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=One=

“Wake up! Hurry up! This is our chance to leave,” she said as she shook me roughly.

I woke up and rubbed my eyes. I could hear the sounds of gunshots and horrible screams of children coming from outside.

“What’s going on?” I panicked.

“I don’t know. It seems another group attacked our camp. We have to run away from here if we want to see another dawn. Get up!” she said quickly and rushed to wake the other children in the small room.

“But where do we run to?” I asked her i quickly changed into the only good clothes I could boast of, an old blouse with patches and a faded black skirt. I fixed my veil on my head and rushed to her side. The other kids were now wide awake. She grabbed my hand and that of another girl called Chika.

“Listen very carefully, this is a matter of life and death. We have to run like we have never ran before. Even if we get separated while running, don’t stop. On the count of three-”

We didn’t wait for her to finish counting because we heard a loud explosion and we all ran out in different direction. She was holding my hands tightly as we ran towards the entrance of the compound. We ran in a zigzag way in order to avoid stray bullets.

Outside was a gory sight. We even stepped on blood and guts of people on the floor. As we rushed past a corridor, we saw Jaja, the camp cook, drenched in his own blood. His hands were trying to stop blood coming from his neck. He was barely alive.

I turned to search for Chika but she was no where to be found.

“Chika! Where is she? You were holding her before, right?” I asked her as we ran.

“I don’t know. I don’t know. Just run! Keep running!” she said in pain as she dragged me along.
I began to cry and recite Al-Fatiha(a chapter of The Holy Quran) silently.

“Stop crying! Run faster!” she shouted at me as we ran out of the compound.
We ran and ran until we could not hear those horrible sounds again. We fell on the ground and…

“Omaaaaaaaaa!”

I jolted up from my sleep and looked around the room. Oh! Another nightmare!
I was drenched in sweat and was panting heavily. I don’t think I will ever be free from that night. That night when I watched Lulu, my friend, die in my arms.

We were both thirteen years of age when we met at the camp. That camp was for kidnapped children. They were kept there until the females were sold as prostitutes to brothels and the boys were sold as house helps to neighbouring countries so that we do not have the chance of meeting any of our family again.

I was kidnapped after I started living in the orphanage where my mother dumped me at the age of twelve.
Strange right? I stayed in the orphanage for a year. I was kidnapped that day on my way to the market to buy pineapples for Mother Hannah(She was the owner of the orphanage). Perhaps if I had not offered to help her, I would not be in this situation now.

Lulu had told me that she was kidnapped on her way from school. When we met at the camp, we immediately became friends. She became my sister and my mother. She was my only source of happiness during the one month I stayed in the camp.

Children were sold in batches in the camp. Lulu and I were in the same and would have been sold into prostitution the following week had we not escaped.
I watched as life slipped out if lulu as sge breathed her last breath. She was lying in my arms, a smile on her lips.

“Make it to Jannah, so that we could be together forever,” were her last words as she died. She had been shot on her stomach as we ran for our dear life. She was just holding on to the last bits of life so she could see me to safety. Oh my Lulu!

“Omaaaaa! I will not call your name again. The next thing I will use to remind you will be the back of my slippers.”

I quickly sprang up from my mat as if an ant bit me. I folded the mat and kept it in a corner of the poorly lit room with just one small window. Soft snores drew my attention and I stole a quick glance at my foster brothers and sister. We were four in number.

I went out of the room to the toilet at the corner of the compound that the children used. It was hardly a toilet. It was a shack with a pit latrine that stank more than death. I pinched my nose and went in. After I relieved myself, I came out and spat the saliva I was trying so hard not to swallow. I went to the back yard and performed ablution.

After performing my Fajr prayer(Early morning prayer performed by Muslims), I changed into a faded brown gown and combed my natural wave of soft, long and curly hair. I put it in a single braid and fixed my veil in my head.

I am the product of a Nigerian father and an Egyptian mother. I was tall, had pale skin, oval face, a long straight nose and beautiful grey eyes. My father used to tell me that I took my mother’s skin colour, oval face, hair and grey eyes while I took his slightly plumb lips, height and straight nose. To sum it all, I was beauty and beauty was me. But beauty sometimes comes with problems. It was my outstanding beauty that caught the eyes of the kidnappers because they thought someone like me would be good market for them.

I entered the main house and went into the living room. The other children and I live in the boys quarter. She was sitting in her favourite cane chair with cushions on it. I moved closer to her, with fear radiating from my body, knelt before her and greeted, “Assalamalaykum(Peace be upon you), mama.”

“Walaykumsalam! Have you finished dreaming? Oma, let me tell you, if you don’t finish making breakfast before seven this morning, you will not like what I will do to you,” she spoke without blinking.

Ya Allah(My dear God)! I don’t even want to know what she can do. If Shaytan(Satan) was in search of a wife, Mama Fatoumata was the perfect candidate for the post. She was our foster mother and the mother of only one child, Tolani, who was currently in a boy’s college in Kano state.
Mama Fatoumata was the definition of a ruthless woman. She could beat a child from dawn till dusk without breaking a sweat.

“I hope you remember the last beating I gave you?” she asked.

“Yes, mama,” I replied her. I remembered that beating very well. It is imprinted in my memory and still very fresh. I forgot to add pepper to the soup I made last week and she beat me with her koboko(a kind of rope made from leather), after which she told me to kneel outside under the hot Northern scorching sun. That day I cried and begged her to let me in but she didn’t until it was night time.

“Good! So I suggest you hurry up and make akara(fried beans cake) and kunu(pap) for breakfast. Where are the remaining children? All you children do everytime is sleep. Wretched children!”

I left her presence and hurried into the kitchen. I really don’t want to be beaten today.
Mama Fatoumata was a Fulani woman in her early thirties. She has fine aquiline facial features. She has long dark hair which is usually braided that hang from either sides of her head. She likes to wear large, gold earrings known as kootone kange and heavy silver rings and bangles. Indeed, she is a very attractive woman. Today, she was wearing a yellow abaya(long flowing gown) and black veil. Her wrists were adorned with bracelets and her feets were covered with leather slippers.

The other children and I do not underestimate that slippers. The soles of it are as hard as rock. Anytime Mama Fatoumata left eye twitches, it means she wants to use the slippers on us. So with time, we have learnt to stay far away from her anytime we wronged her.

I made breakfast on time and served some to her. Then I packed some for her husband, our foster father, Mr Adetola who everyone normally call Papa Tolani.
Papa Tolani was a better version of his wife in terms of wickedness. I can’t even describe him. Just imagine the most cruel thing a person can do. Put Papa Tolani in that picture and you have a definition of wickedness.

By the time I was done, my foster brothers and sister were awake and going about their daily chores.
There was Usama and Fahad who were the same age with me while there was Saba who was a year younger than us.
I was fifteen.

“Saba!” mama called.

“I am coming,” Saba answered.

“Tell Usama to prepare and come to the shop. I will be going to the market and he is to watch the shop,” mama told her as she looked for her handbag.

“Yes, mama,” Saba said.

“Oma!”

“Mama, I am here,” I said as I rushed ti meet her.

“The rest of you should prepare and go to the factory right now. Your Papa must be hungry. I am going. Lock this house before you leave. If you forget! If you forget! Let me not say what I will do to you,” she said and left the house.

“At last the witch has left,” Usama commented.

“Usama! Shhh!” I cautioned.

“What! Let her hear me. She is a witch,” he said and started dusting the chairs.

“Usama! I know you’re a champion but be careful. Mama is very wicked o. If she catches you, okay, I won’t talk again,” Saba said and Usama sent her a glare.

“What can mama do that she has not done to us? We are immune to her punishments,” Fahad said as he beat his chest proudly.

“That is what you said before she applied salt to your injury because you forgot to warm the beans which caused it to sour. Your eyes were so red as you cried throughout the night,” Saba taunted him.

“Then you kept quiet after Papa threatened to throw you out so you could sleep outside in the cold, harmattan night,” I added and we all burst into laughter except Fahad. He glared at us playfully but joined in the laughter.

“Remember we have to leave by eight this morning and this is already past seven. I do not want to crawl in the gravel in papa’s factory. Lets hurry up!” Usama said and we quickly prepared to leave.

Usama and Fahad had been with our foster parents far longer than Saba and I. They had stayed with them for five years while I had stayed here for two years. Saba came last year.
Usama had told me that Mama knew his family back in kano and she offered to bring him here in Sokoto and put him in school. When they arrived here, Papa said he would work in his shoe factory instead of going to school. Usama did not return to Kano because his family was so poor that there could hardly afford three square meals. So he decided to stay back in Sokoto and work for Papa. With no pay. In papa’s own words, the pay was free food and a bed to sleep at night. What a wicked man.

As for Fahad, Papa saw him in the market place where he carried load for people. Papa asked him to follow him so he could work for him and he agreed.

Saba is an orphan and mama brought her from the her sister’s place. Saba was brought to be an house help in the house.How can a fourteen year old girl become an house help?
What cruelty!


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From the Heavens so blessed
She was molded and sent into a world so vast..
Without objections she descended
And found me in my worst
But in my worst, she loved me the most
My flaws she saw yet stood for that which she believed on..
Believing that even in my worst, i gat the best and am the best
Friends came and left
Foes came and left
Like the desert dust most memories has been swept away
But our memories even the wind dares not touch for it flows from a fountain never gonna run dry

www.gingsblog.

For all the times you held me and told me I mattered to you and that you cared
They were enough to cover the times you left me alone. And sad. Right?
Wrong.
Maybe I'm dramatic and maybe im wrong.
Maybe you do love me as much as I love you.
But actions speak louder than words

And I've shaken buildings at their very core for you.
What have you done?
And no. I don't expect the world.
I just. Expect. Something.
Anything.
And maybe that's crazy. It sounds like I AM in love with you.
Or, I'm just tired of giving my all to people who give me twenty-five percent.
Enough to keep my heart beating.
But not enough to keep me alive.
And yes.
There is a difference.

Sincerely,
The boy you forget until you're bored
Soul Therapist.
www.gingsblog.

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LET YOUR PASSION SPEAK FOR YOU!!!!
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“She’s beautiful,” Her daddy whispered when he held her for the first time.
It’s been a year now… A definite daddys girl. Running to him for every bump, bruise, secret, and achievement. She can crawl, and sit up. She mumbles her way through a conversation with herself.
“She’s beautiful,” Her daddy whispered as he lay her in her crib. She’s two years now. She can walk, and run, and giggle, and shout.
“She’s beautiful,” Her daddy whispered as they snuggled on the couch for a movie. On her third birthday, they went to the park, and they had pizza afterwards, as requested by her.
“She’s beautiful,” Her daddy whispered as she blew out the candles. It’s been four years now… She’s getting rushed to the hospital with a fever of 104.7°…
“She’s beautiful,” Her daddy whispered as he wiped the sweat off of her forehead. She’s five years old now… She started preschool yesterday, and made a new friend. We invited her friend over for a playdate.
“She’s beautiful,” Her daddy whispered as she fell asleep, exhausted, on his lap. She’s such a daddy’s girl. She’s six years old now… She starts Kindergarten tomorrow. It’s an early night for her, as she goes to sleep at seven-thirty.
“She’s beautiful,” her daddy whispered as he dropped her off at the classroom. She’s seven years old now… She told the teacher that a kid in class was bullying her.
“She’s beautiful,” Her daddy whispered as he read her a bedtime story. On her eighth birthday, she rode the zipline. She’s getting braver and braver…
“She’s beautiful,” her daddy whispered as the wind blew through her hair. She’s nine years old now. She’s into art and music.
“She’s beautiful,” Her daddy whispered as they drove to the pop concert. Everyday she changes a little more. She’s loud, and shy, and sweet, and beautiful. She’s daddy’s little girl. She’s perfect.

www.gingsblog.

The river flowed through meadows green
I saw the wild rose, pink and serene.
There came a voice from beyond the blue,
An angel from heaven said - it was you.

Resting beneath the rays of the sun,
I gazed at the sky to talk with my one.
The breezes blew sweet whispers to me
Across the mountain and waves of the sea.

The hymn you sang was 'O Love Divine'
I heard your dear voice and you heard mine.
But as the sun went down in the evening sky
There was no sound...just your last goodbye.

www.gingsblog.

He says he loves me then he says he loves me not
He loves me today but by tomorrow I'm forgotten
He runs from my love but returns wanting more
I guess I'm to blame for letting the traveler explore,
See travellers just wander and are never here to stay

They admire the scenery and enjoy the display
They tour the land and ride the attractions
So memories become their only subtractions,
They search for an experience that is what they yearn
The condition once they leave is none of their concern!

So how can the land be devoted and true
When travellers come and go out of the blue.
The present is now and where he's travelled to,
But the past he calls home so he must return soon
Most likely just a visit although time can only tell,

But what he lusts is in this land and he knows it very well
He may call that place home but its this land that he seeks
Travellers on a mission never realize until they hit their peek
He continues to damage this land down to its core
So what's left to offer when their is nothing left in store?

The resources were depleted and the land left bare
He comes and goes as he pleases it doesn't seem fair;
See this land has been abused time and time again
Seeds that were planted, were means to an end
But pleasure and satisfaction was always accomplished
Because this land provided where the homeland was disadvantaged!

But despite the history and despite the trust
Submit to his urges is something he must.
So this time around his departure is permanent
Lack of faith and loyalty was the final determinant.
The damage he caused cannot be rendered,

his visitation rights he has surrendered!
So leave this land I say and never look back
This is the path you chose I hope you can stay on track,
Cause travellers have memories of the lands they have stained

But the land only remembers the one that remained!

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I LOVE IT WHEN YOU HOLD ME CLOSE, AND ALWAYS WANT TO PLAY.
HOW IN THE MORNING YOU MESSAGE ME; ON EVERY SINGLE DAY.
WHEN YOU CALL ME EVERY NIGHT, BEFORE I CLOSE MY EYES-
OR ALWAYS TELL THE TRUTH; NEVER ANY LIES.

WHEN I GET TO SEE YOUR PASSION WITH EVERY STORY THAT YOU TELL,
HOW EVEN WHEN YOU’RE ANGRY, THOSE FEELINGS NEVER DWELL.
I LOVE THAT YOU PROTECT ME, FROM EVERYTHING AROUND;
THAT EVEN WHEN I’M LOST, I KNOW THAT I’LL GET FOUND.

I LOVE THAT WHENEVER YOU START TO DRIVE, YOU MAKE ME KISS YOUR CHEEK.
HOW MY STOMACH GETS BUTTERFLIES WITH EACH SWEET WORD YOU SPEAK.
THAT YOU CUDDLE ME FOR A MOMENT AND THEN TURN ON YOUR SIDE,
THAT ALL OF YOUR ACCOMPLISHMENTS AND FAMILY GIVE YOU PRIDE.

I LOVE THAT YOU SUPPORT EVERY DECISION THAT I MAKE,
THAT EVEN IF YOU’RE EMBARRASSED OF THINGS- YOU’VE NEVER ACTED FAKE.
HOW YOU ALWAYS WANT ME TO BE HAPPY, NO MATTER HOW I FEEL.
THAT EVEN WHEN WE MAKE THINGS UP- IT’S NEVER BEEN MORE REAL.

HOW YOU ALWAYS MAKE THESE PLANS, THAT OFTEN TEND TO CHANGE;
WHEN YOU SMILE AT MY SENSELESS JOKES, AND WHEN I’M ACTING STRANGE.
THAT YOU ALWAYS SAY I’M PRETTY, EVEN WHEN I DON’T THINK THAT IT’S TRUE-
HOW YOU THINK THAT I’D WANT ANYONE ELSE; WHEN ALL I WANT IS YOU.

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A crush is a nice thing to have
It makes you feel nice
Loved
Cared about
Thought about
And so on

But when you see a lot of people crushing on each other
And you’re the only one without a crush
It makes you feel sad
But sometimes you might feel happy you don’t have a crush and somebody doesn’t have a crush on you

But deep down inside
Your slowly dying of loneliness
You’re happy because you don’t want to get hurt
But you would actually risk anything to be loved
I know how you feel

I was vulnerable to the heart breaking
And I got it broken
Into tiny pieces
I don’t go for it no more because crushing is just a waste of time
But for people who love “love” thinks it’s everything and will do anything to try and find their soulmate

And when they find that person they live happily ever after
But some don’t
Some die from it
Some suffer depression
I almost did
But I never gave up

I searched and searched
But no luck
So I’m giving up on it
Why bothering keep going when there’s nobody to love you
I just sit here…
On my bed…
And cry myself to sleep…
Knowing… that nobody likes me…

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Him or me? Sweetie who's it gonna be? You have me waiting, anticipating. This
question should not have you hesitating. I've sat back and listened to you explain. Your
need for me but love for "what-his-name?" It should not be so hard for you to decide. For
he keeps you on an emotional roller coaster ride. Take a look back when I was before him.
It's not difficult to comprehend. I was your honey. lover, friend. Just follow your heart and
follow what your body tells you. It's a start when you acknowledge I've never failed you.
Damn-it woman you hold the power. Who do you think about in lonely hours? Who do you
imagine touching you in the shower? You know I'm the one who goes deep. Sweetie you
know my love is unique. You know I'll do what he won't in the bedroom. You know when it
comes to you nothing is sexually taboo.

I'm the one who takes you out on the town. You know I like to go down. You know I'm
far from selfish in bed. Does he wake you up to morning head? Come on don't lie. Does he
gobble, make you hobble after eating your apple pie? Does he keep your kitty on a sexual
high? Does he flip, dip bite into your battleship? He probably see's it as invalid. So I know
he don't toss your salad. Baby you know what I'm about. Does he make you cry out in
ecstacy? When you're with him do you think of me?
Tell me, does he show you public affection? Was he there with you watching "Obama"
win the election? Is he there for you, share with you special moments in life? Will he
sacrifice his career? Does he whisper sweet words in your ear? Does he kiss the tip of your
nose? Surprise you with a rose? Does he massage your feet? Take you out to eat? Does
he make your heart smile? And to comfort you, would he walk a thousand miles? Does he
do these things and then some? No! He's silly and dumb! Always on the run, always on the
go and no! "Attention" he doesn't show! He don't know that I'm the one who understands. I
support your goals and plans. I know you like no other. You don't need advice from your
mother. She even knows I'll catch you if you fall. You know she see's me as her son-n-law.


Note: Spoken word about how girls always leave the best guy and fall for the wrong one thus

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