Perhaps; Mayhaps and Random thoughts

I had often thought about it, remaining single I mean, never getting to have a husband or kids, at its very best, perhaps I’d get to have artificial insemination, employ a surrogate, consider adopting, I mean, the list is endless.
What does it take to find a life partner? To receive the love you actually know you deserve and not the one you think you deserve or the meagreness another is willing to offer; to discover and relatively experience the happiness you’ve always dreamt of, in the arms and heart of another, wishing and hoping for a life time of marital bliss however knowing that these thoughts in themselves are but a fallacy, the possibility of a hurt or a heart shattering event being a thousand in a thousand.
Do you ever wonder, whether he/she is the right person? They seem so, but you’re just not sure. Seemingly perfect, your heart roaringly palpitates when they are near, they occupy the most part of your thoughts when you sleep, you wake up missing a part of you when you get out of bed in the morning, yet, there is something more, something you need, something that needs to fall in place but just isn’t, a conviction, a sign, some sort of pointer perhaps, something that screams ‘he is the one’, an assurance of some sort, you want to be sure, totally and absolutely, that there would be no mishaps on this journey, but you have second thoughts, you’re planning on getting a heart insurance policy, mayhaps, you anticipate the hurt because not doing so would make you a fool. You say I love you and he says it too, but at the back of your mind, you wonder if it’s the truth, you constantly think what if…
I find myself at this place questioning my life long held beliefs about love, about marriage, and companionship, I ask myself if I am able to stay committed to the process in and for the long run, I ask myself this question over and over again, what does love mean to me? Do I want to get married?
I saw Him raise his hands on Her a couple of times while growing up, sometimes due to transferred aggression and most times due to the frustration of him not being able to provide for his family, if I were in her shoes, would I be able to take it? Would I stay? But there is another angle to this story, a different projection which I am reluctantly willing to explore or admit to myself: THE FEAR OF HURT.
I’d die if he breaks my heart, I’ll never fall in love again, I’d hate men for the rest of my life and this is against my Christian faith so I’d rather not explore the relationship option, he is from a minority tribe and my parents won’t like him, better single and fine than in a relationship and hurting, these are a list of so many excuses I’ve given myself over a long period of time, and as I would later find out, admitting that these stem from something much more deeper; FEAR: was very hard for me, almost impossible to let out.
You see, I find that I belong to two emotional extremities; I either love you fiercely or hate you passionately, there is no middle ground for me, except you have being friend zoned or brother zoned, then most appropriately, ‘like’ would do just fine.
How do you love someone, pour your heart and soul into them, knowing that your very actions is you venturing into a realm of uncertainty? How do you say ‘I do’, pledging your life to another at the risk of being broken, betrayed, left or hurt. Then again, how do you make a decision to be alone, all by yourself, choosing to lock up your heart, making it unbreakable, impenetrable at the risk of experiencing several infinities categorised by lonesome solitude.
I find myself at a place where I have to choose between two ‘unpleasantness’ Love and risk being broken, to love is to be vulnerable after all or guard yourself fiercely and risk being alone all your life.
I hover between two broken realities . An entrapment both of my making and that of a society that I, most assuredly without choice, find myself in.
The seemingly logical question is: when are we not ever broken? Love will break you with its intensity but even solitude will break you with its yearning, the bottom line is, at some point in our lives, somehow, sometime, we are a pile of brokenness, some of us get to fix it and some others live to the end of their lives remaining broken.
Ultimately, a decision has got to be made, it is a tough one really, but I bet time will tell!IMG_20151003_152549

Words My Father Said…

as_much_as_i_dreamToday is Saturday the fourth of April,2015.

It is 21:57

I sat on the brown leather sofa in the sitting room, my entire attention affixed to the flat screen right before me, dad had just downed a few glasses of Carlo Rossi.

if you stand and look at the sight of the shore, you’ll never cross the ocean…

Dad says to me: you’ve got to be ambitious,you’ve got to have a large heart, be a woman of vision…

If you stay within the confines of comfort, the ability to enlarge your coast will begin to elude you

Have dreams and have goals, life is valueless without them

My own father stopped with a motor-cycle, and whilst i was growing up, i vowed to do better, i got a vehicle 🙂 and you also have to do better

Final Admonition: You must have a dream, a very tall dream

Behind a man of success, is a woman of vision, and you must strive to become that woman.

Never be one to get entangled with someone that does not understand your vision

Do not be over-joyous with infinitesimal feats, a farmer may get to have a bountiful harvest now but he is oblivious of how the next season will turn out. Tables turn and tides change, sometimes for the better and other times for the worse, always have an alternative.

The most important people in life, are the people right here, right now, the ones that define reality,they make the seemingly impossible possible, choose wisely people who will support your dreams.

He ends it with Never stop dreaming my dear,never stop having a tall dream.


908012707200002525_340223225It has been a quite painful week, amidst the deep throaty laughter shared with my slightly crazy friends, the bubbling excitement over the resumption of a new and my penultimate semester in the faculty of law, university of Lagos, clasped in the palm of my mind had been the thought of what could have been.
How friendships could easily turn sour.
Myriads of emotions flowed through my blood filled veins, a staggering pain hammering its way towards the core of my all but stony heart. It wasn’t in the way he ignores me each time I try to say hi, not in the way he indirectly insults me on social media, not even the way he bad-mouths me to his friends within the confines of King Jaja Hostel mattered much to me.
It was the fact that this was a person I could say absolutely anything to, even the most ridiculous ‘gists’ manifestly laced with absurdities, I couldn’t watch a kissing scene without covering my eyes, but I could talk to him about Sex (something I couldn’t and still cannot discuss with any person on earth), the pains and glory without batting an eye-lash, with him I could just be me. And now as I stare from a safe distance searching for clues and subtleties about a man that had once held my heart spell bound, I see an alien; I feel a sense of loss, filled with so much anger, bitterness and self pride, he had become a person that I could no longer recognise.
I tried to run.
I would look at him with a longing I had never thought I could feel, later I would come to realise that he wasn’t interested. There was an ex in the picture that I never knew existed. I would accompany him everywhere as I never wanted to know the sorrow of departing from his glorious presence, yet still…
Nothing happened.
Secretly I would hopefully wish that we could together, bypass the formalities, damn the unknown and gracefully slide into some sort of fairy tailed intimacy. Often times, lines from a song by Colbie Caillat would cross my mind:
I don’t know boy, I think I may be falling for you, dropping so quickly…
I’ve been spending all my time just thinking about you, I don’t know what to do
A penny for my wishful thinking one would assume, but my thinking made me all the more penniless, if not even stuck in some form of abject emotional impoverishment.
I burned, I melted but I did it all alone.
And then love was damned.
It had all come down to the wellbeing of my sanity, feeling so small and stupid, I finally convinced myself that it was nothing but a lost cause.
After all, what has love got to do with it?
A second hand emotion or nah?
Good fortune would later bring me to the door step of a man who would love, cherish and respect me whether I felt the same way or not. Till today I still wake up at dawn to pinch myself and at the same time ask myself “Baby girl, it this for real! It’s been a roller coaster of brimming love I tell ya.
All those things about a guy calling you day and night to check on you isn’t too far-fetched, and trust me, it just never gets tiring NEVER!
Spoiler Alert!
The other guy, yeah he fell in love, did I mention that I was the “lucky girl” but by then, I was over it, done and dusted were the words stamped in bright tomato red over the ruins and ashes of what was but never could be. Let’s be friends we said, but that didn’t work out for long and at the end of the day it became a criminal case of an “Unrequited love”, a few fallouts and the end seemed near, it’s funny you’re the broken one when all along I was the one that needed saving.
You know all those things lifeguards do at the beach to resuscitate a lad who almost got drowned? Yeah I tried that but someone’s larger than life ego got in the way. Trying not to go all Taylor swift on you but the question still remains:
What has love really got to do with it?
I do not blame him for not knowing the gentleness of my soul
When I only showed him how violently I loved
I remain loyal man but;
If people were rain you’d be a drizzle and I a hurricane, your love came a little too late, and what is that proverb about an opportunity lost? Well, you get the drift.

My Molue experience




It was 8:25pm, I and my sister had been waiting at the bus-stop for 30 minutes, the streets of ketu was getting unbearable, the stench of raw and spoilt tomatoes filled the air, the acrid smell of smoke stung my eyes and I was getting hit left and right by pedestrians who were scurrying home. There was absolutely no means of transportation, it was as though all the commercial buses had been evacuated from the streets of Lagos, a million curse words ran through my mind as I tried so hard to contain my frustration, there was no one to vent my anger on save my younger sister who was also as upset as I was. Not long after, a loud shrill rang in the air like a clap of thunder. “Owode-onirin, ajegunle,  ikorodu garage” the conductor screamed. E wole pelu 150naira change, mi o ni change o, he kept ranting like a mental patient, it was obvious he was drunk, not with wine but with cigarette.

I looked at the Japanese made tata molue and made up my mind that I’d rather crawl home than go in. Then again, nobody knew when the next bus would arrive. I said a short prayer under my breath, summoned courage and entered into the molue with my younger sister following suit. As I stepped in, I literally lost my breath,  not because I was fascinated but because of the horrible stench that teased my nose. Finally got a place to sit, was somewhat glad for a moment as my tired legs got the rest they deserved. Alas, I never knew my woes had just begun. I turned left to adjust my bag, there I came face to face to an ‘ancient’ man with scaly skin, I tried to turn my head but I wasn’t fast enough, he opened his mouth to shout at the conductor, and as his ‘breath’ tickled my nose, I felt my brain shut-down, and then I knew I had died a second death. As if it was not enough, his skin kept grazing mine, and at every touch, I cringed as if I was being sliced to pieces. Not long after, a tradesman stood up to advertise his wares, “goorevening good nigeriens, I have come in peace and not war, today I have this breast enlargement cream, for u women wey no get bobbi, if u rub am, your bobbi go big sote, your man no go fit leave you”, as he was speaking, a black young man asked: ‘how I go fit know say this tin go work’ and the other man retorted, shey u no know the size of your girl’s bobbi ni, you go see the change na, and at once they all burst into laughter. I opened my mouth to speak but no words seem to come out, how in the world did I find myself in this bus? Quite a pity no one could hear my thoughts but me. All of a sudden the bus stopped, the conductor started ranting again, calling for more passengers, I burst into hysterical laughter as I tried to imagine where they would sit or stand as the bus was already filled to its brim. How gullible this conductor is, I thought to myself, just as we were about leaving, a BRT bus rammed into us from behind, the force was so strong that it immediately sent shock waves to my brain. Everyone started to rain curses on the driver in the usual Nigerian fashion, the cackle of noise filled my ears in such a large volume that I feared the loss of my hearing. We were already half-way, my mind was pre-occupied with how I was going to spend at least an hour in the bathroom scrubbing and ridding my skin of any poisonous object I might have picked in the bus. As my thought process was going on, two fat men started a legal argument. I tried to focus on what they were saying, the more I listened the more the biblical saying ‘my people perish for lack of knowledge’ rang in my head, bemused I was as I heard a literate and illiterate man exchange words in brittle banter over a thing they both had no knowledge of. Not long again, a religious argument rose up, I thought to myself, cant these mere mortals keep shut for once, their incessant noise was pushing my frustration up the rung of the ladder. Then the conductor screamed again AGRIC!!! I shouted back without thinking twice, conductor owa o, e ma koja bus-stop mi o ehn ehn, mo ti so temi fun yin. It was 10pm, I finally alighted from the old rickety stinky molue, indeed it was a heavy sigh of relief, and I waved happily as the bus departed from sight, knowing fully well that I’d never board such again. What an experience I mused, I’ve got to write about this!