Olanna would not let the attitude of the obnoxious immigration officer get to her. Her excitement was brimming over and in her state of joy, she did not mind parting with the cedis that she had left on her; she did not think that she would be needing them very soon.

Passage through the Lagos-Badagry border was known to be stressful and she couldn’t wait for the clearance of customs and immigration controls to be done so that they can continue their journey. The seven plus hours form Accra to Lagos had been hectic but was gradually coming to an end.

The bus had trundled assuredly through the West African International road route, only stopping for short breaks, to refuel, and for border control between Togo and Ghana, but through the entire trip, she seemed to be floating in a bubble of good tidings, flipping through various copies of bridal…

Whatever we see,

Wherever we go,

Whatever we pass through in the journey of life,

Passes through us, leaving indelible etchings

On our hearts, minds and body

No matter how big or small

Until our entire being

Becomes a transfiguration of the multitude of etchings

Which forms our intrinsic being.

Certainly, I know that I am not perfect,

And that is perfectly alright.

Neither are you, or you and you!

Human flaws are characteristics we all share in common.

Some flaws are deeply entrenched,

Like the mandatory make up stripes on a zebra,

While some flaws are momentarily switched on,

As changeable as a flash bulb.

Some give it a posh title – eccentric, uniqueness, schizophrenic, deficient, myopic …and so on,

Or the simpler names – faults, shortcomings, intolerance, and so on. …

I call it exposing your humanity,

You being who you are.

In each of us, exists a beauty and a beast,

Like a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,

It all depends on which side of your humanity you choose to expose.

In each of us exists a redeeming quality,

As minutiae as it may be.

Consider the good qualities of a man,

Weighed against his faulty sides,

At last there was eerie calm. The heated tussle was over. She clutched the bloodied, sharp butcher knife, her hands totally saturated in blood, which trickled down the cracks of her fingers in rivulets and dripped all over the floor.

In the frenzy of the struggle, the blood had splattered everywhere, including the walls. She was surprised at the amount of blood which had pooled on the floor. Indeed, it would require a thorough clean up, if not the stains will become affixed and she would hate such constant reminders.

Hissing in pain, she turned on the kitchen tap which simply sputtered, coughed up a few drops of water and ceased. Wishful thinking she said to herself. This night is just going nicely. Stomping out of her back door, she fetched a bowl of water from one of the  jerrycans of water that they purchased from the roaming water vendors…

In deed, nothing I have is truly mine,

I am simply a beneficiary,

Of the benevolence of a Supreme Being: God,

I am only a conscious receptor of goodwill and grace,

I am simply a custodian of blessings bestowed upon me,

A mere guardian of gifts innumerable.

Not to be taken for granted.

However we look at it.

I know this.

I am just a sojourner, a wayfarer.

Nothing I have is truly mine.

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha