Kiss of Words 3

Unable to sleep, Dotun sat up in his sparsely furnished one-roomed apartment and could not shake off the feeling that something was most definitely wrong. And he knew it had to do with Peju. Leaning his head wearily against the peeling wall, he prayed silently…and waited.

                                        *                                       *                                       *

     Somebody was tearing out her insides. Each stab into her belly brought a fresh onslaught of pain, consuming her entire being. She was swimming in an inky blackness, struggling to reach the surface. Finally, with a violent gasp, Peju tore away into consciousness. The first thing her mind registered was the pain. Pain raking through her entire body, reaching into places she didn’t even know existed. It consumed her whole body. And then there was the blood. Blood everywhere. Confused and scared, she tried to bring the previous evening to focus, but all she remembered was inhaling a little more weed than usual, then nothing…till the nightmare. She had to get help. She weakly reached for her cellphone and called Dumebi, the strength required to hold the cellphone almost too much to bear. No response. How she regretted choosing a BQ so far from everyone else, not that she wanted anyone seeing her like this. She didn’t have any neighbors close enough to hear her cry for help, though. Another wave of pain washed over her and she thought she was going to pass out. Almost giving up and giving in to the pain, one lone face came to mind. With all the strength she could mutter, she reached again for her phone and searched for the number. By the time she'd made the call, all her strength was gone. Sobbing weakly from the pain, she dragged herself out of the apartment to the front steps and welcomed the numbing darkness of unconsciousness.

*                                         *                                          *

            Back on campus, Dotun felt he had prayed himself out and was finally ready to catch up on lost sleep. Out of nowhere, his cell phone rang shrilly, piercing the stillness of the night. He snatched it up and was shocked to see the caller ID ‘Peju Daudu’ on the screen. He didn't remember that they’d ever exchanged numbers…must’ve have been one of the times he’d had to ‘offices-sit’ for Dr. Ehime. Shaking himself awake, he picked the call. Ten minutes later, he was driving crazily out of the Post-Graduate Hall towards the staff quarters where Peju lived, praying under his breath. He wasn’t going to let this one die.

    By the time he got to the BQ Peju had described, he was sweating profusely…praying desperately that she was still conscious. The way she’d sounded on the phone had scared the life out of him. Why he was so affected by the situation baffled a tiny part of his consciousness…he hardly knew the girl. All second thoughts vanished from his mind the moment he went up to the house. Peju was lying on the front steps, unconscious. For a brief moment, Dotun dejectedly thought she was dead. Thirty minutes later, he carried a bloody unconscious Peju into the University Teaching Hospital, his shout for help startling a dozing nurse awake. Still half-asleep, the nurse directed him down the hallway to the emergency ward, promising he’d find someone to attend to them.

Kiss of Words Part 2

In life, there are moments that some have termed defining moments. Others have called such moments (more accurately, perhaps), moments of impact. Moments, when certain forces within the confines of one’s life seem to collide, resulting in an impact that changes everything forever. Each of these forces, such as events, experiences, or emotions in themselves may be nothing out of the ordinary but when put together, and at the right moment, their combined effect reverberate throughout the figurative cocoon that is a person’s life. It is as though somebody somewhere had masterfully, with uncanny precision, arranged these ordinary, everyday phenomena knowing full well that their combination would result in a defining moment.

     Back in her comfortable self-contained apartment, Peju lay on her back, staring bleakly at the ceiling. The words of Mr. Dotun, Dr. Ehime’s Masters’ student, echoed through her mind. She was so depressed. Why? She had no idea. It wasn’t the first time she had been preached to. She smiled wryly as she recalled how many Christian Sisters had come to her each with a different version of how much God was going to punish her for her lifestyle. The Brothers, on the other hand, avoided her like a plague, although she had seen looks not unlike Dumebi’s in some of their eyes during a few unguarded moments. Turning over to her side, she stared at the wall. Long forgotten tears welled up in her eyes. It was as though Mr. Dotun had known what was going on in her life. How despondent and tired of her life she had become. Maybe it was the fact that she had grown weary of Dumebi, or that Dumebi had not used a condom in awhile and she was afraid she was pregnant again, or that she would soon be graduating and she had no idea where her life was headed. It was as though a dark cloud had settled over her mind in the last few days, driving her further and further into a black hole of depression, so much so that she’d had to start stealing some of Dumebi’s weed to stay sane, or so she told herself.

     Head throbbing, Peju rose shakily from the bed and reached for the packet of panadol on the small table. She popped two in her mouth, absently wondering what throwing the entire packet into her mouth would do to her. She grunted and threw the packet down, her conversation with Mr. Dotun stubbornly clinging to her mind like those Chadian children at the market. Her aching heart begged to respond to the compassion she’d seen in his eyes and pour out her heart. She hadn’t had a real friend in years, God knew. Leaning against the table, she chewed the panadol absently, the bitter taste giving her a momentary distraction from the present. But not for long. Her mind soon began to wander again. The one thing she had been able to hold on to over the years was herself. She could give her body to whosoever desired it and could pay for its upkeep, but she had learnt how to hold on to her soul. She’d come to discover that odd as it may seem, one gave up one’s soul by words. The moment you express a part of your heart in words, you’ve given up a part of your soul…allowing access to the inner you. The problem was what the other person was going to do with that part of you. So she’d learnt to protect her soul by cynicism and dry humor, never saying anything she truly meant and never showing what emotion she truly felt. As she climbed wearily back to bed, she remembered Peter. Her secondary school boyfriend and the one guy she’d opened her heart to because she thought she was in love with him. He had been the second murderer of her body.

   Sighing heavily, she tried to sleep. She had been and would always be Peju. The ashewo. The now familiar darkness was closing in again and beads of sweat formed on her forehead. She sank deeper into the black hole of depression as images flooded her mind…images of her past, of the bloodied towels each time Dr. K did his work on her womb, images of death, of rat poison, of panadol overdose. Gasping for breath, she reached out to the small box beneath the table and rummaged feverishly till she found what she was looking for. Ten long minutes later, enveloped by choking fumes, she curled into a ball on her bed, and floated into delirium. But somewhere in the drug-induced haze, deep down in her subconscious, was the knowledge that something or Someone was calling her. And she was tired of running. 

... to be continued

Kiss of Words (part 1)

     Peju spat into the dust in disgust and slipped the last of the Tom Toms into her mouth. She looked up warily at the gathering clouds and hoped an okada would come by soon enough. It had been the usual at Dumebi’s the previous night except for the fact that she’d overslept. That was the mistake…because it meant that she couldn’t slip out of the house while Dumebi was still asleep and she’d had to endure his pathetic attempts at romance without the numbness of plenty alcohol in her blood. She spat again. She hated it so much when he kissed her, which was an irony since her body seemed dead to her. Being kissed always felt as though she had been violated, as if he had forcefully reached into her soul without her permission. Men were free to do with her body as they pleased, as long as they gave her what she wanted. She felt nothing, neither revulsion nor pleasure. Once in a while, her mind would wander back to that cold harmattan day sixteen years ago. The day her body had died its first death…and its murderer? Her trusted Uncle Wale. His thin face taunted and mocked her even now… reminding her that she was good for nothing except to give five minutes of pleasure to whatever man could put a roof over her head and food in her belly. She spat again, this time from hatred as much as disgust.  Her mind went back to Dumebi and his attempts at romance. She laughed dryly. Why did he even bother? To him, she was still nothing but an object of pleasure. She’d been with him for almost a year… her longest so far, and Dumebi did not know squat about what she did when she wasn’t with him. More accurately, he didn’t give a damn. He often times had to be reminded what department she was in. Apparently, he didn’t think she needed a life apart from the one she had with him. She laughed again. At least, his yahoo-yahoo money was allowing her to enjoy the finer things of life.

*                         *                             *  

“Good afternoon”. Dotun looked up from the papers he was grading to see Peju Daudu standing in the doorway. He felt the familiar stirrings of compassion she invoked in him every time he saw her. He’d heard all the stories, seen the video clips being passed around, heard all the cruel jokes but for some reason, all he wanted to do was reach out to her. He’d tried time and again to draw close without his actions being misinterpreted but she withdrew the more each time he tried. Shaking himself out of his momentary reverie, he smiled kindly and replied, “Aunty, how u dey?”

“Fine…please when is Dr. Ehime coming back? I need to see him.” She answered hurriedly. Judging by the awful grade he had seen earlier on her exam paper and the sardonic smile on Dr. Ehime’s face as he set it aside, Dotun knew he didn’t need to ask her why she needed to see his supervisor. He remembered how disappointed he had been when he’d found out that Dr. Ehime was going to be his project supervisor. Little did he know that God had set the perfect stage for him to reach one of Dr. Ehime’s many mistresses right under the lecturers nose. Dotun wondered again for the umpteenth time how he would ever be able to reach the girl. He had stopped asking God why he had such a strong burden for her and simply accepted that God wanted him to reach out to one of His beloved. He’d tried times without number to keep a conversation flowing without appearing as though he was making advances but she remained cold and distant. Making up his mind, he sat back in the imitation leather chair and decided for the first time to be blunt and direct.

“This isn’t the only way to get good grades, you know. You have so much potential inside of you…and you’re letting it all go to waste because you think you’re only worth anything because of your body.” He said matter-of-factly. For a brief second, Dotun saw shock and then pain flicker across Peju’s face but almost immediately, the cold aloofness returned. She laughed dryly and walked out of the door.

Escape to tomorrow

Escape to tomorrow
Sade couldn't wait to get out of the scorching heat into the refuge of her aunt's house. She was tired...so tired. Tired of hoping, tired of fighting, tired of reaching for more. It was as though she was the subject of some wicked cosmic joke. She involuntarily reached for her phone to call Kola, knowing that just hearing his voice would be a comfort. Then the reality of her situation washed over her like ice-water. Tears stung her eyes as the events of the previous afternoon played before her mind's eye. She had never felt as inadequate as she did when Kola told her that he wasn't interested in a relationship with her anymore. Was she really that bad? It was bad enough that every company she had applied to had turned her down, or that nobody was buying the clothes she was selling. The break-up had been the straw that broke the camel's back. And boy, was she broken.
The door clicked shut as Sade quietly stepped into the living room of her aunt's three-bedroom apartment. No one was home. The absence of the usual childish chatter and noisiness gave the house a silence that matched her mood. She dropped wearily to the couch and allowed the tears to flow. Sobs raked through her thin frame, the anguish in her fragile heart threatening to choke her to death. The pain of rejection sank its long pinions into her heart and squeezed out the life left in it. She felt so inadequate, like she was utterly useless. The thought caused a fresh outburst and this time, she cried herself to sleep.
There is a reality that doesn't seem quite so real. No one knows how this reality comes about, just that it does. As Sade wearily drifted into unconsciousness, rather than be wrapped in a blanket of sleep, she simply stepped into another reality, one quite unfamiliar to her. Everything was the same, yet different. It was as though what she saw had always been there, but had never been obvious. She was still her aunt's house and everything was the same, yet different...in a good way. It was as though there had been a beauty in the house that she had never seen but now was exposed. As if an unseen layer had been peeled off to reveal a beauty underneath. It was breathtaking...had the house always been this way? It had always looked so ordinary...her sister barely had time for herself, a magazine-style decor wasn't priority. Still, it wasn't like the house changed, everything that was there before was still there. It was more like a hidden beauty in those ordinary things had been revealed. It was very puzzling. This doesn't make any sense, she said to herself as she walked around the house, touching everything in amazement. Suddenly, she came to a halt as she saw her reflection in the full-length mirror her sister had bought only the day before. Filled with wonder, she slowly reached out her hand, as if to feel the wondrous creature in the mirror. This couldn't be her, lailai. The stranger in the mirror looked like her but wasn't her. Everything about the person was the same as it was with her, except that something seemed to have been removed, revealing a more glorious her. As Sade was trying to comprehend the absurdity of it all, she woke up with a start. She was back in the reality she was familiar with, the not-so-beautiful one.
Extremely perplexed by her earlier experience, which she couldn't bring herself to call a dream, Sade knelt on the cracked tiles and tried to pray. It was all so real, it was as though she had simply stepped through a door. Suddenly, a voice, as gentle as a caress, spoke, "There is a beauty in you that I am slowly revealing. Take my hand."

THE PATH OF TIME

         “Four fufu .” Bayo felt his stomach rumble for the hundredth time that afternoon as the aroma of good home-cooking wafted through his nostrils.

         “Whish obe you want wit it?” The serving lady spat out in obvious impatience.

         “Egusi and...”  Bayo paused as he longingly eyed the fried meat at the corner of the counter.

         “Eh hen..? What es again?” The serving lady was fast growing irritated. Bayo quickly made a mental calculation and reluctantly gave up the idea.

         “Just pure-water.” He said with a sigh. With an angry thud, the thick-set woman set his food on the table. He quietly picked it and sauntered to an empty table at the far corner of the buka. As he hungrily devoured the food, his mind wandered back to the result he had just seen. Although he’d managed to scrape through, the grade did nothing to help his GP. Taking a gulp of water, he sat back. Nothing was going right in his life. Everybody seemed to have at least one thing happening for them. Those that were struggling academically either were making it in business or something sha. He? Nothing.  Was it academics? He was barely pulling through and now an extra year to show for all his efforts. Was it business? Every business idea seemed to land him in debt. Was it even ministry? He was the transport secretary of his fellowship, a fancy way of saying he was the fellowship errand boy. None of this would have bothered him much, I mean, he had always considered himself a very optimistic fellow and had a reputation of never letting anything get him down, except that God had given him enough reason to believe that he was destined for great things. How on earth was he supposed to reconcile a 3^rd class degree, little business and organizational sense, driving bus all over the place, with statements like ‘you will be a pillar in your generation and a succour to many’ ,  and ‘I will give to you the wealth of nations’ ! For heaven’s sake, was it asking too much to at least know he was on a path that led to destiny? Shebi human pikin sha look like human being? As for him, he had no resemblance whatsoever to the man God told him he was. Maybe I mistakenly hacked into another person’s prophetic database and thought it was my own, he thought dryly.

         Having finished his meal, he got up quickly...or a little too quickly because he upset the table and its content fell to the floor with a loud clang, the ceramic plate shattering in the process. The whole restaurant had their eyes on him in an instant. The cross serving lady, fuming and swearing in Yoruba marched angrily to pack up the mess.

        “Ntori ounje N60 lasan...” She said a little too loudly. Bayo wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. Muttering apologies, he virtually ran out of the restaurant, the eyes staring after him like fire to his skin.

       “Ah ahn,  Bayo...take it easy. Where are you running to?” Bayo looked up in time to see the familiar face of Temidayo smiling inquiringly at him. He was always happy to see her but today it was all he could do not to hug her immediately. Sensing immediately that all was not well with her burly friend, Temidayo led him to the wooden benches supposedly intended for a ‘park’ by the school management.

“Oya...ki lo n shele? What’s the matter? She asked worriedly. True to the nature of the male sex to be self-sustaining and involuntarily believe he could brave anything that came his way,  Bayo was instinctively about to answer “Nothing”, when somewhere deep within, he felt the strongest urge to just pour out his heart.

Call it the dire need for a friend, or the effect of feminine compassion, or simply the emptying of a weary heart; whatever you may, so strong was the effect of the ensuing discourse that big, strong Bayo actually felt a tear or two escape his eyes as he emptied his heart to his friend. And true to the nature of the feminine sex, Temidayo couldn’t bear to see her friend’s heart so burdened without shedding a sympathetic tear or two. Eventually,after Bayo felt he had completely shed himself of his burden, he fell silent, feeling rather exposed and self conscious and half-wishing he hadn’t said anything. Meanwhile, Temidayo searched her heart for what to say to comfort him. Her mind suddenly flashed back to what she had written in her scrap-book that very morning. Digging through her large hand-bag filled with fashion magazines and all manner of odds and ends, she found the small worn note-book. After frantically fishing through pages and scraps of paper, much to the puzzlement of Bayo, she held up a rumpled piece of paper in triumph and handed it to him.

“I heard it on someone’s laptop and I just had to write it down. This was the only thing I could find.” She said apologetically when she saw the sceptical look on Bayo’s face as he collected it. Still not fully convinced, Bayo reluctantly read the hastily scribbled note

Time is not a series of short periods like days and hours

such that next year is a completely separate entity from

this one, but is a continuum; a long winding path leading us to eternity.

Tomorrow is simply a continuation of today and though

today may not look like tomorrow, who says it should?

Every point along the path of time is as important the next.

So, fasten your seatbelt and enjoy the ride...

for the future is only a little way off and the Word of Prophecy

is strong enough to get you there.

“Wow.” Was all Bayo could say. Closing his eyes, he leaned back, letting the words course through his mind. Sensing that words were not needed at this point, Temidayo silently held his hand and prayed with him. And true to the nature of the One who dwells in eternity and created time itself, He breathed strength and new hope into the tired, restless young soul.

Time stood still

Temidayo trudged listlessly along the road back to her apartment. It was 8pm and the end of another gruelling day at the office. Usually, she mindlessly went through the boring routines of her day: wake up, prepare for work, go to work, work, come back from work, eat, watch a movie and sleep...and the next day was just the same. For five years, she had been doing exactly this with no complaints, just simply floating through each day. But today was different. Blame the old scrap-book from her university days she accidentally found, containing all her ambitions, plans and ideas; or the poster that she mistakenly came across, publicizing a seminar by her old roommate...or simply by the plain fact that today was her thirtieth birthday. Either way, it had been a pretty depressing day.

She unlocked the door to the tiny 2-room apartment and put on the light. Throwing her bag languidly on the floor, she sat down on a small couch and put her head in her hands. Unwillingly, her mind travelled back to her university days, when her whole life seemed to stretch out enticingly before her. She had been so excited about the future, determined to pursue her passions and give expression to all the potential God placed inside her. She was all set to take over the world and had enthusiastically been making plans, writing her ideas, reading about it and all. Every day, she day-dreamed of her future, saw herself taking over the fashion world, speaking to thousands of young women, being a financial giant and of course, standing beside a great man and actively supporting him as he pursued his own destiny. And now, six years after her graduation...was it really six years already? It still seemed like it was only last week...she could still see it vividly. The crowds, the parties, the strained nerves from attending to irritating people who unashamedly demanded for food, the tears from saying good-bye...she could see it right there. But after that, all she could see was time floating by, each uneventful day flowing into the next...NYSC, getting a job, working at first 9am – 8pm, then after two years and a promotion, 9am – 6pm every day. Church maybe once in two weeks, when she didn’t have to work on Sundays. She hadn’t even been able to keep her relationships...two very unpleasant break-ups and she simply stopped trying. Now, her world consisted of a few friends she still saw every once in a while, her apartment and of course, her job.

Then, the tears came. And boy, did they flow. Age-long bottled up tears of pent-up frustration, and disappointment came gushing out as if a dam had broken. Deep, guttural sobs raked through her small frame as the pictures kept flashing through her mind. She wept not so much for the time she had wasted but for the future. To her, there was nothing to look forward to except an endless climb up the labour ladder, a rat race for better pay and living conditions...all for what? Her faith had long lain dormant and along with it every passion that had once excited and energized her. Now her life was simply an idle river, floating lazily on and on without an end in mind. Time would keep floating by, she knew and so also she would continue to trudge limply along this path called time, every day the same as the one before.

Then suddenly, like the soft harmattan breeze blowing through her window, a small voice spoke softly to her heart, “Time is standing still for you now. What will you do?”