Thursday, May 26, 2011

After The Rain

I've been working on this my writing thing and it's been fun so far. I've actually done it with a bit of trepidation but being able to do something constantly has filled me with so much joy. It's like I've recently discovered myself. True. :)

Anyway, so writing instructor asked me to do a story in the second person and my last post was my supposed attempt to write something in the second person. if you see the kain yab wey my teacher yab me ehn.... But being a sweetheart that he is, he told me to go and read one girl's blog and see how she wrote a particular post. Like a light bulb going on in my head, I immediately knew what to do.
His response Now you know what I asked you to do. this is still not good enough sha, work harder

Anywya, I hope you guys sha like it.


The Thunder

The sound of crashing thunder, the howl of the winds threatnening to take down everything in their path; the smell of the rain and the the striking of lightning leaving in its trail a glare bright enough to give an illusion of daylight. But you know better, you know that with every drop of the rain a darkness spreads within you. It is not enough to say that after the storms come a calm, because you know that with every storm, there has been another, and another and still another. You live because you are too much of a coward to do otherwise.
There is singing, and even though the people singing it are standing all around you, you can only hear it in a distance.
“when peace like a river
Attendeth my way
When sorrows like seas billows roll
Whatever my lot, thou hath taught me to say
Even then, it is well, with my soul”

How can there be peace in the midst of this crashing thunder? The skies howl loudly again and you gaze up at the sky, the showers of the rain, like the tears of the sky. Nature seems to get how you feel, no one else seems to. You stare in silence, and you hear the words “dust to dust, ashes to ashes”, you don’t remember how the little shovel got into your hand, but you’re pouring the sand into the pit. You’re counting “one, two, three…”. Someone nudges you, people are milling around, all with words of comfort “Ireti, it is well. Be strong” “Take it easy Ireti. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh”. Strong arms hold you and pull you away. “Baby, let’s go home”
Like a dam whose barriers are broken down, that word “home” breaks something down, something you’ve managed to hold in for exactly. You realize there is no “home”, there is nowhere to go, there is nowhere called “home”. You let out a loud guttural scream and crumble right there on the ground
“No!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I want my baby. Give me back my baby. I want my son. I want my son.”
The heavens open up some more, it is raining heavily now, you're on the floor. It doesn't matter that you're sitting in the red sand on the grounds of Earthen Vaults. The roll of thunder is inside and outside of you. You do not want it to stop because it has become a familiar sound. You're one with thunder. It has become a part of you.
"Ireti, Ireti, Ireti"

The Storm

"I can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
'gainst my window (against my window)
I can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
'gainst my window (against my window)"

Missy Elliot's voice fills your head, your head is against the car door and the rain drops hit the window pane. With every slap of the rain, you’re transported to another time and place. It was another time when the storms of infertility and miscarriages rocked the boat of your existence. With every miscarriage you realize that something lays within you that is able to stand irrespective of the storms of life, you trudge on and yet again, it hits. Sorrow, tears, and blood like tidal waves and each one came with a force strong enough to topple and somehow you find an anchor. You reach out for him and his hand squeezes yours, he holds on to him. The car stops for a second you are back to the present reality and you realize the tears are from your eyes and the blood flows from your heart. The sorrow lingers deep within your soul. You feel the pressure on your hand again, you don’t turn around, and he doesn’t expect you to. He’s telling you without words “We are going to make it through this, together”
After years of trying to have a baby, you’re blessed with a baby boy. You choose to call him “Tamilore” because he’s nothing short of a blessing from God. He’s a good boy, the star and the light of your life. He’s the reason for which you get up in the morning and go to work, because you want him to have the best things you can give him. So you go to work and you come back every day, knowing that you’ve been blessed thoroughly.
“Ireti, where are you? I need you to come home now” It was downhill from then on. The words keep flashing through you head. You’re hearing it all over again, you’re reliving the last 7 days in your head again. “Kidnapped”, “ransom”, “ten million”, “confirmatory call”
The ‘confirmatory call’ never came. The money was taken to the drop off point. You know this because you stood anxiously by the door as they drove out of the house. Willing to remain at the door till your 9 year-old runs into your arms screaming “mama” you stand there till it starts raining, and then you go inside. He’ll come home. Home, where you all belong.

The Sunshine

"God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change
The courage to change the things I can
And the wisdom to know the difference"

The car pulls into the driveway of the house and there’s stillness in the air. You are still staring out of the window, but it takes a minute before you realise that the rain has stopped. The door of the car is being opened and you’re being helped out of the car you realise that the sun is shining brightly. The dark clouds have given way for a clear blue canvas spread in the sky. There’s a rainbow in the horizon, you squint while trying to look at it, with a desire to put things into perspective, you stop and stare. People are milling around, there’s an uncomfortable silence, and everyone is waiting for you to take that first step towards the house. The step which indicates the rest of your life is continuing without Tamilore. The one which says you’re willing to move on.
You’re being held by your shoulders; support.
“We’ll be fine love”
You turn and stare at him. Swollen eyes , the result of sleepless nights. Days and nights of liasing with the police and the security detail from the office, working tirelessly to bring your little boy back home, all to no avail.

The clear blue skies bear no indication of the turmoil that preceded it. The rainbow which lines the edge of the blue canopy does not in any way let on that there had been a rumble in the sky, an outpouring of rain. ‘Twas all gone, the darkness; and like a new sheet spread across the wide expanse of the sky a new day.
You step forward, knowing that irrespective of the thunders, and the storm, there is always the sunshine that comes after it. He who holds the canopy of the sky with his hands is not going to live you nor forsake you.
So with an outstretched hand, you take the hand of your husband and your best friend and you take a step forward, into forever.

Monday, May 23, 2011

Alas, the world didn't end!!!

I'm a blog whore. I prowl the streets of blogville everyday, looking for something interesting to read. I jump on links posted on Twitter in search for something witty and interesting to read. I have found soo many funny and interesting blogs, sometimes I don't go back there because I don't remember their urls and for some reason I don't follow so many of them, thus I don't know when they have new posts. One thing I've discovered in my blog-ashewoism is this.. there are FUNNY and SMART people in this world ehn... like rolling on the floor humorous people. Sometimes I'm ashamed of my blog (x_x). If I were me I probably would not want to come back to this blog, so for those of you who make time out to actually read whatever garbbage I'm spewing on these pages... I thank you. Lol ( yes I'm practising my speech.. who knows when I might marry a prince or receive nobel peace prize for errr... world's life saving efo riro :D). Anyway, I promised to give my thoughts on this End of the world thing shey? ok that's why I'm here.

I rememmber when I was a lot younger, 'they' said the world was going to end on the 28th of October. My first thought was "Ah Ope oh! It's exactly a day after my birthday (hint hint.. for those of y'all who wanna get me pressies.. not too early to start planning) As a child, my sole priority was having to 'do my byday' Lol

An old preacher in the US of A predicted that the world would end on the 21st of May 2011. It was one of those things you hear and laugh. I mean for time immemorial people have been saying the world would end. Even in the time of Apostle Paul, they had been predicting the end of the world and he had to tell them " guys guys chill out. Only God knows when the world would end" (i paraphrased) Anyway we cracked jokes about how people who were interested in divesting themselves of their earthly possessions should hurry and do so since they had no need for it as the Harold Camping Chariot was definitely coming to take them home. I mean if thw world is going to end why would you need your Bentley?

We were riding to work and my friend asked me "If the world ends truly on saturday what would you be sad you didn't do? things you want to do before you go..." I said "nothing" She said "ahn ahn... u don't want to marry? have experienced the joy of child birth?" I had a blank look on my face as I gave it a second thought, my response was still the same "nothing"

Now don't get me wrong oh, I'm not saying I don't wanna be very rich or I don't wanna yell in the labour room, or have mind blowing married sex... I'm just saying.. I have no control over the time schedule of my existence here so why should I say by fire by force oh, i must born pikin before I kpai?or "ah the world must not end before I marry oh" IS IT IN UR HANDS? Last week a guy who was in law scool with me was shot dead in his own home... four days after his wedding. It was shocking and extremely sad. Right there, his life was snuffed out of him by assasains.

My point? it doesn't make any difference. Everybody's story is different. There is no checklist of 'achievements' that makes your life story more fulfilling than the next mans own. Make the best of your life. Touch lives. Make a difference, and when the time comes... hang your boots and go down a hero knowing that you did what you could in the time GIVEN to you.

Much love

Friday, May 20, 2011

Trial and Error

Hey people,
So if you're on Twitter and if you've heard of a man called Harold Camping or that's what I think his name is sha... you would have heard that the world is ending tommorrow the 21st of May 2011. SO I was going to do a long post about the world ending and my thoughts on it... as a friend of mine engaged me in a convo about things I would like to do before the world ends. Ofcourse "Contrary Ronke" did not care a hoot whether the world is ending or not. I promise I'll still do an end of the world post tonight... I mean.. you guys should read it before the world ends tommorow no be so?? LOL

It's been a while since I was here. I know I said I would repent and al but I've been lazy. Actually I haven't. I have been trying my hands on fiction writing and it's been fun. My brain stretches when I have this idea and sometimes I find mytself acting out my life as whatever character I am trying to build. It's been fun really. I have this "writing instructor" who tells me stuff to write and gives me a deadline and I like it cause it gives me a sense of purpose. I don't know if this writing thing is for me (OK I Lie... i know it is what I want to do, I just don't know if I'm good enough and also not sure how the people who fuel their cars from writing go about it!!) You see my instructor is a bit of a meanie... ( actually I love him so so much.. still a meanie though!! :p) and what I wanna share with you guys was rejected by him in fact he gave me a "thumbs down" :( **sad sad sad face**

I hope you guys are not as harsh as he is sha. Enjoy


Temi met Michael at V Bar in Lekki. It was one of those days you learned that the traffic on Ozumba Mbadiwe Avenue had gone on for hours and your best bet was to steer clear of it. Her colleague had suggested that bar, it was a sports bar and pretty decent, they could wait out the traffic and gist at the same time. Life was hectic enough as it was without having to add the stress of Lagos traffic to the madness of work all in one day. He was a gorgeous looking man and he knew it. He spoke to her slowly and quietly as if his voice was a treasure which he gave out in tiny doses. Offering to buy her another drink, he slid into the chair beside her. “Nice bag” he said as he put her bag on the table “Channel? Last season? It tickled her to no end that he knew about bags, you could tell that he was slowly charming her up. They chatted for over an hour and she giggled like a teenager every second of the way. He interjected every line with a word in pidgin and teased her mindlessly about being a light head when she said she didn’t want another drink. She gave him her card and asked him to call her, it was the boldest she had ever been, but this was a new Temi, she was happy she was not being so shy and introverted any more.
He called her later that night, and the day after that, and even after that. He was like a drug her system could not get enough of. It was like being on a roller coaster and she was not ready to get off. When he touched her she burned on the inside, like a teenager experiencing her first surge of hormones. Every time they got together, it was like a merging of two lost souls, her body craved his and his desired to mould her. She felt alive, he ignited her in a way no one else had. It was as if she had been locked up all her life and the night she met Michael was her liberation day. Her body told her head that she wanted this forever, nothing else mattered. The fact that he borrowed her car ever so often did not matter, she was cooped up in the office all day long anyway. What did it matter that he was owing her almost half a million naira now, monies he collected in little portions, all in the name of running his business. There was always a new idea he came up with, the last one was a travel club. He was going to get a bunch of people to take much needed holidays to the far east. What did it matter that she knew the ideas were the product of a child who never grew up living somewhere in the body of an adult. However, that body did wonderful things to her and so when she thought about it she let go of her inhibitions. After all, she accused Akin of being too serious. She broke up with him because he had every detail of his life AND her planned to the minutest detail. He didn't want to live a little. Everything was serious, and calculated with him. He was good, and kind and sweet but he never wanted to try something new. Temi was glad she allowed herself to live a little, enjoy the little thrills of life.
She was going to be thirty, she'd gone through the phases of people wondering when she was going to get married. "Always the bridesmaid; never the bride". Her life with Akin had been great; he was a good man, stable. Almost too stable infact, but she wanted more.
"I want to live a little, you never want to go anywhere, do anything new. I'm sick and tired of living like this." She was 25; it appeared life was stagnant so she threw in the towel. He tried to talk to her, to get her to listen... She wanted change. They had been together for almost 4 years; they were like an old married couple, only she wasn't happy. He tried to talk her out of it "tell me what you want me to do? Tell me how I can make it better. I want to be with you, because you complete me, you are mine". When a woman is done and filled with discontent, anything you do would only breed resentment and anger, and so he let her be.
She enjoyed being single, she had no restraints, no inhibitions. She travelled every year to a new city, tried out new things. Sky diving in Dubai, she volunteered at the winter olympics in Vancouver, saw the Massai of Kenya. She lived and she wanted to continue living, with the perfect man beside her, who wanted the same things she wanted.
You could tell that Michael lived, and Temi wanted this. That night he was wearing a Ralph Lauren Tee tucked into his jeans so the "H" of his Hermes belt was unmistakable. Michael exuded raw sexuality, his muscles strained against the shirt she just wanted to touch him, feel him. The only thing that kept Temi glued to her sit was a niggling thought which she'd been unable to shake off "how does he afford a new Hermes belt and Gucci slippers and his business isn't taking root???" He cared about her; he was always there to listen to her troubles about work. She shared with him her achievements. It didn't matter that the week after she told him she'd got a mid-year performance bonus, he told her about a brilliant idea he just had of how they could help people ship cars in from America and make an interest, if only he had a little start-up support. She pushed those thoughts aside because when it came to it, it was the little things that count. She had been talking about wanting to try out Indian food and so that evening they sat outside the Indian restaurant on Isaac John road in Ikeja and just there out of the blues, he knelt down with a gleaming ring in his hands he asked her to marry him.
Michael and his buddies were in the living room when she walked in carrying a plastic bag of groceries. They said distracted Hellos to her and continued watching the game. The air reeked with the smell of tobacco and a quick dart of her eyes to the table confirmed that it had been accompanied by Hennessey. Four grown men, sitting around idly all day drinking and smoking without a care in the world, you could tell that it was the bringer of the bacon who just walked in. This was the case literally as Temi untied the plastic bags that contained the bacon and ham she just bought, and arranged them neatly in the freezer. Shutting the door with a purpose you could sense the unusual vibe of anger and discontent resonating through her. It was the tobacco; she had asked that smoking be done outside her living room, on the balcony, downstairs, on the road, anywhere but her house.
Who marries a man with no source of income, no desire to provide for himself? Who marries a man who makes her body sing to the highest heaven at night but is content with sponging off his wife by day? His friends were losers, all hoping to "score". That was "loserspeak" for getting a financially comfortable, upwardly mobile professional woman. She didn't have to be too pretty as long as she looked like she was thirsty for something, or waiting to be found.
Temilola Irukevwe wanted to live and here she was indeed living yet dying slowly on the inside. You could see the misery in her eyes, the exhaustion as she cleared the dirty dishes in the sink. Ever so often her mind wandered to how life would have been different if she didn’t have to worry about paying the bills, buying fuel for the generator, paying the laundry man and the security guard. No point in crying over spilt milk. She peeled the potatoes and she hummed to DJ Klem and Efa “Try Again” the words “Everybody’s searching or waiting to be found” resonated in her head, in her search and her quest for something she found Michael. “I don’t care how many times I tried, I’ll try again, I’ll try again” The tears flowed and she sang, tears for herself because she realised she was waiting to be found. She grabbed a newspaper with which she would toss the potatoes peels and she spread it out on the kitchen worktop. The picture on the obituary jumped out at her and she let out a loud guttural scream. The words “Akin Kuteyi” “beloved son and brother” “motorcycle accident” “37 years old” floated before her eyes.
She wanted to live a little, and now she was dead inside. She had asked him to live a little, and now he was dead inside and outside.