Home Is Love…

​The first time you experience love it would be exactly like your first vacation alone, no parents, annoying siblings or over protective guardian.
Its just you and the city! And the choices are all yours! There you are at Disney world and you can go on any ride! As much as you want and they are soo many.. too many new things to see..eat..try.. visit..its all soo exciting….

But time ruins love you know…with time you’ve seen it all..Severally!.. you are no longer a tourist..the city doesn’t gaze at you fascinated..they know little details about you..like what you eat, your habits, they’ve seen your different moods…..

Now when they wave at you the excitement isn’t there, it’s familiarity you see, they dont say to you buy silk scarf, they dont ask you if you want burger or hot dog, they tell you they have a pink scarf because they know it’s your favourite colour, they hand you hot dog no onions because they know your preference…

But you can’t stay on a vacation forever.. because Home. Home is where the heart is not Love. So its time to make decisions….

If you making the city your home you’ve to think of things..make sacrifices..live less frivolous..no more hotels..you need accommodation..your own space… you need a source of income.. you need to sort out your old jobs..decisions… then you can say you are home….

Some go home because that’s all the city was; a vacation from home, some go home and home isn’t home anymore, so they come back because the city is now home. Some never leave because when they came to the city, for the first time in their lives they felt what it feels like to be home.

You know the people who suffer love? The ones who dont make a decision, they stay years in the city living as they started, irresponsibly! they don’t sort out their old jobs, they don’t find a new form of income, they just live…. it might be a year or 10years later but Time makes the decision for them.

One day they would have to leave… and people would ask “how could they just walk away without looking back?” “After all these years” but you see if there are no roots..nothing would hold the tree from falling..decisions are roots….

Some only make roots because its been 10years so why not? Not because it is home? But because it can be home…so one day they also would go on a vacation and never come back… because they have found home and nobody would understand..till they find their own homes.

Falling in love is going on a vacation..in the beginning you can do whatever you like but somewhere in the middle you have to make a decision which would affect your ending.

Love is being at home, Home is where the heart is, Roots make homes, Responsibility make roots.. Love responsibly..

Are you home?🏠 or Still on your Vacation?✈#ChefObubu 

“AMA”

This could have been me…

I’m not telling a story but I used to be her…

She would walk up to us on the street and look me dead in the eye “Go Home” she would say! 

But I would ignore her, the night young with potentials, anyone could come up, I can be a millionaire like Kira, but she won’t let me stay, she never lets me say! “Ama Go home!” there’s a car slowing down beside us. “He might be rich” I say to her, but she’s angry at me, I have distracted her and she has lost a customer for the night, as we watch Nana her rival get in the car.

She’s dragging my hair now, and pushing me towards the direction of home, but I don’t want to go so I’m scratching her skin “Ama I will injure you, Go home!” 

I’m crying now and walking home, my skirt too tight bunching up forcing me to pull it down, the heel on my boot losing its balance, my gait is not straight, I’m not as pretty as her, or rich and confident like Kira, Kira used to be the town whore, but he had plenty money now she a devoted wife and mother; the things money can do to your title.

I want the money you get in one night, I want to do what they do, if I can come home like her tired in the morning but loaded with money. 

Money pays bills, buys food, clothes, cars, designer handbags, money can delete your history button, look at Kira, money was what you needed to get away to run and never look back.

I turn back, tonight is my night, she’s not stopping me tonight I would finally meet the man that would change my life, and if I was going to meet him it could only happen here, it was here Kira met him, got married with a child and all the designers she carries, she taught me all she knows, it takes one night she said, I just needed enough money, it was here Miika got carried away out of town, they eloped, I like to believe she’s happy.

She has seen me standing and I can see her walking towards me, but I’m standing my ground, not tonight, tonight I’m not going home, to wait for her in worry, I’m tired of working months to pay my side of rent and bills, money I can make in one night.

“Ama!” she calls it like a warning, “I’m not leaving I need this money” “Ama you have a job, not like this, you can save up, I can give you a loan Ama I need you to go home” I’m looking ahead willing a car to stop, something in my expression must have gotten her worried I can see her panicking, she’s biting her fingernails, chipped from the cheap nail polish we bought at farmers market, the dress, a cheap clingy material gotten at a charity fair is unravelling from her tugging and playing with loose threads, “It’s all part of the appeal” she would say in her sexy voice, smiling her smile that never quite reached her eyes.

“I need the money” I say again, “for what? Bills? Food?  Rent? What exactly, tell me!! To buy new dresses? Shoes? Bags?…” she’s shouting now, she never shouts, not in public, never at home, her voice has always had that sad monotone that never changes from praying to talking about the weather or sex, always the same voice, sometimes I wonder whether she talked to her lovers with the same voice she used to call the bank about overdraft charges “I need the money” I repeat.

At this point I’m saying it more for my benefit, maybe if I say it enough times I would believe it more, people are shifting from us, this type of drama can end with all of us in a cell owing bail money or bailing some officers with kind, it wasn’t the first time, better not to get involved or rather stand close to the nearest escape route.

“You think money would make you happy?!” I ignore her staring ahead, but she isn’t having any of it, she’s shoving me, forcing me to look at her  “WHAT CAN MONEY BRING TO YOU?” she shouts poking her finger in my chest “A new start” I whisper but she doesn’t hear me, She jabbing me, her cheap acrylic nails like pins on my back.

 “I WANT TO RUN AWAY” Fine! I finally said it  “I’m tired of this life, of this town, of my crappy job, the shit hole I live in, my non-existent love life, I’m ashamed of everything, I want to leave, to go and never have anything to do with this town or the life I lived here, I want to disappear, like Miika”  I’m out of breath now so I bend down to catch my breath, to my shame I’ve tears in my eyes but it’s finally out, she’s stunned looking at me “Even me?…” she whispers, “…You are tired… Tired and as…ash…ashamed of me?” I stare at her, I look at the dimly lit street flooded with many of her kind, at 16 you either had a steady lover or joined them on the streets, but at 18, I had neither, it was time to join them or leave. I look back at her saying nothing; she gets her reply from my silence.

“How much do you have?” she asks in that same monotone “Not enough” I reply “Then how much do you need?” monotone voice, “As much as I can get for tonight”, silence, she says nothing I stare ahead,  I’m not sure if I should apologise, I didn’t mean it that way, I just couldn’t anymore, I’m not ashamed of her, I just want something else, I don’t even know what I want but first I need to leave.

I reach out to hold her, with her a hug was always enough apology, all it took was a hug and she understood, I hold her arm as the black tinted Mercedes stopped in front of us, she looked at me, this could be my ride, the one that I need to leave this town “Go home Ama, everything I make tonight is yours every single penny…” she smiles, a weak smile “My parting gift” her voice cracking at gift, she would cry if she was that kind of person, but she never cries, ever! “Hug?” I say lamely, but she shakes her head, going round to enter the front of the car.

I would never see her again.

It’s been 8years and I’m back in this shit hole, her anniversary, I walk toward where I would see her after so many years, I’m not sure what I would say to her, how I would feel after all these years, the town is still the same, I see a lot of then still on the street, I’m not sure if I should wave, if they would recognise me, I’m not the chubby 18 year old who ran errands around town and worked in the only 24/7 off license shop, there are many of them now, if anything this town is worse than I left it, and I didn’t think that was possible 8years ago.

I’ve not found the man that would change my life, too many failed relationships, no one knows of Ama, Ama the girl who skipped town with $87, did too many menial demeaning jobs, ate leftovers in restaurants, and slept on the streets with only 2 dresses and a picture of us as her possession.

I still live from one debt to another, borrowing Peter to pay Paul, but I’ve never had to eat another person’s left over or slept on someone’s porch in 6years, I’m not proud of my house, my car spends more time at the mechanic than in my car park, but this town is a reminder that I’m a long way from home a reason to be thankful I got out.

I look at the scrap of paper, the address, the one that shows where I would find her, and true enough it’s the right one, so I’m wondering what he’s doing there, his back is to me but I can tell he is loaded, his watch bouncing off the sun is pure gold, those shoes are limited edition and I would bet the car parked on the curb is his, another luxury, even without all this his mannerism gives him away, I have learnt to spot rich men from afar, spending half of my life trying to trap one, the man that would change my life, but I had given up a long time ago, not everyone had a Cinderella story, old habits die had I think smiling to myself.

He notices me for the first time and smiles, encouraged I walk up to him and read the tombstone, ‘Mariam Sailor Survived by nobody’, that was all, no eulogy, nothing special, not even a sentence calling her an angel which she was, they couldn’t even put the name she went by, just the name on her birth certificate. “nobody called her Mariam” I said angrily to no one in particular “May” he said softly, I turn to him noticing he should be in his late 40’s “You knew her” he nodded, and we stood awkwardly, I would have to come back to say what I needed to say, so I bend awkwardly and drop the flowers I had forgotten I came with.

I made to leave but he stopped me “You know how she died?” I nodded, “Please tell me, I need to know”, “she died trying to make sure I left town, raped and dumped on the streets” he grimaced at my blunt reply, “you were close, the both of you” it’s more of a statement than a question but I answer anyways “I used to be her, we spent our lives looking for the man that would change our lives” he’s looking at me, studying me, “Who are you?” he asks, I could tell him of my job as a trainee in a firm, talk about how good I am with customers, the promise of promotion that hasn’t come yet, boast of my 2nd degree, my student loan I’ve almost paid off, but that is Nina Walker, the lady in the city, in this town I would always be Ama..the runaway “Ama Sailor, she was my mother” i reply finally! 

People say you meet destiny in the road you take to avoid it, in this shit hole town, the one I spent every day of my life planning to get out of, I met the man that changed my life forever, My father! But that is another story.

Home

Extract from: The Side Chick

Hey Guys! Been forever! So the other day, someone asked me “Do you still write?” And it made me feel sad… i started this earlier, still incomplete (As always😩) but i plan to finish this one by God’s Grace  *Fingers crossed* Enjoy!
                   …………….

……”Really nice meeting you Sam, maybe some other time we could talk about your big plans” he said this with an amused smile but i wasnt ready for him to leave just yet…

“We could do drink i blurted..” raised eyebrow again.. so i rushed on “i know this place, amazing bartender makes the best cocktails and the food is amazing..” he’s looking at me with that amused expression midway pressing his phone

 “i love food.. the food..the food at the place, the place i talked about with the bartender” now I’m blabbing like an idiot so i shut up and turn to leave embarrased with a weak wave.

“Drinks is fine” he replied clearly struggling not to laugh out loud, I’m a bit overjoyed to care at the moment “how’s your Saturday? We could meet up at about 5 ish?” “Ehmm not saturday i have a wedding i need to be present for”

“Ohh nice..who’s getting married?” I asked hoping he would invite me as his date, a bit presumptuous but i was feeling too optimistic today,

“Me” he said staring at me, i tried to laugh it off but his expression said he was being dead serious “oh” i said feeling disappointed, the butterflies in my tummy dying only to be replaced but something too sad to decipher.

“You should come, the food would be great plus I’m paying a fortune for the bartender, he better be as amazing as yours” he’s smiling at me like its our private joke.

I should have walked away, at that point i should have ignored everything i felt and left, years from now i would ask people “what would you do if you met the love of your life few days to his wedding?”

They all had answers, except this is what i actually did…

9. April. 2016.

diary-001kuku

This is a beautiful piece by Okwukwe Oji

Blog: Diaries Of A Black Doll: http://diariesofablackdoll.blogspot.com.ng/2016/04/9-april-2016.html?m=1

Twitter: @theylovekuku

Enjoy!

9. April. 2016.

You like the type of love that is not easy.
The one where you feel like the other woman after 23 years of marriage, his ring on your finger and the 5 children you gave him. The other 5 children he had before you, the ones who never forget to make you feel like filth,  like a home breaker, that make you live in fear. Because somehow they are always coming for you, the one that broke their home. Somehow their mother didn’t tell them how she was long gone before you came. And now? After 23 years he still doesn’t feel like yours and home doesn’t feel like home, it becomes just a place you go to sleep. You need assurance, the house in your name, your signature as the other signatory to his accounts, your children in his will.

You like the type of love that is not easy.
The one where you are someone’s secret.  Something to be hidden; in his car, bent to him as if in worship, gagging yourself with his penis trying not to vomit your feelings and your shame or walking into a hotel separately to the same room. There is no conversation;  you don’t talk about his exotic girlfriend with skin like milk, you don’t ask him why she is not enough, you don’t ask him what he is doing with you, you don’t talk about his likes or dislikes, you don’t ask him how his day was, you don’t tell him how you feel a little less woman and more like a call girl when you get his texts, “Where are you?”, “Send me a video”, “I want to see what panties you have on”. You don’t tell him how spend a little too long trying to get the best angle of your body, to look anything close to his girlfriend. And all he says after is “Nice”.”Damn”.”More”.

You like the type of love that is not easy.
The one where you hide your scars with clothes, makeup and lies. You stopped exposing your arms with the dark red marks all around them from the cuts and bruises he inflicted. You started using concealer and foundation to hide the black eye and the map of his fingers when they slapped your face. You told stories about how you fell on the stairs, slipped in the bathroom and ran into the cupboard when your lights went off. You listen to him tell you over and over again that he will get help. You look at his desperate eyes and your legs become paralysed so you cannot leave. You love him instead because it is all you know.

You like the type of love that is not easy.
The one that leaves sawdust in your mouth when your husband introduces you to the 21 year old girl with fake lashes and red claws he is in love with and is going to marry. After you quit your job because he thinks you are ridiculous for wanting to work. After having two of his kids who always cried like bleating goats in the dead of the night robbing you of sleep. After becoming this fat unattractive thing because all you did was stay home to cook food you ended up eating alone. The love that destroys you from your soul, the one that reminds you of your wretchedness, the one you warn your daughter of; that sometimes the worst things come in the name of love.

 

Sillage (The end of the beginning): An Extract from Yellow

Yet another extract…yes I know ..I know.. you guys have permission to kill me now lool…..Baants*…Happy New Month… Enjoy.

In case you missed it: First Extract: https://amnotablogger.wordpress.com/2015/08/02/my-oreo-overload-an-extract-from-yellow/

………………………………………..

“If he was yours, he would have stayed”. “If you love something, let it go. It would come back if it’s really meant for you”. “Don’t hold on to things, if it’s really yours, it would find a way.”- Trash Talker(s)

23rd January, 2015..

I hear statements like this and I am not sure if it is pride talking or laziness. It’s so easy for people to tell you to let go without offering to hold your hands. It’s like leaning on a bannister’s cane for support.

You are used to that cane and you’ve always had that cane to support you. The thing is, you might be able to walk on your own, but why try when you have a cane? Then one day, someone snatches the cane from you and you fall.

Then you learn to walk on your own but they don’t care that you feel the pain where you fell. Nobody wants to know of the days you wake up and feel around for your cane. Nobody asks why your hands are constantly clenching and unclenching. Nobody wants to hear about the feeling of forgetting something each time you want to move. All they care about is “Now you can walk on your own.” They say to you, “The cane was holding you back”. They don’t ask you how you are managing, rather…‘why you held on for so long?’

He was my cane, my support, my smile… I could walk but I would rather have him to lean on. He meant a lot and more and most days, I fall…. I fall trying to lean on him forgetting now I can walk.

It’s amazing the things we miss about people. The scent they leave behind long after they are gone. The feeling you get each time you remember their hands on you. The thrill you feel each time you hear their name. The anxiety of spotting someone in the crowd you thought was them. *sighs*

Sometimes I want to scream “I Need Support! You took my cane from me but you won’t let me lean on you.”

But it’s all a memory, the feeling of something missing, the trail of something long after it has passed. The remnant of what was but isn’t.

….Sillage.

When I think of us, there’s nothing left but sillage….. The realisation of something being there long after it’s gone….. a trail close enough to feel, far beyond my grasps.

sillage

Other Extracts:

The Prologue: https://amnotablogger.wordpress.com/2015/08/24/yellow-the-prologue/

Drowning:  https://amnotablogger.wordpress.com/2015/10/26/drowning-extract-from-yellow/

Response to my breathe by Gabriel Ayeni, Enjoy 🙂


Tell me what to breathe for, I’m only breathing in pain
You had always been sorry, you knew you were in to play games
It’s okay, you controlled my heart, I was the poor console
You knew you and I was a bad combo, but you were greedy
You had your share and it’s time to rid me
Put your lies in a book and maybe you would read me
I see the lies flow in your veins, cut yourself and you could bleed me
It’s too late to apologise, i’m the only one in this republic
When you have the truth to tell, you can re-publish

Breathe

So I haven’t been able to write since like forever, I’m not even sure what inspired this but i hope you enjoy it. Happy New Year, Happy New Month 🙂

…………………………….

First of all I need you to breathe,

then I’m sorry.

I apologise for being the reason you can’t trust her,

forgive me for making you doubt her: ‘I love you’,

for the panic you feel each time she says ‘I’m busy’.

Maybe I should have left the first time;

but I didn’t. Instead I did it again, and again and again.

Forgive my every ‘I promise’ that ended up broken,

every apology I told over and over again,

every ‘I am sorry’ that led to me being sorry again.

I am sorry I never loved you,

and all I taught you was how not to love,

forgive her because she’s not me.

But first of all…I need you to breathe.

 

 

Drowning: Extract from Yellow

Yet another extract… I’m sorry *Facepalm*

“It terrifies us, this ocean. But the fear of drowning is absurd. We already are drowned”

-Roland Merullo (A Little Love Story)

June 20, 2014

…………………………………….

15:18 pm

It’s my first time meeting him and I feel exactly the way one would their first time on a roller coaster, screaming to get down the whole time, wanting to get back up the moment they are down. Loving the woozy feeling, knowing it would make you sick after, but wanting to hold on tight. scared you might fall off and get hurt and hating yourself for not wanting to get back up, knowing you were too scared to be that happy again, but I have never been on a roller coaster before, I’m just assuming, you would realize I assume a lot of things. I get so wrapped up in my assumptions sometimes I fear it becomes a reality in my mind even when I know the truth.

………………….

2:10 am

I plan the hug in my head, think hard about it so I would feel the hug in my head before he holds me, I’m testing the water in my mind, I don’t want to dive in, I want to go in through the shallow end. I’m aqua phobic, I can swim if I want but I don’t swim. Maybe I can’t swim.

I watch him go on board to show his ticket, I get scared he won’t come back for the hug, so I leave first, I see his face as he turns for me and I have left, I should have waited I chide myself, he waves, I smile…. I hate my insecurities.

Like the waves on the beach, forceful at first before it finally settles to the salty water that licks your feet before going back to join the confused tides, my memory of that no hug goodbye comes and goes and soon I forget why it was he didn’t hug me and remember only that he didn’t hug me. I had started drowning then, thinking I was far away from the waters.

And I miss you

Source: And I miss you