Are real and uncertain
Lives start and end here
Are real and uncertain
Lives start and end here
Please read part 1 here and part 2 here
Two days had passed since she discovered who got Idara’s pregnant, and while she felt a complete loathing for everything and everyone in her household, Toun Salami knew she had to play along somehow. It was a tall order, but she would manage. She wasn’t, after all, the first woman whose husband would cheat on with the housemaid. Neither would she be the last. Life had to go on.
The trio sat in front of the TV in the living room – she, Hide, her husband and their son Dotun – watching her favorite soap – Triumph of Love – which had stopped making sense. The soap ended and the musical top ten countdown that followed, featured Maye Hunta’s hit song Ekaette. The song told about a husband’s confession that he had slept with the housemaid who had become pregnant. Toun knew her anger could flare up any moment and the only way she knew to hide it was to start dancing to the beat. She even managed a smile.
Jide was irritated and even a little shocked that his wife could dance to a song like that. He snatched up the remote control and flipped the channel.
“Jide, why now?” Toun asked.
“Is that the kind of song you should be listening to as a married woman? Shouldn’t you be ashamed of yourself?” Jide returned.
“Oh really? When did the Devil become an angel? Toun retorted. “Or, let me guess…you haven’t been sleeping around, have you?”
Jide shifted uneasily in his seat.
“Wh…what did you say? He stammered.
But Toun wasn’t interested. She was gone before he finished his sentence. He heard the door slam and a few seconds later, the car being driven out.
“Oh my God” he sighed, his eyes settling on Dotun. “Did you tell your mother anything?”
But the young man was just as perplexed. “No dad,” he said, shaking his head vigorously.
Jide held his head in his hands.
Had Toun found out? From whom? Ekaette had sworn to never tell. Dotun had too much to lose if he did. So who else would tell?
Maybe this is all a coincidence, he decided. Toun knew nothing; he was over-thinking it. He needed a drink he decided, grabbed his keys and stepped out, all the while muttering to himself, “Jide don’t overthink this…”
This was not meant to be a poem. I just thought to write down a few lines on the subject. What does “Special” mean to you. Share with us in the comments section.
Special is good. Special is different.
Special is how it feels,
On an anniversary dinner night.
When your best friend says, “I love you.”
And when they don’t,
You believe, because, they are special too.
Your eyes betray your mutual truths.
The glassy transparency of it
Is clear for all to see.
Special is sad, sometimes, too.
Special is how you don’t want to feel,
Who you don’t want to be, when
Special means trouble. Crisis. Duty –
“Lord, let this cup pass, please”
“Yes, not Your will but mine.”
Special means rejection.
A walk in the dark.
Until you finally accept your truth.
Special is patient endurance,
A cycle of raised hopes
And dashed expectations.
Special is confusion. Desperation.
“Lord, please take him away.”
“Let him just die, please.”
Special is living a lie. Denial –
“This is not my portion, Lord,
You know I deserve better.”
Special means groping in the dark – a dead end.
The miracle might never come,
No matter how hard you pray.
Special is crying behind closed doors.
You seek to understand.
You seek to be understood.
Special is candor – you finally accept.
It’s a chance to teach –
To teach your reality.
Special means loving,
Without expecting anything back.
No, not in the way you’d expect.
Special means ups and Down’s – a rollercoaster ride.
Sometimes you can fix it.
Sometimes you can heal.
Special is lonely. Special is fighting.
A cause not yours.
A cause all yours.
Special is a chance at learning.
New ways, new things.
You gamble too, take your chances.
With special, sight isn’t necessarily vision
And muteness might not translate
To being without voice.
Even the hard of hearing
Still keep their ears close to the ground.
It’s all in how you perceive your curve-ball.
Special breeds gratitude.
Not because they’re lesser humans but
Because you can be more humane.
Special is an open heart, pun intended or not.
Sometimes, they’re the most generous,
That you’ll ever find.
Special is where a small success
Is a big victory.
Not spectacular, true, but it’s all they live for.
Special sees not color. Special sees no status.
Special is all around you.
It’s what this is all about.
I’m pleased to share this next post with you, written by my dear friend Gift Dimgba Mamre. Gift is positive, with a vivaciousness that is very contagious. This piece highlights her personal struggles and an affirmation of her inmost desires. She speaks as if she has already received and that, my friend, is faith. Enjoy.
Birth Of The Dawn
In the birth of dawn,
With epitome of hope piled
I humbly sit and wait
My forthcoming child.
To this unborn one
From now and times to come
With happiness, and wisdom
I foresee a child with fun
To nourish his curious mind
And knowledge, help to find
I’ll always read with you,
Show you things I never knew
With you, I’ll never be sad
My moon-pie and precious lad
I have no fear, a mum to be,
My special kid, I can’t wait to see.
You are my oasis from a day unmarked
Where I seep on some hot days
Times I fear the water may dry
You waiver also, when you look into my eyes
To stop your own fears
But when I hold your hands under the shade
Grateful for these moments
I try not to worry the water may dry
Like this world, waiver and fault
But it is fear, fear dries the eternal
A poem by Iheanyi C. Idimogu
Iheanyi is a Lawyer, based in Lagos, Nigeria
He loves to write.
It is plain – this place
Glorified by your presence
Your halo – light enough
Your silence – it speaks to me
Music enough to calm me down
I’m a soldier in life’s battles
Your hand – my adorning chevron
A little birdling’s cheep
Is oft the “nudge” I need
To wake me up at morn
And leave my bed forlorn
Beep goes my clock. Beep. Beep.
The snooze button I hit
For, yes, pretend I must
In deep, long sleep to be
I tiptoe to the door
A peep at you to steal
I see you gulp your coffee
Watch you head out the door
My own relief I hear
A sigh escapes my mouth
You always want to say your piece
Than nurture us some peace
A nagging wife, who can find?
Her trouble’s far from rubies
Her husband’s heart at her doth flinch
He’ll have no lack of pain.
Away with love
And away with its lies
A way it is
Of feeding me the highs
Away with hate
I’ll forgive one more time
There ne’er was time to die
Than the moment of truth
Away with cheer
This fairy make-up tale
The ruse contrived
To keep me in limbo
Away with sorrow
Else, away with life
Of what use is the life
That ne’er was lived at all
Please click here, if you missed part 1.
Toun Salami hissed, as she paced around the room in anger. Samuel, the young man who handed her the tape and who she had earlier contracted to wiretap the house, was trying in vain to calm her down.
“Take it easy, madam. Things like this happen. You just have to take it easy, okay?”
“Mtscheww! How could he? How could they?”
She hadn’t bargained for this. The other day when she had invited Samuel to install a listening device in the house after everyone had gone out, all she wanted was to spy on Idara and hopefully chance on her conversations with whoever was responsible for her pregnancy, seeing that she had refused to open up on his identity. But nothing prepared her for this betrayal.
For the first time in her life, she felt alone, lost and completely clueless about her life – her husband, who had stooped so low to cheat on her, their only son – Dotun – whose brazenness knew no bounds. He had no qualms blackmailing his father at the expense of his mother. Then there was the housemaid she had literally picked up from the gutters, who thought of no other way to return her kindness than to direct her lustful tendencies towards her mistress’ husband! Whatever happened to family? Whatever happened to love, devotion, gratitude and one good turn deserving another? She fell on her knees; this was too much to bear. Tears flowed as her whole body shook.
“Haba Madam, take it easy now, ehn. You have to approach this matter with a calm mind. Here, take a sit.” Samuel pulled a chair close for her and helped her up. She gratefully accepted. Just then, the doorbell rang. It was Idara returning from the errand that had been concocted to keep her out of the house long enough to attend to this necessary business.
“I think I’ll take my leave now, madam.”
“Okay. Thank you. I’ll let you know if I need you again.”
“Yes madam. And don’t worry, I’ll help myself out.”
“Yes, thank you,” Toun accepted graciously, for she was sure that if she went to get the door herself, nothing would keep her from strangling Idara. “And please let the maid in,” she added.
When she left the study a few minutes later, she was resolute. She would play this game the way they all wanted it. She would take it all with a smile, continue to be the good wife, the doting mother and benevolent lady of the house. The game had only just begun. “Let’s see for how long the bunch of you idiots can hold out,” she muttered.
Her eyes brushed through each delicate finger on her left hand and settled on the ring finger. It was clad in the most beautiful adornment she had ever seen. She smiled. How unbelievable can life get?
On this day last year, she was broke, jobless, deserted and distraught. She had missed her flight to a job interview, hence lost the chance of a lifetime. The love of her life had eloped with his cousin, three days to their wedding. And her mother had a stroke shortly thereafter.
The man who was now shaving in the bathroom of their hotel room had spotted her at the hospital, while she cared for her mother. He wouldn’t rest on his oars until she agreed to be his wife, immediately conferring her with the erstwhile vacant position of vice-chairman in his group of farms.
The bathroom door opened and she turned. “Good morning, chérie,” he beamed. She smiled again, walked towards him and wrapped him with the warmest embrace. “Bonjour chéri.”
She was happy. True, she didn’t know what the future would bring and yes, she had been to the abyss and back but she knew that between missed opportunities and better outcomes, there was hope and despair, calm and disquiet, soreness and wellness, tears and laughter. There was penury, want, loneliness. There was harsh reality. And then, there was life!