I fell asleep on my hand, and woke up with that numb, tingly feeling and the residue of a dream. This is the result. Enjoy!
My husband came back early from work today. We had been texting each other all day, so when he came into the house and headed straight for me in the kitchen. I knew he was going to kiss me, then drag me into the bedroom. I knew we were going to make love. Well, he was going to make love to me. I was in it for baby making purposes. After another attempt at biological alchemy, I knew he was going to ask for food, then notice that the house was in a mess.
He would say things like, "What have you been doing all day?"
"Why don't you clean up a little?"
"Kai, if I know say you dirty pass me, I for no marry you".
The last one would be an attempt at humour to diffuse what he would consider to be a tense situation. Tense because in response, I purse my lips, narrow my eyes and say nothing, but my look promises retribution.
Retribution never comes, but it is gratifying to know that the promise of it is enough. Usually. Tonight, I want my pound of flesh, specifically N2,000 worth of roadside peppered beef barbecue.
"Let's go get suya", I say.
I know he will say yes, because he just wants me to be happy, and if it is suya that will make me happy, then it's suya I'll get. He was like that when I was pregnant, traipsing round Ikeja to get me Asun, and Banga soup at odd hours. So we get out of bed, pick out track bottoms from the pile of clothes overflowing from the laundry basket, get clean t-shirts from our closet, and head out with slippers on our feet. I'm wearing my outside slippers. The pair my sister sent from the UK. They are tan with green rhinestones. I think they are pretty. My husband thinks they are garish. I have to remind myself to wear them, because I'm tired of hearing my husband say, "At least, they are better than bathroom slippers".
What's wrong with bathroom slippers? Who is looking at my feet? What does it matter in the grand scheme of things?
But I will not tell him what I am thinking. He will ask annoying questions.
We head out for suya at 10:13PM. There is electricity tonight, so the estate is uncharacteristically quiet. I can hear frogs and crickets, and they assure me that Lagos is not all concrete and hypertension. There is life here as well. I cross my fingers and pray that there's life in me as well. Maybe it's early, but it doesn't hurt to pray.
We walk past the estate gates, and the slumbering security men. My husband hisses. I laugh. I have always considered hissing a feminine tool. He hisses again, "Why are you laughing? They charge us thousands of Naira for security and this is what it comes down to - open gates at 10pm and sleeping guards?"
"If they were awake, they would have stopped us to ask 20 questions and delayed us".
"At least, I would know my money is working".
I smile at him, put my arm through his and keep walking. "Let's hurry up. I want my suya".
A man jogs past us. I squeeze my husband's arm. He squeezes back. We keep walking. Another man walks down the road towards us. I turn my head around, and notice the street is empty. Where has everybody gone?
The man walks past us. He is wearing a suit sans tie, and nods at my husband as he walks by. I am not offended. I am invisible. No one can see me so I cannot be harmed by the things that come out of the darkness.
Light bounces off something and there is a man in front of us holding a razor blade to my face. Where did he come from? I don't move. I don't breathe. My husband's arm is clamped in mine. He has moved his feet apart in a fighting stance.
"Guy, dey walka", my husband says.
"Egbon, just give me the money or I go use this blade for your wife".
"Guy, dey walka".
"Wo, you dey try me. I go spoil this your fine wife face o!"
I know what I must do. I take a deep breath, then everything happens quickly. I let go of my husband's arm, and go for the blade with my other hand. The vagrant moves to punch me, but my husband grabs his fist and hits him in the throat. The blade presses into my hand, and I squeeze. It cuts deep, and I squeeze some more. I am not afraid of getting cut. I cut myself all the time but usually with my little kitchen knives. The large ones leave marks I don't like to explain. There are no razor blades at home. The vagrant looks at my face as blood seeps through our joined hands. I smile. He is afraid. My husband clears his feet from under him in a sweeping move, and my smile becomes smug. I let go of the pleasure of the blade and its owner's hand so I am not pulled down with him. The smell of the blood dripping from my hand pleases me.
"Babe, you're bleeding. Let's go back home".
I nod. Who needs suya?
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
It's been a while
Holla!
Happy 53rd Independence Day, Nigerians!
What do we have to be happy about? Life and Hope. At all, at all, na winch!
Anyway, this is what I've been up to:
This is what I'm reading now:
And this is my current playlist:
Once More With Feeling
Thanks.
Oh, and Papa Goo's movie TABLOID for EbonyLife TV (Channel 165 on DSTV) will be airing on the 6th of October. That's in 4 days. Make sure you watch it!
Happy 53rd Independence Day, Nigerians!
What do we have to be happy about? Life and Hope. At all, at all, na winch!
Anyway, this is what I've been up to:
This is what I'm reading now:
And this is my current playlist:
Once More With Feeling
- Dog days are over - Florence and The Machine
- When it gets down to it - Fred Hammond
- What the water gave me - Florence and The Machine
- Ring a bell - Late Night Alumni
- Hope is rising - Downhere
- The sun is shining - Third Day
- Breathe slow - Alesha Dixon
- Love song - Third Day
- Supermassive black hole - Muse
- Loved on me - Fred Hammond
- Till it happens to you - Corrine Bailey Rae
- Automatic - Tokio Hotel
- Atmosphere (remix) - DC Talk
- Reformation - GS Megaphone
- Sing, sing, sing - Chris Tomlin
- A Thousand Years - Christina Perri
- Stronger - Mary J. Blige
- In my place - Coldplay
- Don't wait - Kaskade feat. Haley
- Letters from the sky - Civil Twilight
- Poison and Wine - The Civil Wars
- We are hungry/I will not be silent - Jesus Culture
Thanks.
Oh, and Papa Goo's movie TABLOID for EbonyLife TV (Channel 165 on DSTV) will be airing on the 6th of October. That's in 4 days. Make sure you watch it!
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Memoirs of A Workshop
Howdy!
Due to popular demand, and mostly so I can hold on to that Workshop feeling a little longer. I'll be putting up posts about our exercises.
Today is non fiction day.
The facilitator for non fiction was Aslak Sire Myhre, whose Wikipedia page does not do him justice.
(Picture shall be put up as soon as internet allows)
This tall, blonde Norwegian is a politician (not the rich kind) and an author who gave us a couple of exercises in writing non fiction, and made us think of our place in the global narrative as African Writers.
Who gets to tell our stories? Some well meaning European with no understanding of our culture or situation, or us?
He made us think.
I'm still thinking.
I get paid for writing non fiction, but wouldn't it be something to write about the lives of Ijaw people - their history, their culture, their struggles? Wouldn't it be something to write about the lives of militants? Cos let's be honest - we talk a lot of smack, especially on the internet, but you don't know what their lives are like. I'm Ijaw, and I know I don't know.
Anyway....
On Aslak's first day, he asked us to write a memoir piece about ourselves, telling a story that would showcase something larger than us. This is what I came up with:
It was going to be the last time I would go to campus to read at night. The next day I would be writing my last exam as a student of the University of Benin, and all things being equal, would not have to go to class anymore.
I went out to read by myself, then joined my study group for last minute discussions till about 2am.
When I looked around, none of my off-campus neighbours were in the hall. The Social Science Faculty had been the last to put up an exam timetable, and consequently, its students were the last to finish exams, and to leave campus. My classmates were planning on staying to read some more but I needed to sleep. I needed to leave, but there was no one to walk me home. My on again, off again boyfriend was around somewhere, but at the moment, we were off again, and he wasn't talking to me. I was on my own. So I decided to walk home by myself. I walked out of the hall, out of the building we called Basement, because it had a basement, walked past the hostel for medical students, and past the campus gate to my off campus neighbourhood of Osasogie. The security men stationed at the campus gates were not paid to concern themselves with what happened outside their stations so as I walked past them I started praying.
"Oh God please don't let anything happen to me", I whispered in the darkness, and it was very dark. There was no light, no electricity, and it was oh so quiet.
"Oh Father, I will never do anything so stupid again", I mumbled, as I twitched at every imagined sound I heard in the dark, and remembered the girl who had been kidnapped just a few paces from where I walked. She had returned a week later, 'walking funny' as a friend had put it. I remembered my friend Sammy who had been apprehended by robbers and then beaten up for having a cheap Nokia phone. I remembered the girl whose arm had been cut off by a cutlass wielding thief because she started speaking in tongues when she was attacked.
"Father, please let me get home safely. Let them not see me. Let it not be said anything happened to me the night before my last paper. Please don't let me suffer for my foolishness".
The End
What do y'all think? If you're up to it, you can email me (deocentric@gmail.com) a short piece (200 - 400 words) telling a story that tells a bigger story.
Due to popular demand, and mostly so I can hold on to that Workshop feeling a little longer. I'll be putting up posts about our exercises.
Today is non fiction day.
The facilitator for non fiction was Aslak Sire Myhre, whose Wikipedia page does not do him justice.
(Picture shall be put up as soon as internet allows)
This tall, blonde Norwegian is a politician (not the rich kind) and an author who gave us a couple of exercises in writing non fiction, and made us think of our place in the global narrative as African Writers.
Who gets to tell our stories? Some well meaning European with no understanding of our culture or situation, or us?
He made us think.
I'm still thinking.
I get paid for writing non fiction, but wouldn't it be something to write about the lives of Ijaw people - their history, their culture, their struggles? Wouldn't it be something to write about the lives of militants? Cos let's be honest - we talk a lot of smack, especially on the internet, but you don't know what their lives are like. I'm Ijaw, and I know I don't know.
Anyway....
On Aslak's first day, he asked us to write a memoir piece about ourselves, telling a story that would showcase something larger than us. This is what I came up with:
It was going to be the last time I would go to campus to read at night. The next day I would be writing my last exam as a student of the University of Benin, and all things being equal, would not have to go to class anymore.
I went out to read by myself, then joined my study group for last minute discussions till about 2am.
When I looked around, none of my off-campus neighbours were in the hall. The Social Science Faculty had been the last to put up an exam timetable, and consequently, its students were the last to finish exams, and to leave campus. My classmates were planning on staying to read some more but I needed to sleep. I needed to leave, but there was no one to walk me home. My on again, off again boyfriend was around somewhere, but at the moment, we were off again, and he wasn't talking to me. I was on my own. So I decided to walk home by myself. I walked out of the hall, out of the building we called Basement, because it had a basement, walked past the hostel for medical students, and past the campus gate to my off campus neighbourhood of Osasogie. The security men stationed at the campus gates were not paid to concern themselves with what happened outside their stations so as I walked past them I started praying.
"Oh God please don't let anything happen to me", I whispered in the darkness, and it was very dark. There was no light, no electricity, and it was oh so quiet.
"Oh Father, I will never do anything so stupid again", I mumbled, as I twitched at every imagined sound I heard in the dark, and remembered the girl who had been kidnapped just a few paces from where I walked. She had returned a week later, 'walking funny' as a friend had put it. I remembered my friend Sammy who had been apprehended by robbers and then beaten up for having a cheap Nokia phone. I remembered the girl whose arm had been cut off by a cutlass wielding thief because she started speaking in tongues when she was attacked.
"Father, please let me get home safely. Let them not see me. Let it not be said anything happened to me the night before my last paper. Please don't let me suffer for my foolishness".
The End
What do y'all think? If you're up to it, you can email me (deocentric@gmail.com) a short piece (200 - 400 words) telling a story that tells a bigger story.
Monday, August 26, 2013
It's Monday.
So...Mondays are usually a bust for me.
I spend it recovering from my weekend, and preparing my schedule for the week. I know, the weekend should be a relaxing time with the family but family time often means cooking, cleaning and babysitting a two year old with dreams of Olympic Gold in gymnastics - hardly relaxing.
And that's just Saturday.
Sundays come along with waking up early and preparing The Goo and myself for church. The Goo is easy. Deciding what to wear which allows me some degree of self expression while staying within The Rules of The Ushers' Dress Code is hard. Yesterday, I went with easy, and wore jeans, my 'I found Jesus' t shirt complete with crossword puzzle, and trainers. No complaints from my leaders so Yay!
The best part of Sunday (apart from The Word, and Praise and Worship, and all that wonderful churchy goodness) is the rice we buy after service. 2 packs of Ofada for me, 2 packs of Jollof for Papa Goo and 1 pack of Fried Rice for The Goo.
Good Times!
It means I don't have to cook when we get home. I don't even have to pop anything into the microwave. I can go lie down and rest my eyes, or read a gazillion romance novels.
I can rest.
And I do.
I rest or goof off, and ignore the fact that a New Week has begun. I ignore the need to prepare a schedule for housework, and meals, and writing, and meetings. I just rest. And put it all off till Monday.
What do you do with your Mondays?
I spend it recovering from my weekend, and preparing my schedule for the week. I know, the weekend should be a relaxing time with the family but family time often means cooking, cleaning and babysitting a two year old with dreams of Olympic Gold in gymnastics - hardly relaxing.
And that's just Saturday.
Sundays come along with waking up early and preparing The Goo and myself for church. The Goo is easy. Deciding what to wear which allows me some degree of self expression while staying within The Rules of The Ushers' Dress Code is hard. Yesterday, I went with easy, and wore jeans, my 'I found Jesus' t shirt complete with crossword puzzle, and trainers. No complaints from my leaders so Yay!
The best part of Sunday (apart from The Word, and Praise and Worship, and all that wonderful churchy goodness) is the rice we buy after service. 2 packs of Ofada for me, 2 packs of Jollof for Papa Goo and 1 pack of Fried Rice for The Goo.
Good Times!
It means I don't have to cook when we get home. I don't even have to pop anything into the microwave. I can go lie down and rest my eyes, or read a gazillion romance novels.
I can rest.
And I do.
I rest or goof off, and ignore the fact that a New Week has begun. I ignore the need to prepare a schedule for housework, and meals, and writing, and meetings. I just rest. And put it all off till Monday.
What do you do with your Mondays?
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Where were we?
Hey hey hey!
I dropped off the map. I know. I wanted to try out writing, rather than just blogging about writing, and as usual, found the process frustrating and depressing. Alas, maybe I am not supposed to be a writer.
Sigh.
But wait...The Farafina Trust Creative Writing Workshop called for entries. I sent in mine. What would it hurt? And I was invited for the workshop.
Yay!
I'm not so bad. Lazy, and lacking discipline and self control (damn romance novels. And chocolate. And cake), but not a bad writer.
Whoooopeeee!
Workshop took 10 days. A couple of my fellow participants - Uche and Sifa - blogged about Day 1, and yes, it was life changing stuff.
So now what?
Now to make my wonderful teachers proud. Speaking of teachers, a very big THANK YOU to Chimamanda Adichie, Eghosa Imasuen, Binyanvanga Wainaina, and Aslak Sira Mhyre for investing their time and knowledge in me, and all of us (The Girls and Boys Club of Chimamanda).
I'm off now to make it work.
PS. A big Thank You also to Papa Goo and The Goo for giving Mummy some time off. Big Hug!
I dropped off the map. I know. I wanted to try out writing, rather than just blogging about writing, and as usual, found the process frustrating and depressing. Alas, maybe I am not supposed to be a writer.
But wait...The Farafina Trust Creative Writing Workshop called for entries. I sent in mine. What would it hurt? And I was invited for the workshop.
Yay!
I'm not so bad. Lazy, and lacking discipline and self control (damn romance novels. And chocolate. And cake), but not a bad writer.
Whoooopeeee!
Workshop took 10 days. A couple of my fellow participants - Uche and Sifa - blogged about Day 1, and yes, it was life changing stuff.
 | |
| Can you see me? Hint: Pink shawl |
Now to make my wonderful teachers proud. Speaking of teachers, a very big THANK YOU to Chimamanda Adichie, Eghosa Imasuen, Binyanvanga Wainaina, and Aslak Sira Mhyre for investing their time and knowledge in me, and all of us (The Girls and Boys Club of Chimamanda).
I'm off now to make it work.
PS. A big Thank You also to Papa Goo and The Goo for giving Mummy some time off. Big Hug!
Saturday, May 25, 2013
Conversations with Myself
Me: I want a coke.
Myself: Take water.
Me: But I really want a coke.
Myself: Water is better.
Me: Cooooke!
Myself: How about fruit juice? Or fruit?
Me: Fruit juice? Hmm.
Myself: Better than a coke.
Me: Hmm. Coke.
Myself: How about a malt?
Me: Hmm. Maaalt.
Myself: Yup. Malt.
Me: I'd rather have a coke.
Myself: Why don't you just get yourself a coke?
I am now drinking a coke.
In other news, Hey! It's been a while. No, I have not been avoiding you. I've just been mostly knackered. All I had energy for after taking care of The Goo and Papa Goo was to read.
So that's what I've been up to.
Oh yeah, and I've upped my challenge goal back to 300. Fun times!
I know I should say something about my writing but honestly, I don't want to. I will say, I ALWAYS expect things to be easy - school, marriage, childbirth (no words!), writing a book, but they NEVER are.
So...that's all folks!
Myself: Take water.
Me: But I really want a coke.
Myself: Water is better.
Me: Cooooke!
Myself: How about fruit juice? Or fruit?
Me: Fruit juice? Hmm.
Myself: Better than a coke.
Me: Hmm. Coke.
Myself: How about a malt?
Me: Hmm. Maaalt.
Myself: Yup. Malt.
Me: I'd rather have a coke.
Myself: Why don't you just get yourself a coke?
I am now drinking a coke.
In other news, Hey! It's been a while. No, I have not been avoiding you. I've just been mostly knackered. All I had energy for after taking care of The Goo and Papa Goo was to read.
So that's what I've been up to.
Oh yeah, and I've upped my challenge goal back to 300. Fun times!
I know I should say something about my writing but honestly, I don't want to. I will say, I ALWAYS expect things to be easy - school, marriage, childbirth (no words!), writing a book, but they NEVER are.
So...that's all folks!
Saturday, April 13, 2013
How's Your Saturday Going?
Holla!
At this moment, I've got a load of washing in the machine, well, just my very red towel that will destroy every other item of clothing, actually...anyway, I've got my towel in the machine, I'm making a Peanut butter and Jam (Pineapple, if you must know) Sandwich for myself, I'm dancing to my Dance Playlist, I'm also reading China Mieville's Kraken and getting ready to do the dishes before I make lunch - Pasta and Chicken Stew.
The Goo says hi!(not really). She found some 3D glasses and is hanging out with Agent Mickey Mouse in the parlour.
Papa Goo is out getting the bacon.
Update: The Goo is now lying on the as yet not mopped floor of the kitchen (ugh) wailing because I will not give her The Jam Jar.
How's your saturday going?
PS. The Dance Playlist
Saved - Third Day
Rome wasn't built in a day - Morcheeba
Sweet Lorraine - Frank Sinatra
I Will Bless The Lord (Reprise) - Byron Cage
Sahj Dhaj Ke - From The (Bollywood) Movie Mausam
Pracatatumba - Cabo Snoop
Om Shanti Om Medley Mix - From The (Bollywood) Movie Om Shanti Om
Potential Breakup Song - Aly & Aj
So Inspired ft. Muna - Waje
Let's Dance - Pastor Hezekiah Walker
Every Teardrop is a Waterfall - Coldplay
Cousins - Vampire Weekend
Idola - From The (Bollywood) Movie Devdas
She's still on the floor. Excuse me...
At this moment, I've got a load of washing in the machine, well, just my very red towel that will destroy every other item of clothing, actually...anyway, I've got my towel in the machine, I'm making a Peanut butter and Jam (Pineapple, if you must know) Sandwich for myself, I'm dancing to my Dance Playlist, I'm also reading China Mieville's Kraken and getting ready to do the dishes before I make lunch - Pasta and Chicken Stew.
The Goo says hi!(not really). She found some 3D glasses and is hanging out with Agent Mickey Mouse in the parlour.
Papa Goo is out getting the bacon.
Update: The Goo is now lying on the as yet not mopped floor of the kitchen (ugh) wailing because I will not give her The Jam Jar.
How's your saturday going?
PS. The Dance Playlist
Saved - Third Day
Rome wasn't built in a day - Morcheeba
Sweet Lorraine - Frank Sinatra
I Will Bless The Lord (Reprise) - Byron Cage
Sahj Dhaj Ke - From The (Bollywood) Movie Mausam
Pracatatumba - Cabo Snoop
Om Shanti Om Medley Mix - From The (Bollywood) Movie Om Shanti Om
Potential Breakup Song - Aly & Aj
So Inspired ft. Muna - Waje
Let's Dance - Pastor Hezekiah Walker
Every Teardrop is a Waterfall - Coldplay
Cousins - Vampire Weekend
Idola - From The (Bollywood) Movie Devdas
She's still on the floor. Excuse me...
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