My World No Be Like Your Own

I am a boy. I am not male or female. That doesn't make me an hermaphrodite.
I am not Nigerian but have lived all my life in Nigeria. I took out a new citizenship some 10 years ago (that's a blog for another day).
My preference can be weird, i love agege bread more than i love that uac val bread. I love rats more than i love chicken. In fact i don't love Mr. Biggs the chicken are so young, i feel it would be wrong to eat such chicken. Mind you I am not an animal activist.
Nothing excites me like my girlfriend (not the present one). I can not tell you the joy i derive from my girlfriend  it is so immeasurable. It is not a sexual relationship mind you (why can't you believe me), it is one headed for the pulpit

I think tomorrow i will give you my cv. Its impressive.

Today i had a beautiful time with my girlfriend. Yes i actually call her that girlfriend. Some ladies heard me call her that and went what? And i went o yes!!
So, she takes me out to have a hair cut. Imagine your girl taking you to the barber shop and telling the guy what to do to your hair. I loved it.
But the fun did not last because in the saloon my girlfriend noticed there was a sign hanging from the wall with  a full description of a woman

W wicked
O
M money demanding
A always dependant
N never grateful

It spoilt our day. Of course i felt the post was wrong but i no fit remove am sha.

How can a guy just ruin our day like that.

  This is the smiley for a grin.
A grin is what i had to offer everyone that tried to question my love for my girlfriend. A grin is all i had, not an excuse not an explanation. No not an explanation.
How do you explain to an Eskimo that eating raw meat is bad,  How do you explain things in English to a man that is deaf. How do you explain to folks the word called love,

So i love my galfriend and nothing they say or do will make me stop loving her.

"Out of sight might not be out of mind but surely it is out of sight"

Today i was scrolling through the contacts on my phone, and it hit me. Like a flash it hit me. There were so many contacts that i have not as much as sent a text in the past one year. People that i have shared precious moments with. People i have eaten from same plate with slept in same bed and been very close with and now just because i cann't see them i don't call them.
Can i say love is only as far as the eye can see? Can it be that i can not love someone i cann't see. Of course i tried to rationalise by saying i still love them in my heart. But way deep i kept asking meself, if i missed them  i would have called, if i loved them i will want to know what is happening in there life.
The fault is not mine alone, i told myself, because even they have refused to call. But then is love always reciprocal.
I think i will delete all those i have decided to forget and begin to call those that have loved and have been loved by me. that i will do. I will sow that as a seed, so when my teews travels out i will begin to harvest the seed of Out of sight not been out of mind.

Tomorrow.

Does your lady tell you about the other folks in her life? and how do you feel and how do you take it?
Have you ever come to see your lady and you find another man there with her?
Have you ever come to visit your chic and while with her a call comes from another bobo asking to come visit and she says come?
Have you ever been to a fast food and who is there your chic and she is not alone?

Do you have a right to be angry, or is it jealous?
Should you not just believe her, since she has told you nothing dey happen? and i have eyes for only you,

A beautiful and touching story of passion by my friend MacDonald. You will love it, you will feel it. It in no way expresses my view as regard such matter, but it is a great piece. Enjoy it,

Prologue

In his homily, Fr. Ikemefuna, substituting for the Parish priest, continued to preach on the need for almsgiving. He thanked all those who donated generously for the upkeep of the church and the poor, and ended with a prayer and sprinkling holy water on our face. Unlike the Parish priest, Fr. Ikemefuna was a young handsome man. Many of the village girls considered his answering the priestly call a waste of resources. He was adored by all. His gentle dimpled smile could awaken a host of emotions in any woman. He was an emblem of concern for many youths in the church. There was this air of mystery around him that made him special. During confessions he was the preferred priest, as people mobbed his corner in order to catch a light penance for their grievous sins. He had this smile, after your confession that reassured one that God was indeed merciful.

It was to him I made my first confession to that same day. I had expected him to be shocked at my pronouncement, but he puzzled me with his calm response. He’d looked at me with intense bright eyes and smiled.
‘How long have you felt like this’, he asked, spreading a charming smile on his lips to console me.
‘I don’t know father, I’ve always felt like this since I was a child’, I replied, burying my head in shame. He held my hands gently and asked,
‘How old are you?’
‘Sixteen’, I mumbled. He shook his head and muffled something like a prayer and crossed me with the sign of the cross.
‘Act of contrition’, he said. I quickly rushed the prayer and waited as he read my penance.
‘Father’, I called before he could usher me out.
‘Yes?’ he answered, head bent in prayer.
‘Do you think I am abnormal?’ I asked .Hiding my face on the floor. I could sense a certain degree of uncertainty in his response.
‘My child’, he said.’ Judgments should be left for God, not man’.
‘His ways are not our ways’, he added, ‘and only God knows why we are blessed with such characters’, he said and winked at me. There was something in that wink. I looked into his face, but there was no clue. I stood up and walked home, my mind less preoccupied by the drama.


On my way home, I was about to take the shortcut home when I saw her: the crucifix, on which my salvation was crucified. Nkechi was a total upset! To all the boys of our village, she was a neck breaker. An angel in human form, With a set of teeth that outshone the sun. Her physique was tall and fully blossomed at sixteen. She had a magnetic effect on me, always taunting me to mortal sin I could not resist her, and she knew. I had vowed to avoid her after my first confession, but as her smile caught my eyes, I melted and allowed my emotion to be held hostage.
‘Wat’s up’, she said, in a funny accent. I felt a million missiles explode inside me.
‘You’ve been avoiding me?’ she added.
‘Says who?’ I whispered, avoiding her look.
‘So, why haven’t you visited me?’ she asked again. ‘Or did you not know I was back for the holidays?’
I’ve been very busy with preparations for my ‘first holy communion’, I lied.
‘Hmmm’, she managed to reply. ’that’s nice’, she smiled. ‘I was beginning to think you had a new bush-girlfriend’, she said, laughing. I wriggled with laughter as she held my hand. Hers was soft and tender, while mine was rough as sandpaper. We were both from different worlds, united by our passion.
‘What are you doing tomorrow night?’ she asked, breaking my thoughts. I wanted to tell a lie, but somehow the truth fell out. ‘Nothing’, I replied.
‘Very nice’, she clapped. ‘Can we meet then?’ she asked, staring at my eyes.
‘um! um!’ I muttered trying hard to avoid her gaze.
‘Common just this once before I go back to school?’ she begged.
‘When are you leaving?’ I asked. Hurt that she had to leave again.
‘Next week’, she replied, holding my hands.
‘Ok?’ I answered, looking closely into her bright eyes.
‘Lets meet at 8pm.the sun should be sleeping by then’, she added trying to be poetic.
‘Hope you won’t be late again?’ I told her, as we hugged goodbye.
‘Nopes!’ she said again, in her foreign accent. She smiled and ran off, her buttocks dancing wickedly behind her. I watched as she disappeared behind the trees and walked back home. Tired, I went to sleep.
‘
The tale

The road hugged two footpaths each leading to different directions. I took the left turn leading to my destination. The wind yodeled as I walked, chasing the flying leaves. The moon was in its element today, brightly mixing with the wind to create a sizzling atmosphere. The noise of the night insects created a creepy music that filled the air. I gently navigated my way through the shrubs and trees, avoiding the moon’s gaze. The gleaming darkness provided me, a perfect cover for my sojourn. I was familiar with the paths leading to our hideout. Dry leaves carpeted the road. With the darkness bathed by the smiles of the moonlight and the night birds and trees singing a chilling lullaby, I got to my destination. The air was cold and fresh. The light wind gently caressed my tiny hair follicles. A squeak of dry leaves ushered her entrance. She was impeccable. Like the fire flies of the night, enchanting the darkness. Her face was an orotund canvass of flesh, well sculptured by the maker. She smiled at me and sat at the heap of sand bed made for planting yams. I was transfixed in her presence.
‘Come here’, she commanded, I resisted not as I walked over to her side.
‘I didn’t come late, did I?’ She asked caressing my laps.
‘No ‘, I said as I crawled to her side. We didn’t waste any time as we unleashed a barrel of kisses. Her touch was magical. Her fingers were playing on my skin as if she was a pianist. Kneeling, her hand went under my lower region, in the greasy flowered-wrapper. At first her fingers were hesitant, as I slowly responded to her touch. She crouched like a salivating dog and lifted my gown, kissing sensualities into me, and my straps buttons exploded as she held my back. The sensation was awesome! I cupped her small chest in my hands and squeezed it, she moaned in return. I unsheathed my sword of fingers into her senescent region and she twisted in delight. She curled and twitched as she responded to the intense passion. We were two lust souls under the gaze of the moon. Suddenly the torchlight appeared, counter shaded by the moon. A big head appeared from the groove.
‘Lord have mercy!’ he shouted, startled with fright.
‘What on earth are you both doing here?’ it was a rhetorical question. We were caught, naked and sweating with passion. The Vigilante crossed himself and ran into the village. He had recognized the both of us. The cloud grew and grew, into a dark feathery mass. The air suddenly became still.



It was the strangest trial ever witnessed. The village minstrel had made a headline of the news with his gong. It had spread like harmattan fire into every village hut. I was brought before the tribal council, charged with seducing the princess with witchcraft. The vigilante, who had found us, was the witness. He was a stout man, with bulging bloodshot eyes, turned red by the fumes of smoking “gbana”, He spoke very firmly with a sense of malice in his voice. I recognized him. He had been trying to get at me for a long time and this was a perfect time. He had asked me out twice and I had turned him down.
‘I couldn’t be mistaken, my elders’, he said
‘This one ‘, he said pointing at me, ’was lying on the princess, who was struggling to break free. A great cry of ‘’ eeewo!’’ rented the air. Many faces crossed their head and made snide faces at me. I was defenseless. The Igwe had coaxed the vigilante to change his story to favor his daughter, while I was charged with the abominable act. The villagers cried for my head, while Fr Ikemefuna pleaded that I should not be condemned under the traditional law since I was a Christian and not a pagan. The villagers refused his plea and cried for absolution. I instantly became an untouchable. I looked up and saw Nkechi; she had been sitting close to her father crying. Her testimony did not help matters as she had memorized what she had been told to say. I was drowned in my own sleep. I suddenly faded before they read my verdict.



Fr Ikemefuna was sitting besides my bed, a plump figure in white priestly regalia. He looked calm. Mother was walking up and down the room, muttering to herself. As I opened my eyes she sank back to the armless bamboo chair and sighed with relief.
‘poor thing’, said Fr Ikemefuna with a broad smile.’ how do you feel?’ he asked, checking my pulse with his hands. I was evidently oblate. I stood watching the highlights on my mother’s face. She had suddenly added more years. She suddenly stood up slowly and put her hand on my face to see if I had a fever. Quietly she walked back, to other end of the room and slowly unwrapped a blanket, which she used to cover me.
‘I and the Parish priest are meeting the council today, we are going to try to convince them to change their verdict’, Fr Ikemefuna said, hoping to break the silence. Mother pretended not to have heard him and continued staring at the ceiling.
‘I believe they’d have a change of heart, if we speak privately with them’, he added.
Mother looked up; cheeks mottled eyes glaring. She raised her head and set her chin on two small fists.
‘Do you think they will consent’, she asked.
‘Well’, Fr. Ikem said, ‘they have to reach a compromise. She’s a Christian and as such not bound by their law’
She lay there. Said nothing, but stared at me with dropped eyes. He stood there too, saying nothing, waiting for her to say something, but the minutes went by without any words falling. I could see tension on her face – the tension of waiting for him to leave.
He quietly stood up and smiled at me. ‘I’ll get to you before dusk, ok?’ he said smiling. He could see the heat quivering on my face.
‘Don’t worry everything will be alright. He said as he opened the door and left. Mother said nothing; she just silently walked to the door and closed the door behind him. Without saying a word to me she walked into the inner room and closed her door too.
The timeline of events had made the day heavy. Evening finally came, after what seemed like ages. Mother had been restless. She had spent the rest of the day thinking and wandering aimlessly through the house. The wind began to blow again and our old hut creaked. It grew dark before Fr. Ikemefuna’s Volkswagen “tortoise car” finally parked in front of our compound. Mother ran out to meet him, while I peeped from the window. I could not read his lips, but the expression on his face said it all. After some minutes, he entered his car and drove off. The red dust from the earth waved as he sped into the darkness. Mother came back into the house, looking frustrated. She leaned on the bamboo rails and stared at the red earth before her. Idly, her attention turned to the wooden box, where our clothes were kept. She picked up some clothes and squeezed it into the box.
‘Pack your things’ she said, as she switched off the kerosene lamp. I couldn’t refuse. I hurriedly packed a few blouse and gowns into the box. We had to face the music. It was either this or the village square, where I was condemned to death by stoning, for practicing “witchcraft’’. We couldn’t keep them waiting. There was no moon in the sky when we left.


He was waiting like he told my mother he would. In the moment before the door of the “tortoise car” was opened I glimpsed the laps below the half drawn shade. He was wearing a yellow T-shirt, with his hand firmly on the steering wheel. Nothing was priestly about him.
“My goodness! What took you so long?” He cried
‘Don’t you know the whole town is looking for you?” He reeled. He went on to narrate how the news of our escape had filtered into the night and the vigilantes were now stalking all corners looking for us. Mother apologized. As we threw our small bags into the back seat of the rickety car. He started the engine and a cough escaped into the silent night. He tried again and received the same response. The persistence was annoying. The more he tried the more the car refused to heed. With each determination from his hands came a resistance that spread fear on his eyes. He was still at it when the lights appeared. First it was a dimmed light of a kerosene lantern. Then, without warning the flashlights burst into our face! The vigilantes were here!
‘Run!’ was the first thing that escaped his lips, “run!”
We did not wait for him to finish. We dashed into the opposite direction where the lights were not shining. It was as if we were trapped, rays of torchlight’s blinded our eyes. I could now see about eight blank faces staring at us with cutlasses and Dane guns in hand. Maybe it was madness, fear or both, I don’t know. But what I saw was Fr. Ikemefuna hurling himself furiously at one of the vigilantes. Immediately the sound exploded. An accidental discharge!





Epilogue

“Nooo!” I shouted, as I woke up. My mother was frightened too. She too had heard the gunshots! She hurriedly switched off the kerosene lantern by the bedside.
“Shhhhhh!’ she hushed me. ‘ I think it’s a thief’, she said. I couldn’t speak. I was drowned in fear. On my face were large balls of sweat dripping like raindrops. We waited in silence for another gunshot. None came. All we could hear from the distance was wailing and screams which soon died with the night.
‘Go back to bed’. My mother said as she crawled to her side of the bamboo bed. She did not bother to switch on the kerosene lamp as she pretended to go sleep. I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t.


The following morning, unable to shake the dream of my head, I went for a walk. The morning rain was over and the sun was turning the glittering green into a crowd of gems. The petals were beautiful, its green layer stretched forth like the head of the cobra, it was carefully hidden between the dark green vegetation of the water - leaves in our garden, its dark colors synchronized with the environment it polluted at first it was difficult to detect, but a closer look through the vegetation exposed it to the inevitability. There it was, perfectly camouflaged by the ones it threatened; it was a petal from a lost savannah. At first I was afraid it was a little cobra counter shading between the water leaves but as I looked closer I was fascinated by the look on the plants face, it looked like a little cobra with its head poised to spit, and I couldn’t stop my self from laughing at the idea that I was scared of it at first! I carefully removed it from the soil. It seemed to frown at each pull I made and I noticed that the green leaves were turning darker as it lost its grip on the soil. It was as if it was pleading to its assassin to have mercy on it. As soon as I pulled the last root out it bowed its head like a man who has just closed his eye to the inevitable, excited, I rushed out to show my mother the little wonder I had found. I almost bumped into Aunt Nnnena who brought the news. ‘Fr. Ikemefuna had been killed! According to her, ‘the catechist had gone to call his son from the Alter boys meeting. When he opened the door and entered the room, Fr. Ikemefuna was breathing heavily on top, both naked. He did not look again. The only weapon he could feel was the metallic chalice on the table, mad with rage he rushed at the priest and clubbed continuously until what was left of the head was a mortar of blood and brains well pasted on the floor. He was shot by the vigilantes while trying to escape the church guards (Those were the shots we had heard last night!)Unbelievable, but true, Fr. Ikemefuna was like me! I listened as Aunt Nnnena rammed on, and my stomach rumbled. The petal on my fingers lost its importance as it fell. I was to meet with Nkechi that night. But, I changed my mind. It was better to play safe.

My first heartbreak was a simple one.
It was my first and i promised myself it will be my last. I did all i thought was right. i literally believed that i had found love. Truth be told i did find love. i cann't deny that it was not love.
The relationship had all the element of love. The spark and fire. The smoke and ash. The nothing.
It seemed like a relationship made in heaven. If anyone had told me it would end one day, "i for curse him mama and papa marriage day". I guess i did not see it coming, but it came like a bomb.
one day i went to chat with her like i always do when there was something of importance to talk about. But this day there was more than something of importance, it was something critical.
For weeks i did not recover from the effects of her action. It was not because she said she no do again. No it was because she said i will not be able to marry her.
Now before you think that sista was being smart or holding on to the bird in hand, we were both still in school. I was in my 4th year and she was in her 2nd year studying  a 6 year course. That was the heartache of the heartbreak. I was not going to be good enough for her,

It changed me, and now i don't need a heartbreak any more.

Ha i was in maiduguri while the crisis rocked the whole town.
It all happened like it never happened. Can you believe that as at 6am of the morning of the attack, i was headed for the airport to confirm a flight meant for 6am. it so happened that we took the route out of town instead of the maintown, so we did not get to see the carnage and corpses at the police headquaters. If we had taken that route we would have been turned back and that would have been that.
so we passed through got to airport nd on getting there i found out that the airport was basically deserted. I did not realise that it was because of the fight and not the rain that had fallen earlier in the day.
We headed back to church from the airport. At church we found out that an attempt was made to burn the church beside us. From the look of things the church was set on fire but the rain helped keep the fire out. They ran out in haste leaving behind kegs of fuel. some of those kegs had bullets in them, a form of home made bomb.

From them the story began to flow in ,  hope to write about it some more.

 What was in the mind of Mohammed Yusuf?
Who in trained his soldiers?
Who funded his initial rise?
Why was he really killed before he got to abuja?
Was there a conspiracy theory or was he murdered to hide something?

The sect was said to have gone to the police headquarters as part of their plan to dislodge government and put in islamic government. Will that really have been their real intention? Do one realise the amount of arms that would have been made available to them if their attack on the police headquarters was successfull?

Do one grab the full import of such an action? It makes me see how easy a coup attack is in my nation?

Finally, Why did the president leave the shores of this nation on a day like that? Are lives of the citizens of Nigerians not important to him?

Too many questions begging for answers, it is best i leave this boko haram issue. and that i will do.

CASED CLOSED

Love waits. That statement is said to be the basic character of love. Patience. Patience and more patience.

The simple definition of Love is character built by patience. The patience a man has for an erring wife. The patience a parent have for a wayward kid. The patience a boy has for a girl till they get married. This are examples of love and that is what love is about.

If he loves you he will wait. If he loves you it will not be about sex. If he loves you he will wait while you put on that make up. After all the makeup is for him. If she loves you she will wait patiently till the day you say i do. She will not consider the size of your pocket or the size of your mansion.

Love will make a man hope. Hope for a better she. Love will make a woman change anything in a man. It will make her stick with her man come what may. Love is the cure for divorce. For love will always wait.

if it can not wait it is not love.

 I just got into one and this feels like an answer. This is for you TEEWS  Quote from: olusolami on Today at 01:48:38 AM
love they say conquers all. love is a feeling that goes deep and is discovered when you least expect it. love is what people feel miserable for and wish they could live another life. love is what people do to keep their mind off things. love is a feeling of security and belongingness, so how can you ask if love, of whichever distance, can work. it really does not matter if you fall in love with someone that miles away from you because most times it comes unconsciously and you have no other choice than to deal with and live with the best you can.the journey of a thousand miles starts with the first step, it is that first step you take towards love that determines how it will all end up; marriage or heartbreak. loving someone that is far away from you is just the same as loving someone that is next door, there are times that your next door lover is the Casanova and you couldn't even detect when it is done right under your nose. a typical example is a friend of mine that was in a relationship with a girl and they live on the same street, he got to her house one day and saw her in bed with another guy that is suppose to be his cousin. can you beat that?
A long distance relationship has it's own disadvantages we all know but this disadvantages comes up and becomes a problem when you deal with it wrongly and in the wrong steps. all relationships have shortcomings be it long distance or short, the only thing is the commitment, the trust, the communication, the honesty and above all an unchanging love that is from the heart. most people will say long-distance love is just a facade for both parties to be unfaithful, some may say it ends up with both partners hating each other more but i quite disagree with all these assertions. with a long distance relationship you see the true beauty of love and the sanctity of being in a honest relationship. you look forward to seeing your partner, you dream of the good times you share, you lay on your bed and fantasize and you feel miserable and have a long distance call in the middle of the night, you have phone sex if you feel honey. you try to make things perfect for your partner when you eventually see him/her. you try and make things work through both efforts and you make things as beautiful as having him/her near. a long distance relationship opens the eyes of those involved to the pains and gains of commitment and devotion. all long distance love should be given a chance to grow and not condemned.