WHEN IT RAINS --by Rose

(Image source:globe-views.com)

This rain that falls on aluminum roofs also falls on thatched roofs, it fills the buckets and also calabashes, it spills and overflows and we are soaked in its blessings. Many hearts are excited when black clouds gather, at least one can sleep peacefully in its cool bliss for hours without tossing and turning and cursing the heat. When it rains at night, lovers are unusually excited, but soon the rains turn to a curse, depending.

As the water splashes on the earth crust and the fragrance of dry sand mixed with rain, my senses go wild and I’m being plunged to nostalgia. Those days we were locked inside the house, and the thunder would scare us a little and we will hide behind the flying curtains; it was really beautiful. Then one of us would recall our favorite rain rhyme:

                              “Rain, rain go away, little children want to play”

But we lied; in fact, the rhyme lied, did we really want to play? Or we wanted to bath in the rain?

The latter was very true; when mother could not be sighted we sneaked out of the house and jumped in the rain, oh! What righteous pleasure!

When it rains, it’s a blessing to some and curse to others; to the expectant farmers, it marks the beginning of production and to the man taking shade in a shop, watching as the rains get heavier while losing hope on getting home on time, it’s a curse.

When it rains, you see the incompetent works evident on potholed roads as they become flooded with water and gutters turning to rivers. When it rains, many things float; baby diapers, plastic bottles and black polythene bags.

When it rains, we sink into our thoughts, and loneliness may come to play as many fall asleep in the arms of sweet rain. When it rains the lightening follows and the thunder sounds, but whether you think it a curse or a gift, when it rains, everything is at rest, at peace; when it rains, it is beautiful.

PICKING SIDES --by Kreed

(Photography: Kreed)

The 2015 election was successfully conducted and concluded, almost a year ago. A new candidate emerged victorious, much to excitement of many. However, months after the election, we still have our citizens living like party supporters about to have an election in few months’ time. Our post-election role as citizens, have been left in the trash.

I'm not against belonging to a certain camp but the idea has been completely misconstrued in this clime. There is this "blind-support" that exists among most of the supporters in the various camps. What we see often is fanaticism. For most, as the opposition, no policy of the ruling party is right, even when they benefit from such policies. It is just crazy that a country in need of a more vibrant and sincere opposition, only has these lots to offer. You would hear them criticise good policies, which are lucid to all, except them of course and they’d eagerly support wrong ones, provided it is from their camp. Then what breaks my heart are the things they propagate and defend.

While I was trying to capture the pictures for this article, I overheard someone criticise the government’s prosecution of the Dasukigate case; he went on to state that since it was a ‘security vote’, the previous government had every right to spend it anyhow they wanted to. I threw my phone at him (no I didn’t). I mean lives have been lost because those funds were not used for the purpose they were meant for and here was a man (boy) above 30 for sure, defending them. You can't help but wonder how they really expect the country to grow, when they can't even decipher right from wrong. How do we expect our nation to grow when we can’t be sincere enough to criticise what’s wrong or support what’s right?

Newspaper stands have become the rumour capital. You need to pay a visit to one of these stands to hear the things being said by our citizens (just make sure you don’t waste as much time as they do). To say that some over-exaggerate would be an understatement. Others simply tell enough lies to make the devil cower in fear. The amazing thing is the certainty at which they make their claims. If you’re a visitor, you’d have the impression that they live with the individuals they gossip about. Potential productive individuals, just wasting their time and lives over frivolous arguments. Such time would better be spent on more productive ventures and activities but every day, you see them gather at these newspaper stands, rather than resume at their duty posts. These politicians whom they support with so much vigour and passion, most times, only trade words with each other on the front pages of our national dailies just as a cover up for what they do together behind closed doors. Some supporters are just ignorant of these facts and it’s no longer news that many of them have lost their lives in the process of showing their unending love and unwavering support for individuals that hardly care about them. Tomorrow these politicians can decamp to any party that favours them, not the ones that favour you. Majority of the present crop of politicians are just there for what benefits them and nothing else.

We’ve reached that stage were the vigilance of the citizens regardless, of any party affiliation, should keep every political office holder on his or her toes but sadly and quite regrettably too, the reverse has been the case. We have allowed ourselves to be disunited, thereby diminishing the power of our office as citizens of this federation. We’re currently, like a sheep without shepherd. The same politicians, who make empty promises and bad policies are the same set our people would troop out for in numbers, to show support during their campaigns. We have allowed ourselves to be used as pawns by our rulers, hence they can impose any policy that favours them but not the country and we would offer no objections. We will continue to struggle as a nation when we continue to celebrate wrong doings and mediocre performances by our rulers.

Elections are over and the next election is three years away. This is not the time for us to be divided, this is not the time for us to throw stones at each other. This is the time for us to demand good governance and ensure the actualisation of the promises made during the pre-election campaigns. If this country fails, we fail with it. If it grows, we grow with it. Nobody will build this country for us but us. WE ARE THE GOVERNMENT.

SUSAN --by Slick

(Image source: www.bellanaija.com)

Mr and Mrs Oghenekarho had been married for ten years and counting. They had met each other in the Light of The Saints Bible Church, a small worship centre in the heart of Okpanam town in Delta State. They were the perfect couple, or so the public thought. Pastor Solomon Oghenekarho always made his wife an example of a virtuous woman any time he preached to the congregation in church.

Every bachelor and spinster always dreamt of having a marriage as special as that of the Oghenekaros. They were blessed with a son whom they named Stephen. He was their source of joy since they had tried for two years to no avail and God had just answered their prayers. But they had a problem.

“Stephen, go to your room, Mummy and Daddy want to have a chat.”

“But Daddy, I want to watch TV.”

Mr Solomon gave his son a look that sent a message that carried no joy to show that he was serious about the instruction he had dished out. Stephen grudgingly dragged his feet to his room and slammed the door to show that he was not happy that he had to miss his favourite cartoon. Unknowing to him, his mother was about to get a beating.

The Oghenekarhos had just finished eating lunch in awkward silence. That usually happened when Solomon was not happy about something or simply did not like the meal that was prepared.

“My husband, is anything the matter?” Susan queried.

She was waiting to get an answer when her husband dealt her a slap that sent bells ringing in her head. Sudden darkness had clouded her vision and it took some minutes before she could see clearly again.

“You stupid woman, how many times have I warned you not to ask questions concerning my search for a better job, especially in front of my son?” He fired.

“My husband, I am sorry. I did not mean to embarrass you”. Susan replied sobbing.

“Do you have to remind me that I am just a clerk at the bank, you bitch?”

Solomon removed his leather Valentino belt and beat his wife furiously, the buckle occasionally striking her on delicate areas of her body. He complained about a host of other things as he constantly reminded her that he was the Man of the House. He had been beating her for over thirty minutes and she could not cry anymore. She only winced in pain. This was a normal ordeal in the home of the Oghenekarhos.

“Take a shower and meet me in the bedroom, I need sex.” He spurted out.

The beating was over and he had just decided to retire to his room when he noticed that his son had been watching the whole drama. He simply ignored Stephen whom had rushed towards his mother in a bid to comfort her. Solomon shut the door, laid on the bed and waited on his wife.

Soon it was Sunday, and the Oghenekarhos drove to church in their sedan vehicle which Susan had saved her salary to purchase at an auction for her husband. They were in the church premises and exchanged pleasantries with other church members. Some women had inquired about the vivid dark spot on Susan’s face but she simply lied that she had slipped and fell while mopping the floors of their home.

The Pastor who was obviously Solomon Oghenekarho was preaching a long sermon about how men should care for their families and wives. He cited various bible verses and examples to back his teaching and everyone seemed to be touched. How could one man be so intelligent and filled with the word of God? He must treat his wife like an angel. Everyone seemed to be carried away accompanied with occasional screams by the youths.

“Preach Pastor, Preach!”

Everyone could be deceived, but definitely not Susan. She was the one whom suffered the punches, kicks, slaps and strokes from the monster holding the microphone. She had no witnesses except God and her little son whom was too young to understand. Sometimes, she felt the urge to kill him in his sleep, divorce him or probably walk up to the microphone to expose his ugly deeds. But any of these actions would have depicted her in bad light especially as a preacher’s wife. She was simply handicapped. How did she miss the signs while they were courting? He was sweet then and apologized any time he hit her. What went wrong?

The service was over and it was time to go home. Susan and her husband walked towards the car while exchanging farewells and trying to get a hold on Stephen who was running around with other children. Only God knew when the next beating phase was to come.

Many women like Susan exist in the world today; battered physically, emotionally and psychologically.  She may not necessarily be the wife of a clergy or anybody of status. But she’s human, delicate and deserves care. Pray and fight for a Susan today. She needs it.

SAY NO TO BATTERY

THE PHOTOGRAPHER 10 --by Rose

 

(Image source: gettyimages.com)

It was such a bad dream. It had been a while she had that kind of nightmare. She was standing beside Bode in his garden and suddenly, an old woman with a scary face appeared and pushed her into the fountain, screaming, “You don’t belong to him, keep off!” As she fell into the fountain she suddenly realized it was getting deeper and deeper, it was like a force pulled her beneath. She kept screaming for help, but Bode just stood there staring at her and laughed mischieviously, the laughter still receded in her ears even as she woke screaming, “Bode help me...” Thank heavens it was a dream! She checked the time, it was already dawn and she couldn’t go back to sleep. She got up and left for the bathroom. She had to find Duncan, she couldn’t stay alone in this room.

He had heard muffle screams in Nadie’s room so he braced himself up the stairs to check on her. Nothing bad should happen right now with the wedding around the corner. Everything should turn out fine. “Ah, darling you are already awake, came to check on you,” Duncan said with a look of concern. “I’m fine love, just a nightmare, ‘let’s go to sleep, tomorrow is gonna be a busy one. I have to get hold of Udeme. We have a lot to do.” She had missed her friend for days, they hadn’t seen each other and she wondered how her interview had gone. She kept seeing Adenike’s face in her mind; she saw how ruthless the woman looked, but no, even though she was getting married to Duncan, her heart was buried in Bode’s hand. She remembered the passions they shared; how he kissed her, loved her, bought her gifts; she belonged to him. She would revisit that case later. He watched her face intently as they passed under the chandelier. “Is that a smile?” He was sure he spotted one on her face. “What’re you thinking about?” He asked but she just kissed him and whispered, “I love you Duncan, can’t wait for the wedding.”

*****

“Babe you really need to come over, time is running out on us,” she pecked his forehead while talking to Udeme on the other end. “Yes come over, I have food, naughty you, bye.” “I suppose that’s UD.” Duncan asked, he was loving this, his old Nadie had returned back to him, she wasn’t cheating after all. Maybe it was the stress. “Yep, she’s coming over, we have lots to do, let me go downstairs and give the chef instructions.” She kissed him shyly. They had loved themselves the night before, but she had mistakenly groaned “Bode”. Thank god, he didn’t hear it. She heaved a sigh of relief and walked out.

Udeme felt so happy, Bode had dropped her off the night before and promised to meet with her later in the day concerning her job application and he guaranteed her it was going to be positive. “I’m in love with my baby...” she hummed to the tune of the song, she was so lucky. She suddenly stopped and looked herself again in the mirror, she was glowing! She couldn’t believe her luck; Bode was rich, handsome and caring. At least she had found the love Duncan never gave her, and for the records, Bode’s love had no equal. Her phone buzzed and she hesitated. Maybe it’s from Airtel. She picked it reluctantly and smiled. This tale of love was getting more interesting.

“Goodmorning Sunshine, you light up my world.” She could almost feel his presence from his sweet male voice. “I’ll pick you up by 8 o’clock for a dinner at Samira’s Resort, if you need anything, let me know...and one more thing, it’s a date.”

She couldn’t believe her ears; Samira’s Resort was the five-star in the city. She had envied Nadie’s luck as Duncan had actually taken her there many times, now she was going there herself with the Artmaster. This was getting more interesting.

She wore jean pants and a stripped blouse, she wanted being simple as they had shopping to do. The wedding was in three weeks time and she was going to be the maid of honor. She stepped into the house and smiled. Soon her best friends would become Mr/Mrs. She sighted Duncan as he highlighted from the stairs. “UD, right on time, let’s visit the dining,” he led her on. He noticed she looked different, relaxed and happy, something was up. They met Nadie on the table. “Ah see who I dey see, babe you just dey shine, wetin be the secret?” Nadie exclaimed and Udeme smiled. “Na god o,” not wanting to start the Bode conversation as her friends never approved of him. “I was about saying the same thing, you look pretty amazing,” Duncan chipped in. The table was already set; fried Irish potatoes and an enticing bowl of gravy with beef set before them and they made no hesitation as hunger was impatient.

“So how was the interview?” Nadie asked looking concerned. Udeme felt it was time to let them know about Bode. “Chic na long story o,” she gulped her Milo drink. “Cut it short,” Nadie added curiously. “Guess who I saw there?” Duncan already rolled his eyes, girls and their funny conversation. “Udeme mbok go straight to the point, you know I hate suspense.” “Okay, I saw Bode, the Artmaster.” The place was quiet for a while. “What do you mean you saw Bode?” Nadie asked again because he told her the last time that he had a photoshoot in Malta. Her heart was racing. Should Bode ever found out she had lied, then her chance of loving him was gone. “He’s the CEO of Artmaster Luxuries, the famous distribution network, I met him there. We talked and he took me to his place, he asked me out.” Duncan frowned a little, he spotted fear and desperation on Nadie’s face and he wondered why she was so interested in this conversation. Well maybe she was just being concerned about her friend, but his heart told him something else. He rose up. “Alright ladies, have fun, I have to catch up on a meeting. Meanwhile UD, am happy for you but be careful, I do not trust that guy,” he strode off quietly as she answered, “Okay Dee.”

Many thoughts ran across her mind. She had been careless. Maybe if she had known that the firm belonged to Bode, she would’ve dissuaded Udeme from applying there. Now her own tables were turning against her. She knew too well that Bode was in love with UD even before they had an affair together but she couldn’t let that happen. How could this girl, this unattractive girl win the heart of the man she loved? She had to do something fast. With this in mind, she excused herself. “Excuse me Ud, let me make a call to the caterer.”

Udeme sat there shocked. Apparently, her news of dating Bode had not been well received by her two friends. They were acting funny, maybe they already quarrelled before she came but why did she need approval on whom to love? She now felt herself a fool. She should have kept her mouth shut concerning Bode after all, she clearly remembered that Duncan and Nadie had started dating for months before they told her. She just shrugged. There was no stopping her with Bode.

Nadie quickly rushed to her room, she couldn’t imagine Bode with Udeme, that bitch! She had stolen her man. She quickly dialled Bode’s number. Pick up, bastard, her heart yelled in frustration, instead the line went dead. She received a text message shortly; he told her to meet him for some explanation. Yea right, she needed an explanation from his betraying ass, but what she didn’t understand was that he only needed her explanation on why she prevented Ud from seeing him and lying about her.

“Alright baby let’s go,” she called to Udeme, feeling so jealous. She imagined Bode kissing her and loving her like he did to her and felt a sharp ache in her chest. She had to stop this!

AGE OF CRISIS --by Nickz

(Image source: www.flickr.com)

I face the partly broken mirror hanging on the old wall. I can see my reflection but I’m not sure how I should feel about what I’m seeing. I can feel the chill breeze blowing on my nudeness but that’s not my worry. I don’t understand why these buds on my chest are becoming larger and painful. Oh! And the left bud is slightly bigger than the other. I put my palms to feel; they’re soft and smooth but I dare not put pressure else they hurt. I look lower at my image; I used to have this kind of growth on my head but now, they’re appearing down here too, and under my arms.

I cannot play with Mesoma, Ebere and Chichi because many times, they laugh at me and say I’m long like the masquerade that walks on sticks. I cannot play with the big girls too; they keep saying my height is deceiving me, that I’m not their mate. The grown boys on the street used to look at my face while talking but they don’t do so anymore. Yesterday when Chima called me to sell akara for him, he was staring at my chest and the akara I handed him fell on the ground.

Ngozi, one of the big girls tried to make me afraid. I know she is lying. She had said to me, “Look at you, almost a big girl like us. Very soon, you’ll start to piss blood and will not even know when it will come out.” She had laughed scornfully and left. I know she is lying. Every normal person pisses urine, not blood. Maybe she’s sick. I don’t believe her but I’m still afraid of what she said.

What will happen to me? Did mama pass through all these things? What if I ask her? Will she beat me and say I’m playing bad play with my body? Maybe I should ask her. Maybe she knows better. I put on my shirt, pants and skirt and cast a last look in the mirror. I can still see the dot on my buds showing over my shirt. Maybe this is what Chima was staring at. I am becoming sad and confused. I don’t know how I’ll start but I need to talk to somebody, I need to talk to mama.

I walk under the thatch shade we use as kitchen to meet her. Even when the morning is chill, she’s sweating from the heat of frying akara. She’s frying with one hand and struggling to wipe sweat from her forehead with the hem of her wrapper. I walk in looking down, twisting the edge of my shirt like I had done something bad. I am feeling very afraid and ashamed to ask mama. I walk closer to her and opened my mouth to ask the first question on my mind. “Mama, I – I –em - -is it normal for – ehm…” She is not listening to me but she knows I’m here. Instead, she cuts me off and is unhappy with me from the way she is talking. “Amaka why did you not come and mix this beans for me ehn? You this girl! You think you’re a woman now ehn?” I cannot say anything again. I get the sieve and she scoops out the brown balls from the frying oil into it.

I’m carrying a bucketful of akara on my head, hawking on the streets. The boys are still staring at my chest but I look away from them. Maybe it's a normal thing but it doesn’t feel normal. I will live my life and whatever comes, I’ll take it.

FAIV --by Kreed

four characters, different stories, one umbrella...

OLATUNJI:

Empty: that was the feeling. It was a sunny day and there I was, nailed to the spot, unable to feel my legs, becoming a prey for the sun’s wrath. But somehow, I preferred the heat to the feeling of emptiness that overwhelmed me. I waved, just as my eyes began quenching the earth’s thirst with tears but she didn’t look back. She was my closest friend, if not my best. She meant a whole lot to me and I believe she felt same towards me.

That was two years ago, the last time I saw her. Yet still, I remember her smile, her scent, her every detail. And what’s worse, I still remember that day. It’s the one page in my life story that I can’t just rip off. We were supposed to go on a date that day, it was going to be my first but life had other arrangements, as her family was moving the same day. It’s funny how things could turn from good to bad with just a finger snap. “We’ll see again,” she had whispered, as she gave me a tight hug. I held unto her words, it was a promise. Two years later, it was still unfulfilled. I always believed we were going to meet again but my friend, Okoro, always told me I was just being stupid and that I should move on…I chuckled. Okoro was right, for the first time though. I felt very stupid as I continued to stare at her wedding pictures. I could feel a piercing pain in my heart. Broken twice, by the same person, I was indeed a fool. I got to hear the news through Facebook. Now, I understood why she suddenly stopped replying my messages and responding to my calls. The last time we spoke was seven months ago. Three weeks ago, I saw this picture. She couldn’t even tell, she didn’t respect me enough to. I started secluding myself from social gatherings and Okoro noticed. We both knew why, so he came up with a plan; a date. “Look Olatunji, there is this girl you have to meet; Chinyere is the name.  She’s a fine girl; she’s tall, has a beautiful light skin that will make the Kardashians run for cover, she’s slim with beautiful eyes and oh…” he whispered, “ she has that hour-glass figure.” But I was barely listening. “Sometimes I wish she wasn’t my cousin.” He continued. I laughed, I couldn’t help it. “Olatunji listen,” he continued, “I know you had feelings for this girl, err…can’t even remember her name. Whatever but the truth is, she’s gone.” he noticed me glare at him but he ignored me. “You have to move on. You’ve wasted two years of your life already, don’t waste another second on her, she’s married, so get on with your life!” He then proceeded to fill me in on the plan to meet Chinyere. Now, here I am, in a café called Faiv. We had scheduled the date for 5pm but I was here earlier, as always. I looked at my watch, 4:58pm, Chinyere was going to be here soon. Just then, the man at table 5 got up. I rushed to the table, “Faiv by 5 at 5.” I had an opening statement for Chinyere. If my hands could go round my back, I would give myself a pat.

I stared at the wedding picture one last time, it was the last picture of her I had on my phone, I spent most of last night staring and deleting the rest. Janet, her name is Janet…I deleted the picture. It was time to move on.   

JOHNSON:

“I wonder if she ever got an award for this.” She said, staring at an amazing architectural design across the road. “Yes she did, a ‘Nobel prize for Architecture’.” I chirped in. “Sorry I didn’t see you there and I wasn’t talking to you.” She replied, visibly annoyed by my response. “Oh trust me dear, you don’t have to talk to me to get a response from me. I’m Jimmy by the way.” I offered her a handshake but she looked at my outstretched arm and then walked into the building.

We were posted to the same firm. Of course, we hardly spoke to each. If we ever did, it was straight to the point official affairs. Our boss had to send us to separate units, to avoid more personality conflicts. We got a lot of queries too. We were both good at what we did, though we never acknowledged each others’ efforts or productivity, probably the reason our boss never sent us packing.

So how did we become so close, so inseparable? Emm...how did it even happen again? Oh! I remember. It was here, at Faiv. I had come in to grab some burgers. Just as I stepped in, I saw her..."Is she crying?" I remember asking myself. She quickly whipped her tears when she saw me but I pretended like I didn't see her. I got my burgers and a pack of 5Alive. As I approached the door, I paused for a moment and had a rethink of my action. Then I sighed heavily, walked back to the counter and ordered a plate of Ice cream and a pack of patchi chocolate. Reluctantly, I walked to her table. I dropped the ice cream on her table and she looked up. She gave me 'the look', and then ignored me. I almost threw the plate right on her face but I restrained myself. The urge to walk away was almost unbearable but again, I ignored my instincts and took a seat opposite her. She still gave me the ghost treatment then I said to her, "Look, I know I'm supposed to take pleasure in seeing you in pain or tears..." I paused for a reaction from her but I got none, "...but for some reasons, I don't…at least for today. I just want to let you know that whatever it is that's hurting you right now, Jesus is going to help you overcome such." I couldn't believe I used that name, I hardly mentioned the name and there I was, using it to console the person I despised the most. "Plus, beautiful girls..." I choked in continuation, "...shouldn't cry." I waited for about two minutes but she still ignored me. While I waited for a response, I did actually stare at her for a while and she was indeed beautiful. Snap out of it Johnson, she hates you remember? I quickly reminded myself. "Look, if you continue to ignore me, I'll just finish this plate of ice cream I bought for you." I threatened about three minutes later but still got the silent treatment. By this time, she had stopped sobbing and had begun meddling with her phone. I was beginning to lose patience but I still composed myself. I opened the plate and began eating the ice cream. It was strawberry flavoured and it wasn't my favourite but it was the only flavour they had left. Seven scoops later and I decided it was not worth it. I covered the ice cream and I opened the trash can beside the table, then I heard, "Wait!"… it was her.  "Who throws a plate of ice cream away?" I just starred at her, my face showing no emotions. I offered her the plate and she grabbed it. "I just wanted to be sure you didn't lace it with poison." she said. "Who poisons a plate of ice cream?" I responded and she smiled, I smiled back. "By the way, I'll need another plate." she added and she noticed my smile disappeared. "Never mind." she chipped in. We got talking, then one hour passed, two, three...we spent almost five hours there. The next day after work, we came to Faiv and we visited again the day after. It soon became a ritual and '5 by 5', was now our thing. As the days went by, we got closer and closer and soon, we became inseparable. Soon, she started coming over to my place and I to hers. After our service year, I got retained by the firm. She was too but she opted to go for her masters degree. She got admission into University of Liverpool. The night before she left, we met here, at Faiv and we sat at table 5...coincidence huh? She gave me a kiss, it was the first time I tasted her lips. She asked me to wait for her, she said she was going to be gone for just a year. I told her I was ready to wait for more than a year…for her. We kissed again.

All these were memories now, scenes that plagued my mind every day. I was suddenly distracted from my thoughts by a development, about three tables away from mine. Four friends; three guys and a lady, were hugging each other so tightly. I presume they hadn’t seen each other in ages. The lady was in tears. It was beautiful to watch. I also noticed something else at another table; an elderly man rose and left his table but another man, much younger than him, quickly moved in and occupied the table. Maybe he attached special significance to the table.

That was like Laura and I, three years ago but fate had different plans for us and now, she was no more. She had finalised her master's programme and she was coming home...to me. I still remember that day, I thought my wait had finally come to an end, my Laura was coming back but fate had other plans...Oh, why did the plane have to crash? My life hasn't been the same ever since, I'm yet to move on, I'm yet to recover from the news. I feel tear drops streaming from my eyes. To this day and probably till eternity too, I still feel very empty without her. I've changed jobs, cities, entered several relationships but all to no avail. “She was the one! She was the one!” I remind myself every day. Tomorrow I'll be leaving the country to Holland, with the hope that I'll finally move on with my life. I checked my watch and it was 5:08pm. A lady opened the entrance door, she smiled but not at me but at the guy at table 5. I grab my car keys and head for the door. "Laura will probably be the only one." I remind myself.

EDIFON:

"Come on dear, stop being so emotional. Distance can't break this bond." Shola had said. "We will meet again soonest, it is just a one year programme", Ibikunle added. This was before our NYSC programme. Shola, Ibikunle, Gambo and I had attended the same University; University of Nsukka. We first met during the freshers' orientation and we instantly became The Four Musketeers on campus even when we were in separate departments. I was the only girl in the clique. I still remember the first time we came here, I vividly remember our purpose. Gambo had challenged Ibikunle to a drinking duel, "Whoever finishes 5 bottles of Guinness first without getting drunk gets 5k from the loser." "5k!" exclaimed Ibikunle, whose second name was 'Money', "I'll finish 10 for 2.5k"(naah, he couldn't!). Just then, Shola added, "And I know the perfect spot for this challenge. There’s a restaurant I discovered yesterday, it's called 'Faiv'. We should all meet there tomorrow by 5pm" As if on cue, we all stared at him. "Brilliant!" Gambo exclaimed, he was the lousy one by the way. I smiled, as I reminisced. Gambo was from the North but was brought up in the East, which explained his lousy trait. "Just keep my 5k." Ibikunle said.

Well, the next day was one we would never forget in a hurry, at least not for Ibikunle and Gambo, but for Shola and I as we had to carry two drunkards back to their respective abodes. Yes, they both failed. I laughed this time, uncontrollably too. I could notice some eyes stare at me but I ignored them. After that day, Faiv became our base and soon we started sitting only at table 5 and that's how we got our signature phrase "Faiv by 5 at 5."

That was three years ago, that was before that fight broke us. Just a week before departing for our NYSC programme, Ibikunle accused Gambo of flirting with his girlfriend at the time. It wasn't true of course, I can't remember how he came to that conclusion. I'm glad I don't, because it ruined what we had, it ruined our friendship. Gambo was a flirt though. I still remember Shola ('the peacemaker', as we fondly called him), being punched in the eye while trying to separate the two friends. He got up quietly and walked away. It wasn't silence, it was anger. He hasn't said a word to us since then. I tried to make peace between Gambo and Ibikunle but it backfired horrendously, as each party accused me of picking sides. Well that was the last straw.

God I miss them. After service Gambo got a job in Bayelsa in the company he served. Shola, went solo, he ventured into the agricultural business and he’s doing great. Ibikunle and I travelled out for our Masters, to different countries however. His was a scholarship. He came back about six months ago after he rounded up his programme and he got a job even before he set his foot on Nigerian soil. And I? Well, I got a job...outside the shores of Nigeria, which is great but yet still, I know I’m missing something…My three best friends. What I feared the most was already aggravating the scars we each had...Distance. Sometimes I wonder if they even think of me or keep track of my progress, like I do with them. I almost cry as more fun memories flood my mind. "We'll meet again soonest," they said, but it's been three years since we last said any word to each other.

Today, I was at Faiv, alone...not on table 5 but at table 2. An elderly man got to the table first, he looked really sad. To be honest, everyone here looked unhappy, except the guy at table 6. They were just four customers here today. I was the only girl. The old man got up from his table and as he walked past me, I noticed his eyes were teary. I feel an urge to move to table 5 but the guy who was on table 6 reacted quickest. Anyway, I loved the view the table offered. It was just by the window. And one can spot the Halifax building from here, an architectural wonder.

That was by the way. I checked my watch; it was a minute to 5pm. I picked up my half-filled glass of smoothies and took a sip. Just then, my phone buzzed. A message, but whose number is this? I asked myself. I open the message and it read, "That's not our table you pumpkin...lol." I began to gaze around the room and then suddenly, my eye caught three figures outside the window. I smiled as tear formed in my eyes.

SANUSI:

It was a cold Saturday evening. It had rained almost all through morning and afternoon, it seemed like my Christian friends had sang the “Let it rain” praise song the night before. I had just finished preparing fura for Ibrahim and Halima and was about settling down to read the day’s dailies, when I heard a knock on my door. I remember asking myself why visitors always came around every time I wanted to rest. It was always irritating. As I unlocked the door, standing in front of me was a man who had been soaked not just only by the rain but by his tears too. He had looked like a man who just escaped from a kidnapper’s den. I tried to invite him in but his facial expression unsettled me. I knew he had bad news, I was anxious to hear him but reluctant to ask.  It was Ailero, my wife’s brother.

The growing silence got awkward and as I was about to ask but he cut me short, “It’s A-i-sha,” he stuttered, “She was involved in accident. Shh-ee, ermmm.” “Ailero is she okay?!” I screamed, I was becoming restive and I had grown impatient with the suspense. “No sir,” he added, more tears streaming from his eyes, “She isn’t. She passed away just before she got to the hospital.”

I stood there motionless, as my brain tried desperately to comprehend the news. I could see Ailero’s lips move but I couldn’t hear him. My legs suddenly felt weak and it collapsed under my body weight.

That was 20 years ago, when my beloved Aisha passed away. I remember those early years after her death, it was quite challenging. Raising our two kids alone was quite a task and there was pressure from friends and family for me to remarry. Even when she was alive, I was scorned by most for having just one wife as most of my friends had more than a wife. My junior brother, Kazeem, had three wives. But I couldn’t share the love I had for Aisha with another woman. I was able to surmount it all eventually. I decided to visit this Faiv today because it’s probably the last time I’ll do so. I’ll be moving to Kaduna tomorrow, to my village. It was where I was groomed before I moved after I was posted here by my firm. It was in this restaurant that I met Aisha. I wish I could travel down memory lane but I know it’ll bring me tears. We came a couple more times before and after our marriage and we were even here a day before she died in that ghastly motor accident. I took out my handkerchief and wiped my eyes. Ever since then, I’ve always come here to mark her death anniversary, alone. I checked my watch; it was almost 5’o clock. We always tried to ensure that we sat at table 5, though we weren’t successful sometimes. But today, I was seated at table 5. I remember how excited she always was when we succeeded at securing the table before anyone else. I poured out the last juice from the juice pack into my glass. I emptied the glass within seconds and dropped it on the table. I got up briskly, trying desperately to cover my teary eyes from the other faces around the restaurant. “Old memories, past glories but I’ll forever treasure those moments.” I said inaudibly, as I walked out of Faiv for the last time.

NIGERIA: HOME OF PARANOIACS? --by Nickz

I was enjoying the moderate speed of the keke until a someone flagged it down. The driver pulled over to pick the new passenger. I turned to look properly; she was an old lady, very old and frail. There were at least a million lines of wrinkles on her face, sprinkled with signatures of poverty and hardship. The keke driver asked for her destination. “My son, please help me. I want to drop at ****” The keke driver was not going that direction so he replied her: “Madam, I no de go that side.” She was still in need of his services. She asked pleadingly if he could help drop her along the road somewhere that would be closer to her route where she could pick another vehicle. “Please help me my son, my waist is aching badly, I can’t stand for long,” she pleaded. “Madam, I say I no de go,” he replied impatiently and was about zooming off. “Wait,” I said. I pulled out a hundred naira note and handed to the old woman. “Please Ma add this to your transport fare.”  I handed the money to her and she thanked and blessed me before we moved. On the way, the keke man started a conversation with me.

“Do you know that most of those old women on the road are witches? Nigerian films have taught me a lot of things. They can use your help to harm and frustrate your life.” I couldn’t help chuckling at his display of fear and suspicion towards the old lady. “I was only helping an old woman in need. That’s what my Maker says we should do; not to withhold good from another when it is in our power to help. If she attempts to use my help to cause me harm, then she’ll be heaping red coals on her head.” He couldn’t debate further so we continued the ride in silence.

The mentality of people, especially Nigerians have been seared by events foretold, overheard, experienced or imagined to the extent that no one can be trusted, helped, or assisted, even in situations that affirms the cry for help is genuine. There’s always that paranoid feeling of doubt, fear, suspicion and self-protection that on so many occasions, we shield ourselves from the rest of the world, living in a cocoon of self centeredness, in the process, depriving ourselves the essence of existence, sometimes, even depriving ourselves of disguised golden opportunities. Sometimes, we don’t even have anything to lose but that thing in us, that shell around us tries to block others out of our lives. To some extent, it limits the ability to socialize and widen our circle of connections.

There are so many other instances asides the old lady case. So many times, while travelling, if I happen to be seated beside a fellow young mind, I usually like to start up a conversation to keep the journey enjoyable. I’ve made few nice friends from such avenues. It’s often easier if you’re seated by a guy, the whole conversation thing is not that difficult but good lord, let it be a female and you’re most likely in for a big show. When you say a “hi”, she acts like she didn’t hear you the first time until you repeat. Then, you see the way she configures her face and rolls her eyes in a way that says, “Guy, I know what you’re up to. Y’all are the same. You’re wasting your time” before she reluctantly replies your hi. Dammit girl! For christsake, I’m not gonna ask you for sex. I wonna introduce our blog to you! Open the f**k up! 

I recall how reluctant Catherine was when we first met in a bus from Aba to Uyo. I know she’ll be LOLing now while reading this. Even after stealing my window seat, she was still uptight over keeping a simple conversation. After a while, she opened up and then she realized how useful I was to her immediate needs. Today, we’re still good friends.

Nowadays, mothers lock their kids indoors with television and nannies, barring them from playing with neighbouring kids for fear of harm. I wonder what harm had befallen me when I used to run around half naked with many other kids, playing, climbing trees and struggling for fruits. Nowadays, the fear and suspicion of fellow men is the beginning of wisdom.

The level of suspicion and absolute fear of relationship is so high even an elderly lady on the road wouldn’t give her load to a young man willing to assist, except in a rural setting. When I watch western movies, I like what I see. You can see a fellow at a train station holding a cigarette. He walks up to another guy and asks for light. You see the other guy handing out a lighter readily. If it was a Nigerian situation, the guy asking wouldn’t even bother doing so because he’d be suspected of being a pickpocket. Hey, I know not everything in movies is real but it can’t be all that’s unreal. Some actually reflect cultures. I also came across another advert from Mentos on Facebook. I loved the concept of the advert but I really laughed at how frustrating it could have been in a Nigerian situation. I’ll drop the link at the end of this article so you can also see the clip.

Back to the matter; suspicion, yeah, actually, I’m not blind. The days are evil and wickedness has encapsulated the hearts of men. We have serial killers, rapists, pedophiles, criminals, ritual killers and all you could name. Notwithstanding, you still got to know that love is the greatest. Perfect love drives away fear and irrational suspicion. Don’t be too uptight towards helping others or opening up to others. There are several benefits. In case you forgot, life itself is a risk so take that step now, get out of that shell. Stop living in fear of that previous harsh experience and be useful to yourself and humanity. 

So let’s start by meeting; “Hello my name is Nickz, what’s yours?”

Here’s the Mentos link: 

https://web.facebook.com/MENTOSNigeria/videos/150301375352155/