He wanted to nestle in the snug, cocoon of floating senselessness, the insistent voice wouldn’t let him be.
It kept pulling at him; nudging him back from sinking into the deep abyss which beckoned with it’s twinkle of light that beamed at the end.
The nagging voice grew stronger and stronger and his unconscious state was reluctantly dragged to the fore.
His struggle to rise was weighed down by heaviness. Beeps of machines, his mothers anxious voice and the drone of uniformed voices brought it all rushing back.
He remembered. That single minute of distraction checking his tweets; the tumultuous collision, rushing pain and weightlessness.
He remembered floating through the sea of pain, the sweet calming voice of the fair lady who came to his rescue and cradled his head.
He wondered why one of the Saints his mother honoured daily had cradled his head?
He stopped believing those things for a long time, but humored his mother when she dragged him along.
Now he didn’t know what to believe. All he knew was that somehow, she had saved him.
Tess stares around her tiny, sparsely furnished apartment in contemplation.
Her last purchase, a lovely ornate antique mirror, found during one of her forays in a delightful rustic gem of a store, stood in a corner, reflecting the soft glow of the early morning sun.
Time to go foraging for more things, she thinks. Those antique stores sell all manners of lovely odds and ends with lots of character and a story lurking somewhere in the background. ”That hand carved chest of drawers was simply gorgeous.” ”I wonder if it’s still available?”
Slowly but surely, her bohemian taste in furnishing her apartment will be a signature of hard won independence. It had been a major feat to move out of her parents home.
“Who still lives with their parents in their late 20’s, in this day and age?”
Her thought of age draws her like magnet to the mirror.
She stares a bit sullenly at her reflection, pursing her lips as she assessed herself from side to side.
Her figure is still arresting. Flat taut tummy and nicely shaped rump. Lovely peaks – check √
”Not bad at all, if I must say so myself, she thinks in her head.”
”I may not be drop dead and roll over gorgeous but I sure look good!”
”Those heated gazes of appreciative eyes when I traipse down the street cannot be a lie”, she reasons.
”Yet here I am a week to the big Three 0 and no flicker of romance in my life”, her musings carried on. A critical look at the mirrored face does not yield a wrinkle.”Not yet”, she utters thankfully.
”Not a birthday to look forward to.” ”Going over to the house, mama, as usual will be looking at me in expectation of news as if I can conjure a husband with the wave of a wand.”
”Hmm! Maybe, it’s really time to try this online dating!” ”I will talk to Kate to give me the low-down.”
It seems to be going alright with her new online boo – after many disasters, but like they say, you may need to kiss several frogs before you find your prince….
To be continued..
From my neighbours chest of drawers, the interesting things that I found:
As much as possible, I tried not to allow my mind and heart to be affected by racial inflections but sometimes you read something that tugs at you like when you are born black.
That’s it from me folks.
It’s a good day today. Be blessed and enjoy your weekend.
Thescented candles are down to a nub. His favorite casserole is cold and the soufflé has fallen flat.
She looks at the phone for the umpteenth time. Not a buzz. As the minutes tick slowly, the wait becomes unbearable. She knows that it would be another no-show. Another empty promise broken, another lie told and a birthday ruined.
She feels angry frustration for falling in love in a hopeless place. He has been stringing her along all these past year with his sweet tongue.
If she is honest to herself, she knows that he is a consummate liar.
He claims not be in love with his Missus any longer yet Fiorina’s recent findings is that Missus is heavy with the 3rd child.
Enough! I am worth more than this! Emptying the wine glass, she adjusts the zip of the gorgeous red evening gown; a gift from him.
NO more! She said as she slashed it into jagged strips!
After hours of journey on bumpy, dusty roads, arriving his village was euphoric for Ikem.
Mama did a little praise dance when she saw him, and did some more praise-singing, showering him with edifying names when he brought out the things that he came back with.
Friends and cousins equally returned, it would be a good time.
He went greeting kith and kin, strategically launching his new clothes and holding his phone conspicuously for all to see. It’s show time for everyone and he has no intention of being the poorest looking cousin.
Christmas Eve’s night service was a hit as usual. A gathering of old, new, returnees and home bound indigenes. It is doubtful that half of the people at the church service came for the prayers.
Sweethearts fell back in the dark shadows of twilight to hold hands and whisper sweet nothings.
Young rascally boys scared the maidens by tossing penny banger’sin their direction, their squeals of fright an entertainment for them.
It’s a dreamy time of the year, lavishly spent relaxing, binge eating, showing off, going to look at and running from the masquerades, attending a lot of social events….
Eligible young men returned seeking handpicked brides from their villages.
Marriageable girls strut their stuff at Obodo Ukwu, Obodo Ububo and everywhere the opportunity rose, to attract proposals from the city boys.
Hi-Life music blares into the air till the wee hours of the night. Nuptial introductions and lots of traditional marriages are constantly taking place in one clan or the other.
Mama wants to know when Ikem would choose a wife. In fact, her heart and eyes were set on one of Ifemeka’s daughters Kanyinulia.
From Mama’s assessment, the girl is quite sturdy, with nice child-bearing hips, very industrious and pretty too! She makes her thoughts known to Ikem.
”Nna, have you seen Ozo Ifemeka’s daughter Kanyinulia?” ”That girl will make a good wife for you.” ”It is my thought that we should express our interest in her to her family.” ”Her mother is a good friend too you know..”
”Ha! Mama, please not now.” ”Maybe in a few years time.” ”Let me get to Onitsha first and see how things go over there.”
”Hei! My son, if we waste time, another family can pick her out for their son o.” ”That girl is a good catch.”
”Mama, let us pray that things go well, then next year, okay?”
He is happy he visited home. His cousin has agreed to accommodate him at Onitsha while he seeks his future.
He joins his age-grade in their outing masquerade dance.
His satisfaction is soul deep. He knows that his future holds brighter times ahead.
Links to earlier parts of the series are at the top of the page.
Quick Glossary:
Banger: small cheap fireworks that make a lot of noise.
Ifemeka: Igbo name which means ‘things have happened.’
Kanyinulia: An Igbo name for a girl which means ‘let us be happy.’
Nna: An Igbo word for ‘father’. Mothers at times fondly call their sons by such pet name.
Obodo Ukwu: ‘The big square’ A social gathering ground where people go to be seen, to see and mingle.
Obodo Ububo: ‘The sweet/fun square’ A social gathering ground where people go to be seen, to see and mingle.
Onitsha: A city with one of the largest commercial markets in West Africa. It is situated on the river port on the eastern bank of the Niger river in Anambra State, southeastern Nigeria.
Ozo: A highly respected title to a worthy male indigene of a village. Not a cheap process.
Its fun to dig in my neighbours gardens and I never come up empty. Links for you to enjoy.
It wasn’t a good idea to turn off the alarm clock for a few more seconds of snooze, Jane chastises herself as she huffs and puffs downhill in a haste to catch the bus. The few seconds of snatched snooze turned into a lost hour of precious time.
Her pencil skirt is not designed for hurried steps and neither are the heeled pumps made for sprinting, but hurry she must.
An attempt to hike the skirt up her thighs for more leg room yields a rip at the slit and it is not a joyful sound to hear.
”This is simply dreadful!” ”Not today of all days.” ”I can’t afford to be late.”
The tail light of the bus leaving as she arrives leaves her gaping unhappily and hoping the next one will keep to it’s fifteen minutes interval schedule.
As the next bus runs late, her plan to arrive for her interview looking composed and capable dwindles by the seconds and to top it all, it starts to sprinkle.
Rummaging in her bag for her pocket umbrella – which she stores for days like this, when the showers come unannounced, she discovers she has the wrong bag in the first place.
Whoever, created this nonsense of carrying different bags in the first place? She sighs in frustration.
Out of habit and in her haste, she had grabbed her usual every day carry on, leaving behind the nice office tote containing her file, purse and umbrella.
With a sinking feeling in her stomach and her sensible bun fast turning to loose tendrils like limp noodles in the rain shower, she trudges back uphill to her tiny apartment but she cannot get in because her door is a jam-lock and the key is inside in her purse.
”What a fine morning and why do these things happen to me?” She mutters in exasperation, forgetting that she stays up late to watch all the reality shows on television.
Murphy’s Law says, “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong.” Write about a time everything did — fiction encouraged here, too!
Bonus assignment: do you keep a notebook next to your bed? Good. Tomorrow morning, jot down the first thought you have upon waking, whether or not it’s coherent.
Intense look from his eyes caused Brigitte to peek over her shoulders. No one there, except the wall.
“The gentleman from the symposium.” “Of course, it couldn’t be me that he is admiring.” “No one notices wallflowers or do they?”
Mama despairs that she would be left on the shelf.
”Don’t slouch Brigitte!” ”Wear a smile, you shouldn’t scowl so much!”
Auntie Agatha tut-tutted at her bumbling attempts at playing the piano, violin or knitting.
”Don’t frighten off possibilities with too much knowledge of tomes, ruins, horses and butterflies.” ”Men do not appreciate too much intelligence her sage counsel.”
Tired of no dance, a breath of fresh air is required. A flitting moth of unusual colour catches her eyes and she ventures to discover; new addition to my glossary she thinks.
Over voluminous skirts she trips into the Rose bush.
Strong arms encircle to help her up as she mouths her thanks into intense gray eyes.
Unwittingly, she has captured her own Tiger butterfly.
Collecting his accumulated Isusu from the thrift collector Mama Nchekwube was like a dream come true for Ikem. His skepticism had prevented him from participating in one before, until his friend Ifeanyishowed him the dividends of his own effort.
He had never held such an amount of money put together as his own. It felt good. All the ideas of what he planned to do ran around in his head.
Now, he would buy a nice Ankarawrapper, vegetable oil and share a bag of Abakaliki rice with his neighbour to take home to Mama for Christmas. She prefers the local rice to the foreign ones that have been de-husked. They seemed to loose the real taste of Osikapa, but the art of cleaning the Abakaliki rice which was known to contain stones, was only perfected by old hands like Mama.
There was a hurried excitement of Christmas in the air. Wheel-barrow boys were pushing around cassettes of Christmas songs by ABBA and also blaring them from their cassette players from one end of the market to the other.
You could hear the exchanges of customers and vendors over the noisy din:
“Ha!Nwanyi Bacha, biko, I need to travel with this blouse o.” ”When can I come and collect it?”
”Nne, you should have brought this material earlier than now.” ”You know that this is the season for us eh!” ”I will try my best but maybe on 22nd, you can come and collect it.”
”Hei!Mbanu! ”Please 22nd is too far.” ”I am traveling on 23rd to the village.” ”Please try for 20th.” ”Biko!”
Indeed, it is the season of harvest for the tailors. They are turning brisk business churning out Christmas and New year attires as expediently as possible for all the holiday galore.
Ikem was gripped with nervousness. The money in his pocket felt hot that he could almost feel it burning through the lining of his trouser. Every brush of another human in the buzzing, cramped market made the butterflies in his stomach flutter some more. He felt as if eyes were watching him and he decided there and then to go and open a First Bank account.
He had never owned an account before and this time of the year is known for spikes in highway robberies and pick-pocketing. He had no plans of falling victim of such nefarious activities and losing his hard-earned money.
The remaining days fly past in a flurry of activities. As he excitedly packs his meager belongings to take back to the village. He knows that he will miss this place and pangs of melancholy occupy his thoughts, but he has to journey forth to pursue brighter tomorrow’s at Onitsha.
****
The motor-park is a commotion of human traffic and vehicles. Wagons are filled with families all loaded down to the teeth with their luggage for the forth-coming days of merriment. Conductors are shouting their destinations on top of their voices to draw passengers attention. Hawkers of all sorts of items, bread, boiled egg, chin-chin, kuli, kuli, soft drinks are doing their best to entice the traveling customers to patronize them..
Quick bargains are struck, last minute purchases are made, buses loaded to the last perimeter takes off with passengers, to Enugu, Ozubulu, Awka, Okigwe, Orlu, Owerri, Aba etc.
The Igbosare well known to sojourn home en-mass during this festive period. It is almost like a general return of indigenes. Some would travel for days on top of lorries all the way from the northernmost part of Nigeria to be with their families for the holidays.
Ikem boards a bus going to Oji, he cannot wait to eat Mama’s authentic Okpa and Abacha Ncha. These are some of the delicacies of his people.
Quick Glossary for words that you may not know:
Abakiliki: Abakaliki is the capital city of Ebonyi State in southeastern Nigeria. The inhabitants are primarily members of the Igbo nation. Abakaliki, as in the past, is a center of agricultural trade including such products as yams, cassava, rice,
Abacha Ncha/aka African salad: Native snack/meal peculiar to the Igbos but has become a well-known delicacy all over Nigeria. Made from cassava flakes, with palm-oil, oil-bean seeds, dry fish, garden egg etc
Ankara: African print known to symbolize African fashion.
Biko: Igbo word for saying ‘please.’
Chin-chin: A fried snack popular in West Africa. It is a sweet, crunchy, doughnut-like baked or fried dough of wheat flour, and other customary baking items.
Hei!/Ha!: An exclamation which could mean, you don’t say, indeed, what, really and a myriad of other meanings.
Ifeanyi: A popular Igbo name shortened from Ifeanyichukwu which means, nothing is bigger than God.
Igbos/Ibo: The Igbo people, historically spelled “Ibo”, are an ethnic group of southeastern Nigeria. They speak Igbo, which includes various Igboid languages and dialects. Igbo people are one of the largest ethnic groups in Africa. They arerenowned for their tough, resilient adaptability as business people, tradersandfortheirart. The largest migrating tribe in Nigeria.
Ikem: An Igbo name for boys shortened from Ikemefuna, meaning may my power/strength never be lost/or founding.
Isusu: An informal means of collecting and saving money through a savings for the enablement of kith and kin ventures.
Kuli-Kuli: Hausa food that is primarily made from peanuts. It is a popular snack in Nigeria. It is often eaten alone or with a mixture of garri, sugar and water popularly called “garri soakings”
Mama Nchekwube: Nchekwube is shortened from Nchekwubechukwu which means to have hope on God.
Mbanu: An expanded NO with a bit of cajoling added to it.
Nwanyi Bacha: A nickname given to the female tailor occupying the prefabricated shed where she sews. It’s like saying ”the lady at the shed” or nicknaming someone after their trade e.g. egg seller, truck pusher, driver etc.
Oji: A Local Government Area of Enugu State, Nigeria to the south bordering Anambra State and Abia State
Okpa: A traditional Eastern Nigerian delicacy, made with ground Bambara beans.
Onitsha: A city with one of the largest commercial markets in West Africa. It is situated on the river port on the eastern bank of the Niger river in Anambra State, southeastern Nigeria.
Osikapa: A local Igbo name given to cooked rice.
Enugu, Ozubulu, Awka, Okigwe, Orlu, Owerri, Aba etc. Some of the towns and villages found in the Eastern Region of Nigeria inhabited by the Igbos.
The Sun sets, leaving wisps of orange and lavender ribbons across the blue tinted sky.
Anastasia leans on the rail of the promenade deck of the cruise-liner, her soft floral dress blowing in the breeze. Alastair’s muscular arms wrap around her, sharing his warmth in the gentle breeze.
It’s a beautiful day. Their wedding day.
A clear Autumn sky without a gloomy cloud in sight. The aisle and pews decorated with hues of Autumn, in orange gold, red and faded green; her best season of all.
She felt like a fairy princess floating down the aisle to a wedding march of soft tinkle of waterfall and chirping sounds of birds, accompanied by the choristers well modulated sweet rendition of their song. The wedding party was sublime. Everything! Picture perfect!
As the ocean-liner cuts through the waters to a blissful honeymoon, Alastair nuzzles and plants a soft kiss behind her ears. She wants the moments to last forever.
”Hia!” ”Is this not where I hung the shirt?” Ikem queries the silent night. His brand new blue second-hand T shirt with the Chelsea logo was gone! Could it have been carried by the breeze? ”Ah! Ah!” ”I just washed and put it out here not too long ago to dry in the light harmattan breeze!”
His other frayed shirt is hanging and flapping in the wind as if in mockery of his thoughts. He knows in his heart that one of those crooked eyed boys in the neighbourhood has pilfered the new one! ”Maybe it is Jude that took it o.” ”Jude!” ”Jude!” ”Jude!” he bangs on the Jude’s door, to no response.
This reaffirms his decision to go home to the village for Christmas in a couple of weeks and proceed to Onitsha with his cousin Chuks. “From the look of things Chuks seems to be doing well at Onitsha.” ”I will join him and start afresh from there.” ”I am tired of this place!”
”So what am I going to wear for tomorrow’s event now?”
He had just walked out of the dingy common bathroom of their quarters bare-bottomed feet; the sling of his worn-out slippers had finally died a natural death on his trek back home after a hectic days hustle.
It was dark in the neighbourhood. ”O boy, these NEPA boys have dismantled and collected the wires o”, says his neighbour Jude, seated on a heap of cement blocks outside, enjoying the nights fresh air. Their light connections are haphazardly and illegally done, coupled with their inability to settle the NEPA officials with something for the weekend.
Child naming ceremony
Ikem chooses not to let such things bother him right now. He is moving to higher grounds in a few weeks time, besides he had purchased quite an assortment of apparels including two new sandals and sneakers that he will launch over Christmas in the village.
As a matter of fact, if fate continues smiling the way it has been these last couple of weeks, ”I might even consider buying a G.S.M torch light phone and a few items to take to Mama and Nwanneka.’‘ ”It is almost my turn to collect the accumulated funds from ‘Isusu’.”
He felt happier than he had in a long while as he quickly washes and hangs his shirt to drain before he retires for the night. Tomorrow will be a good day, he whistles as he goes along. Papa Emma’s is having the child dedication of his twins, and surely the celebration will be followed by several plates of rice and meat coupled with free drinks to go around.
Party Jollof rice with plantain and moi-moi
He plans to join them to go to church. He has not been to church for so many months. It was tiring attending church services that were fast turning into fashion parades, whilst he had nothing fashionable to wear. It always made him feel ashamed.
Now! The new Tshirt he planned to showcase tomorrow has disappeared. “Thank God I didn’t wash the Chinos jeans as well.” ”I will just have to wear something else!” He muses to himself.
Links to the earlier series are at the top of the page. Thank you
Quick Glossary for words that you might not know:
Child dedication: Child dedication is a symbolic ceremony undertaken by Christian parents soon after the birth of a child. This rite is intended to be a public statement by the parents that they will train their children in the Christian faith.
Chuks: A shortened form of an Igbo name given to boys which could be derived from Chukwuka, God is greater, Chukwuemeka, God has done so well, Chukwudi, God lives, Chukwuebuka, God is very big etc
Isusu: An informal means of collecting and saving money through a savings for the enablement of kith and kin ventures.
Harmattan: Harmattan is a cold-dry and dusty trade wind, that blows over the West African subcontinent, from the Sahara Desert into the Gulf of Guinea between the end of November and the middle of March (winter).
Hia! Just an exclamation like Oh dear!
Moi-Moi: Nigerian steamed bean cakes made from a mixture of washed, peeled black-eyed peas, onions and fresh ground peppers (usually a combination of bell peppers and chili or scotch bonnet). A very protein-rich food that is a staple in Nigeria
NEPA: National Electric Power Authority was an organization formerly governing the use of electricity in Nigeria now replaced by PHCN (Power Holding Company of Nigeria).
Nwanneka: An indigenous Igbo name given to a girl and it means: ”my siblings are supreme or very important.”
Onitsha: A city with one of the largest commercial markets in West Africa. It is situated on the river port on the eastern bank of the Niger river in Anambra State, southeastern Nigeria.
To settle: The act of adjusting or determining disputes between persons without pursuing the matter through the formal process. In this case, it is giving something under the table to the officials.
I found a lot of treasures in the neighbours backyards this past week. Will share just a few. Do take a peek.
When we came here for a look-see in December, to help facilitate our migrating decision-making process, we spent weeks in a glitzy, glam hotel having a tour of the lovely city.
Hotels spuriously dot Dubai’s landscape to meet the needs of a teeming tourism industry which keeps blooming by the day. From the 0 stars to 5 stars and the only 7 Star hotel in the World!
Naturally, I got a bit friendly with a few of the staff, especially a young lady that tended to our room. I have no idea if I was drawn to her because she is of African descent, but I remember observing her very earnest yet polite demeanour as she rushed through her duties like a fire-ball in a haste to get her job done in record time.
The little tips that I gave her were highly appreciated and by the end of a few days, we became a little more friendly. I even suggested to her that I would like to share a day working with her for the heck of the experience to her alarmed and vehement refusal.
Out of piqued curiosity an interview ensued on one of the days that she was making up the room, little did I know that I would use the excerpts one day!
I will keep her name different and no mention is made of the hotels for privacy sake:
Me: “Lydia, where are you from?”
Lydia : “Somalia.”
Me: “How long have you been living here?”
Lydia : “Three years now.”
Me: “Wow!” “That’s been a while!” “Do you live close by?”
Lydia: “Not at all.” “The outskirts, after Sharjah.” “It’s too expensive to live in the city.”
Me: “That’s far! (I exclaimed with the little idea that I had to the terrain). ”What time do you leave home?”
Lydia: ”Most times 5 or 5:30 in the morning!” ”I have to be at work by 7:30.”
Me: “And I see you here till late evening around 9.00pm or so when the bus is taking a bunch of you home.” “Doe’s the bus take you home?”
Lydia: “No it stops us at a metro station and we find our way from there.”
Me: “Oh good!” “So how do you like it living here?” “Was it easy to transition from your place?” “I thought it was a bit difficult to move here as a single woman, given the rules and regulations?” A battery of questions came from my end and all these while she busily went about her duties in the apartment, changing sheets, fluffing pillows etc.
Lydia: “It’s okay to live here even though it is more expensive than Somalia, but this place is better.” “An employment agency engages a lot of us.” “We cannot apply directly by ourselves and they are the ones that obtain the visa after medical tests and other requirements have been satisfied.” ”The agency gets a fraction of our income – they are actually our employers and they deploy us to work in places where they get contracts.”
Me: ”How did you get to know about the agency?” ”Are you happy with the work?”
Lydia: ”My cousin told me about them.” ”We were searching for a proper way to leave Somalia because of certain hardship due to conflicts.” I observed the flitting of emotions on her pretty face, but I didn’t interrupt as I was regaled with bits and pieces of what home meant to her.
Me: ”So what about the job?” ”Is it tedious?” ”Is it okay?” ”What has your experience been like?” I asked leading questions trying to probe a bit beyond the surface.
Lydia: ”Sometimes, I do about 35 check-outs in a day.” I got to understand that, that meant putting rooms in immaculate states when an occupant has checked out.
”Some days can be very stressful especially when some occupants are difficult and don’t want you to disturb them until when they are ready.” ”Then they call and tell housekeeping that nobody has done up their rooms; meanwhile, they are the ones that put a do not disturb sign on the door.” ”What can you do?” ”You just have to manage.” She stated philosophically
”Every job has it’s problems, but if I get money, I will open a hairdressing salon.” ”I know how to make hair very well.” Her face lit up at such an anticipated prospect.
“This is actually my second place of work.” ”At the first hotel that I worked in, I was nearly assaulted by a client.” ”It was during a festive season and the hotel was fully booked at that time.” ‘‘I was assigned to work that floor for the week and this man kept making overtures but I ignored him.” ”On one of the days that I was cleaning up the toilet (and he is a very messy guest), he followed me into the bathroom, got aggressive and tried to force himself on me.” ”I barely managed to extricate myself without getting seriously hurt, but the Indian housekeeping manager informed me two days later that I was fired for upsetting a customer.”
”I was lucky that the agency was understanding and they deployed me to this place.” ”This is a better hotel, she enunciated quietly in her sing-song drawling accent. ”The manager is a nice Egyptian Christian.”
I was very disquietened and left the interview at that with a bigger tip than usual.
a cooking pot and twisted tales 