Somethings are no-brainers....that is until the brain in question is yours. I had heard severally while I was growing up not to be quick to jump to conclusion. I heard it many years ago but I learned what this meant in more recent years.
I remember when I was in junior secondary school, we had some 'movie' nights. To put things somewhat in perspective, this school had a lot of drama surrounding the spiritual, the metaphysical. Therefore, it is not surprising that the movie nights were strictly about the religious. This particular movie night was about a movie on abortion. As tears streamed down my face, I could not understand the inherent wickedness of a mother who would not only consider abortion but make good the act of killing her baby. For me there was no reason on God's earth to justify or excuse the act. Things were more in black and white.
A few years after that movie, I met a lady on my street who was in the same age group as me, walking by with her baby bump-not married, and obviously without her baby daddy. I took the gist home and surprisingly found myself applauding her courage. In the years between when I watched the pro-life movie and the time I met the lady, I had become a little more tolerant but still unforgiving of abortions. There were a few younger girls in our community, younger sisters to friends, close family friends or just children of my mother's friends who had taken in at an early age and without the a 'formal' baby daddy, had decided to keep the baby. It kinda shocked me that young girls were indeed sleeping around for no apparent reason - money was not an excuse, love was not admissible in court, companionship was a far-fetched excuse. I guess the reason I found myself applauding my neighbour's courage was that I realized that the harder decision was to keep a baby - especially one born out of wedlock and to a father who wanted nothing to do with the mother and child.
More recently, we lost a 28 year old lady who had taken in for a boyfriend who she had been going out with for up to 4 years and who wanted the baby. From the gist I heard, she decided on an abortion to avoid facing the wrath of her parents-and then she died! I was furious, that this woman who had come of age to have children and was blessed with the possibility of having a child, decided to safe face and in the process kill herself and her baby. Argh! At the time I had a few indignant questions for the deceased to answer: Why are you sleeping with someone if you were not prepared to have a baby with him? Why are you trying to save face at the expense of a life? At 28 years you are a woman in every sense of the word and should have started your own family, so pray tell me why you think this age is not as good as any to start your family? Why after 4 years of being with someone you don't want to have their baby then why are you still with them especially after they did not want to take out the baby?
A few years later, it was de-ja-vu again but luckily for the lady in question (luckily in a sad way), she killed only her baby and face was saved. The same questions apply as before but the answers are also a deafening mindless silence.
Friday, April 19, 2013
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Can’t find a better man!
I used to be the cliché single man-parry, parry, parry all night. And then I got married and that’s the reason I am sitting here all alone drinking. Nope, I aint no alcoholic and nope I am not contemplating suicide. My wife though, probably don’t believe it that I am all by myself-we don’t talk much anymore. I have tried many different things before I got here – to drinking all by myself - and believe me, this by far is the least complicated. If this new style is come to stay? Only time will tell!
Yesterday, I watched (more like listened involuntarily) a documentary on TV about mid-life crisis and it got me thinking. Maybe that is where I am at. Nothing seems to appeal to me. Not work, not even the wife of my youth, definitely not the twins that I sired and that, as far as I am concerned stopped growing 4 months back. Going to church is a distant memory, ever-fading. Life seems to pass by in a blur and neither news of the international or national state of affairs interests me in the least. That'd explain my impatience with all the guys at the office who insist on discussing football or politics or just the news generally. Thankfully, I have my own office and nowadays I make it a point to leave the door close - forget the open-door policy the company is advocating.
I ventured seeking help in the early days, when I visited my family doctor. He left a bad taste in my mouth-presumptuousness et al. It was obvious wifey had had a recent discussion with him. It was all I could do to keep the poker face on and pretend he was communicating with me. I tuned out the first 5 minutes after I stepped into his office. I gave up totally on seeking help but have since considered going to see a real shrink - some anonymous psychologist.
Maybe I should go on a vacation. Just that in this real life I live in, a vacation is a luxury. So what is bothering me? I have analyzed the matter severally but still I hit a wall and am back to the same spot.
I'm obviously burned out at work. I used to love what I was doing and as a result I did well. I received commensurate appreciation - in promotions and monetarily- within the company. Now I feel unchallenged at the job and unmotivated to do anything about it. It'd seem everything happened at the same time... I woke up one morning to realize I'd be way past the half of the average years man is purportedly allotted to live (70yrs) and that I had spent the last 9 stagnating at work. It'd seem that that was when the still birth of my daughter, 6 months ago at the time, hit me squarely in the stomach. I lost appetite for everything - food and non-food. All I seemed to be able to do well was sleep. And sleep I did. My wife was disgusted at me and my new found sloppiness. At first she tried to reach out to me- she used to stir up a conversation then, out of some sort of desperation. She thought she was losing me to another woman - and then she gave up. After she gave up on me, I felt more forlorn than I'd felt initially and from then onward, things went spiraling down and out of my control. All i could do was siddon look.
I'm obviously burned out at work. I used to love what I was doing and as a result I did well. I received commensurate appreciation - in promotions and monetarily- within the company. Now I feel unchallenged at the job and unmotivated to do anything about it. It'd seem everything happened at the same time... I woke up one morning to realize I'd be way past the half of the average years man is purportedly allotted to live (70yrs) and that I had spent the last 9 stagnating at work. It'd seem that that was when the still birth of my daughter, 6 months ago at the time, hit me squarely in the stomach. I lost appetite for everything - food and non-food. All I seemed to be able to do well was sleep. And sleep I did. My wife was disgusted at me and my new found sloppiness. At first she tried to reach out to me- she used to stir up a conversation then, out of some sort of desperation. She thought she was losing me to another woman - and then she gave up. After she gave up on me, I felt more forlorn than I'd felt initially and from then onward, things went spiraling down and out of my control. All i could do was siddon look.
Wifey called on my best friend- my mom. That in itself was a miracle as my mom and my wife fit perfectly the popular script of 'mother-in-law and wife antagonism'. My mom, who had been forced to get used to not interfering, had no clue how to start intervening. She called a few times and then gave up I guess. Today is wifey's birthday and all day I was hoping I could do all I was supposed to do-buy her a gift, take her out to dinner like i did last year (only last year?), at least get home early and maybe cook her a dinner...even as I sit here, all these things I could and should do come back to me. But I know better now not to rouse this sleeping dog. I know now that I'd sit here like I always do and drink the regular shots of straight vodka sitting beside my customary spot near the window - not like I cared much for the scenery, just so I get less chance of being bothered. At midnight, I know I'd walk back to my car, just a little tipsy and drive home. I know I'd let myself in and that wifey would have my meal put up nicely in a warmer on the dinning. I know I'd go by the table and open the warmer to the smell of a nicely prepared meal and that's the closest I'd get to eating. I know I'd walk to the visitor's room, where I have since put up shop and sink into the mattress fully dressed - waiting for the 7am alarm to go off heralding the dawn of a new day-same, same... just different day. All I want is for wifey to sleep through the night and not weep in her her muffled, heart wrenching way. She cries on some nights and when it wakes me up, it is all I can do not to go and hug her. It breaks my heart each time and I am sure she doesn't know that I know.
Believe me, if i could, I'd have done everything I should do. But I am tired. Very tired-physically and in that other place. I guess this is what it feels like being dead. I guess I'd have to wait it all out, my only consolation being that 'everything that has a beginning has an end'.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
when i say 'I do' then 'I don't'
It'd seem I was sleeping all through life and woke up the day I said "I do". At least that's how it appears to me. The guy had stood across from me at the altar, beaming a self-assured smile, possibly mirroring my 100watt smile. That guy must have been a stranger, or is it this one I now live with that is the stranger? Or maybe I am the stranger! I dunno. Sometimes, when I replay that day, I wish I had taken off like Julia Roberts in the movie Runaway Bride-maybe I'd be happier now.....maybe.
Their marriage had lasted all of 5 years and now it all seemed pointless-getting married in the first place. What was I thinking? My instinct had always been of marriage-phobia, commitment-phobia generally. Then that year the marriage bug must have bitten me, the friends were getting married and dropping more babies per second it'd seem, the biological clock seemed to tick louder and louder too and everything else happened quickly. I met ez (Easy) and we fit like a pair of socks. He was easy (lol) going and seemed to tolerate my every idiosyncrasy - and I know I had one too many a quirk.
So what happened? How did our happy ever after turn to this?
I'm sure I'd exhaust you, if you indulge me, with a litany of good reasons why I had to go back on my word. I like to think that I made the best decision when I decided to say "I do", how come I am as sure now that it is best to leave-leave with any iota of dignity or self respect I have left in me, for me? I can't even begin to explain it...But I realize that if I could turn back the hands of time, I might still make the same mistake! It shakes me right through my foundation-the turn of things these last years...how far I'd come-I barely recognize me. But right now and regardless of what anyone thinks, I am done with this here! I'd even go all the way through the motions to unsay 'I do' or better still say 'I don't'.
Their marriage had lasted all of 5 years and now it all seemed pointless-getting married in the first place. What was I thinking? My instinct had always been of marriage-phobia, commitment-phobia generally. Then that year the marriage bug must have bitten me, the friends were getting married and dropping more babies per second it'd seem, the biological clock seemed to tick louder and louder too and everything else happened quickly. I met ez (Easy) and we fit like a pair of socks. He was easy (lol) going and seemed to tolerate my every idiosyncrasy - and I know I had one too many a quirk.
So what happened? How did our happy ever after turn to this?
I'm sure I'd exhaust you, if you indulge me, with a litany of good reasons why I had to go back on my word. I like to think that I made the best decision when I decided to say "I do", how come I am as sure now that it is best to leave-leave with any iota of dignity or self respect I have left in me, for me? I can't even begin to explain it...But I realize that if I could turn back the hands of time, I might still make the same mistake! It shakes me right through my foundation-the turn of things these last years...how far I'd come-I barely recognize me. But right now and regardless of what anyone thinks, I am done with this here! I'd even go all the way through the motions to unsay 'I do' or better still say 'I don't'.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
siesta was a mix of the good and the bad for me while growing up-mostly bad, because it was mandatory and our house help knew how to enforce that mandate - "close your eyes and sleep, i dont want to see those eyes open....." sadly we had to do this every school day except Wednesday when she had to go for her secretarial classes. Bad also, because she always had to wake me up from the siesta and all the time it seemed i was less-than-ready to be woken up. She'd shake me roughly "wake up joor, or you want me to beg you to come and eat". It'd take me a while to fully wake up and the only other thing that spurred me on was the fact that i was hungry. I'd wake up utterly confused, partly still in my world of dreams and probably sweating a little. Sometimes, if i'd wet the bed then my sorrows seem to multiply cataclysmic-ally.... My brother seemed to handle waking up better than i did (just like he handled a lot of other things better, but maybe because he was treated differently-in a more gentle manner).
Lunch, as I remember it, was mostly a combination of sorts : rice and beans, beans and yam, beans and plantain, beans and corn... I remember especially one of those days I was rudely woken up and i sleep-walked to the dining area where the food had been dished out for all three of us -my 'aunty', my brother and I - we were made to eat together and I think it was especially because she was trying to reduce the amount of plates she had to wash. As i sat on the mat that had been laid out, i remember taking about two spoonfuls before I realized I had meat in my mouth! In the same instance, it'd seem, Aunty Faith realized the same thing and without asking any question, just gave me a hot slap. If nothing else, that slap woke me up fully and made me pee right there on myself.... After that, i was dished my food separately as punishment and made to wash up.
i didnt like Aunty Faith at all, especially because she always thrived on bullying me when my parents where not around -which was like 80% of the time. So in revenge, i did her in everytime I could when they were around. Aunty Faith was a distant relation of my Dad's from the village who had come into Lagos specifically as a help. Her more direct relative already had a house help and decided to loan her to us for as long as we needed. So technically, she was family! Dont get me wrong, we were not always at logger heads and the child i was, i forgot many of her misdeeds within minutes of them happening. Plus my brother and i were tight buddies at the time so if she wanted to play with him, she'd have me to contend with too.
So my favourite day of the week was on Sunday. Surprisingly, i dealt with mornings much better than i did the afternoon siesta. My mom would wake us up with the smell of fried plantains and egg stew - imagine, there was a time i hated plantain! how weird....anyways, i loved the smell of fried plantain and egg stew. My dad would take a bath for us-that was part of the sunday specials. we'd get dressed up really cute with some record or the other playing off the turn table. I remember one of them skipping when it got to ..."in this world, i this world" -my brother and i would sing along until mom or dad lifted the arm up and let the record roll on. the first time it happened, i was in the sitting room running around and i was worried i'd done sth to upset the record. When mom came in and i hastily said "i didnt go there o!" she reassured me that it wasn't me after which she explained what could have happened " that the people singing got stuck singing in that place ...lol"
Lunch, as I remember it, was mostly a combination of sorts : rice and beans, beans and yam, beans and plantain, beans and corn... I remember especially one of those days I was rudely woken up and i sleep-walked to the dining area where the food had been dished out for all three of us -my 'aunty', my brother and I - we were made to eat together and I think it was especially because she was trying to reduce the amount of plates she had to wash. As i sat on the mat that had been laid out, i remember taking about two spoonfuls before I realized I had meat in my mouth! In the same instance, it'd seem, Aunty Faith realized the same thing and without asking any question, just gave me a hot slap. If nothing else, that slap woke me up fully and made me pee right there on myself.... After that, i was dished my food separately as punishment and made to wash up.
i didnt like Aunty Faith at all, especially because she always thrived on bullying me when my parents where not around -which was like 80% of the time. So in revenge, i did her in everytime I could when they were around. Aunty Faith was a distant relation of my Dad's from the village who had come into Lagos specifically as a help. Her more direct relative already had a house help and decided to loan her to us for as long as we needed. So technically, she was family! Dont get me wrong, we were not always at logger heads and the child i was, i forgot many of her misdeeds within minutes of them happening. Plus my brother and i were tight buddies at the time so if she wanted to play with him, she'd have me to contend with too.
So my favourite day of the week was on Sunday. Surprisingly, i dealt with mornings much better than i did the afternoon siesta. My mom would wake us up with the smell of fried plantains and egg stew - imagine, there was a time i hated plantain! how weird....anyways, i loved the smell of fried plantain and egg stew. My dad would take a bath for us-that was part of the sunday specials. we'd get dressed up really cute with some record or the other playing off the turn table. I remember one of them skipping when it got to ..."in this world, i this world" -my brother and i would sing along until mom or dad lifted the arm up and let the record roll on. the first time it happened, i was in the sitting room running around and i was worried i'd done sth to upset the record. When mom came in and i hastily said "i didnt go there o!" she reassured me that it wasn't me after which she explained what could have happened " that the people singing got stuck singing in that place ...lol"
Thursday, October 7, 2010
dunno, dont care:unfinished
you know we could look for a job while we are home.
Every 'wanted' Advertisement called to me. But it was mostly for sales girls and receptionists. I was intrigued at the idea of working and I thought doing front job/hospitality business was a good place to start. alas, my father would hear nothing of it. Then a friend tried to get us into doing some sort of cleaning up business at her Mother's. another perfect job and the pay looked good...i dared not mention it to my dad so i broached the topic with my mom and she told me to forget about it. I could hear my dreams of shopping being squished.
We went into fashion designing - I half-heartedly - so it was no surprised that i didnt last in it. I was really restless because until i found something that seemed constructive to my parents, i was stuck with going to the market-the market i hated!
Every 'wanted' Advertisement called to me. But it was mostly for sales girls and receptionists. I was intrigued at the idea of working and I thought doing front job/hospitality business was a good place to start. alas, my father would hear nothing of it. Then a friend tried to get us into doing some sort of cleaning up business at her Mother's. another perfect job and the pay looked good...i dared not mention it to my dad so i broached the topic with my mom and she told me to forget about it. I could hear my dreams of shopping being squished.
We went into fashion designing - I half-heartedly - so it was no surprised that i didnt last in it. I was really restless because until i found something that seemed constructive to my parents, i was stuck with going to the market-the market i hated!
mini-incest:unfinished
in the days before the tale of the markets, i had a few years of growing up at my Aunty's - My dad's younger sister. It was all kinda contrived by my Dad after he found out he'd be taking the job in Saudi. I was ceremoniously shipped off to a boarding house in Enugu in the then Anambra State. It was initially an adventure to look forward to for me until I realized it was really a mis-adventure. It was bad enough that I was a misfit, I was joining the school in the middle of the academic year as a Senior student. Still i couldn't stay on as a boarder because the school facilities had been signed and sealed for the academic year. I had to commute everyday to school with the rest of the less popular day students. I hated it! I'd always been a boarder, this adjustment was a hell of a trial.
The darned merry-go-round shuttle bus was running late again. It was the cheaper means of getting to school, not really the only means. I'd be double damned if i'd take the taxi after making the 20mins walk from new haven b/stop to the main junction this early morning - it was almost 7:20am. The only reason i was running later than usual today-asides the obvious conspiracy by the bus drivers- was because we had a something different for breakfast this morning - all because Aunty had an emergency call last night and was not back yet. My Aunt was a matron and in every sense of the word too. Anyways, Ebi psyched me to make fries for breakfast instead of the usual beans we had everyday. I obliged happily because I was not much of a beans fan either, and it cost me! At last, there was the bus heading towards me. One thing was for sure, I was late for school today. It takes the bus a full 40mins to make the rounds, that is why it was nick-named merry-go-round- I'd have to use the 'apian' way. I just hope today is not my unlucky day! Enugu was still a quiet city, lovely scenery with natural landscape - landscape that was also our undoing. The gullys here were second to none-huge, huge gullys caused by erosion and (you took it right out of my moutn!) bad drainage. Unfortunately, since i was late, chioma had gone on without me so i was really on my own. Chioma lived about 10mins away from the main busstop. Another reason i liked going on the merry-go-round was that it gave me time to day dream and generally contemplate. Today's musing was for my mom - today was her birthday and i was generally feeling home sick.
The darned merry-go-round shuttle bus was running late again. It was the cheaper means of getting to school, not really the only means. I'd be double damned if i'd take the taxi after making the 20mins walk from new haven b/stop to the main junction this early morning - it was almost 7:20am. The only reason i was running later than usual today-asides the obvious conspiracy by the bus drivers- was because we had a something different for breakfast this morning - all because Aunty had an emergency call last night and was not back yet. My Aunt was a matron and in every sense of the word too. Anyways, Ebi psyched me to make fries for breakfast instead of the usual beans we had everyday. I obliged happily because I was not much of a beans fan either, and it cost me! At last, there was the bus heading towards me. One thing was for sure, I was late for school today. It takes the bus a full 40mins to make the rounds, that is why it was nick-named merry-go-round- I'd have to use the 'apian' way. I just hope today is not my unlucky day! Enugu was still a quiet city, lovely scenery with natural landscape - landscape that was also our undoing. The gullys here were second to none-huge, huge gullys caused by erosion and (you took it right out of my moutn!) bad drainage. Unfortunately, since i was late, chioma had gone on without me so i was really on my own. Chioma lived about 10mins away from the main busstop. Another reason i liked going on the merry-go-round was that it gave me time to day dream and generally contemplate. Today's musing was for my mom - today was her birthday and i was generally feeling home sick.
Mushin Market:unfinished
Mushin Market:
It seemed lately that my life was all about going to market and i deeply resented it. I didn't really mind going to market but having to do that everyday (even if for different reasons) will be the undoing of any averagely sane person- or so i strongly believe. For goodness' sake there are a thousand other things to do - like go to the beach, go to birthday parties (or just parties), go to .... not movies, cinemas were still a rarity. Anyways, one of the consolations i got from keeping at it was that i hated to see my mom coming home from the market with her stuffed bags - one on her head and one on her hand ( i sometimes can't help but think she does it intentionally just to rub it in my face that i am a less-than-well-trained daughter), but nothing beats me accompanying my mom to the market in my rank of utter dislike. Moreover, it is time-out for me, my only excuse to do as i will - as long as i don't overdo it and as long as i come home with the said items i went to purchase - don't get me wrong, i wasn't overly into truancy, just the average. It takes me about 8mins to get to the market using the public bus transportation that plies that route. My usual routine is to get off a stop before the final bus stop and take a short cut through the market, start at that end of the market so that by the time i walk all the way to the other end, i'd have been closer to the final bus stop and on my jolly way home, having hopefully bought all i need. First major stop is usually at the meat seller's. These days i even have fun haranguing prices with them unlike the first few times when i had to go to the market unaccompanied by my mom; then I'd have to go to her 'customer' who sells dried fish and give her the list of things to buy - especially meat, or better still when i got bolder I'd go to her 'meat customer' and tell him how much meat i wanted to buy and he'd (in my mind, generously) cut me a sizable portion. Sadly, whenever i got home my mother was hardly ever impressed with my bargaining power, plus the meat seemed to have shrunk in size somewhere between the trip back from the market.
Well on the bright side, this market was somewhat better than Idiaraba. Even when it rained, I didn't feel so yucky. However, both markets have something in common-they are notoriously volatile and one has to be very careful, watchful (and prayerful) on each trip there because a seeming normalcy could turn into a scene from a horror movie within a split second - no joke here, no exaggeration either. I remember once it took my mom an unusually long time to return from the market and we didn't think much of it until she came back with an almost unbelievable story but also a scar to show for it - thankfully she wasn't mortally wounded because it was that serious, she sustained the injury while struggling with a thousand and one other people to get on the last few buses, and the buses were on their part had substantial excuse to drive as reckless as they dared to (and they do reckless on a good day).
Even if i wanted to, I couldn't dilly-dally for long at the Market once i start my purchases because of the increasing weightiness i almost always harbour.
It seemed lately that my life was all about going to market and i deeply resented it. I didn't really mind going to market but having to do that everyday (even if for different reasons) will be the undoing of any averagely sane person- or so i strongly believe. For goodness' sake there are a thousand other things to do - like go to the beach, go to birthday parties (or just parties), go to .... not movies, cinemas were still a rarity. Anyways, one of the consolations i got from keeping at it was that i hated to see my mom coming home from the market with her stuffed bags - one on her head and one on her hand ( i sometimes can't help but think she does it intentionally just to rub it in my face that i am a less-than-well-trained daughter), but nothing beats me accompanying my mom to the market in my rank of utter dislike. Moreover, it is time-out for me, my only excuse to do as i will - as long as i don't overdo it and as long as i come home with the said items i went to purchase - don't get me wrong, i wasn't overly into truancy, just the average. It takes me about 8mins to get to the market using the public bus transportation that plies that route. My usual routine is to get off a stop before the final bus stop and take a short cut through the market, start at that end of the market so that by the time i walk all the way to the other end, i'd have been closer to the final bus stop and on my jolly way home, having hopefully bought all i need. First major stop is usually at the meat seller's. These days i even have fun haranguing prices with them unlike the first few times when i had to go to the market unaccompanied by my mom; then I'd have to go to her 'customer' who sells dried fish and give her the list of things to buy - especially meat, or better still when i got bolder I'd go to her 'meat customer' and tell him how much meat i wanted to buy and he'd (in my mind, generously) cut me a sizable portion. Sadly, whenever i got home my mother was hardly ever impressed with my bargaining power, plus the meat seemed to have shrunk in size somewhere between the trip back from the market.
Well on the bright side, this market was somewhat better than Idiaraba. Even when it rained, I didn't feel so yucky. However, both markets have something in common-they are notoriously volatile and one has to be very careful, watchful (and prayerful) on each trip there because a seeming normalcy could turn into a scene from a horror movie within a split second - no joke here, no exaggeration either. I remember once it took my mom an unusually long time to return from the market and we didn't think much of it until she came back with an almost unbelievable story but also a scar to show for it - thankfully she wasn't mortally wounded because it was that serious, she sustained the injury while struggling with a thousand and one other people to get on the last few buses, and the buses were on their part had substantial excuse to drive as reckless as they dared to (and they do reckless on a good day).
Even if i wanted to, I couldn't dilly-dally for long at the Market once i start my purchases because of the increasing weightiness i almost always harbour.
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