end and all the blah-blah drama involved, I remained nice to her and thanked her for 'caring so much about my salvation'. Sluggishly, I slid out of bed and had a shower.
I decided to attend a catholic mass because the parish was the furthermost from me so if I was lucky, I’d arrive in time to miss most of the service and be back in bed before my darling bed realized I was gone and had time to miss me.
Whatever transpired in heaven between my leaving the room and getting to church, ( I can’t confidently say Nneka had a hand in it though) remains a mystery because even though I took my time to apply not only a foundation but two stories as well of makeup to my face and pass the longest route to church I wasn’t so lucky. Considering my initial plan, I got to church in record time.
To make matters worse, a lady who looked like being a church warden was the highest position one could attain in this life as we know it tried to ‘smilingly’ push me to seat in front but I stood my ground (it was bad enough I was early for mass), smiled sweetly as well and went the other way.
I sat behind a pillar at the back of the church. Close enough to the exit for a quick escape and convenient enough to get a proper view of the trending ladies fashion.
The girl that sat beside me was either so filled with the Holy Spirit that she mumbled to herself all through mass or she was a recent escapee from a ‘low security’ psychiatric hospital (whatever her situation, I guess I’d never know).
The choir did a wonderful job of making me feel guilty for not paying attention to what the priest was saying, they sang so beautifully.
Watching them sing and act like they were close candidates for heaven, I could not help but feel envy.
From what I could see, I am sure that if I make heaven, it would be way beneath their league.
Ah well, if I put in extra effort (and played nice with Nneka) maybe I could get an upgrade buh?
After mass, as I made my way home trying not to dwell much on the fact that Max still hadn’t called but rather on the fact that soon I’d be reunited with my bed (and maybe have dreams of me kissing Santa Claus like in that classic Christmas song that I didn't quite get as a kid) I bumped into one of the choristers from church. He seemed hassled, in one breathe, he told me his dilemma.
Turns out he came in from town to attend mass, he had to make an appearance in a meeting in school in a few hours time and needed somewhere to pass the time. Figuring if I was nice to him and gave him ‘room and board’ for the while G*d would put a good tick beside my ‘deeds on earth’ register and maybe just maybe….
I pushed aside all thoughts of my midday nap and offered him my humble abode.
On the walk to my room, I cracked my brain trying to recall spiritual matters and Christian information’s so I could impress him with my knowledge of church related issues.
I decided I was making much progress until I was interrupted by his ringing phone and heard his side of the conversation that ensued.
I felt my jaw drop open in shock!
Was it me or did this candidate for sainthood just make a booty call appointment?!
I shook my head in disbelief.
Maybe it was a code for a prayer meeting of sorts.
Seeing my reaction when he was through with the call, he tried to shrug it off telling me that girls would stop at nothing to get “fresh” with him and being a man, he hated to “slack” he then went ahead to recount an episode involving a girl, her friend, playing cards and a mirror.
I could feel my ears burn from hearing too much information, on a Sunday morning for that matter!
By the time we stood in front of the door to my room, I was considering the wisdom of being alone with him and how many of the other choristers where not quite what the appeared to be.
Lucky for me, though I tried to be a good hostess and all that, I was too busy worrying about Max and his activities for the day to subconsciously send any ‘green light’ to the chorister.
By the time he was ready to go, I was frantic with worry.
Was Max up to his old tricks or was I worrying over nothing? I tried calling both of his numbers but they were either out of service area or switched off.
Where was he? No text no call? I felt nauseous from worry.
After saying a little prayer to G*d to be with him and bring him safely back to me, I got up to lock my door so I could have my much anticipated nap and was hit by a vivid premonition of what Max was up to.
Heavens angels would bear me witness because, it wasn’t one bit holy.
I slept and woke up, still no call from Max.
I’d wait for him though, whenever he does decide to come up for air, I’d b waiting. I know what I have to say to him.
- Tabby
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
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
Monday, February 7, 2011
Entry 38
UNLIKELY
Seriously, I simply can’t decide which I hate the most; waiting at the dentist or waiting in the banking halls. Buh, which really do I prefer? One of them would cause me a short term pain and release me for a long stretch of pleasure plus killer smile the other would cause me a short time pain and--- and? Buh, I don’t know what I gain from banks.
Given, they keep my money for me, make me feel guilty when I go past my quota and are a general pain in the \whoohaa/ when it comes to honesty. Their customer service sucks, the cashiers need a lesson or two in being nice to customers and need I talk about the “cockroach letter” they send to you if by no fault of yours but due to the ingenious efforts of them “Y boys” you get robbed? Am so deep in hate with banks that I almost forgot what got me started in the first place!
Buh, I better clean up my act before next thing I know, I’d be taken in for questioning concerning the disappearance of certain bank staff. Ha! That would be so funny (but not such a bad idea though, i.e. making a staff disappear every now and then until they learn to be nice to people. They could name the act a form of ‘hands on protest’).
On the other hand, dentistry or hospitals as a whole are a ‘here or there’ kindda thing. There is a difference between private hospitals and teaching hospitals. For starters, Dr Dash (oops!) correction Dr. Eyikimi works at the teaching hospital and he is very good at what he does! I believe the problem of teaching hospitals lie within the system; the long wait, the lack of proper functioning materials and the fact that since its government work, the staff can decide to up and go on strike anytime not bothering that their patients might not be so cool with their streak of boldness. Whereas the private people are always available and are in tune to your needs et al (they even offer candy and lollipop in some cases) they can’t be compared to the teaching hospitals which offer an all round medical checkup even if you went to say the dentist for say… a toothache?
I guess after cursing and swearing for the doctors and staff of teaching hospital, I’d be among the first people to cast my vote for their continued existence (I can’t say I’d do the same for bankers though-> Die! Die! Die!! All my enemies die). They are a nice bunch, I envy their comradeship and the way they consult with “the higher authority” before going further on any treatment. My only fear is that if anyone of their staff or either one of the students being taught should mistakenly leave a ‘happy’ scissors in my tummy after an appendectomy, if I am lucky to walk away with my life, I can’t sue for negligence. Rather I should be grateful because after all, IT IS A TEACHING HOSPITAL “these mistakes do happen”.
Madams’ whimpering brings me back to the present, time for introduction.
Hello world, meet my little sister; Annabel Lilia Sean-Eyikimi.
Of late, I have come to realize that shrinks don’t really know how to control people and all that; most of the controlling done in this life is done by mothers and (funny enough) “Pinky”.
True Story:
Dr. Dash and mother visited orphanage children’s home made their rounds and were leaving when they noticed a baby by itself in a corner. The people in charge had put it aside because not only was the baby a “born throway”, according to them, it was an evil child destined to die. The baby had a hole in its mouth and was seen as a bad omen.
Mother thought otherwise and decided it was high time her and Dr. Dash (I mean Dr. Eyikimi Sean) had another child. A series of paperwork, background checks and months later, baby Annabel, Lilia Sean-Eyikimi was brought home.
My little sister!
She has cleft lip; her appointment with the dentist was scheduled for today. Sean had an important conference to attend in India and decided it could also double as an opportunity for mother to check with the doctors to make sure her cancer was in remission so he made arrangements for mother to travel with him. Not wanting their precious baby to miss her appointment, they put me in charge of taking Annabel to the dentist and supervising her treatment until they return.
Like I mind?! Hole in mouth aside, Annabel is still the cutest baby ever. Given the fact that she also got the mouthful names like yours truly, I can’t help but love her. So, rather than seat and be mad at the lacking state of things at the hospital, I can lose myself in the dream that one day I’d be so very rich, buy all the banks in Nigeria (apart from one- name withheld) and lease the buildings out to ‘mama-put’’s and bole roasters! They are obviously a whole nicer lot!!
- Tabby
Seriously, I simply can’t decide which I hate the most; waiting at the dentist or waiting in the banking halls. Buh, which really do I prefer? One of them would cause me a short term pain and release me for a long stretch of pleasure plus killer smile the other would cause me a short time pain and--- and? Buh, I don’t know what I gain from banks.
Given, they keep my money for me, make me feel guilty when I go past my quota and are a general pain in the \whoohaa/ when it comes to honesty. Their customer service sucks, the cashiers need a lesson or two in being nice to customers and need I talk about the “cockroach letter” they send to you if by no fault of yours but due to the ingenious efforts of them “Y boys” you get robbed? Am so deep in hate with banks that I almost forgot what got me started in the first place!
Buh, I better clean up my act before next thing I know, I’d be taken in for questioning concerning the disappearance of certain bank staff. Ha! That would be so funny (but not such a bad idea though, i.e. making a staff disappear every now and then until they learn to be nice to people. They could name the act a form of ‘hands on protest’).
On the other hand, dentistry or hospitals as a whole are a ‘here or there’ kindda thing. There is a difference between private hospitals and teaching hospitals. For starters, Dr Dash (oops!) correction Dr. Eyikimi works at the teaching hospital and he is very good at what he does! I believe the problem of teaching hospitals lie within the system; the long wait, the lack of proper functioning materials and the fact that since its government work, the staff can decide to up and go on strike anytime not bothering that their patients might not be so cool with their streak of boldness. Whereas the private people are always available and are in tune to your needs et al (they even offer candy and lollipop in some cases) they can’t be compared to the teaching hospitals which offer an all round medical checkup even if you went to say the dentist for say… a toothache?
I guess after cursing and swearing for the doctors and staff of teaching hospital, I’d be among the first people to cast my vote for their continued existence (I can’t say I’d do the same for bankers though-> Die! Die! Die!! All my enemies die). They are a nice bunch, I envy their comradeship and the way they consult with “the higher authority” before going further on any treatment. My only fear is that if anyone of their staff or either one of the students being taught should mistakenly leave a ‘happy’ scissors in my tummy after an appendectomy, if I am lucky to walk away with my life, I can’t sue for negligence. Rather I should be grateful because after all, IT IS A TEACHING HOSPITAL “these mistakes do happen”.
Madams’ whimpering brings me back to the present, time for introduction.
Hello world, meet my little sister; Annabel Lilia Sean-Eyikimi.
Of late, I have come to realize that shrinks don’t really know how to control people and all that; most of the controlling done in this life is done by mothers and (funny enough) “Pinky”.
True Story:
Dr. Dash and mother visited orphanage children’s home made their rounds and were leaving when they noticed a baby by itself in a corner. The people in charge had put it aside because not only was the baby a “born throway”, according to them, it was an evil child destined to die. The baby had a hole in its mouth and was seen as a bad omen.
Mother thought otherwise and decided it was high time her and Dr. Dash (I mean Dr. Eyikimi Sean) had another child. A series of paperwork, background checks and months later, baby Annabel, Lilia Sean-Eyikimi was brought home.
My little sister!
She has cleft lip; her appointment with the dentist was scheduled for today. Sean had an important conference to attend in India and decided it could also double as an opportunity for mother to check with the doctors to make sure her cancer was in remission so he made arrangements for mother to travel with him. Not wanting their precious baby to miss her appointment, they put me in charge of taking Annabel to the dentist and supervising her treatment until they return.
Like I mind?! Hole in mouth aside, Annabel is still the cutest baby ever. Given the fact that she also got the mouthful names like yours truly, I can’t help but love her. So, rather than seat and be mad at the lacking state of things at the hospital, I can lose myself in the dream that one day I’d be so very rich, buy all the banks in Nigeria (apart from one- name withheld) and lease the buildings out to ‘mama-put’’s and bole roasters! They are obviously a whole nicer lot!!
- Tabby
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Entry 37
Untitled
When I spit "shuwo?" Throway from my mouth, I no come know but the way my brother man bin dey para dey voke, I taya sootey, I no blame myself again.
I dey my lane, dey siddon for my dormot when trouble dey use torch light with duracell battery dey find me! E reach the stage wey me I surrender arms begin come dey wither for the matter. I feel like to shout "na me shoot bird make I'm mama fly?! Abi na I'm be the handiwork wey I go carry take dig my papa grave?!" When I para reach full circle, I siddon for corner think am say as the thing dey take do me like so, e for get why.
As provoke don commot for my center, I fit siddon use tongue wey no be my mama own to speak...
First and foremost, I came to the startling realization that of late, I think of one particular person far more than I care to admit.
Her name?
Nneka!
To get her off my mind, I packed a hand luggage and hopped on a bus going to Cally from B-side. My reason again?? When I think of it now, I am not so certain.
One thing I am certain of is that while seated between two idiots getting high on cigarettes and cough syrup and a girl who's annoying phone beeped every other second I came to the realization that if I were to decide to, there'd be many ways to kill her!!
My name is Tabitha Swahita Tahilita, welcome to the insanity!!
- Tabby
When I spit "shuwo?" Throway from my mouth, I no come know but the way my brother man bin dey para dey voke, I taya sootey, I no blame myself again.
I dey my lane, dey siddon for my dormot when trouble dey use torch light with duracell battery dey find me! E reach the stage wey me I surrender arms begin come dey wither for the matter. I feel like to shout "na me shoot bird make I'm mama fly?! Abi na I'm be the handiwork wey I go carry take dig my papa grave?!" When I para reach full circle, I siddon for corner think am say as the thing dey take do me like so, e for get why.
As provoke don commot for my center, I fit siddon use tongue wey no be my mama own to speak...
First and foremost, I came to the startling realization that of late, I think of one particular person far more than I care to admit.
Her name?
Nneka!
To get her off my mind, I packed a hand luggage and hopped on a bus going to Cally from B-side. My reason again?? When I think of it now, I am not so certain.
One thing I am certain of is that while seated between two idiots getting high on cigarettes and cough syrup and a girl who's annoying phone beeped every other second I came to the realization that if I were to decide to, there'd be many ways to kill her!!
My name is Tabitha Swahita Tahilita, welcome to the insanity!!
- Tabby
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Entry 36
HOME SONG
It began like an apparition then gradually, it became real, and I could feel. I heard him speak, his voice a silent whisper “look at me tabby” he said, “hold me with your eyes.” My mind went blank, I could barely stand. He was on his knees now in front of me, his head bent as though in prayer, touching, stroking, a little at a time, and then more. The throaty moan resounding in my ears probably came from me, I couldn’t care less. All I could do was… feel.
Slowly he stood up, his fingers gradually burning a trail on my skin. He was caressing my arms, causing heat to radiate from places I could barley phantom. I held onto his arms, trying to make sense of what I was saying. “No, no don’t, don’t yes. No, yes, please, oh yes! Please no”. For a brief second, he stopped touching me; I felt a whimper escape my lips. Opening my eyes, I was drawn to his; he was staring at me, with that questioning look, seeking permission to proceed, silently asking if I was sure of what I was doing. Without a word, I stood on my toes and wrapped my hands around him bringing my body to him in offering and gave an answer to the unspoken question. He was calling me again; somehow, his voice didn’t fit our present mood. It was older, stern and disapproving.
“Tabitha, tabby! Young lady, I am talking to you” with a start, I got up.
Day dreaming in class according to the kind Prof. was a behavior that was very “unbecoming”. To the amusement of the class, he asked me to either share the dream with the rest of my colleagues (obviously over my dead body) or do extra assignment.
I chose the latter.
On my way home, I thought of mother.
No matter how far I wander, no matter how fast I run, no matter how hard I try; it always becomes about her. First it was the juggling of the ‘dashes’ next it was battle for her life with breast cancer [really, everyone is at the risk of it and thankfully, early detection does go a long way in preventing it] chemotherapy and radio-treatment (which she is responding very well too), love and support.
Buh, now, it is a brand new story.
Breaking news, I am getting a father!!
How do I feel about this?
Ask me.
For so long, it has been just me and her.
My best friend, my sister and most importantly, mother; my mother. Now, she has someone else in her life, someone ‘probably’ more important than me; A significant other.
When I think about it, I wonder how it all works out.
How is it possible to find and choose someone, one man? From the lot of the “so many fish in the sea” what makes you sure you are not making the ‘greatest’ mistake of your life? What then becomes of you after you make ‘that’ solemn vow to remain faithful, trust, honor and cherish for the rest of your lives? Buh, does making those vows give one certain immunity from temptation, sin and the unmentionable cravings?
All this musings are giving me a headache, but, before I sign out, am making this note to self. What on earth is this new trend and poison “Alomo bitters/ Hausa chewing stick” about? The word “Eferebor” comes to mind! The wise ones once said that “if you do anyhow, you go see anyhow!!”
Well, what do I know? I am just Tabby!!
- Tabby
End of entries 25 – 36
It began like an apparition then gradually, it became real, and I could feel. I heard him speak, his voice a silent whisper “look at me tabby” he said, “hold me with your eyes.” My mind went blank, I could barely stand. He was on his knees now in front of me, his head bent as though in prayer, touching, stroking, a little at a time, and then more. The throaty moan resounding in my ears probably came from me, I couldn’t care less. All I could do was… feel.
Slowly he stood up, his fingers gradually burning a trail on my skin. He was caressing my arms, causing heat to radiate from places I could barley phantom. I held onto his arms, trying to make sense of what I was saying. “No, no don’t, don’t yes. No, yes, please, oh yes! Please no”. For a brief second, he stopped touching me; I felt a whimper escape my lips. Opening my eyes, I was drawn to his; he was staring at me, with that questioning look, seeking permission to proceed, silently asking if I was sure of what I was doing. Without a word, I stood on my toes and wrapped my hands around him bringing my body to him in offering and gave an answer to the unspoken question. He was calling me again; somehow, his voice didn’t fit our present mood. It was older, stern and disapproving.
“Tabitha, tabby! Young lady, I am talking to you” with a start, I got up.
Day dreaming in class according to the kind Prof. was a behavior that was very “unbecoming”. To the amusement of the class, he asked me to either share the dream with the rest of my colleagues (obviously over my dead body) or do extra assignment.
I chose the latter.
On my way home, I thought of mother.
No matter how far I wander, no matter how fast I run, no matter how hard I try; it always becomes about her. First it was the juggling of the ‘dashes’ next it was battle for her life with breast cancer [really, everyone is at the risk of it and thankfully, early detection does go a long way in preventing it] chemotherapy and radio-treatment (which she is responding very well too), love and support.
Buh, now, it is a brand new story.
Breaking news, I am getting a father!!
How do I feel about this?
Ask me.
For so long, it has been just me and her.
My best friend, my sister and most importantly, mother; my mother. Now, she has someone else in her life, someone ‘probably’ more important than me; A significant other.
When I think about it, I wonder how it all works out.
How is it possible to find and choose someone, one man? From the lot of the “so many fish in the sea” what makes you sure you are not making the ‘greatest’ mistake of your life? What then becomes of you after you make ‘that’ solemn vow to remain faithful, trust, honor and cherish for the rest of your lives? Buh, does making those vows give one certain immunity from temptation, sin and the unmentionable cravings?
All this musings are giving me a headache, but, before I sign out, am making this note to self. What on earth is this new trend and poison “Alomo bitters/ Hausa chewing stick” about? The word “Eferebor” comes to mind! The wise ones once said that “if you do anyhow, you go see anyhow!!”
Well, what do I know? I am just Tabby!!
- Tabby
End of entries 25 – 36
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Entry 35
VOODOO DOLLS II
Revealing all the intimate details is just short of LETTING THE fabled CAT OUT OF THE BAG (I wonder who put it in there in the first place) to remain in focus, I’d make like Hansel and Gretel and leave trails of crumbs bits at a time, until the final event.
They say ice-cream wins the standing award for best comfort food and is the sure means of drowning all and every man-related-sorrows-et-al but, when ice cream is what causes the ‘matters arising’ buh, what gets the position for 1st runner up?
I blame him, no, wait! I blame them. [Long pause then scream] where on earth is that killer doll ‘Chukie’ when you need him?!
So, after the hellish heart breaks and all, I decided I had-had enough and deleted all the ‘toxic male’ contacts from my phone (an act which from now, I seriously advice against, look what happened because I did!) and decided to start afresh. So, when I received the sweetest text message ever from an unknown number claiming upon enquiry to be “a secret admirer” I couldn’t help but feel flattered and encourage the thread.
It wasn’t until after about a week of casual messages, flirting and exchange of smiley’s that the rectangular nut on the left side of my brain clicked into place and it occurred to me to ask; “who is this…”
Enter: the wild card
It was one of those days when I was feeling blue (I performed badly in my test slash project work NNEKA!!) I made up my mind that ice cream, cake and candy would go a long way in adding vibrancy to the dull color of my mood and proceeded to carry out that plan. I choose to go to the restaurant outside of school for the change of scenery. I brought the ice cream successfully alongside the cake. Then on an impulse, I decided to add a bottle of coke to the menu and was struggling to balance holding a now melting cone of ice cream, my purse and the tray containing the cake and coke long enough to reach the nearest empty seat when an idiot chose that moment to turn with the force of Hades and bump into me! Turning my shirt front into a canvas for the finger painting of “Ice cream in pictures!!” To make matters worse, when my head stopped spinning and I realized the ground wouldn’t open and swallow me then and there, I looked up to confront my assailant only to come face to face with him.
I knew the idiot, strike two from my past…
The thing with hooking up with an old flame and letting the fire burn brightly is that, at the back of my head, I know how this particular flame burnt out. The soggy ashes that remained, the choking fumes and the marathon of events that followed.
The only grounds for a rematch should be that both parties are ready to start afresh.
Is he willing to go through the hassle of wooing me once again?
Is he ready to admit to who did what and apologize for those blind stabs which cut deep?
Would he accept my apologies, forgive and be willing to forget?
Seriously, sending Chuckie to deliver a "hand-crafted-message" (if you know what i mean) would seem more likely.
[Why do I keep thinking of Chukie?]
These days, I find myself sensing more of Nneka than I see, am guessing I have been away from church for too long.
The witches hut isn’t so far off anymore, and am not certain how that particular story ended.
To avoid defeat as a result of being caught unawares, I’d ask the basic question. One which when answered would settle a whole lot of confusion and guide me to the straight path of focus that I badly need. One which people should ask themselves every now and then.
A simple question, a question (when answered) that leads to the can-do-coaches; when and how?
One sentence, four words: what do I want?
- Tabby
Revealing all the intimate details is just short of LETTING THE fabled CAT OUT OF THE BAG (I wonder who put it in there in the first place) to remain in focus, I’d make like Hansel and Gretel and leave trails of crumbs bits at a time, until the final event.
They say ice-cream wins the standing award for best comfort food and is the sure means of drowning all and every man-related-sorrows-et-al but, when ice cream is what causes the ‘matters arising’ buh, what gets the position for 1st runner up?
I blame him, no, wait! I blame them. [Long pause then scream] where on earth is that killer doll ‘Chukie’ when you need him?!
So, after the hellish heart breaks and all, I decided I had-had enough and deleted all the ‘toxic male’ contacts from my phone (an act which from now, I seriously advice against, look what happened because I did!) and decided to start afresh. So, when I received the sweetest text message ever from an unknown number claiming upon enquiry to be “a secret admirer” I couldn’t help but feel flattered and encourage the thread.
It wasn’t until after about a week of casual messages, flirting and exchange of smiley’s that the rectangular nut on the left side of my brain clicked into place and it occurred to me to ask; “who is this…”
Enter: the wild card
It was one of those days when I was feeling blue (I performed badly in my test slash project work NNEKA!!) I made up my mind that ice cream, cake and candy would go a long way in adding vibrancy to the dull color of my mood and proceeded to carry out that plan. I choose to go to the restaurant outside of school for the change of scenery. I brought the ice cream successfully alongside the cake. Then on an impulse, I decided to add a bottle of coke to the menu and was struggling to balance holding a now melting cone of ice cream, my purse and the tray containing the cake and coke long enough to reach the nearest empty seat when an idiot chose that moment to turn with the force of Hades and bump into me! Turning my shirt front into a canvas for the finger painting of “Ice cream in pictures!!” To make matters worse, when my head stopped spinning and I realized the ground wouldn’t open and swallow me then and there, I looked up to confront my assailant only to come face to face with him.
I knew the idiot, strike two from my past…
The thing with hooking up with an old flame and letting the fire burn brightly is that, at the back of my head, I know how this particular flame burnt out. The soggy ashes that remained, the choking fumes and the marathon of events that followed.
The only grounds for a rematch should be that both parties are ready to start afresh.
Is he willing to go through the hassle of wooing me once again?
Is he ready to admit to who did what and apologize for those blind stabs which cut deep?
Would he accept my apologies, forgive and be willing to forget?
Seriously, sending Chuckie to deliver a "hand-crafted-message" (if you know what i mean) would seem more likely.
[Why do I keep thinking of Chukie?]
These days, I find myself sensing more of Nneka than I see, am guessing I have been away from church for too long.
The witches hut isn’t so far off anymore, and am not certain how that particular story ended.
To avoid defeat as a result of being caught unawares, I’d ask the basic question. One which when answered would settle a whole lot of confusion and guide me to the straight path of focus that I badly need. One which people should ask themselves every now and then.
A simple question, a question (when answered) that leads to the can-do-coaches; when and how?
One sentence, four words: what do I want?
- Tabby
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