Posted in State of Mind

Entry 70 – 15/08/2017

9:34pm. I got into my flat not too long ago. I am completely and utterly fagged out from work. I’ve just worked for twelve straight hours without break. Not even a lunch break. My brain has gone on a temporary recession. My body is crying for mercy and my knee is killing me. Yes, I know. I do need to get it checked out. I dislocated my knee bone last week and I have not been to the hospital to check it out. Every step is a struggle and guess what? I have to climb loads of steps at work. Today in particular involved running up and down those steps. And of course, the daily dose of sexual harassment was taken; promptly at that as well. So my knee is worse than it was this morning. I have made a mental note to go get it x-rayed tomorrow before it leads to something else.

Oh yes, what was I saying. Sorry I’m a bit chatty today. It’s 9:34pm. I’m tired out from work. I curse my country, my work place and the peanuts I am being paid. I curse it all. I hadn’t had a meal all day. Not even breakfast. Only a few snacks I have taken. So, I am a bit grumpy. And then this message comes into my phone; from my protégé. If you’re a good and faithful follower, you will remember her from the post of March the 8th.

“I spent most of my day today thinking about my beloved.

I looked at how I’ve managed with this trip all by myself, from the onset with little or no help from people and I owe it all to her. Some will say its common sense but I learnt to be independent from her. I learnt to rely on nobody and expect the worst from people so that every act of theirs exceeds my expectation.

And when I look at how far I’ve come, I hear you say ‘well done, my daughter, you have learnt well'”.

I think I am good for something after all. *blushes severely* I lied. I know I am good for something. This her message to me spoke to my mind differently. I am not yet where I want but I am getting there. And curse as I may my work place. Stressed as I may be everyday for peanuts pay, it is unavoidably the starting point to where I am going. So I am back to my favourite Eminem’s lyric:

Hush little baby don’t you cry, everything is gonna be alright,

Stiffen that upper lip up, little lady, I told ya

Daddy’s​ gonna hold you for tonight

I know momma’s not here, and you don’t know why

I can feel how you feel inside

It might seem a little crazy, little baby

But I promise

Everything’s gonna be alright… “

Thank you OLA, you mean a lot to me. And you made my day today.

Posted in Little Steps

Chicken Nugget

“Life is not about your perfection, it is the moments you lived being the real you without fear or favour”

I came across this quote this morning as I was going through my social media. It hit very close to home. In my previous posts, I have complained and whined about my heritage, my ancestry and all that. And how I wish I could change it so I could be born in a different family.

All my life I have done basically everything that always ends with “will my parents be happy about this?”

The reason I chose this state for my national service is to be far away from home, far from people my parents know and far away from obligations. I was so happy my request for this state was granted. A day to my travel, a shocker came up, my parents knew people where I was going to. I thought to myself “what on earth is this?”. A place so local and remote, still my parents always manage to have a control tower set up there. I officially gave up on “running away” from home.

I decided to just start being me and damn the consequences. I have pretended my whole life. Perhaps it’s time people see me for what I really am. I can’t say that I’ve totally stopped caring about their feelings, but I am getting there.

I have gained weight. I might look tired from my day’s job but at least I look healthy and I’m happy. You might not understand why I am sharing this testimony if you didn’t know me from last year. I was borderline anorexic.

The funny thing is I do not even know the real me. I have pretended so much that I have lost touch with me. I guess it is time for a joy ride to find out.

Happy Sunday folks.

This post is so named because I actually want to eat chicken nuggets from Macy’s right this moment.

Posted in Bits and Pieces

Jung, Briggs and Myers

So I was bored and decided to take the Briggs-Myers personality test. For the first time, I think the results are rather spot on so I decided to share. It is a rather long read. Goodluck.

INFJ
Introverted (34%)
iNtuitive (50%)
Feeling (16%)
Judging (41%)

INFJs are distinguished by both their complexity of character and the unusual range and depth of their talents. Strongly humanitarian in outlook, INFJs tend to be idealists, and because of their J preference for closure and completion, they are generally "doers" as well as dreamers.

This rare combination of vision and practicality often results in INFJs taking a disproportionate amount of responsibility in the various causes to which so many of them seem to be drawn.

INFJs are deeply concerned about their relations with individuals as well as the state of humanity at large. They are, in fact, sometimes mistaken for extroverts because they appear so outgoing and are so genuinely interested in people — a product of the Feeling function they most readily show to the world. On the contrary, INFJs are true introverts, who can only be emotionally intimate and fulfilled with a chosen few from among their long-term friends, family, or obvious "soul mates." While instinctively courting the personal and organizational demands continually made upon them by others, at intervals INFJs will suddenly withdraw into themselves, sometimes shutting out even their intimates. This apparent paradox is a necessary escape valve for them, providing both time to rebuild their depleted resources and a filter to prevent the emotional overload to which they are so susceptible as inherent "givers." As a pattern of behavior, it is perhaps the most confusing aspect of the enigmatic INFJ character to outsiders, and hence the most often misunderstood — particularly by those who have little experience with this rare type.

Due in part to the unique perspective produced by this alternation between detachment and involvement in the lives of the people around them, INFJs may well have the clearest insights of all the types into the motivations of others, for good and for evil. The most important contributing factor to this uncanny gift, however, are the empathic abilities often found in Fs, which seem to be especially heightened in the INFJ type (possibly by the dominance of the introverted N function).

This empathy can serve as a classic example of the two-edged nature of certain INFJ talents, as it can be strong enough to cause discomfort or pain in negative or stressful situations. More explicit inner conflicts are also not uncommon in INFJs; it is possible to speculate that the causes for some of these may lie in the specific combinations of preferences which define this complex type. For instance, there can sometimes be a "tug-of-war" between NF vision and idealism and the J practicality that urges compromise for the sake of achieving the highest priority goals. And the I and J combination, while perhaps enhancing self-awareness, may make it difficult for INFJs to articulate their deepest and most convoluted feelings.

Usually self-expression comes more easily to INFJs on paper, as they tend to have strong writing skills. Since in addition they often possess a strong personal charisma, INFJs are generally well-suited to the "inspirational" professions such as teaching (especially in higher education) and religious leadership. Psychology and counseling are other obvious choices, but overall, INFJs can be exceptionally difficult to pigeonhole by their career paths. Perhaps the best example of this occurs in the technical fields. Many INFJs perceive themselves at a disadvantage when dealing with the mystique and formality of "hard logic", and in academic terms this may cause a tendency to gravitate towards the liberal arts rather than the sciences. However, the significant minority of INFJs who do pursue studies and careers in the latter areas tend to be as successful as their T counterparts, as it is *iNtuition* — the dominant function for the INFJ type — which governs the ability to understand abstract theory and implement it creatively.

In their own way, INFJs are just as much "systems builders" as are INTJs; the difference lies in that most INFJ "systems" are founded on human beings and human values, rather than information and technology. Their systems may for these reasons be conceptually "blurrier" than analogous NT ones, harder to measure in strict numerical terms, and easier to take for granted — yet it is these same underlying reasons which make the resulting contributions to society so vital and profound.

Beneath the quiet exterior, INFJs hold deep convictions about the weightier matters of life.Those who are activists – INFJs gravitate toward such a role – are there for the cause, not for personal glory or political power.
INFJs are champions of the oppressed and downtrodden.They often are found in the wake of an emergency, rescuing those who are in acute distress.INFJs may fantasize about getting revenge on those who victimize the defenseless.The concept of 'poetic justice' is appealing to the INFJ.

Accurately suspicious about others' motives, INFJs are not easily led.These are the people that you can rarely fool any of the time.Though affable and sympathetic to most, INFJs are selective about their friends. Such a friendship is a symbiotic bond that transcends mere words.
INFJs have a knack for fluency in language and facility in communication. In addition, nonverbal sensitivity enables the INFJ to know and be known by others intimately.

Writing, counseling, public service and even politics are areas where INFJs frequently find their niche.

Functional Analysis Of The INFJ
Based on Jung’s framework of cognitive functions;

Introverted iNtuition
Introverted intuitives, INFJs enjoy a greater clarity of perception of inner, unconscious processes than all but their INTJ cousins. Just as SP types commune with the object and "live in the here and now" of the physical world, INFJs readily grasp the hidden psychological stimuli behind the more observable dynamics of behavior and affect. Their amazing ability to deduce the inner workings of the mind, will and emotions of others gives INFJs their reputation as prophets and seers. Unlike the confining, routinizing nature of introverted sensing, introverted intuition frees this type to act insightfully and spontaneously as unique solutions arise on an event by event basis.

Extraverted Feeling
Extraverted feeling, the auxiliary deciding function, expresses a range of emotion and opinions of, for and about people. INFJs, like many other FJ types, find themselves caught between the desire to express their wealth of feelings and moral conclusions about the actions and attitudes of others, and the awareness of the consequences of unbridled candor. Some vent the attending emotions in private, to trusted allies. Such confidants are chosen with care, for INFJs are well aware of the treachery that can reside in the hearts of mortals. This particular combination of introverted intuition and extraverted feeling provides INFJs with the raw material from which perceptive counselors are shaped.

Introverted Thinking
The INFJ's thinking is introverted, turned toward the subject. Perhaps it is when the INFJ's thinking function is operative that they are most aloof. A comrade might surmise that such detachment signals a disillusionment, that she has also been found lacking by the sardonic eye of this one who plumbs the depths of the human spirit. Experience suggests that such distancing is merely an indication that the seer is hard at work and focusing energy into this less efficient tertiary function.

Extraverted Sensing
INFJs are twice blessed with clarity of vision, both internal and external. Just as they possess inner vision which is drawn to the forms of the unconscious, they also have external sensing perception which readily takes hold of worldly objects. Sensing, however, is the weakest of the INFJ's arsenal and the most vulnerable. INFJs, like their fellow intuitives, may be so absorbed in intuitive perceiving that they become oblivious to physical reality. The INFJ under stress may fall prey to various forms of immediate gratification. Awareness of extraverted sensing is probably the source of the "SP wannabe" side of INFJs. Many yearn to live spontaneously; it's not uncommon for INFJ actors to take on an SP (often ESTP) role."

(by Joe Butt and Marina Margaret Heiss – published under licensing)

Acronyms

*SP – Sensing/Perceiving
*ST – Sensing/Thinking
*SF – Sensing/Feeling

Posted in Pinches of Salt

The Himalayan Lily

Slowly, slowly, do not rush the unfolding of your soul. Everything takes time to bloom.

Around this time last year, I was a major actress at the dysthymia stage. I had almost every symptom dysthymia wanted from its slaves. I had a loss of enjoyment in things I once found pleasurable, major change in weight( in my case, a loss of more than 5% of weight within a month), insomnia at least for 345 of 365 days in a year, physically restless and rundown, excessively fatigued almost every day and the one that got me a job at that large theatrical stage was the feeling of hopelessness and worthlessness.

For you folks wondering what dysthmia is. In simple terms, it is chronic depression. I am not exactly sure how it started. But as the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, I noticed that I had started drifting from people. The once fun and expressive girl had turned withdrawn and desolate. I had a very select few I kept contact with and if you weren't on that list, I either rejected your calls or blocked your number depending on how willing you were to contact me.

I was obligated to go to a social night out at least once in a week so that my friends wouldn't suspect anything. Even during those social nights, I hardly communicated or socialised except when I had a direct question thrown to me. I just smiled and drank my way through the night. Yeah, I sipped my drink quicker than my friends could blink. I focused on my alcohol glass in front of me almost always. The only thing that usually could draw me away from my drink was dance and music. I could dance for hours without stopping. I would literally be pouring out sweat and have body pains but I still pushed myself and danced harder. Most of the time, it took the fact that my friends wanted to have a breath of fresh air to get me to go out and take a break. Seeing as I didn't want them to get hurt/lost/assaulted as usually I was always the sober one. I drank more percentage in alcohol than they took but I always sober. Actually there's a medical explanation for that. And I believe it has to do with the fact that since I was always exhausting energy and simultaneously drinking water because of thirst on the dance floor, I was inevitably sweating out the alcohol fluids and also got to weaken the alcohol mix by drinking water.

So how did it get this way? How did I let that cankerworm eat so deeply into me that nothing else was left except my motionless eyes and tortured soul? Why didn't I stop it before it was too late?

I have no answer for that. I guess it was just a build-up of so many things. Few years prior, I was experiencing academic setbacks, emotional abuse, professional setbacks, body shaming etc. So it kind of built up into one great portfolio of madness that my only escape became solitude. My life was lectures, library, home.

The last straw that broke the camel's back was my inability to get a first class in my degree. It ruined me. My friends all had first class. My classmates also had first class. Some important players in my life who said they loved me had great expectations for me and I let them down. To them it was, "you did a simple degree so why can't you pass in it." Well, I thought what they had for me was love. That was my first mistake I guess.
Fast forward, one month later, I had lost my job. I was on the verge of being thrown out of the home I had come to love. I was about to be separated from those who brought some semblance of meaning to my life.

I lost appetite gradually and with time I started forgetting to eat. I remember having my first meal of the day often when I am out for dinner at 7pm with my friends. I lost more weight then. From a size 10 (UK) to a size 6. Subsequent to the weight loss, came the hatred for my body. I hated my body. I liked the way skirts fit so snugly on other girls. I like the way their shape was pronounced when they wore a dress. I like the way their legs were smooth and not scarred like mine. I hated to dress up in front of other people, especially Africans because all I would hear is; "you're so flat", "you have no bum at all", "you're like a ruler".

I wished for a partner then. Someone I could just talk to. Someone I thought that could just love me for the way I am. Someone who wouldn't care about my lack of body fat. Maybe having someone who loved me the way I wanted to be loved would have made everything better. I wondered if something perhaps was wrong with me. Why don't I have anyone whom I could share my heart with? Why is no one writing sweet notes for me like Jean Pierre Jeanty (my romance idol) does for his lover?

So, have you changed? Do you think it's any different? Are you comfortable with your body now? Are you eating well?

Well, I think so. No. I know so. My appetite can be described these days as voracious. And as for my body and relationships, I realised something. I cannot expect somebody to love me if I cannot love myself first. I am slowly learning to love my body; scars and all. Infact, I acquired a newer scar on my leg recently. I still wear my short dresses and flaunt them perfectly shaped slim long legs proudly.

Interlude

Now to the point of this story, I am guessing by now you're wondering how the title of the story correlates with the writing thus far.

The Cardiocrinum giganteum, also called Himalayan Lily, is a plant that I will compare myself to. For most of its life, it exists as an unassuming clump of glossy leaves, but after five to seven years, it mysteriously sprouts up to three meters (9.8 feet) and produces a gift of delicate, trumpet-shaped flowers. It is the largest of all types of lilies.

Why am I saying this? All the people around me found their purpose in life early on. Everyone was moving quickly in the professional scene. My friends and family got well paying jobs and will be discussing their jobs with passion and keeping their listeners intrigued. And I was always behind the scenes wondering why I couldn't get anything right. Wondering why I flopped at everything; job interviews, work related to my academics. I considered myself useless. I wasn't sure of what I wanted. I wasn't even sure if I could do any work at all without messing it up.

Now, in the month of August 2017, just like the Himalayas, I have mysteriously sprouted my gifts and I am sharing it to the world. I have finally discovered my purpose in life. I have finally found something that I do not fumble at. Something that makes me very happy. Something that took my other colleagues at work, months to learn. Something I am sure those I have always compared myself to will have a had time learning. I have never felt more accomplished than I feel now.
And to think I found it in the strangest of places and in the weirdest of situations is simply amazing.

I am working now. Somewhere nice and fancy. As a waitress. With no form of experience whatsoever, I have mastered the art of balancing dishes, tray of glasses with one hand. In addition, I have learned some secrets of restaurants that I will use to develop my own soon. And I am happy. I am blooming. I smile easily, I feel proud when I look at my handiwork at work, I can easily engage in beautiful discussions about food and table setting. I am not yet earning up to those around me and really I don't compare myself to them anymore or regret my situation. Because out of my meagre pay and stressful shifts, I finally was able to realise how my future is going to look like. I don't know how it's going to end but surely now, I can see the beginning.

It is in the quiet crucible, of your personal, private sufferings that your noblest dreams are born ~ Wintley Phipps

While many plants generously display their flowers every year and throughout entire seasons, others take their sweet time in showing off their blooms. And with time, I am positive that I will be the largest of all lilies.

Posted in Memoirs

Abeokuta; The Underneath Of The Rock

Source: Google Images

Today has got to be the weirdest day of my life. I can think of so many weird things that have happened to me but definitely none like today.

Weird as defined by me is anything strikingly odd or unusual that I participate in. Bearing in mind that I do weird things on a normal day, so defining this as weird has to count for something, surely.

So I got up early. I was all pumped to go to church. I had ironed my clothes, laid them out and was ready. My attention was called by my sister to see the colour of the water. I went into the kitchen and lo and behold, it was dark brown. I told her to try again, same results. I told her to check other water sources in the house and it was still the same.

I thought, great, so much for going to church early. I wasted water, left the faucet running, flushed the toilet so many times just in a bid to see if it was a temporary situation. It wasn’t. This was a few minutes to eight. The clock was ticking, at full speed too.

The water was like limestone. I haven’t seen limestone before, I haven’t googled it to know how it looks like but I just know if it was to have any colour, it would be that one.

I have not seen water coming from a tap that is that colour let alone using it to do anything as intimate as having a shower. I refused. I was thinking; “no, nope, nada, not today Satan!”

I have a very sensitive skin and I thought no way am I going to use this liquid dreg to have my shower. I was just wondering where the water had passed through to get that colour.

Through the sewer perhaps; the excreta and human waste, through the dry skeletal human remains, through the drainage where everything goes including puke.

But then, a little voice in my head said, you know there are fellow Africans like yourself who will jump at the sight of water regardless of its colour, and there are those who drink this on a daily basis because that is what is obtainable for them. Be happy at least you don’t get to drink it… at least for now.

You know I have always had a sheltered life. I’ve never really been exposed to the true meaning of suffering. I was an ajebota like the people here would call me. So this is quite an interesting experience to be part of. 

After four hours of internal struggle, I proceeded to have my shower (church was already over by the way). Even as I opened the pot where I boiled some of it (the weather was a bit chilly today), I got scared at the colour. 

1:01pm. I got to the bathroom and I made of mistake of looking into the WC. I was wondering am I really going to be putting that slime on my body. I was grateful for the fact that the bucket didn’t make the water look that bad. I nearly chickened out but the desire to be “clean” won. I braved it, poured an unhealthy amount of antiseptic into the water, covered myself with the blood of Jesus even as the first drop touched my body. And voilà! The ordeal was over in 10minutes. 



Lesson learned:

One, be grateful for whatever you have and what you don’t have, manage it until you are able to get what you want.

Two, run to the market, buy a drum and fill it up with water for days like this. I have a feeling it’s going to be like this a couple of times throughout this year. 



Strange Lingua:
*Ajebota – One born with a silver spoon



Warning: The images below may contain graphic material, please close webpage and leave.








Posted in State of Mind

You Left Us (The End)

Today is the day. The final day. The day your loved ones will get to see you for the last time. 

I woke up abruptly this morning aunty at around 3am. I don’t know why I woke up. It certainly wasn’t for midnight toilet visits. I looked at my phone and the date read as twenty-first of July. It sounded familiar in my head. But I wasn’t sure what was going on today. I ransacked my brain and finally determined that today was no one’s birthday. I gave up and went back to sleep.

At about a little over 8am, I checked my phone again while at work to be sure I wasn’t missing anything. You see it was bugging my mind that I was forgetting something important. And there I saw it, the reminder for your funeral service.

I am not able to attend your funeral and I didn’t attempt to ask for permission from work. I am sure I would have gotten it. I don’t just want to let you down one last time. I feel like I have done enough. Maybe I am chicken-hearted. Maybe I am not brave. But I cannot see your husband yet. I cannot see you lying there in that cold, hard, beautifully decorated wood, dead. I cannot see your shrunken body. I cannot watch your child call out mummy during the funeral procession. I cannot hear them sing “fading away, like the stars of the morning”.

I am afraid I will let out too much tears. So I prefer to just throw myself into work.
Work was stressful today aunty. I worked like a robot just to keep my mind occupied. I worked until my body started aching me. I feel nauseous and feverish and still it didn’t work. I closed at 5:15pm only to get back to the thoughts I thought I had escaped from.

Has it only been a month and three weeks since your passing? I still feel it you know, like it was last week. Time and time again my mind flashes back. Wondering how your son is doing? Wondering how your husband is doing? Oh aunty, you are so selfish! You couldn’t just hold on a bit? I know you were in so much pain but really couldn’t you just hold on? Do you have any idea what your husband looks like now? I fear he might follow suit. It was only six years of marriage of which the past one year was a nightmare. He loved you. I know he did. I mean who will not love you. 

I’m sorry aunty. I didn’t mean to shout at you. I’m transferring aggression now, yeah. 
Your desk at father’s office; it was empty the last time I went there. Please come back and sit there. I miss you. I miss hearing your voice. I miss your smile. I miss the brown coat you always wore. When I am passing by your house, I wouldn’t occasionally bump into you again. Maybe I should have made an attempt to go. Maybe I should have just braved it all. Maybe I should have been stronger instead of crying salty tears in my room alone.

The thought of a heavenly miracle then gave me hope even when I knew that scientifically you were nearing the end. I guess now it appears that I just wanted to hold on to something. 

The sun has set.

The curtain has been drawn.

A chapter of life is closed.

The grave has been filled up with sand.

The slab has been set.

Here lies the body of a woman who I loved and was loved by everyone else. 
Adieu aunty!

Posted in State of Mind

I’m Yours

“Every fear hides a wish” – David Mamet

Tomorrow cannot be Monday. Tomorrow cannot be Monday. Tomorrow cannot be Monday. I only just started my weekend. Now I know exactly how all those workers feel when they make memes about Mondays and weekends. I always thought it was a bit too exaggerated. I mean I did final year of course and had no problem with Mondays. Absolutely none. Everyday was the same to me. 

In final year I was striving for something I wanted. A personal goal. But at work, you’re striving to achieve someone else’s goal. I mean since I am not the owner of the company so it’s not my goal. I am just coming to work and fulfilling my duties just to get paid. 
I wonder if I will feel like this all through my working life till I reach retirement age. Perhaps when I have my own company, I might start to look forward to Mondays again.
I am so bored right now. I don’t even know why I am writing. I am pretty sure this will be my most incoherent and uninteresting post yet. 

Today is unlike any day I have had for the past two months. Usually my day is so jam-packed with activities that keep me so busy that by the time I am done, all I have to do is fall asleep till the next day. Today is different. I did all I could possibly do with my free time yesterday. How silly of me. I should have left some chores for today.

So I go to church and come around noon. I already have a pre-cooked meal so I just warm it up, I dry the washed dishes, watch a movie and I check the time, it is still 2pm. I watch another movie and time suddenly has decided to stand still. I am out of what to do. I don’t look forward to going back to work tomorrow but I also do not want to be idle. I try to read a book, I drop it. Pick up another one, I drop that one too. Now I properly understand why listlessness is defined as having or showing little interest or no interest in anything. I do not even want to write anymore. Since I am out of things to do, I have decided to do something risky. I decide to post a sample of an imagination my very perverted brain churned up. 

I do this dance everyday. It’s impossible to sleep without going through the motions of this dance. Today I have refused to give in. But how can I not? It’s my lullaby. My brain is messed up I know that. But for my sanity and the peace of everyone I have to do this dance. They say insomnia causes irritability. I do not want to resort to benzodiazepines therefore this is my own form of sedative. I daydream it, and then I gradually fall asleep.




I close my eyes, this time we are at our house by the sea side. I hear the sound of the waves crashing over the shore. Breeze drifts in through the door kept ajar. You lounge against the door propped open, regarding me intensely. I squirm on the sofa, rather uncomfortable at the attention. Your sculpted lips twitch then, into a careless smile. 



For a brief second, I imagined bringing that chiseled jaw of yours down on mine and crushing my lips against yours. Only that you wouldn’t let me do that. Or rather I was currently immobile as you had me sprawled apart and bound to the sofa. I was yours to command. I sighed longingly and deeply then.

Of course, from the arrogant curve of your lips, you knew exactly what I was thinking. 


“Oh Alia…

You never learn do you. You can only sigh when I want you to.”


Your eyes blaze like the biblical furnace that I have heard stories of, and I feel your hunger as your eyes roams freely from my bosom and my desire tightens across my belly. 


In three short strides, you covered the distance between us. 



My gaze lingers at your folded sleeves, unbuttoned collar and loose tie, admiring the rippled rail-like tracks on your arm and imagining what it would feel like to unfasten the rest of your buttons and pull you free of them. They are only just blocking my view of course. I realised then, that I was staring. 



I heard a low growl and you sank into the sofa, your teeth nipping at my ears slowly and torturously. Your arms coiled around my waist, tightening possessively as you cradled my back. Your lips zigzagged it’s way from my ears to the tip of my nose, back to my eyelids. I moaned. I needed to feel your lips on mine now.


He tasted of lemon, gin and reckless abandon, and my lips parted instinctively as his tongue slid into my mouth. His kiss was forceful and I found myself slipping under his control, my body moulding against his as I quake under the heat of our embrace.

His tongue flicked against my teeth repeatedly, almost lazily, and my mouth opens wider, welcoming him in. 


He accepted, his tongue briefly skimmed around mine as if afraid to go any further, then he thrust his tongue deeper, drawing mine into his mouth and capturing it with a languid suction. My knees buckled at the reaction, he steadied me and pressed me closer, his body bracing me. His hand slipped from my waist to the small of my back. The intimacy of the gesture spurred my action and my fingers tangled into his curly hair as I held on to the kiss, certain I would fade to nothing without feeling his body crushed against mine.

The windows adrift brought in cold air, my already hardened nipples stiffened in response.

Okay… I think I can’t afford to go any further. When I am brave enough again, I will let you folks know.
Peace!!

Posted in State of Mind

Friday 7th July, 2017

Firstly, there are so many things I hate; of which being taken for granted is chief amongst them. And that seems to be coming around a lot this week. 

This was my original intention for this post. To cuss and fuss and moan until I have exhausted all the anger in me. Well that is not going to happen this time around. I am just going to say something short. I am thoroughly and totally exhausted. I have had a particularly stressful day today at work and this week in general has been exhausting. So please dear Lord, if you indeed love those whom you have created, do not send some more temptation my way because they wouldn’t know what hit them. Thank you for answers to my prayers. Amen.

Secondly, I am at that point in 2017 where I desperately need a time machine. Only, if I could turn back time to 2013 in particular. There are a lot of things I could have avoided that would have prevented the mess I find myself in called life in 2017. You see my actions and inactions are having a side effect on those I love. Everyone says I would have been a different person if I hadn’t taken those steps back in 2013 which brought me here now. While this might be true, at least I would have been able to sleep soundly. I would have been able to live my life without a guilty conscience. 

But since I cannot perform that invention so quickly. All I have is a refrain from one of my favourite musicians to hold on to;


“Hush little baby don’t you cry, everything is gonna be alright, 

Stiffen that upper lip up, little lady, I told ya

Daddy’s​ gonna hold you for tonight

I know momma’s not here, and you don’t know why

I can feel how you feel inside

It might seem a little crazy, little baby

But I promise

Everything’s gonna be alright…”


Please someone should be nice and send me an ice-cream. Sugar popcorn as well too. I have no idea where to get a proper cheap ice-cream in this Abeokuta.

Posted in Pinches of Salt

Untitled

Yes, the title of this entry is “Untitled”. It is not a mistake.

I have been writing this entry for the past two months. After waiting and waiting for inspiration, I have decided that there is a reason it has refused to be finished. I better let nature and fate decide the course of this entry. This is supposed to be a collection of my more random thoughts. I know I am going into the lions den by bringing up a potentially friendship destroying viewpoint on some issues. I am also going to be probably unfollowed by some. Do I care? Not really…
Oh well, happy reading.

How far are you willing to go for religion?
How far are you willing to go to “fit in” among your peers?
How far are you willing to go for friendship?
How far are you willing to go to let go of your individuality to embrace collectivism.




Part A

I will start with this, I belong to the Christian religion. All the time, I see Christians pray and fast against gay marriage laws, abortion laws, equality acts concerning genders and sexuality.

Now I personally would not have a husband/wife that is the same sex as I am. I also do not support abortion that is not medically needed or gender change. But I do not discriminate against the LGBT group or those who have done abortion. I do not treat them any less. I do not think their gender or sexuality influences the way they do things or their ability to do their jobs effectively. I do not consider them “unclean” as most Christian extremists do. And I certainly don’t pray for them to burn in hell. I don’t also pray for the lawmakers to be destroyed. 

In their quest to fight for what they believe in, these believers give up a part of their time and energy. At least temporarily to pray and go on a fast. But while they suffer some discomfort and inconvenience and general public backlash, could we really say that they suffered for their faith? 

Have we forgotten Jesus Christ wasn’t unfair to a prostitute or judging her or criticising her. He wasn’t treating her like she’s got ebola. Let’s be clear that back then, being a prostitute was a really big deal. So why do Christians most especially, the followers of Christ treat the LGBT folk like lepers. Why do we not love them as we love ourselves. I am tired of hearing the talks of homosexuality and burning in hell in church all the time. It is a sign of the last days, yes I do know, but you are not helping matters at all. You are supposed to be saving them from themselves and from the last days. I believe there’s surely a milder way of bringing them into the “fold” if you want to.

Do not get me wrong, I consider myself to be religious at least to some extent. But I find myself unable to make the sacrifices some people make in the name of Christianity. Maybe I am not religious enough.

You would see a a grown man, educated, wealthy with a good paying job… suddenly decides it is his fate to quit his job and suffer because he heard a “call” saying he should be a full time pastor. Now if we are going to be biblical, Apostle Paul was working while being an evangelist. In his words;” If any would not work, neither should he eat” – KJV

Now assuming indeed God did call you, Why should your family suffer because you had a call? When God was calling you, did he ring their numbers as well? Or was it a conference call? 

Wouldn’t it have been better for you to make alternative arrangements so that your family will still be well taken care of? An arrangement that will still be bringing some sort of bread on the family’s table.

Or should I talk about the parents who wants to ruin their children’s life; career wise, because it will benefit the church to study a particular profession as opposed to their kids following their dreams. It doesn’t matter if the kids have the ability for such profession. Everything that matters is the church and what everyone else will think if they follow their dreams.

Okay, let’s take a break shall we? To my Nigerian followers, did you know that “Abeokuta” means “under the rock”? And “Osogbo” means “by the bush”? Perhaps now you know the reason some of the indigenes of those cities behave the way they do.



To be continued…

Posted in Bits and Pieces

Twenty-Five


Back when I was seventeen, 25, the silver age, meant a lot to me. I wrote out a long list of what I wanted to accomplish by that age. Looking back at that list now, it is completely unrealistic. I wonder who gave the advice “always dream high and your expectations shall come to you.” Anyway, back then, my small teenage untainted mind thought the world and adulthood was a nice experience. How wrong I was. 
The only thing achievable on that list is that age 25 was the age at which I had hoped to have passed my bar exam after graduation from my then dream law school, University of Boston. To think that now this dream is nearly dead is unimaginable. How time changes!

To me, age 25 means something different.  So today, I would re-write that list and come check back in a couple of years to see how far I have come. A higher bar has been set by me of things to have achieved or done, on or before I hit 25. I would share a couple with you.

At 25, I am getting laser surgery on my eyes. That is, if some sort of miracle hasn’t happened before then.

By 25, my company should be up and running and should have marked its two year anniversary.

By 25, I should be living independently of my parents and paying my bills myself.

By 25, I should have acquired a few material possessions in the form of landed properties. Yes, feel free to call me high-minded.

By 25, I should be financially stable and therefore begin preparations to adopt a child. 

By 25, I should have acquired enough books big enough to start a library. If you love me, feel free to sow a seed in my life.

By 25, I should have outgrown this journal. Oops! Did I just write that! Ignore!! Just kidding. Ha ha…

By 25, I should have accomplished at least half of what is on my bucket list. Time waits for no man. Here’s my bucket list also. Feel free to sow another seed by helping me accomplish some.
Bucket List:

1. Master the art of rifle shooting

2. Master archery

3. Go skydiving

4. Enter Okada in Nigeria ☑️ 03/05/2017

5. Go camping in a caravan ☑️01/09/2016

6. Go on rides in a theme park☑️03/09/2016

7. Visit an African Safari

8. Go dogwalking in the woods ☑️ 30/09/2016

9. Go camping in a tent☑️01/09/2016

10. Learn how to ice skate

11. Attend an Olympics

12. Learn a form of martial arts

13. Go on the Nevis Swing at Queenstown, New Zealand.

14. Climb an overhead bridge on a busy expressway in Nigeria. ☑️ 03/05/2017

15. Go hiking in the Grand Canyon or Macchu Picchu

16. Go by road to Abuja ☑️ 01/05/2017

17. Go by road to Lagos ☑️ 22/05/2017

18. Attend one Coachella Festival

19. Attend an opera sesh at Vienna and Sydney Opera House

20. Visit all islands and cities on my list.

21. Play a bingo game ☑️04/09/2016

22. Ride big ass scary rides ☑️03/09/2016

23. Eat in Hell’s Kitchen

24. Start up LDD

25. Cycle on the streets of Amsterdam with someone.

26. Be in a drag racing competition

27. Visit Ogbunike cave, Obudu mountain, Owu falls, Arinta falls, Agbokim falls, Kajuru Castle.

By 25, I hope to have made my parents proud. Maybe not in the way they would have preferred, but in my own way.

By 25, I should be emotionally stable.

By 25, I should have learned at least two Nigerian languages and two foreign languages.

By 25, I should have undergone laser treatment for my scars.

By 25, I should have gotten another degree. This time around, in something of my choosing.

I wonder if I have covered it all. I will add more to the list as I remember them. 



P.S Dear Diary, I am sorry for leaving you alone in this dark cold internet space for two weeks. You kept me sane through tough times and now I have become “busy”, I have become those kind of lovers you hated. I would never do it again. 

Posted in Pinches of Salt

Let’s Play Catch-up?

As I sit in the front seat on this rather rickety bus on a rather bumpy ride to Lagos State for a few days of reprieve before I start work at my PPA, my mind flashes back on a few things.

First, I really need to do a widal test. Never have I been more grateful for having an injury just before camp that made me take antibiotics till this very moment. I have eaten weird things, I have dined in even weirder places and I have drank the water of affliction. From impure borehole water with a metallic taste peddled as bottled water at camp for exorbitant prices to sachet water where I could literally taste the sand in the water even as it tasted like tortoise meat. Have I had a tortoise dinner before? Absolutely not! But I have a feeling it would taste like that water. I haven’t tasted metal either before.

Secondly, I am extremely pleased that I did not choose Lagos State as my state for national service. Now, Lagos is very posh, comfortable, and very civilised (at least some places). It will be more suited to my tastes and needs than the ancient city which I chose. But here I am thanking my stars that I didn’t pick it. For just two reasons: one being the level of human and vehicular traffic. It reminds me of my dear Oxford Road. And the other reason being the amount of “yellow” in the state. It is so blinding. If I lived in Lagos I would pray to the Almighty to make me colour blind temporarily. You turn everywhere and you will see a bright stunning shade of yellow. You see yellow is the official colour for transport buses. That wouldn’t have been much of an issue if those buses are not too numerous to count and if they had a timetable or schedule of some sorts on when to appear on the roads. But you see, they don’t. You look left, you see yellow; you look right, you see yellow, you look front or back and you get the same outcome. Even the traffic light poles are painted yellow.
Would you look at this!!! A never ending stretch of yellow fever. 

Maybe because I have never been a fan of bright colours, but I am yet to understand why the government chose yellow. Yellow as a colour signifies sunshine, hope and happiness. I don’t see anything particularly cheery or hopeful about Lagos State. I have heard it is the land where dreams are achieved. Well I hope my dreams get achieved here as well before I go.

Thirdly… okay this is more of an observation, I have drank more garri since I started this national service journey than I have done in my entire life. And that is not even slightly funny. I really need to resume my workout immediately I start work because I can feel that my “village pipo” are planning a flabby tummy for me.

Fourthly, did you know that riding on a motorbike is like having sex, cowboy style 24 hours non-stop? So, while I was house-hunting, I had to go to a location where I had to be on this bike for 45minutes straight without stopping because there was a road diversion. The bad road and impromptu bumps didn’t make it feel any better. After that journey, I could hear my inner thighs begging for mercy and my poor feet suffered from pins and needles. You would think that I will be successful after so much stress, I wasn’t. Such was my luck.

And the last prize goes to ghosts. So I never used to believe in ghosts till I came to this town. Now I believe in them. Here’s an example, in the middle of the night, all the dogs in the neighbourhood in unison will start crying. Now I know that dogs generally howl when other wolves not part of the hunting pack are howling to direct the hunting pack to their location. So here’s my question… Why should all the dogs be crying in the midnight when there’s no major forest or bushes in sight for hunting? Why should the dogs be crying when there is actually no wolf, not to talk of wolves in a residential area? Why should I be hearing strange footsteps when no actual human is outside? Why should the said dogs be running around the compound when there’s no cat in sight?

Another example, there is actually a house, where ghosts wash your clothes for you. Any clothing they find dirty. I have seen the said house. It had a “To Let” sign in front of it. And I made the mistake of asking about it…

Well, let’s just say I learned never to ask questions at least while I am still here.

Posted in Bits and Pieces

Aftermath


…the hustle continues

Day 1

I wanted to take a much needed one week break from writing, from the world, from responsibilities etc. But unfortunately, the environment is not letting me.

I visited my PPA today. I was posted to a resort. Apparently one of the most beautiful places in my city of national service. I have mixed feelings about today. On one hand, I am scared of rejection. On the other hand, I am stoked to start working with them and enjoy the benefits that come with working there.

As I sit in the spacious, well decorated, chilly lounge waiting to see the General Manager who is ultimately the decider of my fate, my mind flashes back on a few things. The first being how faithful God has been. I picked this state to serve in based on my own selfish interests. I didn’t even consider if it is where God wants me to be. I didn’t consider family and friends. But yet, He has made a way for me; throughout my stay in camp, my first hours after leaving camp, even up to getting transport to move around my city. I really don’t deserve this majorly because I have drifted far from Him in recent times. I was angry at Him for a long time because I was “forced” out of my preferred comfort zone into a land of utter despair. It is true what the Bible says; “all things work together for good.” It is also true what man says; “good things come to those who wait.”

Secondly, the owner of my PPA stole my idea. This is what I wanted to do when I get wealthy. Create a family friendly environment for building broken relationships. I will still go ahead with my plan. Who knows what the future will look like.

11:23am, we were asked to come back at 10am the next day. My anxiety increases as I reluctantly agree. I went on to have my lunch before I die of hunger.

8:33pm Bad news again. Two more people I know are dead. One from a car accident and another from diabetes. I am tired of sad news. I have only been away for three weeks and three people I know are dead. What is all this happening to me? I thought 2016 was terrible but this year is looking worse. 



Day 2

I woke up intermittently through the night in my usual fashion. At 6am my alarm went off and I set about my daily business.

Today is the day hopefully. The day my fate will be decided by the powers that be. The day when I will either be accepted by my dream workplace or thrown to the streets.

After waiting for four hours I finally get through to see the General Manager. And yes I was accepted there for my one year national service. Unfortunately, the pay is meagre and there is no accommodation given. And so the hustle begins. The good thing about my PPA is that I get to meet important personalities. So far I have met three contacts so high up in government, and I haven’t even resumed work. Maybe I will get to see the Vice President of Nigeria one day.

Nigeria is a mess. So chaotic, so disorderly. That is my thought as I am running around reporting myself for duty to my local government. We were not given any direction on where to go. The government literally just threw us out to the hungry lions for devouring. At least if there was an incentive in the form of money, I wouldn’t mind much. I can see my allawee draining slowly as I pay each bike rider from point A to B. I am tired.