Monday, October 28, 2019

Vestige of the unspoken word

There are words that should not be spoken. Words that should not be uttered.
There are thoughts that leave a man broken
Words that crush the essence of life and existentialism.
There are people who are easily forgotten
Sexes that inspire wrath, rage or even fulfilment.
There are levels of human emotions, degrees of human feelings.
There are friends and there are enemies, destruction and building.
There is God in all perfection; Righteousness, all whiteness. A clinical absence of darkness.
Then there are people beyond description. Exuding sunlight and beauty into seemingly dark sentences.
But besides all this is one, a transcendence, fulfilment, unique in all its markings..... You!!!

Thursday, October 10, 2019

The day I saw an angel - An excerpt

Chapter One ©️
The scent of lavender hung heavy in the air. Mum decided we all had to use a new bath soap. I was still trying to decide whether I liked it. Sometimes I did and sometimes I didn’t. Today I am not sure. It was too strong.
“Darling are you ready??”
I rolled my eyes. Mum was at it again. I was too old to be called darling. Darling was for babies. And I was no longer a baby. I was almost ten years old. And besides I was angry with mum. Why did she make me leave my former school? I didn’t want to leave. She kept buying me presents. As if presents could replace my friends. I remember them so clearly.
There was Margaret, Bunmi, Lucy and Seun. We went everywhere together. Break time was the time we had the most fun. We would play ___ I got even angrier as I remembered our games.
“Darling __ you are not answering.”
“I am ready mummy __” I got out in a loud voice.
“Then come out quickly __ it’s time for me to take you to school.”
I rolled my eyes once again. And glanced around my room once more admiring its prettiness. There were pink and white colors everywhere; just the way I liked it.
I heaved a deep sigh and walked out of the room closing the door behind me.
Mum was already downstairs waiting for me in the car. I passed my dad’s room as walked to our front door. The door was open. Mummy had forgotten to close it. I could see his shirts, ties and trousers hanging neatly on the clothes hanger.
I felt sad. I missed him. He’d travelled out of town. Mum said it had something to do with business. He was going to be gone for at least a month. And it had only been a week. There was still a long time to go.
The staircase seemed to go down forever. I missed daddy. I missed my old school and most of all, I hated the fact that I had to go to a new school today. But mum said I had to __ so I had no choice. I had to go. Whenever I wanted to disobey her she always said the words ‘Honor your father and mother’. It was in the Bible. I hated that too. I loved Jesus. But I felt mum used him to make me do things I did not want to do. But I would obey her. Because I am sure it is what Jesus would want.
Chapter Two
“Did you carry your lunch bag?” Mum asked looking at me. I could see the worry in her eyes. I nodded without answering.
She looked sad all of a sudden. That made me feel bad. I leaned forward in my seat and touched her arm. She smiled. I smiled __ or at least I tried to.
“What’s wrong with you Deborah?”
I didn’t want to answer. Because I knew whatever I said was going to hurt her. And I never wanted to hurt my parents. They were very nice to me. They sent me to school, bought my clothes and even played with me sometimes. Because I did not have a younger brother or sister to play with. I didn’t mind. I had friends in school who were always there for me. I became sad again. It was past tense. I didn’t have friends anymore. They were in my old school. Not the new one I was going to. Mum always said I would make new friends. But no friend could be like my old ones.
“You don’t want to answer me?”
“No it’s not like that mummy. I do want to answer. I don’t want to go to a new school. Why can’t I keep going to my old one?”
“Deborah we have been through this __ it’s easier for daddy and I you being in this new school. Its closer to where we work so we can pick you easily.”
A few minutes passed as I thought how I was going to ask her the next question.
“Mum __ please don’t be angry with me ___ but did you remove me from the other school because the school fees are too much for you and daddy to pay?”
“No!” My mum shouted. “How can you think that? We removed you because of the distance. That is all.
I nodded, trying to smile so she wouldn’t feel bad. She kept looking at my face. As if trying to see if I was ok. She eventually started the car and we drove through the gate of the estate heading to my new school.
I like the long drive to school. I could imagine and daydream. I could remember my friends. And those who were not really my friends. I heard some of the teachers called them troublemakers. But they didn’t seem that troublesome to me. They always did well in their tests and the other children loved them. I wasn’t sure what I felt about them.
My friends and I found we were always a little jealous of them. They always seemed to have the best time in school. The most popular of them was a girl many people considered special. Her name was Jumoke Ibikunle. She lived in a small town called Eyin Ilekun. That was before her parents brought her to the city.
I’d passed them once or twice during my time playing on the playground. I remember hearing words like Tutvuu. It made no sense. There was no word like that. I’d never heard of such a word before. I spent hours dwelling on what it could mean. But the answer never came to me. I remember I even asked my mum once what it meant. She confirmed what I’d always thought.
“Deborah please __ there is no such word.”
I realized maybe I heard wrong. It couldn’t be. It was probably a nickname or something. My mind couldn’t help asking me why I felt it was a name. Who would call their son or daughter a name like Tutvuu? It made absolutely no sense.
I was brought out of my thoughts by the loud sound made by the car’s brakes. I looked up. We were in All Saints High Primary School. When I told my friends what school my mother and father were sending me to. I remember their eyes becoming so wide.
Margaret said something like __ “You are going to a rich man’s school.”
I was puzzled. I couldn’t understand what that meant. Maybe the school had been built by a very rich man. That was probably what she meant.
Mother stopped in front of a large building. The roof was so high up I had to lean backwards before I could see it. Everything looked new. As if it had been built not long ago.
The students walking around looked ___ ‘I don’t know’ different. Their clothes were shiny. Their watches looked as if they’d just been removed from a shopping mall. Like the mall dad sometimes takes me. I tried to remember the name. I couldn’t for a while. And then I remembered. Shoprite! Dad sometimes took me to Shoprite. I decided to make sure I asked him to take me there again when he came back from his business trip.
If he and mum were going to make me come to this school I was going to make sure I got something out of it. I rehearsed and planned what I would say and how I would say it.
“Daddy I want you to take me to Shoprite. I want you to buy me cake and ice-cream and I also want to watch a movie in the cinema. Mum taught me how to check the cinema’s website to know what was showing at the cinema. Toy Story 4 was in cinemas now. Dad bought me Toy Story 1-3 on a DVD. I must have watched it a hundred times. I felt excited. I always did when my parents took me to the mall.
“Come out Deborah __ let’s go and see your class teacher.”
I frowned. What I wanted did not matter. My parents had made all the arrangements. Now I had a new class teacher. I liked Mr. Busari __ my old class teacher. He knew all the stories. He knew what we liked and every time he taught us __ even the stupidest amongst us always understood. My mum called him a gifted man. Or like she sometimes said to my father when she thought I wasn’t listening. She called him ‘a man with all the gifts.’ I still did not understand what she meant by that. Maybe I never would __ especially since I only heard them as I was passing.
The inside of the school was even shinier than the outside. The smell of fresh paint was everywhere. Students; boys and girls looked at me strangely as I walked down the long hall behind my mother. Something told me they knew I was new. As if some mark on my head showed everyone this was my first day. I frowned at some of them. Some looked surprised that I was frowning, others simply frowned back. A few smiled at me. That surprised me. I shrugged my shoulders. I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to be at my old school which was all I knew. Mum and dad didn’t understand. To them I was simply a foolish little girl who had no choice or say in the matter. I felt like a fool.
Chapter Three
The class teacher was beautiful. Besides my mum I don’t think I had ever seen a woman that beautiful. She wore glasses, a good black skirt and a clean white blouse.
She rose from her desk __ bent down and shook my hand. Her hand was warm to the touch. I felt her love and her warmth. As she spoke with my mummy and I listened I found I didn’t miss my old school that much.
She and mum talked for a few more moments and then mum was gone. That was after she bent and gave me a hug which I returned. But I wasn’t too hurt by her absence because of my new class teacher who I was starting to like a great deal. I was already beginning to forget Mr. Busari. She made me want to be close to her forever.
“Everyone I want you to meet our new addition to our class. This is Deborah Akinmade. Everyone say hello to her.”
“Hello!” They all said at once. I looked at each face in turn. Some faces were friendly, some were bored and others were not so friendly. Mum had a word for it but I couldn’t remember it no matter how much I tried to. It began with an ‘h’ and sounded like hos__ I couldn’t make it out. So I didn’t bother trying again. My class teacher started talking again.
“We have a tradition in our school and class__” She began. I couldn’t stop myself from frowning. I didn’t know what the word ‘tradition’ meant. As if she could sense that, she explained further.
“What that means is __ we have a way of doing things here. Every new student tells the class something about themselves. It could be an experience that is something you went through, a story you read; anything. Is there something you could share with us Deborah??”
I thought, trying to come up with something. And then it hit me almost immediately. But it was something I had never told anyone, even my parents. I remember that day as if it was yesterday. It almost two years ago it happened. It was such a special moment for me. I wasn’t with any of my friends when it happened. And I hadn’t been able to tell anyone about it until now.
Could I share it with my new class? Something in my spirit told me I could tell everyone. I was a bit nervous. Where would I begin? And would my class teacher and my new class mates not think I am mad? The voice in my spirit spoke again. ‘Tell me Deborah __ do not be afraid __ I am with you.’ As soon as I heard that I knew I had to tell them. He had spoken and I could not disobey him. So I cleared my throat and began to speak.
“Yes madam. I have something to share.” I spoke slow and my voice was shaky.
“Is it an experience or a story Deborah?”
“It is a bit of both madam.”
She nodded and gave me permission to continue. I nodded and began.
“Good morning madam and good morning class. My name is Deborah Akimade and I am nine years old. I want to tell you about the day I saw an angel __”
As I expected the classroom exploded with gasps, shouts and shrieks. Even my class teacher looked shocked. I understood now why I never told anyone about this until now.

Tuesday, March 26, 2019

Fights, crickets and birds


Dad and mum are at it again
At times like this I’d run far away until I no longer feel am the one to blame
There are days I feel lost as they fight themselves again and again
Only then do I let the magical things into my little game
The game I play when I am far away, away from strife, away from loss and what some have come to call the cross
The cross of what? I ask myself as I trudge across miles of empty space deep in thought
Then do the multicolored birds come
They sing, speaking in words I cannot comprehend0
Words that take me high and do not allow me to descend
Words that make me miss the weekend when dad and mum will shout until my skin tingles and I hear the neighbors say these people are wicked
It embarrasses me __ but what else could this be likened
To
The words ‘good grief’ never felt so apt and true.
While I navigate the heavens filled with magic and I no longer hear the fights and the abuse. I know in my heart I’ve found what the heavens know is true…. And that’s you.
Peace, tranquility and the abundance owned by little but a few.

Wednesday, September 12, 2018

Merry Ol Nigeria - Land of Black Gold


We live in a world rife with injustices. A world of unfairness, unfaithfulness, seeded with corruption. A world where right is categorized as wrong, and wrong categorized as right.
I live in a world of beautiful scenery, prettier people, with a heart for giving; hardworking, relentless, willing to pursue their objectives in spite of the ugly cards life has dealt them. It’s here you find people going about their business; to church, work, the million other places normal people go; even when an uncaring government doesn’t pay them their dues.
This is a world where people build beauty out of ashes. A country where mothers do all to ensure their wards don’t go hungry. A world where constant power is something of a distant memory; a world where leaders tell us we should be grateful to receive what citizens in other countries call rights.
They steal our money, smear our honour and the worst part is we give them a hero’s welcome after their dastardly deeds come to light. We are for lack of a better term idiotic and foolish; the bane of the average Nigerian. Personally I don’t blame the bloodsucking leaders. I blame the citizens, the ruled who are unwilling to get off their fat butts and tell these godless despots that they aren’t doing what they ought to do. We simply celebrate them, sing their praises to high heavens just cos of a bowl of porridge, the five thousand, two thousand, ten thousand they give to sell your soul to the devil.
This is our world. This is our time ___ a mineral resource filled goldmine, a perfect creation of the divine. This is black world, a black Nirvana; a place I’ll like to call merry ol’ Nigeria.

Monday, May 14, 2018

Failure in the corridors of power


This country could be regarded as the eighth wonder of the world. But not in the way you think and not in a good way either. I marvel when some people for some sick twisted reasons of their own will go as far as saying the last three administration’s performance was anything short of dissatisfactory. I’d go as far as say criminal and even treasonable.
Life here is on the verge of anarchy. The system is broken. It doesn’t work; the worst part is no one seems to want it to work. Whining about it, arguing about it doesn’t do spit either. Some facebook jokers went on the social network lauding and praising the present administration for a job well done.
It got me wondering if they were accepting some sort of payout for talking ‘the good talk’ about the government. Yoruba’s have a saying that ‘Nkan ti o da ko daa.’ *Which translates to what is wrong is wrong. I don’t see how anyone seeing what goes on here will say everything is fine and dandy.
Take my neighbourhood for instance. Exactly eight days ago, torrential rains brought down an electric pole. It holds the high tension wire leading to the street’s transformer. The Benin Electric distribution company left it lying on the street without doing anything about it.
For eight solid days we haven’t had electricity. Except for the few lucky enough to own generating sets which feeds them for as many hours as each family can afford.
It has taken the BEDC eight whole days to restore power to us for a pole that fell down. Now my question is this __ how long will it take them to restore power if the main power plant in the town was to like say __ blow up! Maybe we won’t have light for five years.
How does a nation that thrives on inefficiency expect to move forward? Say what you like about Oyedepo, Adeboye and other mega church leaders but they seemed to have succeeded in solving the electricity situation on their church estates.
The fact that these campuses can have 24 hour electricity proves that it can be done. No one seems to want to own up to responsibility. What I’ve seen most Nigerian leaders do is to pass the buck, play the blame game. Blame past administrators for their failures instead of sitting down responsibly and working out a plan to remove Nigeria from the quagmire it is presently.
Listen up fellow Nigerians. The buck stops here. Stop finding excuses for failure and start working out feasible plans to get things in this country to work. Start with your own lives and lets work it out from there. The Bible says the world is eagerly waiting for the manifestation of the sons of God.
Our parent’s have had their shot and messed up. It’s our turn now. Have you ever stopped to think what coming generations will have to say about us if we do not do all not just to succeed but to make our nation succeed. The buck stops here people. OWN IT!!!

Monday, April 2, 2018

Third world country living


Name : - Akintomide Ifedayo Adigwe
Phone Numbers: - +2347030136545, +2347050458508
Twitter handle: @semanticdmax
Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/akintomideifedayoadigwe/


Life in a third world country
Life in a third world country is usually worse than most would suggest, it becomes more deadly if you’re one of many who earn less than a dollar a day. I earn ninety dollars a month which is quite low when you consider how expensive everything is __ food, utilities; the list goes on.
But truth be told am one of the lucky ones to have even found work at all. Nigeria is a beautiful country; fertile lands, extensive mineral and material resources which are for the most part being squandered by the political elite; cabals who like nothing better than to keep the countrys’ economics and people under a tight leash.
It’s hard however to be ungrateful when I consider how many years I sweated to get a job at all. I teach twenty six impressionable children, whose age range is between six and eight years old.
The job has its challenges as everything on earth does. Trying to impart knowledge into children who’d rather play than work; you could come into conflict with their overprotective parents. Another negative is seeing children being emotional abused or neglected by the people supposed to see to their well being.
Surviving in Nigeria is like trying to navigate a mine field with only a pencil thin flashlight for company in the darkness of night. To some that might sound like a gross exaggeration but it happens to be the truth.
You’ve probably heard reports of terrorist attacks, but that isn’t what I am talking about here. What I am referring to is the unfavourable working and living conditions.
Bill Gates was in the country a few days ago. He said Nigeria is one of the most dangerous places for a woman to give birth. Many disagreed with him but I felt his words were a right assessment of what most Nigerians go through on a daily basis.
This brings to mind something that happened to a friend two weeks back. She went into labour. Her first mistake was registering for antenatal care at the town’s general hospital, which many describe it as a neutering/death centre.
Her experience was an alarming indicator of how deep corruption has eaten into the nation’s systems. The doctors have a system they employ. When women come to give birth, they’re referred to private hospitals in town citing lack of appropriate equipment as the cause. These private hospital owners carry out unwarranted caesarean operations on these women raking up huge medical bills in the process which when paid are shared between the private hospital owners and the doctors at the general hospital.
My family friend lost the baby; it went into distress early in the labour process. She almost lost her life too. A complaint was filed but the general hospital staff denied it saying she chose not to continue her treatment there and had insisted she be referred to a private hospital. That was how the whole thing was swept under the rug.
This is one of a million cases which are buried on a daily basis. A pastor of one of the most popular Christian assemblies said humorously that every family in Nigeria is like a nation on its own.
Why you might ask? Well the reason is every family finds themselves responsible for providing their own electricity (Because we get on average three hours electricity a day. The saddest part is they bring bogus bills every month which we are forced to pay for. Nigeria is the only country I know where we pay for services not rendered), water and security.
The life of a man working in a third world society as dangerous as what obtains in Nigeria is a trial. But it is a trial we have no choice but to face, pushing on to a future we hope will be brighter than what we see today.

Blackmail??


An argument erupted among friends a few hours ago. The premise to the less informed could be termed stupid. One of my guys put forward a question. His question or should we say statement was would there be more virgins in the world if men stopped coercing and blackmailing women into having sex.
He threw the question out there and for the next four hours or so guys started trashing it out, arguing for or against the premise. I on the other hand was on the side of the nays.
I based my argument on the fact that I do not think anyone can be coerced into doing anything without some sort of leverage. Maybe you have dirt on the person or what not. There is a form of manipulation going on in most relationships and I do admit men manipulate women but women manipulate men too.
That does not imply I do not accept people; especially women aren’t in abusive relationships but those in that category in my opinion do not make up to half of the dating population. Life for the most part has choice and free will wired into it.
If you’re not in some sort of human sex trafficking thing how pray can one claim you were coerced into doing something you did not want to do? As depraved as the world has gotten in the last couple of years, aren’t there still some people who are doing things the right way?
Sex before marriage is basically an acceptable norm now. But aren’t there those who aren’t engaging in sexual intercourse before marriage? Most often it might not be because of religion or some other warped sense of self righteousness. Their decision could just be based on personal preferences.
The world has evolved to such an extent that wrong is termed right and right wrong. What obtains now is most people try to hide their shortcomings by excusing away their behaviour. The guy says I have needs; so he keeps bullying his girl to have sex until she folds and sleeps with him. His excuse being he intends to marry her eventually. The girl hides her guilt by explaining it away that the guy coerced her into doing what she didn’t want to do. She does this because her conscience keeps disturbing her.
I do not think there is any excuse for wrongdoing. No matter how right and pleasurable it could seem. If you do wrong why not (like Harley Quinn said in suicide squad) own up to that sh__? You cannot tell me as an innocent woman you leave your house and go to a guy’s place when you know he is alone and not realize you’re courting trouble. If he makes a move you say he coerced you. You can’t tell me sex wasn’t on your mind when you went to see him.
We manipulate ourselves on a daily basis. Both sexes do it. Girls use sex to control and get things from their men. Men use women’s gullibility and soft side to make them do what they want. Why then should God send people to hell if they can’t help their wrongdoing? Am guessing its cos he knows they have the power to say no to evil but choose not to. No man or woman (except with some extenuating circumstances; like blackmail, trafficking et al) can convince me they were forced to do what they didn’t want to do in a relationship. You did it because you secretly wanted to. 
Thoughts please ___