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.