Growing up, my parents didn’t exactly teach me how to speak our dialect. I heard them speak to each other and other people, and just like that, I learnt. Continue reading
Growing up, my parents didn’t exactly teach me how to speak our dialect. I heard them speak to each other and other people, and just like that, I learnt. Continue reading
2016 has been a weird year for me. Although I did not have any plans or resolutions at the beginning of the year, it was a year of losses (of people and money), facing realities and fighting battles with myself especially concerning what I really want to do and which direction to head career-wise. In 2016, adulthood actually dawned on me. Continue reading
Paddywoman and I fight over a number of things. Shoes, bags, perfumes, ankara fabric and even her old aso-oke. Somehow, people, especially my brothers and sisters-in-law buy her the best things (because she truly deserves them). Continue reading
I have to admit, the major reason I have not written in what seemed like a short while to me but is actually very many months( I would use ‘years’, but abeg I’m not trying to complicate this matter) is over-thinking.
Many times, really many times, I took a pen and a book and started writing down something I wanted to post, but it was only a matter of seconds before my brain got clogged with too many ideas and I somehow convinced myself that the ideas did not make sense. Just like that, many ideas were murdered even before they became posts that anyone got to read.
One of such occasions, was an evening in September 2015. I had just gotten home from sewing lessons. I was bent on eating one of these small chops that go well with coconut (very likely boiled corn, bread or Ijebu garri) even though every one else in the house was having wheat and okro soup for dinner. This meant that I had to remove the husk myself which, back in the day, when my house was still a boys’ quarters, would have been done by one of the boys. So, this brilliant (so I thought) idea of relating the coconut to our now almost empty house popped up. I had figured it all out already; from talking about those days when one could very rarely find a mature coconut hanging on the tree because my brothers, cousins, brothers’ friends, cousins’friends, or even brothers’friends’cousins would have plucked the thing and made a big bowl of garri and diced coconut for anyone interested; to whining about these days when the coconuts now mature, dry and even start germinating on the tree because honestly, the only three people in the house, Paddyman, Paddywoman and Ngozi, are too busy with their various hustles to remember coconuts exist. Anyway, I never got to write it, because I thought, ” what’s the conne between coconut tree and my family”?
My friend, Bimbs told me last year, that I’m a near-perfectionist which is quite true and I have come to realize is mostly a negative thing, I’ll tell you how. Very often, I have a mental picture of something, but once I see it not turning out how I planned, I abandon it. Totally. Sadly, it applies to almost every area in my life and is very likely the reason I stopped the ready-to-wear ankara business I sold my Blackberry Bold 5 to start last year. I had been very excited about it, but once the clothes were ready, people weren’t buying as i thought they would so I packed the clothes and threw them in a corner of my room. I still have shorts (UK size 6) for sale, and at an affordable price, incase you are interested.
Until you can be paid for it, there’s no use thinking problems into existence. But, imagine a world where you could just call a company and pay them to help you think sha! Let me stop here before I discard this post too biko.
Stole this concept from Okaima’s blog. She stole from a friend who stole from a friend. So, feel free to steal too! 🙂 Here it goes…
Last drink: Water
Last phone call: Uwabor.
Last text message: Above and Beyond. *sigh
Last song you listened to: ‘Don’t You Worry Child’- Swedish House Mafia ft John Martin.
Last time you cried: Few minutes ago(We really should find an alternative to onions)
SIX HAVE YOU EVER:
Dated someone twice: NO.
Been cheated on: Yes
Kissed someone: I don’t kiss and tell
Lost someone special: Yes.
Been depressed: But, of course.
Been drunk and threw up: No. Never. I don’t take alcohol.
LIST FOUR FAVORITE COLOURS:
13. Sea green
15. Biro blue.
Made new friends: Friends, no. Acquaintances, yes!
Fallen out of love: Err… This one is tough.
Laughed until you cried: Yes! (Just last week)
Met someone who changed you: No, not yet.
Found out who your true friends were: Still on it.
Found out someone was talking about you: Ah ahn! Yes na. Linda Ikeji, Ladun Liadi, Stella Dimoko-Korkus, etc.
Kissed anyone on your friends list: Remember that line about kissing and not telling? Good.
How many people on your friend’s list do you know in real life: About 81.2643125%
Do you have any pets: Yes. A ram. His name was Muturu. They slaughtered it for Easter. 😥
Do you want to change your name: Name, as in my first name or last?
First name, no.
Middle name(Precious), yes!
What did you do for your last birthday: Replied pings, went to school.
What time did you wake up today: 6 something.
What were you doing at midnight last night: Dreaming.
Name something you CANNOT wait for: LoL! The rest of my life. 🙂
Last time you saw your father: April 13, 2013.
What is one thing you wish you could change about your life: Only one? Should be the ease with which my tears flow. About my body, I wish I could change my protruding clavicles.
What are you listening to right now: My niece, Sasha, teach her invisible students.
Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: I think so. But, why Tom?
What’s getting on your nerves right now? My indecisiveness about my hair.
Most visited web page:
Google.(I google everything)
Current city: Benin.
Nicknames: Owgee, Ogggly,etc.
Relationship Status: Unmarried.
Zodiac Sign: Scorpio.
Male or female or transgendered: FeMale.
Primary School: Oregbeni Estate School.
Middle School: Federal Government Girls’ College, Akure, Ondo State.
Federal Government Academy,(Centre for the Gifted and Talented) Suleja, Niger State.
High school: Federal Government Academy,(Centre for the Gifted and Talented) Suleja, Niger State.
Hair color: Dark brown (color 2)
Long/medium/short: Between medium and long. About to cut it though.
Height: Okaima says she’s 5’9, then I’m 6.
LoL. I should be 5’10.
Do you have a crush on someone: Yes.
What do you like about yourself: The fact that I rarely sugar-coat things.
Piercings: The normal two that people have on their ears.
Righty or Lefty: Righty
First Surgery: None
First Piercing: My ears.
First Best Friend: Chibuzor Ugbaja.( Lost contact since.)
First Sport you Joined: Running(100m)
First Pet: Muturu, my ram.
First Vacation: None yet.
First Concert: None yet.
First Crush: I don’t remember.
Eating: Fried plantain
Already missing: My bed
I’m about to: Sleep
Listening to: The noise from the generator. Dear Amanpour, my president lied.
Thinking about: My field report.
Waiting for: Err…
Want kids: YES.
Want to get married: Before unko?
Careers in mind: Another tough one.
WHICH IS BETTER WITH THE OPPOSITE SEX?
Lips or eyes: I don’t care.
Hugs or kisses: Hugs!
Shorter or taller: Taller!
Older or Younger: Older!
Romantic or spontaneous: Whatever
Nice stomach or nice arms: No pot belly sha.
Sensitive or loud: I’m not sure I like either.
Hook-up or relationship: Which wan be hook-up again?!
Trouble maker or hesitant: Mixture, biko.
HAVE YOU EVER:
Drank hard liquor: Nope.
Lost glasses/contacts: No.
Kissed on 1st date: No. Never been on a date.
Broken someone’s heart: Yes. Don’t judge me.
Had your own heart broken: Yes. Karma, the binsh. *sigh
Been arrested: Naa.
Turned someone down: Yes na!
Cried when someone died: Yeah.
Liked a friend that is of the same sex: If you are trying to ask if I have tendencies of being a lesbian, no.
DO YOU BELIEVE IN:
Yourself: LoL. If I don’t, who will?
Love at first sight: One kind.
Santa Claus: LoL. Not quite. I believe in Father Christmas sha.
Kissing on the first date: No
Is there one person you want to be with right now?: No.
Had more than one boyfriend/girlfriend at one time?: No. Dealing with one is enough wahala.
Wish you could change things in your past?: Well.. Sometimes
Are you posting this as 100 Truths?: Yes!
Owgee here… happy new year guys. I trust you had a restful holiday. We have another guest writer here today. Kindly read, use the comments’ box and share!
You never really know what something is like until you are living it. When there is no stop button to press, or page to flip over. When you cannot pause and look away, or wake up and sigh about the ridiculous dreams you have been having lately.
No. And this is really happening; there is really something in my tummy. I really don’t want it; but it won’t go away. I have done everything wrong. Slept on it, punched it hard, I even scratched my skin till it turned red and thin but each morning, I look and the bump gets bigger and bigger.
It has distorted my shadow and it is destroying me. They say it is a boy, this thing in me. I am supposed to smile and rush to buy more blue toys but instead, I think it strange that Evil would have a gender.
Maybe it will grow to be a thief like its father. Find a young girl and steal away her life. Yes because I am dead. This…thing inside of me is thriving on my life. Every time it breathes, I lose my breath; the bigger it gets, the smaller I become. When it is born, I’m sure I will be completely dead and still. Still, like the day my uncle raped me.
Already, nobody sees me. All they see is this huge thing in front of me. This burden I am forced to carry around for months. This mark of shame that continually shoves my stupidity in my face. Now I suffer; the punishment of the naive girl that dared to trust.
This ugliness has forced its way into my body, but its dirty claws cannot scale up into my heart. My heart cannot be broken into as easily as my body. All this thing is, is a reminder of my pain and suffering; shame and desecration; and it will forever remain that way. This thing, is all a baby is not; and therefore I shall not consider it as such.
You might blame me, or see me as an evil, twisted person. Just hope that you never know what it is like to keep something, cherish something, save something only to have it snatched away from you by a dirty old man.
When this story is told, I want it to ring loud and clear; I am the victim here. I was the one whose innocence was stolen. I was the one whose cries were ignored. I was the one forced to carry around the burden of death.
If there were a stain on your favourite dress, would you not do all you could to get it off? If a lion tore you apart, would you nurture its cub?
What has been done has been done; so what needs to be done will be done. I am in a cage, but I see the key dangling right in front of me. The cold metal key…the cold metal knife.
Tiwa Day hopes she is a writer. She loves reading and observing people. She is in the process of self-discovery and currently waiting for tomorrow.
There’s another writer here with me for her first time, my friend, sister and darling, Okaima (@kimeclectic). We wish we could perform it, live for you all but since we cannot.. well, have a good read.
LISTEN TO OKAIMA…
He went away with me…
I hear laughter and I get the joke. But why are you all laughing? Why do your eyes , dancing back and forth with mirth and the jerking of your shoulders mock me? Don’t you dare throw yourself on my body as you laugh like you are being paid to do it. It is not funny. I am not laughing. My eyes do not sparkle and dance. There is no mirth.
He took that away.
My bed and my pillow. I still have those but they aren’t soft anymore. The wrinkle free sheets do not wrap me up in comforting coldness as I lie on it. My pillow does not absorb the stress from my head and work the kinks out of my neck. Instead they stimulate my hippocampus, bringing back memories. Reminding me of what was, what could have been and what is not. Reminding me that I am all alone in my inadequacy. Reminding me that my phone is not going to ring, he is not going to call to say good night or wake me up in the morning with a text. And as I remember this I toss and turn, repelling sleep far away from me.
My bed and pillow, once upon a time a balm for my aching body. They have thorns now.
Did he do that too?
That shirt is not lovely. Maybe it is, but what do I care? Yes, I can see there is a full moon out, and so what? You say the movie is nice and I believe you but I really could not give less of a damn. Oh yes, I see the baby stealing glances at me. She wants to play. She is cute; cuter than my butt. I see her smile and hide her face in her mother’s blouse. I want to smile back, I want to wink and pinch her cheeks but I pull up blanks as I try. There is nothing here. It is all black and blemished dirty ‘has been’ white. You all look the same, faceless and featureless moving as one unit. All the same. I could not care less what the colour of the sky is or whether the sun is cruel or how fierce the wind blows. It is all the same.
He took the colours away too.
I hear you. You do not have to repeat yourself, stupid!. I hear you, but the thing is I have a response and an opinion but it is somewhere in my head. Locked up and I cannot find the keys. I do not have the keys.
You like me? You want to love me? You think I am beautiful? You really need to shut up you know? You sweets words, your promises, your grand gestures; they are the thorns on my bed. The steel in my pillow. You really need to shut up. Do not look at me, do not even see me. Oh, you do? Pretend you do not because there is nothing here. He took everything else but forget to take away the shell. Now the shell is out on display for you all to look at, pity and try to fix. Do not look at me.
I was me and I was all I had. I was scared to show him me because that was all I had and if it was not enough, I had nothing else. Slowly but surely my layers unraveled and I embraced him with my essence. I let him in.
But all I had was not enough and walking away was not an option. He had already seen me! He had to love me. My bones melted and I lost my form, I morphed into anything and everything he wanted. His voice was mine and my hands were his.
It was not enough and now there is nothing
He walks away now with every bit of me in his pocket.
And I do not think he knows it.
… Or maybe he does. Maybe he knows that my life was built around him; maybe he remembers all the crap I brought with me into the relationship; maybe his conscience says “At least, you helped her dispose all that.” Maybe he is aware of the emptiness his absence has brought me… Or maybe not.
There were days when I stayed in bed and wept; so much so that when mom asked why my eyes were red, I said I had conjunctivitis. Those days when smiles and laughter were too expensive, and all I could afford were tears. Those days when I prayed to God asking him to let demons possess the new girl (if there was) so she would mess up and make him realize my worth. I begged God to make him come back, or at least, give him the heart to forgive me for doing nothing wrong; to forgive me for loving him too much and teach me to love him just the way he wanted.
He has probably moved on… He has probably brought light into another female’s life; or she, his.
People ask about who I’m dating, and when I say I’m single, they conclude (illogically), that my standards are too high. Can’t a girl be with someone she truly loves? Is that too much to ask? Is that the definition of high standards?
A guy once said to me, “You can’t be single. You are every man’s dream.” Of course! How then does someone intentionally abort a good dream? How? To wake up and live the dream? And change the characters in it as he so pleases? And leave the main character in the real dream idle?
Then it dawns on me.
The choice, really, is mine. To spend the rest of my life, playing audience while he lives his dream with his new star (and others to come) or to leave the stage and find my own dream?
You know, it is true what they say; instead of looking for the right person, work on yourself and the right person would find you.
So, the deal is to hone my skills, take one or two auditions (if need be)… That way, when the big job comes, I’d be prepared for it.
Broken bones hurt but so do healing bones. One is the pain of tearing apart; the other is the pain of healing. Watching myself come together, piece by piece, splinter by splinter. Getting it all wrong and then starting all over again. Falling down and reaching out for familiar support and finding none. Learning to do it all by myself. Having forgotten who I was, I am at loss as to who I should be. So every day I morph into something new, try it on for size and then discard. Searching and looking for all I once was.
And maybe more.
Oghogho Omorotionmwan is a freelance blogger who enjoys gisting, sleeping and surfing the net. She is also very interested in fashion. She is currently a Geology major at the University of Benin, Benin-city. You can follow her on twitter @owggee