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A THOUSAND ROSES: A LETTER.

Dear Hubby,
I have no doubts in my mind that this letter will meet you well.
You're a wonderful man full of energy. You leave nothing to chance, instead you go all out leaving no stone unturned. Now that's my hubby! Smiles. .

You see, I have waited patiently for you to arrive, I knew you will come, and I see you coming soon. I wasn't waiting to receive a perfect hubby or a hubby that will plant me a thousand roses...mbanu!...because I know you might not appear perfect. �don't frown mbok...because I only tickled you. I wasn't waiting for a tall, long, short, dark, hairy, slender, muscular, rich, poor or with heavily long rock.. no, all i waited for was you...a man that has foresight...a man i can love...a man our children will call Blessed.

Hubby darl, don't bother about what our home would look like; I have already created our home in my mind, I can even picture our bedroom now�..no, hubby, not sex. You know you have a romantic wifey.

Hubby-me, the home we'll live in has already been established in my tenderly loving heart/mind. Yes, we'll have children. Won't you want them to come at once..triplets? That's my prayer o�! The gender doesn't matter. We'll trust God to give us the best.

Haba!! My Hubby-darl, I'm not bothered about the size of your rock, I'll be very comfortable with how it comes. The bible says 'man and wife will become one body"...it did not say one organ. So, all I need is your body hugging mine. Hope I don't boast plenty here o...

Hubby-me, I will accord you respect everywhere all the days of our blissful lives. Don't worry, your imperfections won't be noticed. My hubby can do no wrong in my eyes. Whatever or whoever you hold in esteem, i will uphold it. They say it's easier said than done; mine has long been done in my mind. I already have our dream home in my mind, so it's easier because I practice respect towards your family everyday. My heart will be sealed to yours and I'll become officially blind towards any other man.

My Sweet Hubby-darl, only one thing shall I request from you, that is; for you to recognise that I'm created for humanity...so I desire that you'll give me a free path to practice humanism. Noooo...your wifey is not a noise marker, so I won't blow trumpet around.
God created me to act as your helpmate, yea. so I'll work hard in our marriage to make our home a modeled point of reference.

I won't throw words at you...won't abuse you...won't use harsh words. I have written a Book of Romantic Words, it's already published in my head. Hubby-me, whether you come now or later, our dream home has long been created...
So far, everyday, you wake up to inhale scented roses on our bed prepared by me. Oh Hubby-darl, our home holds several imperishable treasures...i can list them if you wish, but Hubby, come home and take your headship position. Hubby-me, come soon, come later, BUT come.

While, we wait, let me go water our garden...need me to list the flowers and vegetables in there? Keep in touch.

Your most loving wifey-in-waiting,

WHEN HUSBANDS CAME

BEFORE THE COUP. The women left their meeting hall to the recreation arena for their dance juggles. Emem, their instructor had just arrived, she was a grandchild to one of the older women in Ukana Community, and used to visit the community fortnightly for dance sessions. Her grandmother, when she was younger was an active dancer, Emem was not only active but skilled, and her ‘full option figure’ did a great justice to her passion for dance.
Whenever it was 'dance time', the women would pull off their blouses and step out in their wrappers tied to their necks or bust-lines for modernized folk dances.
This particular day was special because they were going to entertain their husbands.

'Kpop kpop' Emem who stood before the women sounded.
She lifted her left leg with waist slightly twisted in dance moves. The women followed suit repeatedly swapping legs.
'Kpop kpop' Emem sounded again, demonstrating to the women to bend their heads down towards the thighs with fingers touching the ground.
'Five times!' she screamed.

'Kpop kpop' Emem got the women to assume akimbo style with their right legs up slightly twisting their waist and thighs at the same time in gyratory movements.

'Do same with your left leg' she breathed.
The women danced happily.
'Hmmm, good exercise' one of the women breathed.

Their leader walked up to Emem asking for a break so they could revitalize to better entertain their husbands who would soon throng in from their meeting.

'Sit with the sole of your legs tucked into your thighs' Emem instructed. 'Breath in and out' she said going into meditating position.

The leader and another woman who maintained the front row whispered to each other and stood up almost simultaneously walking behind the scene and rustling words Emem shouldn't be privy to. A coup was being planned.
'That girl is well rounded' said the leader.

'Hmmm, my sister'! The other responded.

'With well-rounded back-downstream and upstream dichotomies' the leader continued.
'Hmmm, my sister!'
'Would you instruct us instead? The leader beckoned.
'Abasi mbok, why not!’
The two women, if not all, seemed familiar with their fears beforehand.
They went back quietly to their positions, and whispering to one woman after another.
They all agreed that Emem should leave the dance ground once their husbands arrived.
Three minutes later, just when Emem stood to sound 'kpop ...', one of the women took the and asked Emem home

Hello Nairalanders, my apologies for commenting before your wonderful selves.

Please, note that copyright reserved.
Do not publish without written consent from me nor share without acknowledging me.

If you comment on this work, I'll be motivated to constantly post short stories and poems.

My greatest desire is for Nairaland esteemed Mods to kindly push this to FP.

Thanks.

PhD EXPLOITS:

My first experience;
So, I opened the car and hopped onto the owner's seat...because I didn't want to drive my own personal car. Who would drive anyways¿ when there was a luxury G-wagon with a standby chauffeur to drive me to the University for my PhD registration. Yes.
A lanky young man climbed onto the driver's seat.
'Good morning Madam' he greeted.
When the words dropped, I searched for where it was emanating. It was too deep for a lanky structure such as his.
I sank back and tuned to the Tv facing my forehead, I bent it downward to face my eyebrows, then down again until my eyeballs and the screen met directly. EMPIRE came on.
My assigned chauffeur asked if I needed something chill or some nuts... It sounded like 'do you prefer "tea or coffee", so I said no because of my inborn hatred for both products (I prefer ice creams).
Besides, I had some plain yogurt, walnuts and almonds which were gifted by my American friend - who would have been my coursemate if I had secured the admission I sought at Harvard Business School last 'summer'.
The driver turned on the music and relaxed into his driving...trying hard not to exceed 100kmhr. He was warned not to...
We arrived at the University. The gatekeepers stood erect and slowly put their right hands beside the ear lobe in salutations. The closer the red coloured 2017 model G-wagon drove, the brighter their ..smiles shone. It was amazing!
One of them hurried to the owner's side. I could see him waving. I refused to wind down the window, feeling their disappointment in advance if they saw me on the owners seat. I mean my hair was undone. I had no make up. In fact, I wore no classic looks. They would have bet it's E-Money, KCEE's elder brother.
The one by the driver's side stuck his head into the car and lo! sighted me.
'Madam, madam...
I watched his voice left his tongue. He lost his voice.
A car started to follow us from behind without a horn. He too had sighted the gold on wheels.
I peeped into my purse and brought out four pieces of 100 dollars notes.
'Driver, give it to them' I said.
I noticed a piece of 100 dollar note dropped by the driver's side, narrowly escaping his left thigh.
I decided to believe it's was a mistake. But we drove off!
We arrived at the PG school. I saw people scampered for a stand, other's pinching at each other, and some folded their arms under their mammary glands.
'Driver, what's your name? I asked.
'Joe, ma, Joe' he said.
'Wait there, I'm coming out now' I said.
He had to wait, after all I owned both him and the G-wagon for as long as I wanted today.
So, I stepped off the vehicle, the breeze blowing my undone hair. I grabbed a shawl and placed it over my head and literally concealing my face.
I noticed people's expectations shattered when I walked past.
I hurried around my PhD registrations with Joe driving me to one point after another, even as we both simmered over ensued drama each time the car came to a halt.
We soon finished and headed out towards my base.
At the gate, Joe said 'madam, they are waving at you'.
I smiled and nodded simultaneously both at the movie I was watching and Joe's words.
STOP THERE, that was a slay queens narration. MY IMAGINATION decided to face REALITY:

In reality, today, I decided it was time to go get done my PhD registration. PhD in Development Communication which a Nigerian University graciously offered me.
So, I hopped into a cab and I stung at my book 'Having Adam's Baby - by Christyne Butler'.
I was reading where Adam stood before Fay half nude ....., when the driver stopped at the University gate. The gatekeeper handed him a green coloured 'pass tag' and barely said hello to me.
Two minutes later, at exactly 11.31am, we pulled over by the car park of Post Graduate School.
'Driver, may I have your phone number?' I beckoned.
08035748*****.
I pleaded with him not to leave in case I needed to visit other registration points.
I walked away wondering why on earth he would want to leave when I hired him for a whole day, and haven't paid him a dime yet.
The registration processes took less time than I expected, because they were several handy legs offering to assist one way and another for a meagre fee. I obliged. I knew I would still have some naira note left in my purse even after paying Mr. Taxi-man whose name I do not know uptil this hour.
I cared less to ask what his name was.
'He could go missing for all I care' a wicked thought that wasn't mine fleeted by.
We soon finished and drove towards the exit of the school.
When we arrived at the gate, I helped the driver to pass the 'pass tag' to the gate keeper who had earlier passed it to him.
Not sooner than 4minutes after we got on the highway, the car, an old golf my mind betted was a 1982 model.
The car jerked mercilessly.
'Driver, what's the issue' I asked.
'I think I need to buy fuel. My fuel gauge isn't working, so I can't tell exactly...' He muttered.
'Ok' I said sitting upright and ready for the worst.
We drove into an empty fuel station, but the driver soon zoomed off because the PMS was being sold at 180 Nigerian Naira per liter.
'Please, I will buy it 145 at the next fuel station' he pleaded.
'Hmmm' I choose to swallow my words instead of patronising him with a response.
At exactly 1.43pm we drove into a queue at another fuel station.
I decided the sun was too harsh for my skin.
So, I walked towards the station's mini mart with the hope of getting some butter biscuits to relax over a bottle of coke.
My disappointment knew no bounds after I made to open the door only to realize it's unused, not functional, never been used as a mini mart, but a store room for old broken motor parts.
I sank unto the bare cemented floor and in no time, I dozed off.
I was awoken by a male voice.
‘Are you waiting for someone?’
‘No’ I lifted my face slowly. A handsome man stood with his chocolate complexion shining in front of me.
‘Can I have your phone number?’ He asked.
‘No’
‘Please’
‘I’m sleeping’ my favorite rhyme repeated. I always utter those words whenever I don’t want to talk over the phone while at home. Lie!
‘Please’ he continued.
‘I won’t take your calls’
‘You would eventually’
I hissed and dropped my head on my laps with my face hiding in between my thighs.
I dozed again.
Faintly, I heard him say ‘let me go move my car, I’ll be back’
Who cares if you are going to fly your aircraft.
These guys though! My thought bursted.
The driver finished buying the fuel and walked brusquely towards me.
‘My sister, my car don spoil’.
‘What! After keeping me here for an hour.
‘The fan has spoilt’ he continued.
By this time it was 3.02pm.
An auto mechanic ran by and struggled to fix the fan to no avail.
It dawned at me that I had entered ‘one chance’ and needed to search for the next available cab back to base.
First, a ‘nice’ woman offered to drop me along the way. I considered her kindness too risky as I wasn’t familiar with the town.
Five minutes later, I found luck. I hopped into a cab that felt my frustration and decided to charge me reasonably after two fell-out with earlier potentials.
I returned to base safely, but got my pen into paper and was telling this story raw while I was being driven home , right before I slid into a plate of Edikang-ikong soup at home.

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