YINKS89:
we don arrive na wid d intro i can see d future is bright or wat u say lilyjoe567 bby.

Yeap - sure as hell. Welcome.

EvaJael:

Thanks for the mention. This is the kind of person I call a writer

Ha-ha! Evergems, you flatter me. I'm only in your shadows.

stuff46:
Booked.

Say 'Followed' instead.

tijehi:


Definitely a born writer. I read the intro twice.

Ahhh! Dear, you make my head swoon, you make my insides churn. I see a little butterfly on your lips, can I crush it?

HelenBee:
Present!!!

Runaway bride, marked. Welcome!

yungeez:

m here... Wat did i miss

Nothing at all, you're just in time for the opening prayers. Welcome.

Lilyjoe567:


Present and following

My dear Ms Miracles, your attendance has been marked. Enjoy!

OluwabuqqyYOLO:

Yeap - sure as hell. Welcome.


Ha-ha! Evergems, you flatter me. I'm only in your shadows.


Say 'Followed' instead.

For wia? I throway salute for you jor.I'll prepare afang soup for you as a gift ehn

EvaJael:

For wia? I throway salute for you jor.I'll prepare afang soup for you as a gift ehn

See this girl o, she never prepared this for me o.
OluwabuqqyYOLO issokay sha come and give me updates if you don't want me to vex

OluwabuqqyYOLO:
Runaway bride, marked. Welcome!

Hehehe...I've been around Jere. Thanks for the invite groom.

OluwabuqqyYOLO:

Oh, it's the Adorable Kim and her curves! Why ever would I not shower your heart with kizzes and hugs? I'm yours for the taking, just ask and I'll update.

Unfortunately, am the Kim without the curves.

OluwabuqqyYolo u r a really good write. The twist n sensations d story entail make u a terrific storyteller. Damn. What a mind blowing piece. Welldone

Of '53, CONT'D

---

May, 53
Jummai wiped the tears that hung threateningly at the edge of her eyes and were aching to spill already. She noticed that the laali painted on her light face was ruined. It look worried - like a dry, slender twig. She sighed - one that encompassed pain and frustration. Then, she heard the drums beating softly, like the patters of a feline, and, then, loudly - like the blast of explosives. Her heart trembled and the anxiety and bitterness she had strove to keep within fell apart, right at her feet, like the wings of a twit in flight or maybe the outspread arms of a welcoming mother. She sighed heavily again and instead let the bitterness drown in the mess it had caused at her feet. She opened the non-challant kahl tube that laid idly on the brown, wooden table and enmeshed the slim dark coating stick in her eyes. Then she stamped the stick at the fore of her head and made the spot look like a thickly tender, rich full stop. She then loosened a grey knot of leaves and fetched some somewhat watery laali. The substance was quick-dry and, moments after, her hands brimmed of fashionable strands of black designs. Next, she scooped a red, heavy paste from a polyethylene bag and ran it across her lips. As an afterthought, she damped her hands with the flowery orange talcum and enveloped her face with it. Like the Monalisa, her face was a lit of colors and it bore a look of precious rubies. She opened a jar and gazed at her rippled reflection , and her heart split. What if Christopher saw her this way, she questioned. Then, it took her utmost effort not to cry but, even, her eyes turned glossy.

A warm night, a fortnight ago, when Baba had come to the door of her hut with Maman, the old caretaker of the guide, she immediately felt something was in the offing. Somehow, she knew what it was but she denied herself acceptance. Then, when it became clear - as darkness at night, and glaring like the bulge of a frog, she had died a thousand times. Quietly, she had decided to keep to her room in the most secluded area of Baba's large compound but Baba wouldn't let her. Everyday, he had made sure different women come to her room (some in the night with little, inquisitive lamps) to see her face. Everyday, the women had praised her to Baba's delight and had thanked Allah for making her their brother's bride. A few though had questioned Baba concerning her quietness and perceived coldness and she had heard scrapes of how he defended her. She would then later hear him ponder if she had been like so before she left home. But, no, he would think and eventually conceal his thoughts with a shrug. She would imagine his round frame standing in his room, with his arms akimbo and his fat, bald head heaving. Then, she would imagine that he would take off his jellabiya and sleep on his straw bed, dismissively dismissing his worries. One of the older women, Maman Idi, had upset Baba so well that he had knocked her door when it was dusk and the shadows had begun to fade.

'As salam alaeka,' he had whispered.

When she had answered, he had turned his back to her and pleaded with her if she was chaste. His voice demanded the truth and, though, she couldn't see his eyes, she knew he would be looking hungry - as though he was on a quest. But that was Baba and she liked him that way.

When Baba's mother had come, she had made it impossible for the old one to see her and the walkingstick had left, after hissing at her and shouting at Baba for letting her grow so old before marriage; now, she had grown sick because she had spent so long years in Gidan-Kotoko, the guide she and Christopher had rendered unclean together.

Presently, the usual pleasantries reached her ears and she knew her to-be-husband had arrived. The words exchanged were familiar and the faint tremor of pain filled her already split heart. It was the same way they had come for Zilehy, her elder sister, who had died a year after the rites. The musk that filled the house smelt the same as the one Zilehy's folk had worn but those memories were still too painful to relive and she returned everything to the abyss she had entrenched in her several years ago. Those memories were why Baba had let her grow so old. Her childhood friends were all married and had offspring already. When Baba had let them come in, each was with a child strapped to the back. Some would say the older yaro was outside and she would see him on the day of her ‘aure’ and she had mostly smiled.

Moments later, she was kneeling before Baba and a host of relatives. Sanni; Shemsiyah; Musa; Bala; Aisha... she had counted before her knees felt wobble and her eyes heavy with wool. Her sight blurred and everything in the large room lost shape. She confusedly held her nose and she felt the familiar tremor of vomiting rambling in her throat. Then, she passed out and her light-skinned flesh landed on the pound notes that laid a few metres before her.

****

EvaJael:

For wia? I throway salute for you jor.I'll prepare afang soup for you as a gift ehn

Really?! My mouth don dey water.

queenitee:

See this girl o, she never prepared this for me o.
OluwabuqqyYOLO issokay sha come and give me updates if you don't want me to vex

Just did that, Queen. What are your thoughts on the story?

HelenBee:
Hehehe...I've been around Jere. Thanks for the invite groom.

You are welcome, baby. Enjoy.

KimberlyWest:




Unfortunately, am the Kim without the curves.

A brain is better.

adontcare:
OluwabuqqyYolo u r a really good write. The twist n sensations d story entail make u a terrific storyteller. Damn. What a mind blowing piece. Welldone

Thank you, dear. I'm flattered!

OluwabuqqyYOLO:

Just did that, Queen. What are your thoughts on the story?

The story is awesome, I still don't understand tho but this is just the beginning. But I can see that it's going to be a great story, and I really like the way you write

Just wondering if she's pregnant or feeling repulsed at the idea of being married....

Either way, should be interesting

Ts obvious she's pregnant.

She's pregnant....and her Lover has gone.....hmmmmm

Please try to interprete the languages so we can understand

Eid Mubarak, brethren and sisters in Islam! Al-hamdulillah!

This guy definitely can write. Poetry and prose on the same page.

OluwabuqqyYOLO:
Inviting the readers from 'Marital SHAMBLES', my most recent piece.
Spdazzy, and others I might have forgotten.

Thanks for the mention. Présente

"Aure" it is no "Awure", and also in the 19's am not sure if there are bulbs in rooms in Nigeria.

Peotic and intruging i must confess, i love what you are doing with this characters already.

Give me more,

Sorry everyone for my absence. I was really caught up in the 'Salah-rush'. An update will be up soon.

-God could not be everywhere, so He created moms.

---

December, 1964

---

The woman knocked the door lazily—one at a time, like the beating of a dirgy drum—and waited, using the moments to stare wearily at her dark, fleshy shadow in the cast of the fire-wielding sun. She straightened the lapels of her grey rumpled wrapper and bent to wipe some dirt off her feet. Her hands then proceeded to her light face—and wholly rubbed the dust that were on her feet on it—and wiped the beads of sweat off it, each looking like a stony, silvery glass ball. Satisfied with how clean she had become, she began to knock the door fervently—as though a man grunting on a woman.

'As-alaekum!' She shouted and reinforced her knocks, thinking for a fleeting moment that she was chasing a bull. Sanni! Sanni!! Sanni!!!

Soon, her knuckles felt sore like needles had been stuck into them and the knocks grudgingly stopped. She put her back against the rough mis-aligned wall and glided down until her buttocks reached the bare soil. She fetched some roasted groundnuts from a little porch she carried and scooped water from a silent, watching clay pot. Her jaws, moments later, were marching on the spicy nuts—like heavy tracts of a bulldozer on an arable land—and lickety-split, she was dozing off, her reassuring snores rustling through the huge cacophony of green leaves and fruits, acting as a pronto shade from the acutely disturbing smile of the giant ball of heat seated gloomily in the skies.
****
Akimi walked further from the crying girl. He put his hands to his ears and angrily crossed the road. He stared back at her now and saw her still firmly rooted to where he had left her. His insides churned and burned, each organ soon resembling a crook, burnt and dark form of ash.

'Sherifah!' He barked and cut her up with his gaze. 'Ba ka zona ko?' He yelled and seemed to wait but the girl failed to take even a step. After some minutes, he looked around and found a long, thick guava twig—like a strand of dreadlocked hair—and marched his way toward her. He crossed the road - his jellabiya vacillating as his legs stamped wildly with each step. He raised the twig in the air, poised for action but decided otherwise as a strange thought filtered into his mind. He let the twig fall and, as he reached her, drew his hands into a punch and struck her little face intently. He struck again; then, again and the girl slumped, hitting her head on the idle mass of rock that sat behind her.

Akimi panicked immediately and dropped the punch he had drawn again. His protracted veins contracted instantly, like wrinkles on a baby's face. His angry face softened and his good-looking side came on. He folded his jellabiya and stooped to her side. The blood trickles ran down her pretty face and sullied the rock—like the birth that had begotten her. Her subtle eyelids lost the will and veiled her milky, glossy eyes. Her breathing became laboured and her teeth gritted in rapid succession. The chill air whirled beautifully and mingled with the blood that laid by her head. Then, the air turned vile and tempestuous and blew her hijab here and there as though it were hijacking the sticky veil. The clouds gathered and the bright colors that had been hanging at the treetops eroded, like the sexual desires of an aged woman.

Akimi's instincts came into place and he ran. It brought to mind—the tale the girl's mother had told her and her brother. The one that said her father had run away after she he got her fraught with them. But their mother had failed to tell them more - like how her Baba had slumped when he got to know of the pregnancy; or how everybody had despised her because of her infidelity; how Baba's properties had been usurped after his death; and how it had made them victims of circumstances. Those were the parts Jummai kept to herself and dreamed of as she snored at Sanni's door.

'Sherifah. Sherifah.' She muttered as she was shook awake and the familiar face of Sanni came into view. She smiled—an agitated, coloured baring of her teeth.

---

****TO BE CONTINUED****

.

CrystalsDARK:
Divepen1, Obinnau, please check the ban on my other account 'OluwabuqqyYOLO'. I posted an update and the anti-spam bot banned me. I didnt mention anyone or do anything which might have been wrong. I'd have posted the update with this account but I fear it would be banned too. Please check it as soon as you can and right what's wrong. Thank you in advance.

unbanned. Just send a mail next time. It would faster that way.

queenitee:

The story is awesome, I still don't understand tho but this is just the beginning. But I can see that it's going to be a great story, and I really like the way you write

Thank you much, dear. And, yeah, the story isn't open yet. Enjoy.

Lilyjoe567:

Just wondering if she's pregnant or feeling repulsed at the idea of being married....

Either way, should be interesting

Lol! Repulsed ke? Enjoy!

YINKS89:
Ts obvious she's pregnant.

Obviously. Enjoy.

tijehi:
She's pregnant....and her Lover has gone.....hmmmmm

Isn't that sad? Really, I'm hating that Christopher. I'd kill him if I had the power.