BRENDA

I was getting really impatient by the moment. I was waiting for someone. Marvin. I've known Marvin for a month. He is a very nice gentleman, well, nicer than the previous guys I had gone out with. Prior to that day, I had always thought I suck at keeping to time, but this friend of mine had just upped the record. We had a date, I wanted to go to the cinema. We lived far off from each other, I along IBB way and he along Abak road, so Old Crescent road seemed a good place of contact. 1:00pm was the time he had suggested, it was 1:32pm already. A good 32 minutes.
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I felt something wet land on my cheek. I felt it. Water? From where? Another landed on my arm and yet another on my forehead. Oh no! It was starting to drizzle. Perfect. I looked around in search of any available shelter. None seemed near, so I began to walk. I see a mechanic workshop by my right, but No thanks, I really do not like the man in blue. Everything about him screams 'Pervert'. So I keep on walking. My light chiffon blouse is getting soaked already, and for the umpteenth time I blame myself for believing Marvin would stick to time.
Finally! Relief washes over me upon sight of a boutique. It  looks shabby and deteriorated. The paint coats are beginning to peel off and the surroundings are littered with garbage. There is no visible source of shelter up ahead so I walk hurriedly towards the boutique. Two ladies are seated outside. I immediately greet the older of the ladies as I assume she is the shop keeper. She mumbles some alien language in return. I then greet the younger lady and she smiles back sweetly. I steal a glance into the shop. Clothes are hanging off hangers in a haphazard manner. A showcase containing cheap jewelry is mounted close to the door. There is a seat close to the showcase so I haul myself into it.
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Back to Marvin! I dial his number again but the customer care lady has no chill. I'm told "my account is too low for the definition I'm trying to call." Let's hope it doesn't rain all day.
 "You have to dry your hair or else you'll suffer from itching today ehn", a voice permeates the air. It is the younger lady. I look at her briefly. She is putting on a short gown made with danshiki fabric. Her face is well made up, she has a dimple on one side of her cheek which deepens when she speaks. She is pretty, very.
 "Ah, you don't even have to tell me that one o. I have a blowdryer at home anyway, I'll dry it once I get home." I answer in return and look away. I'm certainly not feeling chatty.
 "My name is Brenda, by the way." She says yet again.
 "Oh, I'm Mercy."
 "You've been frowning for minutes now. Is everything okay?"
Well, if you observe I've been frowning, you could at least keep away. That was in my head.
 "I was supposed to meet up with a friend but he's really running late. He's not even picking my calls to let me know if he is still showing up or not." I say instead.
 "That's frustrating. You just got all dressed up and pretty for nothing." She teases.
 "I'm not even worried about that." I giggle. "The fact that I would have been home, all cuddled up and warm, getting my much needed rest in this oh-so-cold weather just pisses me off the most." I reply to her tease.
Lightning strikes and we scream in unison then laugh heartily afterwards. Okay. I like her. I like this Brenda. Its unusual of me to get comfortable with someone I just met but she seems way different. Everything about her screams 'Talk to me', 'Open up to me'. We are engrossed in a conversation oblivious to the shop keeper though I hear her light snores time and again.
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 "Its finally stopped raining." I tell her.
 "Thank God. This environment is giving me goosebumps", she whispers. I nod in acknowledgement.
The shop keeper is awake so we express our gratitude for the shelter and she mumbles yet another alien language in return. We begin our journey.
 "Brenda, please let me know if you see any airtime vendor around. The hundred naira wey I been recharge don finish." I break the silence.
 "Big girl like you dey load 100 box. Omoh, na wa o.
 "My friend, sharrap dia." I retort back playfully.
THIEF!!!!!!
We stop immediately in our steps.
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The shop keeper is running after us. "Stop them. Thief O", She screams even louder. Our faces register embarassment as we look at each other.
 "Let's go. She clearly can't be talking to us." Brenda says while tugging at my handbag.
 "Babe, are you being serious right now? She's referring to us. See her pointing nah."
The mechanics begin to come out of their workshop. A small crowd is beginning to gather too and we are the cynosure of all eyes in no time. The shop keeper finally catches up to us panting heavily.
 "E no go better for una. E no go better for una for this life. Ashawo na im una two be", she begins to rant.
 "Abeg abeg, calm down madam. No call me something wey I no be. Look your shop, wetin dey dia wey person wan thief? No, tell me. Wetin person wan thief for shop wey don empty?", I am visibly angry at her baseless accusations.
 "All that one na story. You go helep me search them till you find my bracelet", she tells one of the mechanics. "Na so them just dey waka dey thief thief anyhow. Shameless girls."
The mechanic she refers to wipes his greasy palm on his dirty coveralls. At that point, I know he means business. I look at Brenda and she is as speechless as I am. The severity of the mess we are in seems surreal to us. The mechanics look at us greedily and I don't know where the thought comes from, but I start to picture what I am putting on under my Jean trouser and chiffon blouse.
 "Ma please,  we did not take anything from your shop. You saw when we left", Brenda finally says with a shaky voice.
 "So why e be say as una two comot for my shop, I no come see my bracelets wen been dey my showcase?"
Showcase. Oh, I remember.  The showcase. It was right behind me, I leaned on it but I took nothing from it. I would never. I mean, were not showcases locked in the first place?
 "Madam", one of the mechanics says, "you for like make we search these girls or make we for dey here speak English?"
That is all the motivation his colleagues needed. They come at us amidst our begs and screams. We are powerless against them. Two of the mechanics tug at my blouse looking for a zip or a fastener.  They find none so they begin dragging my blouse forcefully over my head. Brenda is not left out. As I peep at her, I see her short gown being lifted above her head exposing her long, shapely legs and her black tights. The shop keeper stands with her hands akimbo watching us wrestle to cover up parts of our skin that have been exposed with disgust clearly etched on her face.
 WAIT!!!!!!, someone shouts from the crowd. The mechanics stop and look towards the direction of the sound.
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A young man is making his way towards us, he should be in his late twenties, probably.
 "Ma", he addresses the shop keeper, "you ordered a search of these ladies because you think, emphasis on the word think, you think they stole a bracelet from your shop."
 "Yes o, I just dey my own 'jejely' when rain start to fall... "
 "... I know the rest", he cuts in, "Now my question is", he turns and faces the mechanics, "These ladies each own handbags. Why didn't you start your search from there, why rush to peel off their clothings instead?"
 "Bros, women get plenty places for their body wey dem fit hide property", one of the mechanics who identifies as Rufus answers. Rufus is the name tag on his coverall,  so I assume that is his name. He is the leader of the 'search party'.
 "Search their bags first", the young man orders.
Without waste of time, the contents of our bags are emptied out onto the ground. House keys, a novel and a tampon fall out of mine amongst other belongings. A thorough search of our bags is conducted by the mechanics who now squat on the ground. Brenda comes over and hugs me tightly. We have managed to re-arrange our clothes back to a state of normalcy. She holds me and sobs quietly, her body shuddering with every inhalation she takes. I pat her back continously as I have lost the strength to speak. I have lost the strength to re-assure her that all will be well.
We watch in silence as the crowd rummage through our bags, tossing contents out without a care. The crowd has doubled to twice it's previous size, hawkers and passers-by now stop and take in the drama that is enfolding while those that have been there from the start fill in the new arrivals on what is really happening. Soon, more and more people are gathered.
 "I don see am, I have seen the bracelets! "
Brenda lifts her head up from my shoulders. The earth stops spinning. Bracelets? How? Which bag? The crowd go into a frenzy. Everyone is talking at once. I feel dizzy, I think I'm going to puke. All eyes are fixated on us. Do we run? Is this the part where we run? I'm going beserk due to too much constructive thinking. The young man who intervened on our behalf holds up a bag. "Whose is this?", he asks, I sink to the ground. The crowd presses closer. No, It can't be. When?
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Brenda.
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"I'm sorry", she says to no one in particular.  She is crying heavily and her nose is running. " I don't know what came over me, I'm sorry. Mercy, tell them, I'm sorry", she keeps on pleading.
The mob charge angrily at her, hitting and beating her wherever and with whatever they can reach. I run to the man who intervened on our behalf, our intercessor.
 "Please get them off her Sir, they will kill her. You know they will", I cry out.
 "You've seen them. You've seen how many they are. If I get in there, I could be trampled to death. She should never have stolen in the first place."
 "But you can say something,  don't just stand and watch. Please, you... "
I'm interrupted by Brenda's screams. I can't see her through
the crowd but I hear her shouting and crying for them to stop. Tears run down my face at the realization that I can't do nothing about the situation. I heard a squeaky sound behind me and I turn to see one of the mechanics rolling a tyre with his right hand while holding onto a jerry can with his left. No! No! No! It can't be what I think it is. The shop keeper is urging on the boy to hurry. I run over to her and literally fall at her feet.
 "Ma please, we are sorry ma, please ma, don't let them do this to her ma, please ma, we are sorry ma", I beg amidst tears and hiccups. She pushes me away without so much as a second glance and makes her way into the crowd.
 "Babe", Someone says behind me. I turn around at the sound of the voice I know so well. Marvin!  I hug him and cry loudly while he holds on to me while taking in the happenings around us.
 " Where have you been? What took you so long?"
 " Forget about me. What is going on? Oh my God, look at you. Your hair, your..., babe, what is happening here?" His eyes search mine frantically trying to make sense of the situation.
 "Brenda."
 "Who's Brenda?"
 "She stole some bracelets. I didn't know, how could I have known? They're going to kill her. Come talk to the shop keeper, please, she'll listen to you maybe." I'm talking way too fast. I pull Marvin by the shirt at the same time look out for the shop keeper.
It's too late. A cloud of smoke fills the air instantly. I jump back on impulse.  Fire!  The crowd that had once gathered around Brenda like flies to faeces now stand at a considerable distance due to the flame. I run towards her but Marvin holds me tight, all I can do is scream and struggle against his weight. Brenda isn't struggling. She isn't running. Brenda isn't even moving. She just sits there while the flames peel off her skin. Maybe it's the weight of the tyre around her neck, maybe she is weak from the beatings, maybe she is tired of fighting on for a life that is gradually dwindling. She sits facing my direction but I doubt she can see me.
 "I'm sorry", I say silently. "I failed. I should have tried more to discourage them. This is all my fault." I know she can't hear me. But I just had to speak. My voice is hoarse from shouting so much.  Marvin presses me tightly against his chest. He tells me it's not my fault, He says I couldn't possibly win against the crowd. I don't believe him. I should have tried a little harder. Marvin lifts me into his arms.
 "Let's go before these savages change their mind."
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Its been two weeks since her murder. She was all over the tabloids the following day. She was on the lips of everyone. Some told the story as it was. Some fabricated lies and made her look evil. I'm sure you heard about her too. Do not believe everything you heard. You would have loved her. She was the sweetest thing to ever happen to me. She was life itself.
Its been two weeks of sleepless nights.
I dream of her every night.
In my dream, she tells me why she did it, because I could never understand why.
She tells me she misses our budding friendship. Me too.
She says we shall meet soon, I want that more than ever.
The weight of her death has taken its toll on me. During the day, I behave like I'm in a haze, at least that's what my mom says.
But I don't mind. I pay no attention to them, for I know when night falls, I'll be in bliss.
When I close my eyes, all I'll see, is Brenda.

Domestic Violence

Ours is a union made in heaven, so they say.
I have found the perfect spouse in a world filled with deceit and falsehood. I feel comfortable and safe when we're together. I am reassured of our never ending love for each other.  You see, I feel lucky to be married to someone so intelligent and good looking as opposed to me.
We have been married for six months now, after dating for just two months.  There was no time to waste, I knew right from the start that I had found 'The One', afterall who will be willing to fall in love with me let alone marry me?. Ours was a case of love at first sight.
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My spouse has a foul temper.  When angry, things are smashed and destroyed. I once watched my favourite wedding picture being sabotaged in my very presence. I am not left out, time and again I get hit in different places. I have been beaten with a baseball bat and even sustained a cut from the kitchen knife. He is careful not to hit me where visible, but where can be covered when I am all dressed up. Clever. But after every storm comes a calm, so when the anger abates apologies are rendered, promises are made and we make up. Love is forgiving afterall.
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My husband is extremely jealous and possessive. I have cut off all contacts with my friends, they are dubious anyway and who knows, they could try to talk me out of my one shot at true happiness. I make calls and receive calls in the presence of my spouse. My social media accounts have been shut down too. I'm not allowed to pay much attention to the Internet. I suspect something is wrong, but I am beyond embarrassed to admit them or ask for help, as I am no longer close to any of my friends or immediate family.
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We went out last night,  to a sit out somewhere in town. I believe you know Amazon, it's one of my favourites. I ran into Dele, my high scnool sweetheart, on our way out.  I was over joyous,  I haven't seen him in four years.  We hugged, I introduced him to my spouse, chatted for a few minutes and then said my goodbyes. When I got home, I was still gushing over how fortunate I was to run into such a person when I felt something hard hit my head. My god, the pressing iron?.
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I hear voices. My husband is crying and shouting telling me to please wake up, apologizing endlessly. The doctors give their reassurance that they will do their utmost to zap me back to a conscious state. On the contrary,  I want nothing more than to sink into this black hole,  this darkness that is calling onto me. My only crime was to love and be loved in return.
If you happen to come by tne Teaching hospital today, Accidents and Emergencies Unit, help me talk to one of the doctors on duty. Tell him to let me be. I am finally home.
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My name is Annie, and i have been a victim of Domestic Violence.

Girl Power

Many times  I overhear some ladies say they have no female friends, only male, they say women are a truckload of trouble and they will rather keep company with those of the opposite sex. Well sister, I am here to counter that insane thought.  Granted, women are trouble,  yeah, we're all about that life,  but scratch that, a lady companion is the best thing to ever happen to a fellow lady and of course, yours truly has the facts to prove this, or something like that.
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a) Women are supportive: You read that right. Nothing beats having a girl pal to throw all your weight on when the pressures of the world are taking a toll on you. I recall an incident that happened a while back, I was going through some issues, the normal me would never lay bare her calamities. I bottle them up and hope for them to get better, but this friend of mine noticed I was becoming self-absorbed and not partaking in group conversations like I normally would. She didn't try to get me to talk, she knew she would be wasting her time, instead she soothed me with consoling words till I opened up to her on my own volition. Now how would I have gone through all that on my own?
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b) Women are understanding: I'm sorry,  let me rephrase that. Women are more than understanding.  Hello? Try explaining your uterus problems to that guy friend of yours.  What you'll probably get back from him is a 'I don't really like blood'. Fair enough. Or try explaining your swinging emotional state due to biological changes in your body to that 'Bestie' of yours and you will probably be tagged as being dramatic,  but a lady friend understands all of these because she goes through all of that herself, you see?, and when you're down or that time of the month comes around she knows just how to offer assistance,  when you're experiencing your emotional shipwreck she knows when you want to be left alone and when you need company.
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c) Reliability.  Women are reliable: Fine, we know women love to talk, that's what the buccal cavity is for anyway, but trust me, talking is part of our charm. Now you would probably say women gossip a lot, your secrets are not safe with them and a whole lot of other things, Now, do you know that the men gossip too, even more than the women folk? In recent times, the ratio of men who gossip to the ratio of women who gossip have been estimated to be a shocking 7:4 ( Well, by now you already know the estimation was done by me, but lets not dwell on that). Not all women gossip, and really before you unburden some of your worries to that lady friend of yours you hold in high esteem, you already trust her to keep that secret locked away for you. Plus if you're a blabber mouth, you might actually attract a friend who is one too, you know the saying that "Birds of the same feather flock together"? Exactly.
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d) Women are great company: Girl squad, they're everything.  Nothing beats a bevy of ladies with the same goal of life, ladies who recognize the value of friendship and like to let their hair down and have fun sometimes.  I love seeing ladies who enjoy being in each others company, I'm guilty of staring. Girl squad made my school days memorable,  we be giggling on the road to the amusement of  passers-by but we can't even tell what's tickling us to start with.
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Granted, friendship requires a lot of work. Tolerance, consistency and transparency are required, not forgetting humour. But meeting the right people to spice up your life is even harder, nowadays people are too occupied with themselves to make room for others,  if they're not occupied they have attitude problems.  This is where patience comes in, relax, with time you will find that soulmate of yours to complete you.
Now I'm also not insinuating that male friends have no importance in our life, they have their role to play, but that is as much as they get, do not try to replace the vacuum in your heart meant for a confidant with the wrong person.
Women, ladies, sisters, we are all we've got. Let the men play their role. Life is too short to spend without a partner-in-crime.
Do have a beautiful day FAM.

We're emotional like that.

Many at times I overhear my friends describe me with expressions such as 'not emotional', and I wonder, what are the qualities that make one seen as 'emotional'?, Could it be the fact that they're easily drawn to tears when they witness an 'emotional' scene as opposed to me?. I'm drawn to tears too, but well,  they don't drop, they just cloud in my eyes and when they realize there is absolutely no way I'm going to release them, they be like 'at least we tried', and go back inside their ducts. I'm really not comfortable with people seeing me cry, I view it as a sign of weakness,  or am I being too hard on myself?.
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Okay, I don't cry at burials. Accepted. But I can explain. I don't do this on purpose, believe me, but if I don't know a person personally and he/she happens to die, I could sit there and watch the whole world cry and I'll be left wondering if I'm medically okay as opposed to my mom and sister who can pass by a burial ground, notice the moody environment and immediately start wailing. Now what if I know the deceased? Fine, I'll be normal for once and shed tears, but how long I do that depends on the circumstances surrounding the death, the circumstances that will befall the loved ones of the deceased, and our level of familiarity.  Weird. I know. You don't need to say it twice. I will bawl my eyes out when I hear of the demise but on the day of the burial will be as dry eyed as a tortoise no matter how much I hurt.
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I cry when I'm frustrated. Happens every time. There's this instance I was really looking for a place to enroll in the compulsory SIWES program. All my friends and course mates had found a place or two to attach themselves, I on the other hand was still hanging. I was out of options, then I found a place, a ministry, I couldn't be happier. Now, the only thing standing between me and that slot was a photocopy of my certificate of origin. I found a place, but the dude would not help me because he asked for my cellphone number (and I actually gave him a wrong one), so I left in hopes that I was going to find some other place. I travailed along Aka road  till I could take it no more. Then Eureka!, the man I was supposed to submit the form to had a photocopying machine right in his office,  I remembered. I better get going before he leaves the office. Maybe if I explained my situation and asked him nicely for help, he will help me out, I thought. I got to the office, and no sooner had I started explaining myself did the man get into a frenzy. He actually ordered me out, read that sentence all over again, telling me to get out and go find a place outside. I don't know where the waterworks came from, but they helped,  he made a copy for me and I was good to go. Now,  am I emotional enough for you?.
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Lest I forget, have you watched ' The fault in our stars', or these Indian movies 'We are family', and 'Like stars on earth'?.  Pretty emotional movies, though.  Oh, you cried right? Congrats, you're normal. Well, yours truly didn't feel a thing. I mean, I was touched, went all soft, until I realized all my room mates were crying and I was left out, again. Then the tears clouded, and I was like ' could this be my moment of breakthrough'?, the answer was No. They dried off before touching my lower eyelids.
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Now, there's this puppy I was so in love with. It wasn't mine, was my neighbour's. But it spent it's days over at ours. Well, it's life was cut short by a man with anger management issues. He hit the poor pup with a log, crippling it in the process and eventually the pup died.  Prior to its death, I watched it wallow in pains. It's hind legs were practically useless so it would shift on its rear end while propelling itself forward with its forelegs, and the first day I witnessed this I cried my heart out. No one expected that from someone who doesn't cry when humans die, well let's just say I hate injustice. Oh, and suffering as well. I guess I'm emotional in my own little way.
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Bottom line is, I don't think ones emotional state should be judged by how often they shed tears. We who cry the least, hurt the most, but would not admit it. Yes. We're strong like that. We dont need to wear our hearts on our sleeve but we show emotions through our actions and body language. It is an advantage as well as a disadvantage.  But blessed be the one who looks past the walls and barricades and sees us for who we really are. I hope we find our special someone.
Do have a pleasant night rest FAM.

About Yesterday

So, I ran into this old flame of mine, Mr N. No sooner had he seen me did he start apologizing and explaining, "I changed my phone so I lost your contacts, I asked ur sister for it and she refused, blah blah blah, We really need to talk, The attitude I displayed was so unbecoming of me, blah blah blah". My job was to stand there and stare. Let me tell you about Mr N.
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I met him October last year, and after d usual shakara, we got close by November.  He was oh-so-loving, oh-so-caring & oh-so-protective. My friend's who were in 'protective relationships' kept telling me "Thats how you know a guy is serious about you, U better stop playing around o" and I was like "Oshe, no b this type I bin dey find nah". I could be hanging out with my friends and Mr N would just call.
HIM: Where are you?
ME: I'm hanging out with my friends at..
HIM: (cuts in)Get back to hostel immediately.  Like, right now.
ME: But we are all girls here.
HIM: I said, get back to the hostel.
ME: (in my mind) WTF?!!!
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Mr N worked in shifts. There's this particular week he was on night shift. He'll work all night, then get back in the morning and crash. My job was to call him when he got back in the morning, whether he picks the call or not. On this particular morning, I forgot to call. I was still a student, for goodness sake, and there is something called '8 o'clock class'. After the class, I was on my way to the faculty when the phone rang.
ME: Hello
HIM: I woke up, checked my phone, and saw no missed call from you. Why?
ME: I'm sorry, I forgot. I was rushing for an early morning class.
HIM: So even when you were walking from the hostel to the class,  you couldn't try calling? U mean to tell me I didn't run through your mind at all this morning? Is that it?
ME: (in my mind)Abasi mmi mbok.
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Oh, did I mention that he had this 'tracking device' he used to know my exact whereabouts and that if i mistakenly slept without saying goodnight too, casala don burst. It so happened this day that Mr N told me he'll be back from work by 12am, and that he wants to talk to me before sleeping. Now, the socket in my corner was faulty,  so I was charging my phone in my roommates corner. I increased my volume to the loudest so I could hear my phone ring even if I was in the highest realm of my sleep. But I had very caring roommates, who will silence ur phone for you so you don't miss that dream. Mr N called, and my roommate 'helped' me put my phone on silent. I woke up in the morning and saw seven missed calls, my friend just started consoling me in advance.
ME: Good morning.
HIM: What is good about the morning? So u slept on purpose, so that i will look like a fool and be wasting my time to call you? As in, you can close your eyes and sleep without hearing from me. Is that it?
ME: (in my mind) This has got to stop.
After that conversation, I told myself 'My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?'.
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I was fed up. I needed an excuse to get out. So I did something I wouldnt do. Snooping. Phone calls, text messages, everything. My efforts paid off o. I found out that when Mr N relocated from Calabar to Uyo, due to work, he left a certain missy over there, and they still communicated on a regular. I couldn't be happier for this recent development.  So, I planned a confrontation.
ME: So, who's Precious?
HIM: What do you mean?
ME: Who's Precious? And why do u forward her messages to me, that's plagiarism.
HIM: Babe, why did you do this? Its so unlike you. Precious is someone I used to know. She's in my past.
ME: If your past is still keeping in touch with you in your present, then we're so done.
I still thank God for leaving there with my head on my shoulders. He tried contacting over the months but please, once bitten twice shy abeg. Seeing him again after one year did not still help matters, I told him its nice running into him but I'm not ready for the extra baggage that comes with being attached to him.
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Seriously though, me ladies, an overprotective guy can make you feel loved, and cared for, make you feel like he is scared of losing you, but if he always keeps you at attention, my dear, that's not love o. It is fear. That tingling you get in your stomach whenever his name appears on your caller ID, it is fear. How about the ones that keep forming protective yet are getting a lil action on the side?, they will make you lose all your 'MTN backup plans' then bail on you, making you overcome by grief. I'm not saying Snoop on him, nope, I'm just saying be mindful of the kind of relationship you stay in.
Do have a lovely day FAM.

About Last Night

I was having a conversation with my brother, when all of a sudden I felt sharp contracting pains in my abdomen. Oh my God, I was in labour, and no one was home. I told my brother to pack a few of my belongings into a bag and accompany me to the hospital. Where was my mom, I thought?. She's supposed to be here, her first daughter is about to bear her a grandchild and she's nowhere to be found. And then I remembered, she is sick and is in the hospital, well, I better meet her there.
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I went out the door and started walking down the street with my brother, one hand on my belly, protecting the bun in my oven from reckless drivers who swore and cursed my slow pace, couldn't they see I was pregnant?. But then, a car stopped, a good Samaritan ushered me in saying 'Madam, let me drop you at the hospital'. I thanked him for being too kind, got in after my brother, glad there existed people who still did good for others, I didn't mind the fact that the good Samaritan was driving recklessly too. All I wanted was to get to the hospital on time.
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At last, I arrived at the hospital, the famous UUTH, as I stepped out of the car and thanked the driver, my water just broke, and knew I had to get to the maternity ward without delay. I met my mom outside, coincidentally, and she directed me to where I would be assisted. I met a nurse there and saw some other ladies who had just put to birth, they were all sleeping, but had this plastered grin on their faces, like they had just gone through the most interesting ordeal of their life. I watched them with awe, as I too could not wait to plaster a grin on my face.
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I walked up to the nurse.
Me: Ma, my water just broke.
Nurse: Okay, you are set for labour. Do you have a card?
Me: What card?
Nurse: A hospital card. Is your card this one with the number 596-593?
Me: No, I mean, I don't know. I don't have a card.
Nurse: Okay, go and buy a card. Its #300, and you better hurry up else you will have to undergo a Caesarean Section. Or do you prefer an episiotomy?
Me: Let me think of it while buying the card.
I left to tell my mom about what happened and she scolded me for not agreeing my card was the one with the 596-593 number so I could go into the maternity ward in time, I left her anyway, and proceeded to join the queue.
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On the queue, I was wondering, a CS and an episiotomy. If I undergo a CS, I wouldn't have to go through the pain of pushing this baby out, I'll just lie there under the influence of anaesthesia while the surgeons do the work, the only time I'll feel pain is when the effect of the anaesthesia wears out. But not to worry, I can deal with that if I take the prescribed drugs. Or will I even be given drugs?. On the other hand, an episiotomy, no, no way. The pain of childbirth is enough on its own without some surgeon cutting my perineum. What a nerve. I recalled to mind a friend of mine who related how she had to sit on hot buckets of water just to heal. No, I couldn't go through that. I certainly couldn't.
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Having made up my mind, I bought the card and made my way back to the maternity ward. Where in the world was my brother?. Oh my God, did I just feel a kick?. I had better hurry. But wait, I had another option, one that required no pain at all. How could I not think of it, how forgetful I could be some times. Yes, i had another option, No Cesarean section, No Episiotomy. All I had to do was wake up, this afterall, is a dream. And so, with a jolt, I woke straight up, looked around, bed, window, curtains, I was in my room not a maternity ward. I felt my stomach, flat and empty, I heaved a sigh of relief and took a look at the time on my phone, 5:08am. I got out of bed and headed to the kitchen to occupy myself with some chores, lest I mistakenly fall asleep and find myself back in that dream in the maternity ward with the option of choosing between a CS and an episiotomy.
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Dreams are imaginative events seen in the mind while sleeping.
Good morning FAM.

About Yesterday

I can recall some few months back when my friend Ifiokabasi Naomi recounted her ordeal with some 419ners. She said they used the same old approach about being foreigners and having foreign goods to sell. I was among those that said 'Can't they bring up another method?. We're tired of that particular trick'.
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I'm all in for the whole 'respect your elders' thing. I respect people. I respect people who respect themselves even more. And more importantly, I respect myself for respecting people. I greet my elders (Some of them). I greet random people too. I could see you walk by, take an instant liking to you and just greet you for no reason. If i see a pregnant lady, a mature man or a seriously old person, i greet them. Respect. But the main point is, I greet people depending on my mood at the moment. If I'm not happy, or I'm feeling grumpy, you could walk past me three times and I would not say a word no matter how pregnant or seriously ancient you look.
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On this day, it happened that I left home feeling really grumpy. On the way I was just thinking to myself, what has gotten me so pissed, but I couldn't place it. So I shrugged at the thought and was like, fine, at least I don't get to greet people I don't actually like all in the name of Respect. I got to the tarred road, stopped a keke, got into it, my grumpy old self looking straight ahead without a glance at my co-passengers, so I would not be coaxed into greeting them. I reached into my bag, brought out my phone and then it hit me. My phone was the cause of my grumpiness. I can recall it mysteriously went off in the course of my taking a selfie and would not come on no matter how hard I pressed the power button. So I removed my battery, said a silent prayer, wiped the terminal nodes(i dunno what they call it) of the battery on my dress all the while muttering silently to myself, 'you can't do this to me, not now when I need you the most, what are lovers for'?. And I placed the battery back, pressed the power button and Voila, it came on. Then I turned to look at my co-passengers.
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Two men. The one sitting next to me was dressed like he had no idea what to put on. He wanted to portray himself in this I-need-to-look-good kind of way, mixing crazy colours and crazy patterns together and I just sat there thinking 'I understand bro, the economy is crazy'. The other guy, was dressed like he just escaped from Kanye West's fashion show, dressed in dirty brown and constantly moving his legs till I noticed his shoes. Nice brogues, bro. My phone was done getting itself together, so I gave it my full attention, swiping my screen left and right.
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I noticed the Kanye West guy poke the Crazy patterns guy. I did not look at them. But you know as much as I do that God blessed us with peripheral vision, the ability to look at things from the corner of your eye. I thought to myself, ah, so this two actually know each other. I heard the crazy patterns guy clear his throat and I just sat upright knowing fully well he was about to start a boring conversation. I waited, heard nothing, and continued with my phone. Just then his voice broke the silence. He had a hoarse, rough voice, the voice of someone who takes too much undiluted gin, and I recall thinking to myself-this man should try covering Beyonce's drunk in love (I've been drinking, I've been drinking)-he smiled at me and started.
Him: Good day my friend.
Me: (nods).
Him: I noticed you have a problem with your phone.
Me: (thinking to myself) Is this the maga that God has sent my way?.
Him: I have something that you will like. I have a company that deals in electronics. I am my own Boss. And right now, there are vacancies for 200 people. All you need to do is come for an interview. Luckily, you are the first person I'm talking to about this. My office is along Idoro road. When I look at you, I see a young girl who needs money and knows wat to do with it. I have your interest at heart. We can discuss the pay if you follow me to the office. I won't take much of your time.
Me: (thinking to myself) Seriously?, you just crammed everything on your script and poured it here for me. I wonder how many days it took you to memorize that.
Him: You're not saying a word. I know you're thinking this is too good to be true, but I promise you, I can't tell a lie. This is one of the shareholders in my company. He's from Togo.
At this point, I told myself, this drama couldn't get any more better. When he heard Togo, the Kanye West guy looked up at me said 'Bonjour'. And I was like, haba, your part in the script was the shortest. You have been cheated.
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I was still quiet. I do hear of people recount their ordeal in the hands of 419ners, of how mysteriously you'll vomit a pair of cow teeth if you take part in their conversation, and that, after that you will be jazzed hence losing control of your thinking ability. I dunno how true this is, but frankly, if such thing came out of my mouth I'm not sure I'll make use of this particular mouth again, so I held myself and just kept on staring and smiling.
The man was in a fix. He turned to the Bonjour guy and made a gesture with his hands, like he doesn't know wat else to say. If he knew sign language, I bet he would have tried signing right there and then because I practically looked like a dumb girl at the moment.
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The keke man could not even wait to download his own part of the script. He started:
Him: Sister, na wa for you o. U no like better thing?. Fine girl like you suppose dey rush this opportunity. Idoro road no far, Abi make i just turn for this U-turn?
The 'U-turn' he was referring to was close to Ukanaoffot street. At this point, I realized I really had a situation to handle, I was like, 'Mercy wipe that silly smile off your face and think straight. Oh my God, how do I get out of this keke without touching the driver and without saying a word?. Fix this, Lord'.
The 'Bonjour' guy started speaking in some crappy language and I was like 'Really?, is that supposed to be French?. You need to go back to that imaginary Togo'.
I saw a traffic warden ahead of me, I knew within me our lane was going to be the next to be stopped, my guess was right. Once we were stopped, I grabbed my bag and the Olodo phone that had started all this nonsense talk, I got out of the keke, crossed over to the other side of the road without a second glance at them and started trekking home thinking to myself 'Omoh, to go school no be by force, Let me rest for today, lest someone else tries to use my head. I am my own boss, with his nonsense dress sense. Why didn't they stick to the old foreign goods 419 stunt, would have saved me a lot of time. Why do things like happening to me sef?'. I used my tongue to count my teeth just incase there was a different alien pair attached somewhere, I told myself I'm walking home, after all Abak road is not that far from IBB and a little stroll won't hurt nobody. I had not walked up to 5minutes when I finally gave in and stopped a keke. I made sure it was empty. To hell with 419ners. I'm not walking the walk.
Have a wonderful evening FAM.