Know that when the thought of writing this review came to mind, I had an instant headache because I had never written before. So, bear with me.
I will never forget 2014 because a lot of changes happened in virtually every area of my life. It turned out to be 10 times better than I had expected. For someone who is usually the most optimistic in the room, you can imagine how overwhelming it must have been, I promise to try as well as I can to touch a bit of everything.
At the beginning of the year, I had written in a notepad the list of things I wanted improvements on in my life: socially, spiritually, academically and even financially. Needless to say, before the end of February, that list was lost and forgotten. I was now going with the flow (whatever that was), living life as it came, with no plans, nothing.
What has a 15 year-old got to do with finances you ask? Thing is in the past, ‘mans’ has been ‘shy’ to ask for money from the father simply because it seemed too much. Shy nitori Olorun?! My own father? Well, praise the Lord! I worked on that. I also learned the magical art of saving money. *whew*
I won’t lie, I somehow feel that if I had followed a certain plan, pattern or whatever, maybe my year wouldn’t have been as awesome. Maybe I wouldn’t have gone to certain places where I met some amazing people. Maybe I’d have foolishly cut off a bunch of friends as planned. Maybe I wouldn’t have had my first kiss…..okay, next!
I became more conscious of my growth as a female teenager. Every other year, Dolapo, Martha and I would wake up in the morning and go back to bed at night without checking on ourselves. No “How are you sef?” “Come na let me even see how your life is looking” “What is that scar?” “Are you pregnant??” nada. This year I made it a point of duty to meet myself. It’s okay for me to cater for others but I should never lose myself in the process. Every now and then, I stopped to access myself, question certain actions, right my wrongs, GIVE MYSELF BRAIN and most importantly, commend myself for any job well done.
This year, it was my turn to be picked on by mother. The big sister graduated from the university (YAY!!), so in my mother’s mind, she had now completed a major stage in attaining that 100% wife material mothers all over the world dream of. It was now time to transfer all the “wahala” that Nike (My older sister) received while in University to my own head so that I’d be great like my sister now is. I must say I NEVER ESPERRED IT! It has not been easy dealing with or taking on all the stress she’s giving me (yes, stress) but I thank God. I’m thankful because it has helped me learn a lot even beyond my years. I love my mum so much for what she has put into my life and I wouldn’t trade her for any woman in the world, except of course it’s Dangote’s wife… Haha just kidding……not.
How can I forget a major highlight of the entire year?? A WAEC and Jamb result that made my mother claim she always knew I was a brilliant child and father reassured that he has not been investing in vain. I was more happy that they were happy with me than I was about my result. Smh! Thing is, I know I read, yeah? I just don’t think I read well enough for an all (9) distinctions and Post Jamb merit list result. That is how you know ‘Diaris God ohh’ . It could have been the short prayer I rendered before academic year began: ‘Dear Lord, let me not have any reason to check my NECO result this year/ever Amen’. Either way, I am grateful, to God for His never-ending grace and mercies and to Ona for being the greatest academic influence ever. Err.. I actually kinda love you.
This year, I got my first award ever and that is not even exciting part, I mean, I could have been awarded “nicest female” or what not but that wouldn’t mean as much to me. To God’s glory though, I was awarded the “best female vocalist” and it was heart-warming.
Such tears. Very encouragement. Much hope.
I purchased my long time true love, Reva, late into the year. She’s a guitar who I look forward to doing many great things with. Amen? AMEN!
I also went out more. As a girl child living in this era of crazy social vices, I like to think I understand the need for my mother’s overprotective attitude. The good news is that she finally thought it was okay for me to ‘cross the streets’ with my own legs. On. My. Own. No mother, no driver. Hallelujah somebody?
I came out of a cage I had been locked in for most of my life. After 15 years, I finally got to meet my family members one after the other. Uhun. Turns out that my sister is amazing. Mum is lovely. Dad is wonderful. Big brother is my real nigga. Debisi is my naughty son and it’s simply beautiful to watch him grow. Very lovely, these people.
In the past, I developed a habit of swallowing most of my words. Even at home, it was like there was a voice in my head, by default just there to tell me that there was no point saying anything because it was not in my place to say it, I might be woefully wrong or just cos it wouldn’t matter anyway. So when someone else would say exactly what I wanted to, get approval and sometimes praises, I would slap my head in regret like, “Babe, Y U KIP KWAYET?” But this year, I learned to speak my mind whenever I had to. I decided to turn it into a way of learning stuff. I mean, if I did speak and was wrong, I would be corrected, right? Good then.
“Speak your mind even if your voice is shaken” – this quote took me a long long way.
Since ’98, whenever feelings came my way, I tossed them to the side and when my side was too full to contain any more feelings, I’d just sweep them under the carpet. Tada! I don’t know if it was for fear of commitment or my attitude of blatant indifference, my hate for stress or just cos Eleda mi o gba ti feelings. In 2014, I embraced some of these feelings. I interacted more, cared more, loved more and also allowed hurt to manifest in my life when it needed to. Thanks to my friends, sister and things I read, I now know better. No matter how much I try to deceive myself, this heart is #fleshnotstone, it will feel what it will…..and it’s okay sometimes to just let these feelings flourish.
Basically, this for me has been a year of building myself for the next stage of my life and I’m happy about how far I’ve come for now. Finally seeing that’s it’s okay to interact with the world as opposed to sitting in a dark corner. It’s been a year of transition. From:
Timid to bold.
Taciturn to talkative.
‘Skrepy’ to approachable.
Noise maker to singer (lol)
Easily distracted to quite focused.
Boy to Girl. (*sigh)
Regular Christian to a baptized one.
High School to University.
Clueless to not as clueless, and so on.
Here’s a big shoutout to all the people that made my year wonderful. Thanks for tolerating me. Me sef know sey, it takes nothing short of patience and love. My God, my family, strangers, acquaintances, my new friends, “easy cliq” (inside joke) and my lovely old personal people; THANK YOU.
Ready to make each day count rather than just counting the days, all three of us, Martha, Dolapo and I have now boarded this bus that is a one way drive to University. I know it’s going to be one hell of a ride with different folks wey me never jam for road so………wish me luck, yes?!
Thanks for sharing Dolapo, may the force be with you.
2014 was an amazing year. I got to discover some of the things that mattered most to me, the very things that made me happy and complete. All my life, I had lived in the shadow of others, never trusting in my own choices. When I did go as far as making my own decisions, I desperately sought for approval. I’m not saying I’m now totally free of this ‘plague’ but there have been improvements and I’m glad about that. I have watched myself grow this year, coming from years of a huge inferiority complex and a cancerous shyness; my self-confidence is now bordering on Narcissism.
The first quarter of the year was surprisingly the climax of 2014. Thankfully it only got better, with just little bumps here and there. After months of planning, TheMusers finally pulled off an explosive book meet. The idea of the book meet came to me where other great ideas come from; the toilet seat. I remember announcing to my book club members that we were going to organize a book meet, and they were just looking at me like I was crazy. The success of the book meet honestly made me understand what people say about dreaming and believing it would come to pass; in my case it did come to pass. We kept getting the “nobody likes book, they wouldn’t show up” comments, eventually we didn’t even have seats for half of the people that showed up. The icing on the cake was definitely Lola Shoneyin and Kaine Agary’s presence, I almost fainted. The Musers are really amazing people, I really couldn’t have done it without them. Emmanuel Ohiri my co-founder, Lanre my utmost bae, Kenny my boo, Bobs (Bobola) of life, Kelechi, Tomiwa, Isoken, Olamide, Dami, Tolu, Afuye, and Donald.
My year sort of quietened from then, final year does that to you. A little depression here and there, but seeing as God always has my back anytime any day, bouncing back wasn’t hard. My birthday was one of my best days in 2014 too. Clocking 21 wasn’t as horrible as I had heard it was, I mean with six cakes and a surprise party, I could really live with being 21 forever. I am forever thankful for the amazing friends God planted in my life from the first day I stepped into Unilag; Teni, Simi, Isoken and Sola. These people make me feel like a leech sometimes, always there for me, even when I don’t ask and it’s not like I have anything to offer in return. Every day I try to understand why they are still friends with me, I haven’t found an answer. I love those guys. I really do.
Being a part of the TedxUnilag team was also a highlight of my year. The members of the team are wonderful people.
TheOluwaTosin; Met this weirdly amazing guy at my book meet, and next thing he was coming at me with this huge project. Thank you Tosin, for making me see myself through your eyes. Never had I dreamt that anyone ever thought such nice things about me. Tosin’s belief in me scares me, but I am still just a baby girl and he doesn’t think so.
Deaduramilade; Gosh this babe makes me want to do more every time. I still don’t believe claims about her age. I swear its football age she’s giving all of us. I see you doing all sorts of superhumanly amazing things my dear Lade. Just keep pushing.
Uche Ani; after stealing the show at my book meet, I knew we were still going to meet again at some point. This babe’s intelligence freaks me out. I’m so glad God found you this year. Can’t wait for the amazing things He’s going to do through you. Really the TedxUnilag team is made up of amazing people.
People were really nice to me this year. Like I had become so used to being the nice one that I didn’t even remember what it felt like to be the one receiving love (Asa’s “How did Love find me” is my jam, really.) Thank you Lanre Ekemode for really caring about me, Sola Akintunde, my darling baby Faith (who refused to let go of me even though I was a horrible mother), Afuye, Bobola, Kenny, Damola and Wura, y’all shaped my 2014. My family members too, my brother Kayode for consistently caring for me and knowing just what to do to get on my nerves.
My relationship status didn’t even shift by an inch this year. At least I had (and I’m still having) the longest crush of my life. Six months of crushing is no small deal for me, with my crush period averaging two weeks per annum, this is huge for me. I’m just glad this proves I’m human..lol.
2014 is almost over. I am ashamed that even though I am now a student at the Nigerian Law School, I still have absolutely no idea what I want to be in future. I really hoped to discover that this year. I have however decided to take life has it comes, and be open to all options, including toilet cleaning services (you’d be shocked at how lucrative it is). Here is hoping I figure out my life next year. I’m excited about 2015, can’t wait to dive in already. Going in on the year with God leading me and all I can think is “let’s do this!!”
Thank you Adesewa for sharing, we wish you a more productive time next year, keep on pushing.
So in preparation for the muser’s Book Meet which you can get more information about by clicking here #TheDarkSkinProblem, Vunderkind and I decided to goof around. You probably shouldn’t read this if you’re having a good day and don’t want it ruined but what the hell, I’m pretty sure you’ve read far more disgusting blogs.
So this is how it all started.
Paetir: Yo We have a meeting with destiny.
Vunderkind: _O_ I like that Babe Destiny.
Paetir: Just thought that’d be a cool thing to say, I’m about to have dinner by the way; Pounded yam and egusi, Gimme a few minutes sensei.
Vunderkind: LMAOOOOOO. Bloody show-off! I’m having the next best thing, plantain with no back up. No rice. No beans. No stew. Just lone, glorious plantain.
Paetir: Loool, Chill, I’m coming
Paetir: Yeah, Destiny tinz
After I was done with my food.
Paetir: FAM I’m done, How the dodo? Make brain abi?
Vunderkind: LMAO, Please don’t be a show-off. Let’s talk bidness.
Paetir: Okay bidness, Open the floor. Say hey Paetir after ‘* *’
Paetir: * *
Vunderkind: Hey Paetir, *adjusts bra*
Paetir: Lol faggot.
Vunderkind: How you doing my man?
Paetir: Nevermind that I just had pounded yam and egusi and you didn’t.
Vunderkind: It’s all good. God compensated me with a girlfriend.
Paetir: She light skinned?
Vunderkind: LMAOOOOO. The girl I’m dating in my dreams, yes. Actual girl, neh :(. Which is why I don’t @ her on Twitter (._. )
Paetir: Lol Eeyah, God will provide. So we here today to talk about the darkskin problem.
Vunderkind: This Discussion is proudly Sponsored by Dencia and Whitenicious
Paetir: We outchea peepz, So seeing as I’m an intellectual somebody I figure there are two words of interest in our topic ‘Dark skin’, ‘Problem’
Vunderkind: Aha. Oh. Isn’t that thre…..
Paetir: Leave it yeah? What is a dark skin?
Vunderkind: I thought it was Da and Rk.
Paetir: Sir vundie?
Vunderkind: Silly me 😦
Paetir: Eeyah Brain too, God will provide along with gehlfren
Vunderkind: Well to quote a revered manuscript from back when philosophers spent their time asking “what is life?” in the day time and corrupting the youths in the night, “a dark skin is a sad manifestation.
Paetir: Sad manifestation?
Vunderkind: Er. Mistake.
Paetir: Ha vundie just subbed the dark part of Africa. Damn political correctness
Vunderkind: To quote the Encyclopedia Britannica…a dark skin, to the untrained eye, might look like an overload of melanin pigmentation on the sufferer (where sufferer is used in the same tone as you would, say, someone dying from cancer) but a darkskin transcends dermal colorations to connote deeply troubling social, economic, spiritual and psychological depth.
Paetir: Jesusssssss Professor vundie HAS SCATTERED THE FLOOR
Vunderkind: Let us pack the floor together back before landlord return. Rent is difficult as it is.
Paetir: But wait.
Vunderkind: When you are born dark-skinned, you’re technically the last person in a line-up for a 400m race. Only you’re not even on the line-up. You’re stil at home, in your tracksuit and the race has begun.
Paetir: Are you not dark skinned?
Vunderkind: It is not I who is dark-skinned, but Christ shines through me, making me light-skinned. Amen somebody?
Paetir: Amen but I don’t know for all these girls looking for bleaching cream everywhere
Vunderkind: The bible says “GOD IS LIGHT, AND IN HIM THERE IS NO DARKNESS AT ALL!” Even the bible subbed the darkskins.
Paetir: More evidence. So the search for bleaching cream is the beginning of wisdom?
Paetir: Are you saying that light skins are nearer to God than dark skins?
Vunderkind: Depends on who we have at the front of the bleaching product.
You should probably skip this..
Vunderkind: No person in his/her right mind should buy a bleaching product with Rachel Oniga in front of it.You know Rachel Oniga? Yes. Flee creams advertising her skin tone.
Paetir: She’s a bad example sha, light skinned hands, dark skin legs, latina coloured torso. Don’t ask how I know that.
Vunderkind: LMAOOOO of course you shouldn’t be asking a yoruba actress who her cosmetologist is if you’re serious about making it in life.
Paetir: Plus some wise sage who lives on some mountain in Tibet once said and I quote – ‘No matter how you bleach rish, toetoe no dey shange color’
Vunderkind: Paetir, I see you’ve been rolling in the deep
Vunderkind: *adjusts glasses*
Paetir: No Adele bro. Get it? Rolling in the deep no Adele? God I‘m a genius.
Vunderkind: I wonder why you don’t feature in scholarly articles more often, tbvh. It’s because you’re yoruba.
Paetir: Guy my genius is misunderstood
Vunderkind: And dark-skinned.
Paetir: 😦 And yes h factor
Vunderkind: In the words of the great Oritsefemi, paraphrasing the great philosopher Fela, “double wahala.”
Paetir: This is what my Yoruba pastors call – double gbosa
Vunderkind: Hof course hit his mishundastud.
Paetir: Like FAM its art whrenching
Vunderkind: My hosofagos cannot take hit henimor. Hai Kent brett
You can continue now..
Paetir: Now let’s talk about why Africans seem have inferiority complex.
Vunderkind: Lol they ‘You’ve gone to sell kidney for Malaysian citizenship’ abi?
Paetir: Are we backward because of our dark skin or are we dark skin because of our backwardness?
Vunderkind: LMAO This is a deep philosophical question. Almost as deep as Did the Chicken Orgasm Before the Egg or The Egg Before the Chicken.
Vunderkind: The question lies deep within the layers of Michael Jackson.
Vunderkind: Yes. He will make good study material. Was The Great Moonwalker Backward while he was dark-skinned? How did he perform when he became…translucent (for want of a better word)?
Paetir: He was a freaking superhuman. Two different races in one lifetime.
Vunderkind: He did the moonwalk, which is technically backward, in both state of racial/dermal registration. No further comment
You’re probably wondering what the hell is going on here but don’t worry it gets better…
Paetir: So let’s move on, Why do dark skins always jealous light skins?
Vunderkind: The smartest guy in my class was light-skinned.
Paetir: Lol you lie. We all know that’s a lie. You can’t be light skin and have sense.
Vunderkind: Lmaoooo why are you subtly bringing Tonto Dikeh into this? That’s one light-skin with dark-skinned senses. Sorta like TI.
Paetir: Plz behv yourself. Who iz bringing that one into diz?
Vunderkind: LOL. I read somewhere that dark-skinned man (Africans) make houses for themselves that have no structural complexity divergent from that of a cane rat.I cried Lupitishly.
Paetir: You mean like this?
Vunderkind: They said any cultural, technological and for that matter, cultural ascension we’ve made in the last century is owed to the light-skins (whitefolk) #TearsForMamaAfrica. But, like you asked, deep question.
Paetir: Lmaoooo So black is stupid? Is this what you sayeeen?
Vunderkind: I didn’t say it. They did. But I disagree with ‘em.
Paetir: Civilization did start in Africa though. But the Egyptians are light skinned so wrong turn…
Vunderkind: Bruh. Dead end:(
Paetir: But wait, while Alexander the great was conquering nations, what were your forefathers Chukwudi and Adebayo doing?
Vunderkind: Bruh. My ancestors were praying to a creatively-designed rock for rain. What is it about being darkskinned(female) that makes you want to make a blood-red weave, wear a yellow top and purple leggings and green shoes, top it with orange lipstick, upload to Twitter and trend for the wrong reason. Why are black people, by default, so wrong? 😦 and light-skins so awesome?
Ok now I promise we’re done.
Paetir: No idea. Remember #Bisitwerks? She was light skinned and skinny while her roommates were polar opposites, dark skinned and fat and we all faked surprise when the video ended up on YouTube. See what I’m saying? Jealousy
Vunderkind: I stil have the video. For…cold nights.
Paetir: Of course you do. Lord wankadoodledo
Vunderkind: Dark-skins are jealous of light-skins, not because of the direct beneft of the skin tone, but because folks like you only ever ask light-skins”bebi gimme ur PIN. Also, if a light-skin curves, y’all retweet like hell. If a dark-skin curves…LMAOOOOO!!!!! no, but wait – doesn’t a dark-skinned person have to be approached before she can curve?
Paetir: Social dilemma. The society praises light skins but shoots down darkies. Its sad
Vunderkind: “Society.” LoL Because you absolutely ADORE darkies.
Paetir: All my girlfriends have been darkies. Honest
Vunderkind: Your palms are dark. Of course. You had me confused for a bit there. Talmabout “all my girlfriends”
Paetir: Lol wait….I’ve never…..Moving on
Vunderkind: LOOOL. Next question?
Paetir: You’ve hurt me, I shall go cry now.
LOL So sorry you had to endure that, if you read this to the end, I just want to let you know you deserve a lollipop. So y’all really have to be at the musers book meet come 24th of may, it promises to be something you’ve never seen before. If you need more information on this event #clickhere.
To reserve seats, send your name and contact information to email@example.com. Thank you for your time and see you there saturday.
Valentine/ ACS Culture Vault 2013
Sings: *Lost without you, Can’t help myself. How does it feel to know that I love you baby *
But What Is Love? Ladies & Gentlemen You Do Not Answer Me?
WHAT IS LOVE?
When I asked myself this question my thoughts ran amiss.
So I decided to ask around, did a little survey…and it’s only opinions
So feel free…disagree with what they say.
PARTICIPANT 1 said: LOVE IS LIMITLESS
Now Ladies, I do not mean Bradley Cooper from the movie,
But I’m sure we could all learn to love his deep-set blue eyes limitless…if life was a movie.
I believe what participant 1 meant was that:
Love is a phenomenon that is persistently permeating the perimeter of its participants like a circle.
I believe what participant 1 meant was that:
When you are in love with someone, time strolls briskly by. Oxymoron,
Because you’re ecstatic in every moment & time flies before you know it.
And in her own words : “One cannot fall out of love”.
PARTICIPANT 2 said: LOVE IS RESPECT
Sings: *R-E-S-P-E-C-T . Find Out What It Means To Me*
I will listen, because I respect you.
I will not cheat, because I respect you.
I will let you lead , because I respect you.
I will pray everyday for your success,
Because…I respect you.
PARTICIPANT 3 said: LOVE IS TRUST
Now we’re all familiar with this one
Trust Issues. The infamous sing-song.
But. Nah, I ain’t even talking about that female dog that drop your man a text at dawn.
I trust that that when I fall back, you’ll be there to catch me.
I trust that we don’t need a label, because its just you and me.
I trust that you would never intentionally hurt me,
I trust that when you do,
You will do right and apologise to me.
PARTICIPANT 4 said : LOVE IS TOGETHERNESS
Now I do not believe that togetherness necessarily refers to a physical presence.
I mean we all love to sway in our lovers’ arms,
On Summer’s eve on that old rocking chair with the crooked arms.
But…how do you fare
When your love is not near?
Is the current in your love circle constantly flowing like in participant 1’s circle?
Or is distance your fuse?
Your low. Resistance. Resistor.
That goes *poof* when you can no more inhale your lovers scent?
And you can’t even Skype.
Time difference. One’s all hype when one’s spent.
Sings: *Wherever I go, Wherever you are Baby Baby you’re never far away You’re always on my mind*
Love is when you’ve always got them on your mind,
And you wanna tell your friends that joke they said that one time
But no one else gets it, so never mind.
See, I do not believe that Love is Blind
Although, it may have selective amnesia.
Keep the good ‘days of our lives’ together on ‘baywatch’
Forget the ‘criminal minds‘ from ‘home and away‘ that put together that first ‘monster date‘.
And when you love your lover, ensure that you love them in the way that they love to be loved.
You see, love is hard.
So if you want something easy,
Tell the world, “I am in Strong Like”. Not “I am in Love”
Respect, Forgiveness, Trust, Togetherness…there is no ‘1’ definition of love.
But I assure you,
Love? Love is a Choice.
*Disclaimer: All images courtesy of Google.
POETRY/ SPOKEN WORD
Every Other Week or so, I wait for a pinch
Because My Thoughts get too grave by about an inch
So, as usual I’m looking for the easy way out
Waiting for a “My friend, wake up we’re going out”
Many times I can’t believe how my life’s played out
Whether I was completely there, these last 4 years, I doubt
Don’t get me wrong though, I’m still young
Younger than you’d think with my feigned smile,carriage or dressing out on the run
But I’m feeble, fearful and flawed inside
I need someone to talk to
But I’m too ashamed, too soiled, I can’t bring myself to
So, I reduced the make up, maybe it’ll help others see me better inside
The people I pity the most are family, you know
The only ones that really love me; or the ones that love me the most
And I can’t confess to them because they’d warned me “Guard your heart jealously”
No one REALLY knows me,not even me; so my closest friends don’t know the whole story
The feelings of guilt have gotten harder to sweep aside.
I’ll have to find something good to have beside
I am too young to be engulfed by such pain within
If anyone can, please help. I’m A Caged Bird Singing.
Caged Bird by Oyindamola Johnson (inspired by Maya Angelou)
I am a prisoner of circumstance, a prisoner to life and I kept hoping that any moment he would open up the door to allow me my freedom. Escape isn’t an option and even if by some freaky stroke of fate I see a way out, I still wouldn’t be able to save myself for I am too weak to fight. I feel so cheated, deprived and unloved, I feel like a thief, a robber of happiness that has stolen from my parents again and again or so I have been accused. I can hear the rustling of the leaves outside as the cool evening breeze caressed it and the echoes of the other kids call as they fell into the rhythm of our nightly games and disturbing memories threatened my sanity. With nothing to do other than to stare hopelessly at the thatched roof of a room I soon began to associate with as my prison, memories of the good times flashed by in quick succession like it was but a blur in the distance, only to be replaced by memories of the mental and psychological abuse suffered, tortures and cruelty meted on me and the very fiber of my existence shook as I wailed in torment, like a broken soul.
Tonight I must lead the village of Nsukwu to where I have hidden it, for my crimes and the suffering of my parents must end. Desperately I listen to hear of my missionary teacher’s return, the “Onye ocha”, the only person that stood by me even when my family and village forsook me. But he was a tardy too late because I can now hear the sound of approaching feet and whispers as the time for my reckoning arrived. And my broken soul yearned for solace as I saw the inevitability and hopelessness of my situation.
I still remember the day it all started with so much clarity and intensity that it brought tears to my inner eyes. It was in the rainy season of the year after the missionary had come into our village, Nna had come home angry after he had consulted with the oracles about my constant illness. It was revealed to him that I was an “Ogbanje”, an evil spirit who has been bringing pain to them by tormenting and dragging them through the rigorous rituals of childbirth, only to leave them shattered and heart broken by dying. The oracle claimed that my mission was to rob them of all their happiness by dying, watching them mourn and then coming back when the scars have almost healed to give them hope only to shatter it again.
Is it my fault that three others of the same gender and likeness have died before me? Is it my fault that we all were afflicted by the same mysterious illness that eventually took their life and would eventually claim mine? Was it my fault that I was never as strong as my peers and even now lay sick and weak on my bed? All these I asked myself as I was being carried away to the dibia’s shrine where I would hence forth remain till I revealed the whereabouts of my “Iyi-Uwa”, or the rites of “Ibe-Ugwu” would be performed on me because it was sometimes thought to get rid of the “Ogbanje” too.
All these accusations I could have lived with if my sweet and loving Nne hadn’t shied away from my touch when I cried out and tried to reach for her as they carried me away. That singular action from her brought down all the bitter tears I had struggled to hold back because I could accept Nna deserting me to the verdicts of the gods but not Nne. That sweet loving woman who stayed up and sang to me in my worst nights, Nne that cried with me when the pains of my illness had become nearly unbearable for me, the same Nne who carried and bathed me when the rigors of my illness had ravaged my body had looked the other way like I was an “Osu” and that singular act of betrayal burnt so deep in my innocent soul that it left it forever scarred.
I could understand my Nna and Nne trying to find answers to their problems, but why blame me an innocent child for a misfortune that was not just theirs but also mine? Aren’t they emphatic to my plight? Don’t they know that I go through the most heinous of pains and suffering during my bouts with this mysterious illness? Or do they think I would want to put myself through that kind of pain and suffering just to make them suffer? Where is the sense in that? The gods should answer me please. Are the gods really watching over us? Are they seeing my predicaments? Is their no justice in this cold world? Are the gods responsible for this? Or are the gods laughing at me now as they break “Oji” over my sufferings? All these I bitterly asked myself as they battered me with incantations and forcefully made me drink different herbal concoctions just to reveal where my “Iyi-Uwa” was buried.
I was told an “Iyi-Uwa” was an object that bound my spirit to this world and caused me to return to my Nne after I have died. The dibia also revealed that the oracle has shown him that my “Iyi-Uwa” was a piece of coloured stone and I must show them where I have hidden it, so that they can destroy it and thereby put my evil spirit to rest. So I was faced with either showing them my “Iyu-Uwa” or face the excruciating pains of the “Ibe-Ugwu” rites [circumcision].
I am merely a blossoming fourteen year old girl who had dreams of becoming a teacher in the missionary school someday, but I have already experienced eight years worth of pain and suffering. At one fell swoop I had lost the affection of both my parents and my friends to the verdict of the gods and nobody in the village cared less. Even my childhood friend Iheoma abandoned me to my fate, but still the memories of Iheoma and times we spent which now felt like a figment of my imagination almost brought a smile to my face. Iheoma and her penchant for mischief, Iheoma and that twinkle in her eyes when she was up to no good, The fun we had together on the days my illness loosened its grip on me, the times we spent in the forest day dreaming when we were supposed to be at the stream, the days we helped Nne fry garri, our quarrels and our love. All those cherish-able memories marred by the injustice meted on me.
I remember the day I was too ill to participate, let alone attend the dance festival of my age group in the village. I remembered the pain I felt knowing that Iheoma and my peers would be out there jiggling and shaking their small rotund buttocks while I lay on my bed hapless and helpless. I cried my soul out that day like I am doing now, as I am being led out to find my “Iyi-Uwa”. The only difference is that today the gods are crying along with me and as the intensity of my tears increases so did the out pour of the rain outside. It was like the celestial bodies were mourning the iniquities of my life with me.
The search is about to begin and I am surrounded by a handful of the villagers but I am surprisingly filled with renewed vigour because of the sacrifice I have decided to make today. Deep down I know I won’t survive the night for I most surely would die from the long trek into the forest, but I would rather die than face the painful rites of “Ibe-Ugwu”. I go light hearted and with hope because of the promise my missionary teacher made to me. He was the only one who vehemently fought for my release, he was the only one who came to visit me throughout the two weeks I spent in the dibia’s shrine and he was the reason I agreed to take them on this wild goose chase for if I hadn’t, he would surely have been harmed for interfering. His explanations that my Nna and Nne were the reasons for their predicaments fell on deaf ears, he tried to explain that there was something in both their genes that made them incompatible and therefore led to them birthing sick children but that only further infuriated Nna and the elders for they were willing to use the gods to blame an innocent child for nothing she knew about rather than accept the blame.
I remember his last words as he left my side;
“Anyuli I will do everything in my power to help you because I know that this isn’t your doing. I leave you now not because I want to abandon you but because I want to gather help and save you from this hell, and with the support of the mission I will forever put an end to this abomination. Wish me God’s speed and wait for my return,”
Tonight I pay the ultimate sacrifice for others like me out there so remember my names, “Anwuli” which I was named because I was supposed to bring happiness along with me, that same happiness I have been accused of robbing off my Nna and Nne. “Okwukwe” which I was named for I had brought hope to my parents, the hope they have lost in me and that I am now giving to others like me out there, and “Ifunaya” which I was named because of the love I had brought along with me into this world, the same love I have lost from everyone and now showing to you all by sacrificing myself. Please weep for me, please remember me.
- Nne- Mother
- Nna- Father
- Dibia- Witch doctor’
- Osu- Outcast
- Ogbanje- An evil spirit that deliberately plagues a family with misfortune
- Iyi-Uwa- an object that binds an Ogbanje to this world and caused them to return after they have died
- Onye Ocha- White man
- Oji – Kola nut
- Ibe-Ugwu – Female Circumcision
BLACK HISTORY MONTH
Poem/SpokenWord -Do You Know Me
We’re in the UK
& That Weather Shii Cray
So I’ve slipped a couple times today
But that’s ok
I…*laughs*…I got you
Weather is not the subject today.
Let’s focus on less sunny issues.
Do you know what it means to be Chinese
Walk alone and you won’t feel at ease
Never get a mere ‘Ní hâo’ except when they need help with Math
I study art & music but no one bothered to ask
*scoff* How stereotypical I say in my mind
But deep down I don’t really mind
So I go ahead & help anyway
I’m ecstatic for the little interaction any day
Even though… its momentary
& friendship is..well..a phenomenon that tarry
I am more things than my language or appearance
Do you know me? I am my likes, dislikes. I love culture
Do you understand what it means to be black
Thrown in a box & be thought to lack
Awareness, Intelligence, Leadership, Citizenship
Looked upon as a bad egg, as a black sheep, literally
Only relevant when they need to run a mile or move something heavy
Treated like the same with the other billion of black people
It makes no sense, what on earth is wrong with people
I have never been to jail, I am more than my body, my hair or skin colour
Do you know me? I am my hopes and insecurities. I love culture
Have you got it right, what it means to be white
Do you think I am fickle, feeble minded
That I am artificial and perhaps suicidal
That I spend all my time on a tanning bed, with a drink in my hand or
That My legs are constantly spread.
That I practice subtle bigotry, close-mindedness or that I am greedy
Do you know me? I am my personality, pet peeves. I love culture.
If you do not know me; do not judge me.
I am not what you heard on the news. I am me.
I am not suggesting that give me one look and you fall in love
But I do pray thee, ‘walk in love’
Show respect & I will give respect to whom it is due
We are the same in that we are different.
Make the the most of the mosaic that you’re mostly mingled within.
In other words, be like me and love culture.
Ms Johnson will be gracing this blog for sometime, you can read more of her work here .
Hello mortals, midgets, short people, the vertically challenged and all other life forms existent on earth and beyond. Just in case they have internet in space, ‘beyond’ is supposed to cater for needs of life forms that may not necessarily come from my home planet, but are not of this world, #yougewatImean? Amean you just gatto gewarramean. You dig? Homie? I’m sorry, I apologize for all you just read, I’ve been listening to Limpopo a little too much.
We did it people, we blogged for 30 days straight. I don’t even know how I feel about this (Side Note: ‘We’ = everybody that has contributed to redor since inception and up to this point).To say the truth, as at the day I wrote Promethium, I didn’t have up to half of the posts ready, I didn’t know how it was all going to turn out, all I knew was that I was going to have a blog post up every day for the next 30 days. How I did it was relegated to the background of my mind, I just had to make sure I did. Having that singular goal in mind helped in more ways than one.
There were a lot hiccups on the way here. I had to disturb a lot of people and I’m just thankful a lot of them came through, some I met in person (you know yourselves) others I haven’t even met in person. You know what amazes me about this whole blog business? A lot of people that appear on my blog have never seen my face, they cannot pick me out on the street and yet they agreed to write. You might not see the big deal here but I do. I guess it’s the only sort of miracle that can happen over the internet.
There was a lot of help along the way, there were times I couldn’t blog for whatever reason and some of my very good friends pitched in to help. It pays to have friends you can message in the wee hours of the morning, friends even willing to download the wordpress app just so they can help. It might all seem trivial but I am grateful beyond reason. To everybody that clicked on our links and followed the series from cradle to grave, I don’t even know what to say to you, but a big THANK YOU. You all helped this little sicko’s dream come true. I’m in tears fam, really I’m crying.
I could never forget everyone that featured on this challenge even if I wanted to. Thanks to all the Supermen and women that saw it fit to honor my invitation to write for redor’s 30 day Blog challenge. I owe you all and a lot too. Just look at how much I owe you guys.
What is redor?
Redor is a freak experiment really. There are a lot of blogs out there, some I admire a lot, they give me a threshold, like nigga this is the minimum level you must strive to attain. During the series, I heard complaints about some of the posts on here and to me it was funny. Why? Cos if you read the first post on this blog #here you would understand why. You see, I am more for the art than the message. The art in terms of skill and this whole writing thing, and the message in terms of content. Although sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference when the art really is the message. My point is as long as anything that appears on here passes across a message, I’m good. I don’t even have to agree with the posts (yeah I said it), and you don’t have to also. As long as it serves a purpose, be it humor, some deep poetry, might even be lewd, just assume I see some hidden meaning in it even if it isn’t that obvious.
Redor is a tool for young people such as myself to express themselves. Yes, the mistakes will come, we cannot always get it right and the truth is we will not always get it right, but it is important that you know you have a voice. Yes some pessimist somewhere might come across your work and call all of it shit, happens to the best of writers, the important thing is to learn from our errors and of course some people just want to put you down, learning to ignore these people is vital to growth. Like I always say, when I get criticized, I pick the relevant corrections and ignore the rest, it’s that simple really. Learn to express yourself, this is why I created redor, anybody and I repeat anybody can send me something (OF VALUE), no matter how badly written and I promise that if I see the message in it, I will put it up. I will crosscheck 20 times over if I have to and of course get help if it’s all beyond me. In recent times, you won’t believe how many times I proof read some posts before I blog them (PLEASE WE NEED PROOF READERS ON HERE) and some still end up with typos and mistakes.
The important thing is remember that your words can carry meaning: you don’t have to be a Shakespeare or Ted Dekker to appear on here. I don’t care about all that. The internet is no man’s land: you can do a whole lot more than you think with it. There are no limits to what a determined mind can achieve. So if you have anything of value, mention me on twitter or facebook and we’ll get to talking. If you are interested in becoming one of the contributors on here, hit me up with some of your work.
Happy Workers day.
Disclaimer: Not human. All images are courtesy of Google.
Symbol – Zn
Atomic weight – 65.39
Ionization energy – 9.3942eV
Chemist – @dollstreasure
I always remember this story with a smile.
That Monday afternoon, I stayed behind for ‘Calabar lectures’ alongside Mandy and Beluchi after everybody had gone back to the dormitory to hurry up their activities in preparation for afternoon prep. Before us was a huge pot of eba and steaming egusi soup (yes, it was the next big thing after jollof rice). My heart sang with joy, I never had the time to savor lunch because we had to go prepare and look fresh for afternoon prep. That’s what I’d have been doing if I wasn’t here in this old dining hall devouring eba and egusi with my cunning friends. I would have been standing in front of Girls dorm’s locked gates pleading with the ‘Baba Duros’.
“Baba, please I can’t stay for afternoon food, I’m a Muslim.” – Works only during Ramadan.
The new idiots from Niger (I don’t even know what people from Niger are called) with their ugly brown dentition were brought a couple of months back because they looked fierce and could supposedly catch ‘Blackman’. In their thick accent they would say,
“Recite Suratul Fathia.”
I would gladly recite and enter the hostel like a hero alongside the other Muslim students.
Other pleas included,
“Excuse me, sir. I’m stained.”
“Excuse me sir, I’m really pressed.”
“I’m not feeling fine. I have medical report.”
The looks of desperation had to be there. The oldest and the most disgusting ‘Baba Duro’ was ‘Labcoat’ (because of the dirty white coat he always wore). Word went round that he was a ‘jazzman’ (another story for some other time). He’d then go ahead and say, “Unless you say Please, Baba, my good, handsome and faithful husband.”
That was very repulsive. Some girls didn’t mind though, they would go ahead to say what the guy wanted just so they could enter the dormitory. What did we do in the dormitory? We had about 30mins to wash our school uniforms (or give juniors to wash if you’re a senior, normal thing), stand in line to get water, get the water, have your bath, gather books, dress up for afternoon prep and oh remember to put powder on your neck so that boys would think you’re neat or you had your bath.
I was ‘stabbing’ at present and enjoying it. Mandy and Beluchi however were professionals in this kind of shady business. They stabbed afternoon prep especially on Mondays. On getting to the dorm, I did everything at my own pace. Uche, my area partner asked if I was going to class and with a superior smile, I said no.
Gradually, the number of people in the dormitory reduced until it was just me, my professional accomplices and some a few others in separate parts of my dormitory. So I went to Mandy’s corner, she and Beluchi had bread and sardine set in front of them.
“Oya come and eat o.”
“You guys are just enjoying. Are you sure those soldiers won’t come and check?”
“Na wa o. Dolapo, calm down na. This is not our first time. Plus don’t kobalize us abeg.”
But I thought to myself, this is my first time and I ‘mara’ a lot for cane. They never get caught, so I wouldn’t. Mandy even used to stab night prep and iron her uniform with the school’s back-up generator, her skirt was blue instead of green. She was the queen of contraband.
We had spent like 20 minutes of our free time eating bread and sardine and chattering away until we heard people scurrying from Octopus house followed by the heavy footsteps we dreaded, the soldiers. They were around.
Without thinking, Mandy shoved us into the nearest wardrobe and covered us with the clothes hanging on the rack. She proceeded to cover herself with a wrapper and began her act. Beluchi and I crouched in the small wardrobe holding our breaths and keeping mute, making no sound.
“What is wrong with you?” A brusque voice said. It was ‘Baby soldier’
“I’m not feeling fine.” Mandy responded in a shaky voice.
“Why didn’t you go to the MIRoom? My friend you are not sick. Stand up and wear your daywear. You are going to guardroom. Baggar!”
Yes, if you didn’t vomit, you weren’t just sick enough.
We felt sorry for Mandy but we knew she’d take care of herself. The soldier came so close to our hiding place, we could even see his heavy brown shoes. That was when we really held our breath. He left however and walked to the other side of the dormitory and we heard him leave. At that point, we let out our breath in a whoosh. We had made it.
Beluchi and I were still trying to decide whether to leave the cupboard or stay in for a while when suddenly, the hanging clothes which shielded us were moved gently, staring at us with narrow yellow eyes was Isiaka, the disgusting Niger security dude. He called out to Hamidu, another security man and that one hurried towards us with glee. We were still in our underwear and they were ogling at Beluchi (There was nothing to ogle at on my body, haha you should see me now.)
“Go wear daywear. Una dey follow us go meet the remaining people.”
I was so angry, I wished my anger would make me a superhero and then I could kill them both. I dreaded the events that were about to ensue. So we silently put on our ‘daywear’, each of us plotting a way of escape.
‘To your tents O ye Israel!’
We were led to the gates and then rounded up with other students. By the time we all got to the dormitory gates, near the Baba Duro post, Beluchi had disappeared. I was on my own. I had to make plans to escape. The penalty was being flogged in public and the guardroom. Dreadful, dreadful, dreadful!
We all got on our knees, a light bulb loomed over my head and next thing I was kneeling, bent over, clutching my belly and ‘vomiting’ blood.
The soldier looked unfazed.
The tears began to flow.
In my tiny, tear-influenced voice, I said, “I did an operation sir and when the crisis starts, I vomit blood. That’s why I stabbed prep.” I vomited another again.
A flicker of pity flashed across his hairless face and then brusquely, he said,
Those words were my liberation from koboko mayhem that day. Many people know all about koboko business. That shii aint fun.
Don’t you just miss boarding house?
Calabar lectures – Extra food after every student has eaten.
Baba Duro – The security men at the girls’ dormitory.
Blackman – The mysterious naked thief who attacked the girls’ dorm at will. Almost every boarding school has this, right?
Mara – Unable to tolerate cane/koboko hence you ‘display’ and maybe cry.
MIRoom – School clinic.
Guardroom – Student prison.
Symbol – Cu
Atomic weight – 63.546
Ionization energy – 7.7264eV
Chemist – @Volturi_Lord
Code name please….
I leaned towards the cute girl, modulated my voice down a notch and replied her in my tested and trusted bedroom voice:
She raised an impeccable groomed eyebrow and managed to look unimpressed while still smiling politely.
Now both perfectly arched eyebrows were up and a tiny crease was beginning to appear in what I imagine was a botox enhanced forehead.
“Password please” she repeated….
“Oh sorry, illuminati was last month’s…..Ogboni!”
“Yea, the password’s Ogboni!”
The raised eyebrows immediately dropped, creased forehead went back to its obscenely smooth paradigm and the polite smile was back on her face as if copy pasted at the end of a wizard’s wand.
“Welcome to the Invictus corporation TBH, please go straight down the hallway”
Being an immortal god and been around for more than a couple of centuries would do that to a man, I’ve been in slightly different versions of this scenario over the last couple of a hundred years that I was almost on auto pilot. But this place was different. It wasn’t the dark sinister looking cave-like nest of festering evil we always expect from these take-over-the-world types. It was airy and cheery with a slight hint of cinnamon in the air……could they be baking cookies?
After months of undercover work and cunning slithering through the ranks, I was finally invited to the holies of holy, into the organ in the organization. I finally had a chance to know the unusual mind behind this unusual sublime entity called Invictus.
The fact that I was here alone was unfair, and the fact that I had being relegated to hunting minor offenders for frivolous misdemeanors while other gods, white gods in fact were out there doing awesome shii while I was used as a gofer was maddening. Avengers my ass!! If this wasn’t racism then the Nazi’s hadn’t killed 6 million jews……well actually they hadn’t killed six 6 million jews, more in the range of 11 mil. But who could account for humans and their mastery of the art of covering shii up? I just stick to my job and occasionally set some annoying earthlings on fire when I “accidentally” belch fire.
Over the years, I’ve had several code names for my clandestine operations, but just 2 had stuck. The first “the bawdy paet” was in the words of the urban Nigerian youths of today “casted” seeing as I had over centuries sent a lot of demons to Hades domain using that alias. So now I just go by The Blue Paet.
But of course I digress. Today’s mission is supposed to be a simple; get in, get the identity of the Head-nigga-in-charge as he likes to be referred to, get out, email a report to my supervisor, get home to my couch, a chilled can of my favorite brew and ESPN.
ESPN….human’s greatest invention! One couldn’t explain…..
Again I digress, I was now in front of a gold plated elevator and the red tinged motif on it almost had me laughing out loud. Who would have thought this possible? That I Sango, the once feared and revered god of thunder, lightning and all things loud and scary would be reduced to hunting down minor demons with drawings of a “cartooned” god on their elevator door. Who would have thought that I would be shutting down some of the few people who still actually remember that I exist?
Still chuckling I entered the elevator and pushed the single button available to be pushed. Sometimes I wonder if these evil-genius-maniac types took courses on how to be dramatic cause apparently they sha excelled at it.
The elevator opened into a corridor featuring a huge poster;
” 3,155,414,400 Seconds
We give you as many of this as you want.”
I felt a tug of excitement and forced myself to calm down. Now, This. Was. Very. Interesting.
I think a little education would do a lot of good here. You see, in the 1400th century, Lord Banks and some of his minions had escaped purgatory with approximately 17 liters of primordial ooze, which they had immediately and with high enthusiasm embarked on introducing into the drinking water supply of major cities the world over. Thus the Bubonic plague and the 25 million Europeans black death episode.
History had again repeated itself when the never-captured Lord Banks had again reappeared in the 19th century. This time toting an entire knapsack of meta-physically enhanced cholera pathogen that he was in the process of applying to the Asian and African continents (thankfully sparing) when he had being nabbed, hanged, drawn, quartered and had his remains scattered to the far ends of the world by our predecessors.
So when I stepped into the corridor and closely examined what had drawn my attention, I wasn’t only excited, I could feel a chill run up my spine. The Decal at the left upper corner of the poster was exactly like the one we had studied during one of the many mini-courses they made us take at one time or another. This one had stuck with me for a simple reason. The face on it was ugly as hell and it kinda reminded my of my ex-girlfriend ‘Olokun’. All gnarly and scaly.
It’s been quite a while I felt fear, so when I caught myself hesitating to take the long walk down the corridor to the huge double doors; I was startled and a little bit gratified. Fear was healthy. Fear was the difference between an immortal ‘godling’ and burnt immortal toast. Fear was exciting……. and if the thought has even crossed your mind that a god shouldn’t be scared of anything, then you obviously have no idea how fearsome, awesome and inherently scary the array of entities, beings, demons and incomprehensible things out there are. What was I expecting sef? You know absolutely nothing.
I slowly moved forward, each step filling, mingling and woven with trepidation. If I say I felt like going back I would again come across as a coward, but I’d like to officially inform you that the thought crossed my mind more times than the pointy edge of a pentacle. Call it what you wanna, but Lordy Banks had a reputation of being a Badoo! And when you think about the fact that he was single handedly responsible for the death of over a hundred million mortals, he was rumored to have once torn out the still beating heart of a succubus just to use it as a paperweight. Add to that mix the anger and wrath he’ll be feeling now after spending the last couple of a hundred years in various isolated parts and pieces. I just would love not to be there and definitely not to be the agent assigned to stop him when he decided to hatch out whatever he had in store for you people this new millennium. Where were those white gods when you need them? All full of heroic thoughts, delusions of grandeur and glory and of course…..full of horse shit!
The corridor curved at the end and flared to meet a massive double arched door of smooth fine bronze. No finishing, carving handle or protrusions of any kind. It just cast a dull sheen and stood there preventing unbidden entrance. Silent and forbidden…..You’d need an anti-tank missile to burst through this if those behind had no use for your presence but obviously they wanted mine, because the door slowly slid open on hidden hinges. Without even as much as a muted groan and I took a short step into the unknown. This was it… There was a very high probability that I wasn’t going to step back through those doors. Every good run has to have an end.
The first thing I noticed was the swirling pink mist, followed by the thudding and head convulsing banging techno music. Well this wasn’t what I was expecting. I cautiously pushed forward through the haze towards the source of the Owlcity jam that was on and what sounded like laughter. Visibility was zero and the air smelt like vanilla and lubricated latex……wait, make that vanilla scented Condoms. The entire environment reeked of vanilla flavored condoms. I wonder what the hell Lord banks was cooking up now. I had come with the expectations of maybe sitting in on a meeting, being introduced to him and maybe kotowing to le boss, but now I had being allowed into what seemed like their laboratory and when unknown “lowlifes” were allowed into their laboratory, that went a long way explaining a lot about how confident this group was.
I stepped a little bit forward and discovered what seemed like a short step that lead into a depressed hollow area in that great room. As if prearranged, the mist opened up a bit and I laid my eyes on what I was most scared of. Someone must have snitched and told these fellows my weak spot, my kryptonite.
I could just feel my power draining outta me. An African man wasn’t supposed to witness this, talk more of an African god, the epitome of manliness and strength. I had walked right into the middle of a gay orgy.
Symbol – Ni
Atomic weight – 58.6934
Ionization energy – 7.6398eV
Solution – One Stormy night
Chemist – @jus_kenny
1) Baami means my father.
2) Oni: – Name given to a baby that cries endlessly, day and night, after birth.
3) Taiwo: – Name given to the first one of a twin.
4) Kehinde: – Name given to the second twin.
5) Dada: – A baby with curly hair.
6) Iya ile: – Meaning the house mother, always the first wife.
6) Iyalode: – Meaning mother of women – A title given to the king’s first wife.
7) Kabiyesi: – King.
I have called Kabiyesi Baba for as long as I can remember. Baba is ancient. Baba is my father’s father. Baba hates me but his hate is only a fraction of how much someone else despises me; Iya ile or Sumbo as others call her.
Baba screamed at me and shouted for Baami to get the simpleton out of his sight. The foremost of men I heard that from was Baba. I admit, I am not too bright. His words, I could not understand, but his intent struck me harder than the fabled spear of Alawada would. I can read the mood in the area just as well Baba Bamtefa could divine Ifa’s messages from the white cowries. Although, I could not understand then how my questions caused some discomfort. I knew not to ask again when I saw mother’s eyes mist up. What shut me up though was the joy I could feel radiating from the corner of the hut where Iya ile, my father’s elder wife, sat. The cruelness of her happiness frightened me and I reconfirmed that something was wrong. Father did not bother explaining. He walked up to me and scooped me into his brawny arms.
I wondered then about the magnanimous display of emotion, as my father was not given to displaying much emotion. He seemed overtly protective and in front of Baba’s eyes too. I could understand then that he held me as much as I held him but I could not understand why. That he had to trek quite a distance through the rain did not seem to bother him. He carried me the extensive distance to my separate hut and set me down me within. He did not speak a word until he was to go.
He said to me, “Your brother is…” He stopped there, tethering on the edge. Then he said, “Kehinde, stay inside here. There should be a storm tonight.” He turned and left me in the semi dark space with only the dim sunlight from the storm outside filtering in through the white wrapper at my door. I did not want to stay in the hut; I had an undying need to know what was going on. I tried to stand but fire hot as the sun flared in my legs. I was born with cursed frail legs that would only support walking for short periods and this was not one of them. I was known in most places as crippled despite that not being entirely true.
Still, I was determined to find out and I had other methods; I was not a dada for nothing. On my mat, I stared at the roof of my thatched hut and time flickered by before my eyes. I focused; I called to one who had been with me as long as I can remember. I called till tears streamed down my face and when I believed my effort a failure, she came. The ghost of my long dead twin sister came.
Nude as the day I was born, she stood before me. She was unclothed, unconcealed right from her luxurious dark hair that moved to a breeze of its own down to her budding breasts and lower yet to her strong African thighs and beautiful feet.
She asked, as always. “Are you ready to join me? Are you ready now?” I shook my head vigorously as shivers ran down my spine.
“No, not today. There is too much wonder in the world to leave now.” I said.
“Are you sure? I really want my twin back. It’ll be fun with me. Come, please.”
“I’ll stay a lot longer. It’s quite fun here too.”
She smirked. She looked exactly as I saw myself when I looked into the bath water every morning. Although, with slight differences. Unlike me, she would not have been a dada though. She was a bit fatter than I was but otherwise, we were identical right down to our birthmarks. I thought, “They must really feed ghosts well.”
I recall seeing her as a baby. It was an eerie paler version of me staring down at myself with infant eyes as large as mine. I had known her forever. She was my carbon copy or rather; I was hers, since she came out of the womb first albeit that she came out lifeless.
I spoke to her, I said. “Taiwo, something has happened. I must know what it is.”
She was silent for a while. “Kehinde, it is none of your concern. Don’t poke your nose there, things won’t end well.”
I paused at the rebuke. She had never denied me anything. Despair clutched at me. I knew then that the news must be woeful.
“Taiwo, you too? You too?” I turned over and raised my wrapper above my head. It didn’t take long for me to find to the depths of sleep. I did not notice my legs upon a wall of my hut but I felt them there. There, in the depths of nightmare, I dreamt something evil. I woke screaming into a screeching African thunderstorm.
The first thing I noticed was that I could walk now. I put my legs to good use as I began the trek from my isolated hut to my mother’s hut. Baba, being king had amassed a fortune in his life. My father, not to be outdone had accumulated a copious share too. In their lifetimes they had collected quite a stretch of land. Being the eyesore of the family, I got a disconnected hut, far away from contact with outsiders and my family. I believe Baba was just hoping I would die off. I walked till my legs began to throb and then even after, in pain. Taiwo appeared before me then.
“Stop. Stop. Go back. Look at the weather. Go back, don’t stick your head here Kehinde.” She pleaded with me but to no avail. I was almost completely oblivious to her presence. I just put one foot in front of the other till I arrived at mothers.
Mother was not within. Tired, I virtually crawled into her quarters and then to the bundle of clothes that should have been Oni. As I approached the bundle I noticed something, Oni was silent and when I got to the body beneath the clothes it was cold as the raindrops outside. My nightmare was real after all. I had not been dreaming but dream walking.
I put my fingers to his teeny neck where he had been choked to death. She had no children of hers but two girls. Baami was the only heir to the throne and was set to be king after Baba. Oni, my father’s first male child, was a threat to her future ambition as Iyalode, the queen of women. My mind did not understand all this but I grasped the concept that iya ile murdered him. It made sense, she had been a brooding darkness right from the day he was born. Or rather, she had been more brooding and darker than before.
I crawled to his corpse and cried. I wept as memories of my time with the boy flooded my being. Such a tragedy, so young and innocent. It was not his time and being born a dada and a twin I had abilities that made me able to do something about it. He was barely dead a few hours and therefore still redeemable. I had tried this before with a drowned bird I found outside my hut. Now, I tried again. My twin appeared again and pleaded with me not to try. I ignored her. This was something I had to do. She implored me to stop even as I cradled Oni to my nonexistent bosom and I began to sing. I sang those songs I had sung to him, over and over again. I sang till my voice grew hoarse and my body trembled. I dipped into my pool of power and pulled for my brother. I pulled till I could pull no more. I shared my life and essence with him.
Oni shivered from the cold of my drenched clothes and I heard a feeble sob. I held him tightly and dozed off there for a bit. I awoke to feel his tiny heart beating and to see his infant chest rising. I smiled triumphantly.
I tried for getting up. My legs failed me and I panicked. I had to leave the vicinity. A baby had died, a baby had been revitalized. I should not be here when anyone came back. I understood that concept too well and I knew to make myself scarce lest someone see me. Terror flooded my brain as I tried again but they worked this time and I got up on shaky legs. My legs wobbling madly, I walked out of the hut into the stormy night.
A cry of “Who’s there?” almost sent urine gushing down my wrapper. In fear, I burst into a mad sprint. Biting my lower lip, against the pain, I ran. Perhaps someone had heard the cries of the baby. Perhaps it was my mother or just someone. I did not need to know. More importantly, they did not need to know me. I knew the villagers deep fear of magic and I doubled my pace fortifying against recognition.
The sky was dark and I could not see where I was going. Bumbling back to my hut, I felt more tired than I had ever been, tired and in torturous pain. I ran still, I could not stop running but I was slowing down. It took me a while to realize I was lost. I could feel the heat in my chest, and it fractured out in numerous directions. My body was fire in the cold rain. At first, I was beyond pain, I was beyond suffering and then suddenly, my legs ceased working and I crashed to the floor. Then, I knew I was within Esu’s grip. I was lost. Pain burst out from ever fraction of my body; Incomprehensible agony. Tears flowed freely down out of my eyes confluencing with the raindrops as I fell to the mud and laid there. I knew a good herb that could cure my pain but I was lost now. Rain battered my body, thunder rumbled painfully to my ears and I began to feel cold. It was dark and I was lost. As I sank into despair, lightning flashed. It illuminated my surroundings and I realized two things. I was not far from my hut and the herb I sought for was miraculously within reach. Inch by excruciating inch I stretched out my left hand to the plant. As I got it I made to get up with my other hand but it slipped in the mud and I smashed my chin down upon a stone. Pain radiated out from the point of impact. Pain wracked my body into convulsions. I blacked out.
As I come to, I see Taiwo’s ghostly form before me, weeping. Her ghost tears neither drip nor drop but they flow down her face freely and into nonexistence. I am in tortured misery. She stretches out a hand towards me and this time I accept it. “Take me, I’m ready now”, I beg in whispered words.
She smiles. “Kehinde, in our next life, how would you like to torture iya ile as Abiku?”
I laugh. I would like that.
There laid Kehinde, she died with an herb in her hand.
“Aje ke lana, omo ku leni. Tani o mo pe aje to ke lana lo pa omo je.”
Translation (A witch cried yesterday, a child died today. Who doesn’t know that it’s the witch that cried yesterday that killed the child?) — Yoruba Proverb.
Symbol – Co
Atomic weight – 58.9332
Ionization energy – 7.881eV
Solution – Lady in Blue
Chemist – @Sisijacobs
She sat alone at a table for two,
An oasis of quiet in a city of chaos,
Voices rising and falling, glasses clanging merrily,
Life happening all around but none beside,
A blind date gone wrong or simply awol.
He stared from afar, struck as always by her inner beauty
Till her misery he saw and swore to fix
A sense of desire filling his pores
To wipe her blues away and erase her woes
Her knight in shining armor and to her rescue he rode.
Pretty red liquor, oh so glorious and vibrant,
Tonight you convey the means to rock her world
To awaken her smile and the beat of her heart,
Like bees to honey, to her side they would flock,
Drawn by pheromones distilled and hidden within.
A shadow of a smile appears, as that initial sip slithers down,
And then the first lad stops, awestruck and smitten.
Where have you been all my life, and to think I had given up?
And so they gathered and oohed and aahed,
Bedazzled by the lady in blue.
Called away by wives and nature,
One by one, her side they left,
Pledges to call, visit and woo fell by the wayside
As the charm wore off and her allure was forgot.
And she sat alone by a phone that never rang.
He sat and groaned as her blues returned,
His wings fading with the fall of each tear,
Pondering on yet another plan to mend his wrongs,
To find her love and right her world,
As he took to the skies, her benefactor in white.
Symbol – Fe
Atomic weight – 55.845
Ionization energy – 7.9024eV
Solution – How to be a Gangster.
Chemist – @CaballeroZubair
Enter Denzel Washington as Frank Lucas. He’s evidently mad at the other guy. It’s something about money. A small argument ensued and the other nigga was like “what you gon do nigga? Shoot me in front of everybody?”. Denzel gave me a near orgasmic feeling when he calmly pulled the trigger on that nigga and coolly kept the gun back in his pocket. That was the kinda man I wanted to be – An American gangster.
Rewind a little and you have Curtis “50 cent” Jackson in bed. Bullet wounds to his chest and limbs. He is being fed food and oxygen through a tube. He is gonna survive this and when he gets out, he’ll make sure his enemies have it worse than him. That’s another gangster right there. The Flenory brothers also define what a gangster is all about.
I wanted to be them. I listened to all the songs marked “gangster rap”, had the lyrics in my head, watched more gangster movies and finally I was ready. I couldn’t get get into a gang battle or dope to buy/sell as this is Nigeria but I still did gangster stuffs like entering buildings through the exit, loading MTN recharge cards on my Airtel line, calling the customer care – with my credit, pulling out the flash drive without safely removing it and shooting ‘muthafuckers’ down – in Grand Theft Auto 4. I was a real hardcore gangster. A triple O G. Or so I thought.
I met Master Codi months ago, he taught me what being a real gangster means. Being a gangster isn’t about guns, bitches, drugs, violence, going to jail or supporting Chelshit Fc. It’s about choosing to do extremely hard things – and doing it like the perfect gentleman. Heck, anybody can go to jail. It’s easy to do drugs and be violent. There are malignant bitches everywhere, so getting bitches isn’t hard *in Riley freeman’s voice*. As such, those things ain’t even gangster. The million dollar question now is -> What does it take to be gangster? I have here today 10 quite simple ways of achieving your lost long dream of being the standard nigga gangster (tautology but who cares right?). When you’re done following these steps, you’ll be a super nigga – like Morgan Freeman.
1. Go to school, be attentive in class and do your assignments on time. Who knows anything that is harder than this?
2. Be honest – almost always. Lies are easy to tell. Everybody and anybody can tell a lie to make an impression or to get out of a tight corner. As a gangster, you gotta try hard to resist the urge to lie except of course when you’re talking to females, please tell them lies.
3. Do not sag your pants or do that color blocking shit. That stuff is for bitch niggas.
4. No matter how popular a song/movie is, if the lyrics/story-line are/ are dumb, do not fuxx with it.
Side Note: Most Nigerian and foreign rap songs fall into this category.
5. Be hygienic, It’s super hard to take your bath on time and stuff. It’s even harder to brush your hair or cut your nails but that’s what being a gangster is all about.
6. Read wide. Super nigga M.K.O said we should try to know something about everything. That is super hard. I’m sure you understand why we as gangsters must do it.
7. Be respectful. Respect strangers, your parents and everybody in fact. Respect their life choices and their persona. It’s too easy to hurl swear words and stuff at people on the internet.
The most important thing about being a gangster is the final and greatest rule. I call it the “Ultimate Rule”
8. Do not tell everything you know. The smart ones among you know why this post will end here.
NB : No Auto-tune was used in writing this post. Thank you and follow our blog/twitter.
Symbol – Mn
Atomic weight -54.938
Ionization energy -7.434eV
Solution –100 questions
Chemist – @TheBluePaet
This is the result of Peer Pressure really:
1. Last beverage→ Coke
2. Last phone call→ Emeka
3. Last text message→ Google (I really need to deactivate those Gmail notifiations)
4. Last song you listened to→ Stay – Rihanna
5. Last time you cried→ Can’t remember
♥ HAVE YOU EVER:
6. Dated someone twice? No.
7. Been cheated on?→ No
8. Kissed someone?→ No
9. Lost someone special? Not really.
10. Been depressed?→ My life = Depression
11. Been drunk and threw up? → I’m a social drinker (like once in 6 months kind of drinker)
LIST FOUR FAVORITE COLORS:
16. Made new friends → Yes, I make new acquaintances so much its alarming.
17. Fallen out of love → I never even fall in the first place.
18. Laughed until you cried→ LOL yeah.
19. Met someone who changed you→ Not really, people don’t have that effect on me.
20. Found out who your true friends were → Yeah.
21. Found out someone was talking about you → LOL yes.
22. Kissed anyone on your friend’s list → No.
23. How many people on your friends list do you know in real life → A few.
25. Do you have any pets → Evil people have pets, I’m a good person so I don’t.
26. Do you want to change your name→ No.
27. What did you do for your last birthday → Fasted till 6, took my friends out to eat, got treated to a meal of indomie and egg I ended up hating.
28. What time did you wake up today → 3:40am
29. What were you doing at midnight last night → Sleeping.
30. Name something you cannot wait for → Buying myself a new laptop, Jehovah knows its long overdue.
31. Last time you saw your father → Sunday
32. What is one thing you wish you could change about your life → They’re quite a lot and not meant for the internet.
33. What are you listening to right now → Daylight – Maroon 5.
34. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom → No
35. What’s getting on your nerves right now? → The fact that I have to go somewhere really soon but I’m here instead typing this blogpost.
36. Most visited webpage → Twitter.
37. What’s your name → Akinbobola
38. Nicknames→ You really don’t wanna go there.
39. Relationship Status → Single
40. Zodiac sign→ Pisces (According to twitter )
41. Male or female or transgendered→ Male.
42. Primary→ Maryland Convent Private School.
43. High School → Apostolic Faith Secondary School Lagos.
44. College → University of Lagos, Akoka.
45. Hair colour → Black.
46. Long/medium/short → Medium
47. Height → F u.
48. Do you have a crush on someone? No. I never have those, I’m not human you see.
49: What do you like about yourself? → I rise to the occasion when shit really hits the fan.
50. Home Town → Ode-Ekiti
51. Tattoos → No.
52. Righty or lefty → Righty.
♥ FIRSTS :
53. First surgery → Can’t remember.
54. First relationship →Never been in one.
55. First best friends → Can’t remember.
56. First sport you joined → Soccer
57. First pet → Never had one
58. First vacation→ Never had one.
59. First concert → The Experience.
60. First crush → Can’t remember.
61. Eating → Nothing.
62. Drinking → Nothing.
63. Already missing → Nobody
64. I’m about to → Get outta here
65. Listening to → Just one last time – David Guetta
66. Thinking about → Why I’m not outta here already.
67. Waiting for? 6 months to be over so I can get the new Dell XPS convertible (sexy) Ultrabook.
♥YOUR FUTURE :
68. Want kids? → No idea
69. Want to get married? → No idea
70. Careers in mind → No idea
♥ WHICH IS BETTER WITH THE OPPOSITE SEX?
71. Lips or eyes → No idea
72. Hugs or kisses → No idea
73. Shorter or taller → Shorter
74.Older or Younger → Younger
75.Romantic or spontaneous → No idea
76. Nice stomach or nice arms → Muscular girls scare me, girls with pot-bellies irritate me. It’s a no win situation with this question, who put this in here? We need to talk to HR about this (stolen).
77. Sensitive or loud → No idea
78. Hook-up or relationship → No idea
79. Trouble maker or hesitant→ No idea
HAVE YOU EVER :
81. Drank hard liquor → No.
82. Lost glasses/contacts → No
83. Had sex on 1st date – No.
84. Broken someone’s heart → Maybe
85. Had your own heart broken → Every time
86. Been arrested → I’m a church going brother fam, we don’t get arrested for nothing.
87. Turned someone down → Maybe
88. Cried when someone died → No
89. Liked a friend that of the same sex? → No, what is this?
♥ DO YOU BELIEVE IN:
90. Yourself → Yes sometimes, other times I feel so inadequate I shed tears.
91. Miracles → Yes.
92. Love at first sight → Maybe
93. Heaven → Yes.
94. Santa Claus → Yes, too bad he hasn’t given me shii tho (Oga Nicholas we see *****)
95. Kiss on the first date? → No
96.Angels → Yes.
97. Is there one person you want to be with right now? No
98. Had more than one girlfriend? No
99. Wish you could change things in your past? Yes
100. Are you posting this as 100 Truths? → LOL yes (blame it on the alcoh…shii I don’t drink, producer cut cut cut cut….)
You can all go back to your boring lives now thank you.
Symbol – Cr
Atomic weight – 51.9961
Ionization energy – 6.7665eV
Solution – Below The threshold
Chemist – @Haemlet_
It all had to do with the susceptibility of the human mind.
GALASHIELS, SCOTLAND 1984
The overbearing rush of blood coursing through his veins, threatened to overwhelm his senses as he rushed up the staircase to investigate the screaming. With one swift kick he knocked down the door to the room, rushed towards the window and saw Petre’s remains lying spread eagled and squashed on the pavement floor. For the second time in less than twenty four hours his stomach failed him yet again.
After disposing all he had eaten, he turned around to inspect the room and realized it contained a bed and a computer unit. He also noticed that the room was sterile and lacked any form of human emotion save for some framed pictures hanging on the wall. When he took a closer look at the pictures, the cold fingers of terror crept up his spine at what the pictures revealed. Now he was sure that he wasn’t here by mere chance but by the machination of unknown forces. “Or could he be wrong”?
THE EVENING BEFORE:
His brain felt foggy as he slowly woke up the night skies. After a careful mental probe which yielded nothing substantial, he wondered where he was, how he’d gotten here and worse, who he was. He checked his pockets in the hopes of finding some form of identification, but all he found was a wad of cash. When he tried to rise for further investigation, he was forced back to the ground by a splitting headache. Five minutes later, he managed to get up and discovered through a sign post that he’d been lying at the outskirt of a very small village called “Harmony”. The name didn’t ring a bell and as he slowly made his way into the village, he wondered what kind of asshole gave a town such a crappy name.
He walked for about a mile without seeing a soul and just when he began to fear that he’d stumbled upon a ghost town, he arrived at a pub. The sign on the pub said “Jolly good ole’ fellas” but he felt far from jolly as he pushed open the door to enter. Once inside, he looked around at the faces of those in attendance and when none showed any sign of recognition, he relaxed a little and ordered a mug of ale.
He then took a sit by the entrance incase a quick getaway became necessary, before he joined the other patrons in watching the game. He watched the game till the end of the first quarter and while he waited for the commercials to end, he suddenly felt eyes boring into him. He looked up to see one of the patrons staring at him from across the room. Then quite suddenly, the man staring got up on a full trot and continued to ram into the wall till his head became a red juicy pulp.
He got up and ran over to where the man lay on the floor. When he saw the extent of the man’s injuries, he yelled for help but the reply he received was the sound of smashing glasses behind him and as he turned to investigate, his blood turned icy cold at what he saw.
The bartender was smashing bottle after bottles of whiskey on his head, while his assistant was repeatedly stabbing away at his abdomen with a serrated knife. A burly looking man at the far corner was drowning himself in a barrel of ale, then another who had just gorged his eyes out was mutilating his face with a piece of broken bottle. While he watched in shock, the other partrons were competitively engaged in more gruesome and creative ways of ending their lives. But the terrifying part was that none of them uttered a single sound in anguish.
It was as thought the horror bandwagon was in town and he had arrived right at the nick of time to witness the exotic freak show. With a scream trapped in his throat he made for the only other room in the pub which happened to be a kitchen. In it was a woman taking a nose dive into a large boiling pot of broth and when he tried to pry her away, she struggled with him ferociously until the pot toppled off the fire and exposed a braised up head of a once beautiful woman. With that grim sight forever imprinted in his memory, he decided that he had seen enough as he rushed for the street in search of an explanation.
But before any logical explanation could be sought, a series of illogical occurrences continued as something fell in front of him in a splat. On closer inspection, he discovered that it was the remains of a baby, and as he looked up to investigate, the mother followed suit.
All around him, mothers who had somehow managed to get the rooftops of their home, gleefully held out their babies like a sacrificial offering to the gods, while their husbands were gathered on the street with firearms pointed at their temple or mouth. In a matter of seconds, the whole street was littered with blasts, muzzle flashes, the stink of gun powder, plummeting bodies, madness, blood and gore. All he could manage to do was dance to the discordant notes of self destruction that rented the night.
When he could bear the madness no more, he ran into a house but only met more horrors. In every house he entered there was at least a kid’s dead body that had met its untimely demise in a macabre sort of way. He saw kids drowned in their baths, others mutilated to death and some burnt alive. He even saw a couple of skinned bodies, while some others died by sinister circumstances that eluded his understanding.
From house to house he ran till he rushed into a shop at the end of the street. The shop he’d just entered was a butchers shop and the butcher [assuming it was the butcher who was responsible for this butchery] had the six heads of his family members lined up on the slaughter table, while he’d hung their bloody wrapped up remains on the meat hooks lined up on the wall. The abhorrent part was that the butcher had outrageously hung himself on the meat hook and then attempted at cutting off his neck, a feat that was completely impossible to achieve because before he could finish, he’d bled to death, thereby leaving his head dangling from the neck in an odd and gruesome manner.
That was his last sight before the welcoming blackness enveloped him completely.
He woke up screaming from a ghoulish nightmare, then he recalled last night’s real nightmare and he scampered from the cold floor of the butchery. Daylight showed that the peace and harmony of the village called “Harmony” had been disrupted by sinister forces and had therefore been rendered “Disharmonious”. The once sweet village he had initially presumed was a ghost village had actually become one overnight and scavengers who’d been attracted by the stench of death were already feasting away. The whole village was dead quiet save for the mechanical buzzing of flies and the bloody sight of flesh was so overwhelming that he fell on his knees retching till he felt the cold feel of a muzzle at the back of his neck.
He slowly turned around to see the face of a surprised and terrified looking man. With unsteady hands the stranger raised the evil looking double barrel towards his head and asked him what he was doing. Scared out of his wits, he explained to the double barrel wielding stranger that he’d been passing through when the madness started last night. He then told the stranger the series of event that he’d witnessed and by the time he was through the man was so white that he had to quickly hold him.
When he got better, they both went around checking for survivors while the man who introduced himself as Petre told him he’d gone to bed early because he’d taken a very strong sedative for his insomnia. After they’d ascertained that there were no other survivor, they went back to Petre’s house to access their grim situation.
In the house, he was ushered into the sitting room while Petre went to make some coffee and sandwich. While Petre was in the kitchen, he switched on the VCR to see that a muted comedy flick had been on pause, so he continued watching as they exchanged theories as to what probably caused these mass murders and suicides. He suspected mass hallucination through poisoning but Petre was leaning towards supernatural forces. Thirty minutes later when Petre eventually came out of the kitchen, he stumbled and almost dropped the tray. He apologized, blamed it on his weary legs, quickly set the tray down and begged to use the toilet upstairs.
When Andy got upstairs, he went into a room, locked the door, quickly switched on his computer console and began to tap urgently at his keyboard.
BELOW THRESHOLD INITIATIVE
AUTHORIZED USER- ACCESS GRANTED.
ARGON: Reporting on the field experiment carried out in Harmony. STOP
COMM: What is your status? STOP
ARGON: Experiment was a success and all the test subjects exhibited all symptoms prior to expiration. STOP
COMM: Excellent job! Have you initiated phase II? STOP
ARGON: Negative sir. STOP
COMM: Why? STOP
ARGON: We are presented with a very serious complication sir. STOP
COMM: What complication? STOP
ARGON: He is back sir! Boris is alive. STOP
COMM: Impossible! I made certain of his death. STOP
ARGON: Well you weren’t certain enough because he is right at the moment in my living room and he seems to be immune to the subliminal initiative program. STOP
COMM: How is that possible? Are you positive it is him? STOP
ARGON: Of course I am! He somehow survived the live feeds I transmitted through the town’s local station and at the moment he is watching via my VCR, one of our rawest feeds without the protective lenses. STOP
ARGON: I am freaking out here. What if he remembers who I am? STOP
COMM: Are you sure it’s him? STOP
ARGON: Damn it! I still have the pictures we took together on the wall here; what if he sees them? What are you going to do about him? STOP
COMM: Stay calm. New directives will be sent to you immediately this transmission terminates. STOP
THE KREMLIN, MOSCOW, USSR
Colonel Yuri Vladimir sat in his office disturbed. He detested loose ends and the encrypted communication he just had gave testament to some loose ends. He hadn’t gotten this far in life by being careless and foolish in his dealings, but by being ruthless and meticulous, so he couldn’t tolerate this present predicament. He above all knew the consequences of loose ends and this loose end in the name of Boris worried him tremendously.
The cold war had been raging on for years and this experiment offered the USSR a much needed edge over their enemy, America. Now it seemed it was all going downhill with the reemergence of that bastard Boris. Yuri first met the brilliant Boris Vasilyev three years ago at a scientific seminar in Moscow where he’d talked about subliminal perception [Below threshold] as opposed to supraliminal perception [Upper threshold]. Boris had theorized that contrary to scientific beliefs, it was possible to enhance the strength of subliminal messages through visuals, thereby achieving a strong and lasting change in human actions and behavior. The excited Boris had talked about a breakthrough and cutting edge in medical science while all Yuri as a soldier thought about was mind control and the military/espionage application.
After the seminar Yuri had approached Boris with a proposal. He proposed that he would fund Boris project in exchange for a larger percentage of the profit when he’d made his breakthrough. Boris had been so happy that he’d been quick to point out that he wasn’t interested in the financial angle because he was in it purely for the love of science. But a year later Boris began to get suspicious and started asking questions. When his questions were answered, he was horrified, wanted to shut down the program and go public. So he had to be gotten rid of and it wasn’t a hard decision to make then, since Boris was already in the final phase of the project and his best friend cum research partner Nikolai Anisinov had already informed Yuri of his willingness to betray his friend and continue with the project.
The sudden ringing of his telephone jarred Yuri from his reverie. As he picked it, he hoped it was a call confirming that Nikolai had been sent his transmission. On the line, an indistinct voice could be heard talking as Yuri listened for a minute, then he barked fresh directives before he dropped the phone on its cradle.
Tsk, tsk! Loose ends will always attempt to entangle one’s feet and bring you down.
Loose ends, he thought as he held his forehead in pain. He didn’t dare accord himself any small measure of happiness now that Nikolai had been taken care of because with Boris still out there, his dreams may never be realized.
“Damn I need to find the bastard”.
Symbol – V
Atomic weight -50.9415
Ionization energy -6.7462eV
Chemist – @TheShahrazad
I watched Bayo walk away from me, and I could do nothing to stop him. My heart was torn into a million pieces, but I couldn’t just utter the words I needed to, to make me happy.How was I supposed to tell him I loved him, when he was engaged? I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself. We had a good thing, but it was time to move on. But I couldn’t do that, even with Tobi in my life.
Tobi was the most amazing person I had ever met. He was so perfect, I felt unworthy of him. But despite all my flaws, he loved me unconditionally. I really thought that was enough. I loved him, but I wasn’t in love with him. In my head, it would eventually happen.
Whenever I wasn’t with Bayo, or whenever I didn’t see him or speak with him for a while, I actually felt pretty good, and I could clearly see my future with Tobi. But then when I saw Bayo…It was so frustrating that I was still metaphorically held firm in Bayo’s vice-like grip, and he just refused to let go. I would see him with his fiancée looking so much in love, and feel like screaming all the way to the heavens. He seemed to move on just fine, so why was I still suffering so much and punishing Tobi as well?
It was even more painful because we were once good friends. But then the dynamics changed when feelings started creeping in then it all went south. At one point, I decided I couldn’t do it anymore, and I decided to do away with both of them. Somehow, letting Tobi go was even harder than letting Bayo go. Tobi was entirely sweet about it though, saying that I should take some time to sort out my feelings, and that he would be waiting for me if I finally decided he was the right one. I doubted that would happen, but I liked the fact that he was still there.
When I told Bayo I couldn’t see or speak to him anymore, he looked really hurt. Or maybe it was just a figment of my imagination. I gave him excuses, and he apologized for the fact that things had been so hard for me.So I took my long overdue vacation time from work, packed my things, and went to Bali, Indonesia. I had always wanted to visit the little province, and experience the culture and the food, but it had just never seemed like the time.
Bali was breathtaking. It was also very true to its nickname as the Island of Peace. I couldn’t have been anywhere more fitting. The people were extremely warm and welcoming, and I knew I had done the right thing by going there. Week one was spent exploring the wonderful island and tasting exciting new foods that I would never have imagined eating if I was home and had the opportunity.
I spent my evenings strolling along the incredibly beautiful Kuta beach, and sorting out my feelings. Whenever I thought of home, I of course thought of both Bayo and Tobi, but thinking about Tobi made my eyes water with tears. That really confused me.
In my third week in Bali, a local; the husband of the woman who had taken it upon herself to properly immerse me in the wonder that was Bali, asked me if I had ever been to the Tanah Lot Temple. I told him I had only heard of it, but I hadn’t actually been there. The old man, in his severely broken English, then insisted that I visit the place. I resisted at first, I let my faith hold me back, but he simply insisted, and I could hardly turn down this really nice man. We went together, but I stayed outside as he went in. The view was simply magnificent. The clear blue water seemed to draw away negative energy. What really got to me was the sunset; the view from outside the temple was simply magnificent. I had never seen such a myriad of colors in the sky before. I felt so close to heaven.
I hadn’t even realized I was crying until the old man walked up to me and wiped my cheeks. He smiled, that crooked but endearing smile of his and said, “I see many people, many people, cry when they come to this temple, Bali truly the Island of the gods. I see this place change so many lives.” I had no reply for that, but I could really believe what he said. The Island of Love really did change my life. In that moment, I was ready to go back home.
The last week of my stay in Bali went by really fast, but really slow as well. I didn’t want to leave the island that had brought me so much peace, and I wasn’t sure I was entirely ready to return to reality.There were a lot of tears as I left for the Ngurah Rai International Airport. Bali had sort of become my home, and the Balinese, my family. But it was time to face reality. I finally got back home, and it was another two months before I saw Bayo. He had heard that I was back, and he wanted to see me. I reluctantly agreed, and I was really nervous to see him. But then when that finally happened, it was like catching up with a long lost friend, instead of an awkward meeting of ex-lovers. I couldn’t have been happier. He had even gotten married in that time.
It was killing me that I couldn’t see Tobi yet, but I really wanted to give myself more time to breathe. It would have been really unfair to him if I tried to get back into his life just because my feelings for Bayo were sorted. It had been six months since I had last seen Tobi, and he called one day, out of the blue. Well, it wasn’t exactly out of the blue. That day would have been our second year anniversary, had all gone according to plan. I agreed to have dinner with him.
As soon as I saw Tobi, I knew. He was right. It had taken me so long to figure that out, but he was the one. I really didn’t care how hard I was going to have to fight for him, but I just knew I couldn’t let him go the second time.He walked up to me and said, “You look beautiful.” I smiled and said, “I’ve missed you.” and then he held me.
Symbol – Ti
Atomic weight – 47.867
Ionization energy – 6.8281eV
Chemist – @TheOnlyIbukun
“There was a red moon in the sky”
Man, I used to think this writing thing was easy. But I can’t seem to come up with much after this line. Hope readers can infer that a “red moon” is the “sun” haha!
Who am I fooling with this bullshit story? There is no story! I don’t even have a plot! I sip some wine and try to pour some more but the bottle is empty. Great.
“He stealthily moved towards the building wielding nothing but a timid heart and Beretta he had never used. All he wanted was the money”
What else would a man want from a house he had never even taken the time to check out before attempting to rob it? My protagonist is stupid. And so is this story I’ve been struggling to write for the past 3 hours. I fling the fountain pen across the room and contentedly hear it collide with the wall. Blame the pen, of course. My legs feel unused and untrained as I make to pace awhile. Maybe that will clear the fog off my head. Or maybe music will help. I saw that on Wiki how it inspires people to write beautiful Nobel Prize worthy pieces. I put my ipod on shuffle and The Fray comes up
“Take a breath and take it deep
You’re falling apart and tearing at the seams”
You have no idea, Mr Fray” I mutter.
I sit down again and put my head between my hands. The only reason I’m still at this writing thing is Maria and my boys. Maria with her ready smile and knowing brown eyes…
“Ope you need to make up your mind on what you want to do. You want to be a lawyer? Then be a lawyer. You want to be a chef? Then be a chef. Just make up your mind and pick one already! You have so many dreams and hopes my head is spinning. Pick. One” She said to me yesterday as she angrily chopped onions into precise cubes.
“Fine! I choose one.”
“Halleluyah-thank-you-Jesus, which?!” Sarcasm rises like the steam from the pot she opened.
“I want to be a writer.” I manage to say past clenched teeth and a tight jaw.
“Are you even joking with me right now?” she drops the knife and stares incredulity at me.
“I just need your support, Maria. I don’t need you to judge me. I’m sick of your snide comments. It’s like I never get any support OR respect around here. Am I asking for too much?”
“You–” she covers her mouth then sighs deeply. “Okay. So write then. Please just stay with it. I can’t deal with you changing professions every month. I can’t.”
So here I am, staying with it and making it work with everything I’ve got.
“Heaven forbid you end up alone and don’t know why
Hold on tight wait for tomorrow you’ll be alright”
I reach for my pen again to write:
“Just as soon as Eric entered the house through the window, he heard ‘Put those hands right up where I can see them or I’ll blow the space between your eyes without a second thought”
Or maybe I should work with the Police Force instead. What do you think?
Symbol – Sc
Atomic weight – 44.9559
Ionization energy – 6.5615eV
Chemist – @misty0_0
When the slap came, Lola was not surprised. But, she wasn’t an animal, or a barbarian. She wouldn’t stoop to his level. Her feet carried her into her parent’s room, as fast as fast could.
“He,” she shouted, pointing at the remnant of humanity that had slapped her “hit me.”
Mother and father leapt into action. Shouts ensued and a baseline threat of moving to the boys’ quarters or complete homelessness. With Father behind him, belt held menacingly in a firm grip, an apology was wrenched from Wole’s flabby unrepentant lips.
Lola was not sated. She wanted him humble… groveling at her feet. Only that would calm the outrage that burned under the armor of her A-cup boobs, and clean the tear stains of female outrage on her cheeks.
In the darkness of the night, when the blackness of the sky had reached its peak; The point where Ghanaians don’t step out, when witches the world over commune over red-wine and skype, she cursed him. Holding her bible to her iron-board chest, she made her petition to God. “… if you don’t do it, God, I will look for a babalawo. I swear!!”
“You said?” Jesus asked, a look of shock and confusion on his handsome features.
“Exactly that, my Lord. That was what she said.”
The angels giggled behind their wings, Moses’ beard twitched suspiciously, and even the guardian angel struggled to keep a straight face as he delivered his ward’s prayer.
The voice of God thundered through the Halls of Heaven, “IT IS DONE!”
King David’s crown dropped to the floor in shock, “my Lord?”
“I said,” the voice of many waters continued “it is done.”
For the first time that day, there was complete silence in Heaven. Then the scurrying of feet to chariots and the flurry of feathers as elders and angels alike raced down to get a good viewing position in the home of Lola Williams on the drama that was about to ensue.
The alarm screamed noisily. Eyes blinded with sleep, Wole struggled to pick up the phone and put off the alarm. But, for the life of him, he couldn’t get a firm grip on the stupid thing. After a valiant battle, in which the phone assaulted his face twice, he left it to ring. The tune wasn’t that bad and it’d go off in a minute or two.
He felt weird and woozy. He couldn’t even stand straight. The urge to vomit hooked him. He rolled off the bed, landing with painfully on a bottle on the floor. An empty bottle of Hennessy a quick sniff revealed. He remembered swiping the drink from the wine cabinet and opening it in his room, not much else. I must be drunk, he thought triumphantly. Crawling into the lit bathroom, he vomited the entirety of his stomach. As he came out, his eyes fell on the full-length mirror. What he saw threw him backward. Screaming, he ran out of the room. Even the scream sounded wrong… it sounded like –
“Hello Wole,” His train of thought and path was interrupted by his sister, Lola,. In her hand, she held a big stick. Her eyes alight with a mixture of triumph, anger and the promise of vengeance, she raised the stick and it came down on his back with speed.
Mr. and Mrs. Williams woke up to find their daughter standing over a goat, a very well beaten goat. “I’m finished!” she shouted.
Confused, they looked around to see who she was talking to, then the eyes fell back on the goat. Widening in shock, as it slowly morphed back into a human form. Mrs. William nudged her husband forward to check. An unhappy, scared Mr. Williams stepped closer to the person passed out on the sitting room floor, trying to make out a face from the black-eyed, swollen-faced would-be criminal on the floor.
“It is Wole oh! Lola? What have you done?”
With a hiss, Lola delivered one last blow on the twitching form and went back to bed.
Symbol – Ca
Atomic weight – 40.078
Ionization energy – 6.1132eV
Chemist – @Blaqknyght
Once upon a time,
A pencil was to the griot
As a sword was to the soldier
As they scribbled truths in patterns of petals
To stab the jackboot like a thousand daggers
How can you be so treacherous ?
And make us forget the roots and rules
Of what we have come to know as poetry.
All of a sudden, our art became a mime
For scruffy spoilt kids with words that riot
Compositions worthy to be charged for murder
The pencil made way for things made from alloys of metal
We listened because we had no choice like beggars
To incoherent literature that would have made Milton leperous
The jackboot has turned you and your cohorts into tools
To shatter poetry like a piece of pottery.
I decided to write something fresh for you yesterday.
I have many poems I could have just recycled, but…
I crave the rush of pure inspiration in my blood again like opium.
So, I kept a straight face like a Vulcan filtering everything that passes through.
While in class, oblivious to anything else…
The word “nous” rode on the air into my ears.
Immediately life flowed into my pen and I started scribbling.
Here’s where I got to…
I woke up grown
Memories hazy like a bad dream
Or a bad video stream
Screams interjected with manic laughter
I should have known
I was stark naked.
At this point, I stopped writing, the first few lines of the poem has defined it. But what turn would it take. By the way, Qui suis-je means who am I?
Is this a ritual re-awakening or a re-birth?
I was conflicted in my mind. But the ebb of inspiration in my blood bade me to continue.
Hence I drifted to another stanza.
Where am I?
Curious faces blackened with soot
Lost in a song without words
Tho I decipher -Welcome to the world
Acrid smoke and…
Thus the muses left me entirely with an unfinished poem.
I decided to ride on the wave of a ritual re-awakening, the re-awakened battling the questions we all battle or are battling or have battled at one time or the other.
I intend to finish this poem, but I know not the turn it would take.
Till our next correspondence.
Atomic Weight: 39.0983
Ionization Energy: 4.3407eV
Configuration: [Ar] 4s1
Solution: Be Proactive
Origin: Neo-Latin: Kalium
The Periodic Table.
You see, Bobola is my guy and I’ve let him down a lot. This one time, he was doing a series on the Seven Deadly Sins and he asked me to write on ‘Sloth’. Living up to my name, I was too ‘Slotty’ to churn anything out. Trust me, I tried.
*sigh* Chemistry! When last?!
*Flings ward coat and stethoscope*
Potassium. Potassium is a mineral that helps in normal functioning of the body. It helps in the communication of muscles and nerves. A potassium diet can help to offset some negative effects of sodium on the heart.
Banana is rich in potassium. This is probably why D’Prince made it the major component of his ‘Goody Bag’. Who knows? He may be that learned.
Too much potassium is however harmful. So, don’t take banana till you ‘yo’.
I learnt the importance of potassium in my recent study of Clinical Pathology and I thought I should share.
That was just my medical side taking over.
That was also how Chibuzo deleted me off BBM because I sent a ‘K’ his way. If only he knew the nutritional benefits of ‘K’.
You see, I was working so hard on writing a story or a poem about the ‘The Life of K’ but it didn’t come out good. I tried different angles. Trust me. It just didn’t work out. I really hate all of you that are very good at story-telling and poetry. I can’t write a story to save my life and this is like the bane of my entire existence, so I have beef.
Since I can’t tread the storyteller path, I decided to tread my ‘motivational writing’ path and today, we’re gonna be learning a few lessons from the properties of potassium.
PROPERTIES OF POTASSIUM.
1. Silvery White. That’s what you guys call ‘shiny’.
2. Highly Reactive with water. Keyword ‘Reactive’
3. Easily Cut with a knife. *I.e Soft
4. Least Dense metal after Lithium.
5. Tarnishes when exposed to air.
LESSONS FROM POTASSIUM.
1. Everywhere you go, you have to shine bright (Not like a diamond in the sky because such things don’t exist) like a diamond.
2. Be Proactive. Being proactive means controlling a situation by causing something to happen. This is unlike Potassium which simply reacts to the change. Simply put; make (be) the change, don’t wait for the change.
3. Don’t be easy to cut through. This life is short and hard and you also have to be hard. Don’t be easily penetrated (no innuendo). Unlike potassium, you have to develop a thick skin and be tough.
4. You know what it means when they call someone ‘a dense’ right? Yeah. In all your dealings, don’t be ‘a dense’.
5. Unlike Potassium, please, don’t tarnish.
6. A desiccant is used to dry solvents because it absorbs water. Don’t just be a ‘collector (absorbent); learn to give some out. You’re not always.
I hope you guys have been able to relate.
References: Ababio, Wikipedia .
PS. You can find some of my randomness here – kemmiiii.com
This is not an advert placement by the way.
Symbol – Ar
Atomic weight – 39.948
Ionization energy – 15.7596eV
Solution – Billion Fireflies
Chemist – @i_listener
A cup of water wasn’t turned down, not because I asked for it or because it was chilled or because of a seam woven familiarity, but rather it was because I opted to deny my consciousness, my conscience. There, I was amongst them as always, late, famished, consummated with the thought of relief, solace, tranquility, as though there wasn’t a place I could go by that hour, suitable for whatever mood I was in, adorned with the masterpieces of the caretaker and venerated by believers, yet I chose to sit once again as those acclaimed resolutions I made with a contrite heart, yet; only to toss them by the corner – a mere pleasure. The water had a taste I was familiar with, like that alum treated borehole water that sometimes passed through pipes and the cup smelt like one of those fragrances similar to the one used for the detergent “Bimbo”; I could tell because I had perceived it at The Confucius off a female law student passing while I and my colleagues went ballistic after I made a joke of it when we hung around for lecture.
I gulped the water alongside a meditated “prayer before meal” recited to the Lord who sees things in secret, afterwards I smiled and returned the emptied cup on the table I picked it off. We – the children and I – sat, tossed and moved objects around and struggled for the remote control before the cable channels were done scrambling. As the sitcoms came alive via the large SAMSUNG LCD TV, a more soothing ambience rose, we watched and talked as time went by and subsequently I made several eye checks at the clock adjacent to me, just above a fancied wall lamp adorned with blue robin birds. At about 8:15pm, a hurried bang sounded at the steel door securing the house, the sound came forth as if it was immigration officers trying to force their way through to raid. Immediately, the children flinched and adjusted like pronouns in a row on a paper on a couch, then eldest around dashed to open the door, they were aware who it was *sigh* the youngest whispered “DADDY”.
Daddy walked in with a stern look like he was forced to have vinegar, I greeted him but he walked along with his hands like they were warding off flies around him. The eldest around ran to the children’s room, his safe house, because he wasn’t allowed to watch TV – one of Daddy’s precepts.
Daddy has an illustrious career, name, and he inherited most of his father’s estate. He used to be stubborn, still is, I gather now that everything about him aggravates, he reacts too easily to trivial issues but before he was calm and we had a some worth fictitious relationship. Mommy came in 30mins later, I bet she had course to do that, she looked less than how she was the last holiday I spent in Lagos and a lot happier. 9:00p.m, she came into the compound knowing already that Daddy would have gone to bed – she spends time downstairs and when she came earlier than Daddy she would wait until later, when he considers going to bed.
Today was quite different. As soon as she walked in, she headed straight for the spare room in the house, Daddy came out to interrogate her – stories I scrambled unfolded, a Pastor in church told Daddy time ago with the help of Daddy’s former driver and neighbours around that she’d been having extramarital affairs – and he opened a clotted flesh wound. Before, she was accused of torturing her neighbour’s kids and other stories connected to the elderly driver made the rounds and at a time she was taken to the Police Station, locked up for a night and bailed the following morning. Daddy was in a fix as at these trying times, I could tell he’d threatened her before now just to be certain. I knew her too well a woman, she wasn’t frightened. She came out blazing and walked into the spare room. It was dark, the light bulbs were off and while the children heard the arguments they rushed to the passage while I sat down in the living room and the eldest around came to towards me leaning on a chair. I kept my eyes in two directions: at him and the passage, meanwhile the parents switched to their native language Yoruba and as rants were almost hitting the roof I could see Daddy making a fist, he moved to enter the room but the fourth child fenced the door, she pleaded in a pity tone and the third and little last boy held Daddy’s hands. “Iyalaya e, baba e to ti ku…” and the rest were thoughts cursed into the air as Mommy fumed without holding back like a prospective insured filling a proposal form in Uberrimae Fidei. Daddy was really mad this time, he struggled with the little kids but they held him hands and feet, the eldest around stood up as if he were a Rottweiler with veins pouncing by his neck. His face was growing into a fierce disconnect, I could tell he was considering the thought of slamming any object on Daddy’s head. I was in shock, I had heard rumours but never been there before…this wasn’t Mommy and Daddy. They had lost it and so had other families too. Love, communication and faith have been exchanged for hatred, failed discourse and unbelief. The yards of husband and wife material without the piety!
Little wonder, the cup washed still had detergent in it that wasn’t rinsed.
Symbol – Cl
Atomic weight – 35.453
Ionization energy – 12.9676eV
Solution – A BRICK WALL
Chemist – @MsTeeDairo
A brick wall
I picture it
I’ll hit it when I try to reach You
Built it with my actions, thickened it with my filth
I come to you only when the pain threatens to choke me
The big disappointment that I am, enslaved to worthless self confidence
Never asked anyone to help, some try, they can’t
How do I escape my life?
I’ve been looking within, but now there’s nothing there anymore
It’s drained and empty
So I’m here again.
You should be within
You should rule within
I let my will take your place
Yes I need You, always have
But I can’t ask. I can’t ask for anything at all
I lost the right
Now I watch You help others while I drown
It is my lot, I don’t deserve your mercy
Life is like an endless pit
My existence is falling every second.
Father do You see me?
Do You see me or am I too deeply immersed in transgression?
That place You ought to occupy in my mind
That place is filled with nothing now
Come back? No?
Do You even remember me?
Well of course you do, Omnipotence
I don’t remember ever coming to You without problems
Tired like everyone else?
I speak, I get no reply
I get no sign
I’ve been shut off.
Save me from myself, I’m tired of crying in torment
My mind tortures me, my guilt tortures me, yet I don’t stop doing wrong
Sometimes I feel somehow I want this suffering
Why else would I impose it on myself?
Father make it all stop, will You?
The voices in my head, the rejection that teases me, the fear that taunts me
This is as pointless as the other times, but still I try
I crave peace and stability in my thoughts
… and all other things beautiful death has to offer
Death, an end to all of this
Sometimes I can’t wait.
Once Your daughter, now a stranger
Symbol – S
Atomic weight – 32.065
Ionization energy – 10.36eV
Solution – The Garri Bowl.
Chemist – @IBARU__
When Teop -yes Bobola, Sheldon etc are all counterfeit appellations IMO- told me to make a guest appearance on Redor, I was somewhat honored. Truth be told I didn’t think I was good enough to come up with something worthy enough to be posted on here, besides I was in deep sorrow. To save face, I began to dig deep into my intellect, I sojourned into the nooks and crannies of my brain, and I rummaged in the heart of my brilliance. All my efforts ended in futility, all to no avail, for I returned empty handed.
Then it hit me that I might be searching too deep, what I was looking for was right in front of me, staring, looking, wanting and waiting patiently to be found.
Finally, this is what I came up with, something out of my sorrow at the time and my ‘goodness’ to be a guest on Redor.
As 2013 began for you all, sorrow began for me. My whole being has known nothing but the deepest sorrow. Sorrow from the far east (movement), sorrow from the West. Sorrow from the Mountains, sorrow from the Valleys. Sorrow I can feel, sorrow I can see, sorrow I can touch. My heart is exsanguinating, the tears from my soul would drown an ocean, and the yearnings of my spirit are unto those of a nagging wife. Right now my whole life is like a shipwreck, I’m like Pi without Richard Parker, chiefly because of death.
Death has been very cruel to me, taking the ones that I love. The heavens handpicking the good ones and hell spitting out the bad at will, Why do good people have to die so early? And the badasses go all Methuselah on us?
I was on a quest to answer this question when a tiny voice ministered to me.
You know that voice in your head that says ‘no, don’t send that nude’; that same voice that says ‘nigguhs who pick PES over FIFA are gay’? Yes, that’s the same voice, the all knowing voice.
Here’s what it said to me, in a cool calm voice.
“Throughout my many years of traversing the universe I have never come across a set of beings as confused as you humans, you focus your lives on concepts which you have only conjectural knowledge of and argue about abstract principles which have no substantial backing. Sometimes you go looking for wealth by jeopardizing your health and use the same wealth to replenish your health; you worry so much about the future in the present that you barge into the future having not prepared for it in the present. Hence you neither live in the present nor the future, you merely exist.
You live by very primitive idiosyncrasies and inaccurate ideologies. Your ideas about ‘good’ and ‘bad’ are only surpassed in naïveté by what you think of ‘GOD’. Some of you determine what is ‘good’ and ‘bad’ by Society, some use Religion, others Law and the worst kind fall on Tradition and Culture?
So basically, this is the pit of darkness you have put yourselves in;
You say a person is ‘good’ in the society if he gives to the poor, loves his wife , doesn’t womanize , is not a drunk, doesn’t smoke and whatnot. On the reverse he is ‘bad’ when he is greedy, doesn’t care about the poor, beats his wife etc.
By religion a ‘good’ man adheres to the guidelines his religion has set. In some religions it is ok to drink and in some it is not, in some it is ok to have more than one wife and in some it is not, in some pre marital sex is forbidden but in some sex is seen as a spiritual activity. Some foods are banned from consumption in some religions while others proclaim that everything is suitable for eating, for it is not what enters a man that defiles him but what comes out. Suicide leads to hell fire sometimes, on other occasions you receive 49 maidens in paradise. How then do you people intend to reconcile this situation? Isn’t everything such a mess?
By law ‘good’ and ‘bad’ is quite simple, you break the law you are bad (and consequently punished), you follow the law and you are good (but not rewarded, WHY?). When you obey a traffic sign why don’t the officials pat you on the back and maybe give you a few litres of fuel for your ‘good’ deed? But you just disobey a traffic light and the nearest officer would pounce on you. Then you bribe him and move on, dassal. What happens when one single act is legal in some places and illegal in some? Say homosexuality, or Marijuana consumption, or Prostitution. So a person smokes marijuana in a place and is ‘good’ and then smokes the same marijuana in another place and then is ‘bad’? For one single act a person can be both ‘good’ and ‘bad’ depending on his location? Geography? How is that a sensible way of determining ‘good’ and ‘bad’? Why are you humans so foolish?
Let me tell you a little about culture and tradition. A child wakes up in the morning and stretches out his hands to shake his father as a means of greeting, he can accompany it with a curt ‘hi Dad’ if he pleases and he’s good to go. But in some other cultures if a child hasn’t rolled on the floor about a thousand times he hasn’t started greeting at all, he is a ‘bad’ son.
Now to the main issue, the most widely acclaimed criteria for ‘good’ and ‘bad’ are ‘MORALS’ ( or sometimes ethics), there are 3 kinds:
These people combine all the definitions of ‘good’ from religion, to culture and even by law, they seem ‘good’ in the eyes of everyone and follow what ‘seems’ to be right. The thing about a moral person is that when they do ‘bad’ they are usually castigated very much because of the high standards they have set for themselves, they utterly fear this and therefore try as much as possible to remain moral, which is very difficult given your present situation. The moral ones have a bad side that has been repressed for long and therefore seems non-existent, moral people are sometimes hypocrites.
These ones don’t even have feelings, everything goes with them, they are ‘me’ freaks, they must get it even if they have to cheat or be cunning, they would rather kill than be killed. They usually have an outgoing spirit and do not complain when ‘bad’ things happen to them; they believe that’s their lot so they take it in their stride. The immoral ones are seen as cunning, sly and untrustworthy, but deep down within them there’s a side that wants to be good, to be accepted, but somehow (childhood, poverty) that side has been repressed and so they have formed this brazen outward appearance to hide their innate need. Some of them are just badass like that, they understand that the ‘heart of man is desperately wicked’.
These people are the closest to how nature wants you people to behave. They believe there is nothing like moral or immoral, everyone is the same, nothing is right and wrong, they are the most realistic beings. Amoral ones are good to be with, thing is they might be very confused at times, very confused. They know not what they want.
Now the best determinant of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ is …”
Then the voice vanished, I don’t know what distracted me. I think it wanted to talk about the law of human nature a la C.S Lewis, but then again I wouldn’t have gotten around understanding that shii.
You know what my final conclusion is about ‘good’ ‘bad’ and life generally?
The maker played a fast one on us (no Usain Bolt). Just before he had the bright idea to create man, he was having garri for lunch- heavenly garri of course. Immediately he finished his meal he began to create, each man he created he put inside his garri bowl –unwashed bowl- until he was finished, and then he rested.
Hence, we mere mortals are just roaming, scavenging, and gallivanting in the maker’s bowl of garri, without aim, without purpose and without understanding.
Is there any Rabbi out there who wants to enlighten me on what ‘good’ and ‘bad’ is? I’m curious, I’m confused, believe me.