Birthday gift (prt3)

    She walked to the window, not for once looking at me. There she was, standing in the same spot i stood in, as i watched her lover drive off . Just as i was about to tell her how much of a whore she’d become, she cut me off and began;

” you know jibola, it’s funny how life works. You hurt people every other day and when they decide to give you at taste of your own sauce, they become the monsters”

She just stood there, her back turned to me. I wondered what she was talking about, as i tried to calm my nerves. It was obvious she wanted to play the whole reverse psychology bullshit on me. Bella was as clueless as clueless could get and i intended to leave it that way.
“What nonsense are you on about”

I asked.

How dare you jibola?

She turned and looked at my for the first time since she got to the window. Her eyes were blood shut, anger all over her face. She walked up to me with fury in her eyes, her hands trembled but not out of fear. She wasn’t scared. All i saw was furry. Bella stopped right in front of me and slapped me with all the force her tiny hands would allow. I didn’t see it coming, so I just stood there looking at her with my mouth  wide open from shock. I wanted to portray the image of the victimised son in law when I narrated this awful night to her mother. So I Just l stood there looking dumbly at her as she walked back towards the window pane.

“How dare you ask why I found comfort and solace in the hands of another man?”
For 5 years Jibola! I have taken care of every single member of this family but myself. I have loved and waited for you to come back to me. I have prayed and fasted. I have gone on intense diets and done over the top workouts. Why? Because I loved you, because I wanted to remain the woman you married. Hell I was striving to become a 4.0 upgraded version.

From Kemi with the big booty, to kinky Pella, to the threesome you had with the girls from unilag. Lets not forget about all the other ones in between and of course your newly found vixen who is presently some street’s away.

My knees were suddenly weak. I just couldn’t get myself to digest everything Bella was telling me. How did she find out?

“ I have prayed and fasted for as long as this problem started. I would say to myself that it was just a bad phase in our marriage and you will come back to your senses in no time, but boy was I wrong. I prayed that you would love like you used to, but then i realised you never really loved me. I know what being with a man that loves you really feels like. Someone who is willing to be there for you on your best and worst days. That was never a trait you portrayed Jibola. But it’s fine.

Not a single drop of tears rolled out of her eyes. She walked past me and stopped at the door.

I am leaving you Jibola. I’m taking everything I invested in this relationship with me. The kids and of course my money. You can keep the house and the car.

“And of course, I know of the private account you opened under the alias of the company. I did you a solid and left you with 2 million. The divorce papers are in the last drawer of the study table, I already signed.”

She walked out of the study leaving me with nothing. I wasn’t going to ever return to the broke life. I didn’t deserve it, hell I worked too hard to get out of it. I went back to the bar and downed more vodka. I heard the door to the bedroom close, her voice becoming closer and more audible. She was on the phone with the lambo guy, and he was coming to pick her up in half an hour. I rushed up to her and tried to plead with her to stay. I promised her I was going to change. In my drunken state I didn’t realise I was holding her too tight. As I pushed her to wall to get her to stop struggling with me, she hit her head hard against the wall. I kept on talking. Telling her she was going to stay with me no matter what. I threatened to kill her if she dared take my children to another man. I hit her in the face two more times and asked her if she could hear me. But she wasn’t screaming anymore. I couldn’t hear her beg me to let her go. She became limp in my grip. I moved her from the wall only to find blood sliding from the back of her head. I put her on the ground, as I tried repeatedly to wake her up to no avail. She wasn’t breathing…

Love Abenii

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Birthday Gift (prt 2)

I just sat there dumbfounded. I watched the young man usher my naked wife into the shower as the door shut behind them. Leaving me with the emptiness of what was supposed to be the sacred space of matrimony for my wife and I. What did I do to deserve this?

I never brought any of the women I cheated on Bella with to the house or rub my relationship in her face. But for some reason known solely to her she thought I deserved to be disrespected this way. I wasn’t going to storm into the bedroom and fight with a man who is obviously beneath me. I wasn’t going to give him the privilege to mock me when he sat with his friends, giving them the detailed gist of how crazed i acted when i barged in on him and my wife. A scandal was the last thing i needed, Imagine news of Bella’s infidelity getting out. So i waited! And watched. I watched him carry Bella out of the bathroom naked, her legs wrapped around his waist. He Dropped her gently on the bed, like she was a fragile piece of art before turning her face down and getting on top of her. He then proceeded to give her one of those steamy erotic massages usually served by professional Asian masseuse, which i have bren fortunate enough to recieve once in my entire life. I wondered who this fucker was, for him to come into my house and serve my wife a fucking three course erotica, as I watched him treat her with such gentleness. He finally got off her, and got dressed. Bella tried to pull him back in bed with her, her beautiful seductive eyes wide with plea, but he whispered something in her ear that made her laugh hysterically as she finally let go of his hand and walked him to the bedroom door. They kissed intensely, his arms wrapped around her, as she tip toed to meet his height. Her body stretched out to the max, accentuating her perfect lady curves. For the first time in a long time I was reminded of how beautiful my wife is. I watched from the large study window as the man drove off in his sleek white lambo. At least he wasn’t going to be difficult to find, as there were only two lambo’s in Lagos.

I stormed out of the study and headed for the bar. Looking at the piece of furniture that housed different brands of alcohol from regular vodka, to decades old scorch meant for special occasions. I thought of the perfect drink then i settled for my 40 Year Old Single Malt Scotch Whisky, because of course it was a  special occasion. Pouring a huge amount of it in a cup and downing it. I repeated the process four more time’s before heading out of the bar. What was i going to do when I set my eye’s on her? The larger part of me wanted to drag her face round the house, tie her up, lock her in a room and throw away the keys. I looked in the mirror and saw the reflection of a man soon to be charged with 2 counts of murder, if i cared enough to get a lawyer then manslaughter would be the case. I charged up the stairs all the way to my now scared bedroom, my heart pounding on my chest, pleading to be let out. I opened the door to find an empty room, i heard the toilet flush as i stood there fist tight and teeth clenched  waiting for Bella to come out. The door opened and my heart just sank in sadness. It felt like my heart was being poked with hundreds of needles at once. I saw the sweet innocent girl i married. Who waited twenty five years to have sex with the man she swore to spend the rest of her life with and call husband.
I didn’t notice her walk up to me until i felt her soft hands on my face. Looking innocently at me, with genuine care in her eyes. I took instant steps backwards as i felt everything I’d eaten roll up and form a mould in my throat. I hurried to the bathroom as I let it all out. She rushed after me, trying to rub my back as i let out every ounce of disgust my body had witnessed that night. I shoved her really hard, she fell to the ground and hit her head. She let out a soft painful moan but i didn’t take a second look at her as i stormed out of the bathroom. The same bathroom she did unspeakable things with another man a moment ago. Everything about that room made me sick. I stormed out of the bedroom and headed for the study to get my car keys. I heard her feet hit the ground as she ran after me calling my name and asking me to stop. I scanned for my keys in the study and found it on the CCTV table, along with the flowers and wine I’d gotten her. She stood at the doorway to the study and realised exactly what was going on…

Love Abenii

Birthday Gift by

I didn’t love her. Not because she wasn’t pretty, smart, or sexy enough. Or because she was the umpteenth woman who thought she could trap me with her bedroom gimmicks. Whatever i felt for her died after I climaxed and combusted on her face and or wherever she let me. I knew she didn’t love me either, and that was totally fine by me. Her feelings and affection were money feelings but we were both happy at the end of the day. Well she got to smile everytime she swiped the gold credit card I got her. Me on the other hand, I just wanted a submisive, to feel in control and taste the goodness of the beautiful women the universe has blessed me with. I am bored of my marriage, but the truth is that isn’t even why I cheat. Sex with Bella is great, double orgasims in 10 minutes great, she got her body back in shape 4 months after the birth of our twins. I don’t think there is anyone as good a cook as she is. Her fashion sense is off the hook, a career woman, a flipping good wife and mother to our children. It’s been what? 12 months since I last touched her, but still everything runs smoothly. Her love for me keeps waxing stronger, at first she would cry whenever I refused her sex and ask if it was her. Then she went on that crazy 28 days detox diet. Her revenge body was pretty impressive, but I still didn’t see  her in the light of a sex symbol. I began seeing her as more of a mother than a wife. Well we all know mother and boner don’t sound well. She finally threw in the towel when I went with Jide’s lie and told her i had an erectile dysfunction. Keeping the lie wasn’t difficut because I returned home spent out from crazy sex marathons with whoever was warming my bed at the moment. I couldn’t even get myself to tell her I love her. Not because I couldn’t, but because I didn’t feel like I did anymore.

About 12 month’s after, Here I am on my 38th birthday, supposed to be having a meeting with potential investors in South Africa. Instead an exgusted 20 something vixen lay above me with her perfect 36dd’s, just 45 minutes away from home. My younin and I were supposed to catch a first class flight to JB the next day. For some strange reason I wanted to be with Bella. She told me the kid’s were going to spend the weekend at her sisters. I just wanted to get stuffed with her extra spicy lobster bisque, then have her extra chocolatey chocolate cake for desert.

I was going to go home, tell her I changed my mind about the meeting and just snuggle up beside her, watching Shawshank redemption or unusual suspect till we dose off. I got my small chops off me, signed a check and told her to go on without me to JB, and promised to meet her up in two days. Of course she pretended to be surprised, sad, and upset. But i really could care less about whatever fake emotions she was acting out as I put my jeans and snatched my car keys from the bed side lamp. I drove past Dolphin, and remembered there was this pretty flower shop Bella always made a fuzz of. So i decide to get those beautiful chrysanthemum flowers she loves and a bottle of her favourite wine.

Two stops, and some songs from Kendrick Lamar’s to pimp a butterfly later, I was home. Flowers in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, it almost felt like the stench of adultry was shedding of my being. I knew it won’t be long before I got bored and took off to be with my youngin. But all i wanted was to enjoy tonight like old times. I didn’t ring the bell or call Bella up because I intended to make my arrival a surprise. Sliding in through the front door like a rebellious teenager, i figured Bella would be up in the study working on some final draft for the company or making sure everything with the orphanage was fine. Tip toeing through the familiar pattern of my home in the dark, as I tried to find my way without knocking down anything. I opened the study door with hopes of seeing Bella curled up on the puff, in her favourite oversized sweater, tapping away on keys from her laptop as she took notes. But to my surprise the study was empty. The only refection of light came from the  CCTV monitor at the far end of the room. I still wanted to surprise her, and opening everyother door in the house wasn’t going to help. So decided to find out if Bella was home, if yes where in the house she was. I prayed silently that tonight wasn’t one of those nights she’d get all up in her feelings, crying herself to sleep, going on and on about how much of a terrible husband I am. That wasn’t how I was hoping to spend my birthday weekend.

I looked at the tiny boxes of images on the monitor showing the kitchen, living room, parking lot, pool area and other parts of the house. Everything looked like still images of the house. No movement, no sign of life. Well except for the master bedroom. I could see movements underneath the duvet covers. I clicked on the image to enlarge the soundless footage of a strange man in my bed, my wife crawling out from under the duvet naked, as she leaned towards the man, going in for a deep passionate kiss before proceeding to ride this strange man…

Love Abenii

Theory of passion

 

   PERSONAL PERSPECTIVE ON THE THEORY OF PASSION

Just as I stood in front of the TV, watching these children talk about various ingredients and recipes on CBS’s Man vs Child. I totally forgot about how late I was for work and how my boss would have my head. I just stood there with my shoes hanging on my fingers as my office bag struggled to stay on my shoulder. The little Asian girl, not older than the age of seven was competing with a grown man of about 45 years of age or older, the snow of white hair crowding his faint blonde hair made it a bit tasking to know if the white hair was from stress or age. He struggled to keep up with the little Asia culinary dragon as she chopped thing and explain what she was doing and why it had to be done that way, to the judges and her fellow teammates, The eldest being thirteen years of age. In her cameo appearance the little Asian culinary dragon explained how much she loved cooking. Explaining recipes, and various food escapades with friends and family. She spoke with so much passion and courage, it was evident she loved cooking.  My eyes were still fixed on the little culinary dragon as though I was in trance as I watched her chop some greens with such expertise. The strong vibration of my phone snapped me back to the present. Dropping my shoes as my office bag found it’s way to the ground, I rushed to pick up my phone, it was my Co worker Rasheeda in her usual alarmingly high pitched voice asking why I wasn’t at work at 8:20. I stared at the time on my phone in disbelief, I had been watching the show for about 30 minutes. I told her I was on my way and begged her to cover up for me.

On my drive to work I couldn’t help but remember the pretty little dragon in the CBS studio kitchen, chopping and chatting with so much enthusiasm. She obviously loved what she was doing and she is nothing short of favoured having found something she is crazy about and could make a decent living off. I tried to think of exactly what it was I loved, something that could bring the kind of professional fire I saw in that little girls eyes. I mean I love something’s Film making, entertainment, food, writing, and other stuff. But I just couldn’t get myself to pin point exactly what it was that I was crazy about enough to get me that excited.

I’d like to believe that everyone has something they are crazy about, something they see themselves doing for the rest of their lives. Not because it is what they have settled for, but something they are genuinely invigorated by. Something they truly appreciate, believe in and would do irrespective of what they get from it.

Whatever it is you are passionate about comes naturally, with little or no effort. Brushing up to get better at it will come to you as a walk in the park instead of a tiring chore.

You just haven’t found whatever it is you are crazy about, or rather it hasn’t found you. It’s in there somewhere all it needs is a little push. Its okay to wait it out by being open minded and professionally versatile until your crazy finds you.

But there will be no mistaking when it finally finds you. No experience is wasted, test the waters and if you are brave enough, take a dive. Whatever the outcome.. We move still.

Love Abenii

Memory Woman

Wednesday the 12th of January 2017. Exactly a year, 14 hours, 17 minutes and 45 seconds after Martin and i both died. I was rather unfortunate enough to wake up 3 months after, with a blessing and a curse. Mostly the latter. Martin on the other hand got a first class ticket to hell or wherever it is the afterlife decided to accommodate him.

7 month’s pregnant with a black eye, wearing my favourite nude silk nighty without the robe. The bell rang for the 5th time in ten seconds. As i hurried out of bed, half asleep, running down the stairs three flights at a time. Past the dinning table that held the dinner i made 5 hours ago. One last turn and i unlocked the door on the 14th ring. I prayed he wasn’t too drunk this time, but as always he was about 5 shots or more past the drunkometer. He slowly entered into the house, walking past me, and headed for the room. No complaints, no abusive words, which was downright peculiar. It was the first time in forever anything like that would ever happen. I took a long deep breath, locked the door and headed for our bedroom, got back in bed and tried to sleep. He lay silently beside me his back against mine without uttering a word. Eight minutes later he requested i brought him dinner. Once again i went down the stairs, warmed up his food and plated his dinner. A half full glass of water, a guava and a knife for him to slice it with becsuse Martin didn’t want anyone doing that for him. He sat up as i plated his dinner in front of him, giving me a long stare, his eye’s fixed on mine, his eyes were blank and emotionless, the effect of the ivory, alcohol and maybe Juju’s green made his pupils look dilated. I knew that by 2pm the next day he wouldn’t remember anything he did the previous night, ask that I forgive him, buy me something expensive. Most likely something from one of those exaggerated designers with complicated names i wouldn’t ever be able to pronounce. I knew this Because i could tell this was going to be one of those hellish nights and he would wake up as sorry as sorry could get. As i started to go back to bed he held my hand, piercing my skin as his nails dug in from his tight grip. Still silent, this time he wouldn’t look me in the eye. His eyes looking down at our unborn child like he just realised we were expecting. The silence lingered for a minute and 18 seconds, i knew better than to walk away, so i just waited. The silence continued for another minute then he asked the most mundane question ever.

     ” Why did Buhari sell us dreams?”

I didn’t have an answer to the question, well i did have an answer, but it sure wasn’t the answer Martin wanted to hear. Hell, i didn’t know if the man was for or against Buhari that night. So i took a deep breath, looked at him and then the dinner that would soon be flipped over and said;

   ” i don’t know Martin, people aren’t always who they seem to be”.

He looked at me as if trying to translate what i just said from gibberish to something that made actual sense. He squeezed my hands really tight and then he suddenly let go, his palm covered his face, he looked at me once again before flipping over his dinner. I froze at the noise the plate and cutleries made as they met with the floor. This was it, another long night of yelling, crying and a blacker eye.

He began mumbling stuff i couldn’t hear and then got up, he was still fully dressed. He wore the white shirt I’d gotten him for his birthday and a True religion jean. He was sweating profusely though the air conditioning was on full blast. He grabbed my arm and made me face him.

” look at me you dumb bitch, look at me!”

As i met his gaze he slapped me and pushed me to the bed. He struck me two more time’s. Once on my neck the other on my stomach. He then ripped off the sleeve of favourite nighty. Sweat dripping down his face and saliva splattering on me as he yelled. My head hurt but that was a walk on the beach compared to the excruciating pain that came after Martin struck me repeatedly on my stomach. I tried to curve into a ball and protect my baby from the recurring blows but it was no good. I knew things were going to get way worse if i dared move, but i wasn’t going to let Martin kill our child. I’d rather he woke up the next day with our baby safe and sound in the walls of my tummy than letting him beat her out of me. I struggled to get him off of me. His grip was firm, his hand’s wrapped firmly round my neck. I could feel myself begin to fight for air as we both fell to the ground. I managed to land a strong resounding kick at the back of his knee, giving me some seconds to crawl into the living room. My legs were numb and I could barely stand as i grabbed the arm rest of the two sitter and tried to steady my breathing. That was usually the end of the brawl, Martin would tire out and pass out some minutes after but this night was different. He came out of the bed room sweating more than he was earlier, he looked like a totally different man. I didn’t know who that person was and the look on his face suggested whatever was left of Martin wasn’t any good. I tried to make my way to the other room and shut the door till whenver Martin’s crazier alter ego was gone. Six quick steps in and he charged towards me with great force and i fell to the ground with him landing on top of me. The effect of his weight was unexplained. It was then i realised he was holding his guava knife. I struggled to get him off me, kicking, biting and scratching my way to freedom. I was finally able to land a direct punch directly to his left rib. He rolled over at the effect, dropping the knife. I picked it up and crawled my way through the ebony centre piece and other pieces of furniture that were now in places they weren’t designed to occupy. As i made my way to the stairs the smell of blood hit me, not from my head or any other part of my uper body. The blood was sliding through my thights and  covered what was left of my silk nighty. My head hurt like hell and my vision was becoming blury. As i tried to make my way through the first flight of stairs Martins dragged me back. Landing an effective blow on my side , still holding on tight to the knife, i cut him by the calf and tried to free myself from his grip but the cut didn’t seem to have any effect on him. He was suddenly numb. He tried to get the knife from me as he locked his legs firmly around me.

“” it’s you and me baby, till the very end”

Those were the last words that came out of his mouth as we struggled for the knife few inches from the stairs. I knew we were going to roll over the marble stairs if I’d stabbed him right there. The chances of me surviving was zero to none. But what the hell! I’d lost my baby and i was as good as dead. At this rate Martins was going to kill us both, why not do the honours? I thought. The knife cut through my arm as i used all the strength left in me to turn it ninety degrees towards Kene and plunged it into his stomach. He froze! his entire weight lay on me as we both went down the stairs. I felt my neck and other vital bones break as it came in contact with the 30,000 dollar marble Martin specifically ordered from Italy. The man did love his marble. That was the last time i saw Martins. A knife plunged into his stomach and his birthday shirt covered in his own blood.”

Hyperthymesia is what scientists call it. A perfect memory, an autobiographical memory. Most people are Born with it, but my neuroligist says mine is a rare case. The effect of the multiple hits my brain suffered as i hit those flights of stairs rewired and woke up parts of my brain that normaly should be asleep. That was Martins gift to me. He made sure i remembered every single detail of his existance for the rest of what was left of my life. Voluntarily or not, my brain could dial up the perfect memory of that night. Now a year, 15 hours and 56 minutes i am standing exactly where it all happened. For some reason I feel the need to revisit where it all happened. Where it all ended and where it all began.

Np: This post was insipred by David Baldacci’s Memory Man.

Love Abenii

In a nutshell

Just as I was about to take two steps away from him, to reduce the growing tension between us, he put his arms around my waist and drew me in. The only thing between us now was my trembling hands and his beating heart. Suddenly Engulfed by waves of vulnerability, shyness and weakness as he gently kissed my trembling lips, then looking at me as though waiting for a go ahead before going in for a proper kiss. Slowly and softly at first in a manner that sent shivers that made my whole being tremble. My arms circled his neck for support, pulling him closer against me as i parted my now steady lips to kiss him back.. But he slowly began to fade into a hologram, before everything around me went pitch black.

The annoying vibration of my alarm began to buzz uncontrollably as I struggled to open my eyes to see myself surrounded by Moliere – Soyinka and other Modern African comedy text books on the floor of my apartment in Uni. My one sided migraine was still in control so i decided to snooze my alarm and sleep for an extra 20 minutes. I searched the entirety of dream land for the stranger in my dream to continue from where we left off, but he was long gone. All I was left with was my project supervisors face yelling at me in her funny Igbo accent to submit the bonded copy of my final project before the 5th of September. The sudden sound of my favourite mug hitting the ground, spilling out the green tea it held wakes me up fully. It is 7am and it is the 5th of September 2016. The last day of finals and hopefully my last day as a student in university of Abuja. The weather is annoyingly hot, the loud sound coming from the generators filled the atmosphere. Although my fan is on full blast, I find myself sweating out my disappointment and nervousness. 20 minutes later i am out of my apartment strolling down to the main road to get a bike. I had about 8 hours before my last paper so I decide to take a long walk to school with my project in hand as i leave the deafening sound multiple generators behind me. I make a stop at Oga Yunusa’s shop to buy crackers and Ribena to kick start my occasional thought filled long walk.

I really couldn’t believe it was the last day of Uni for me. Where did all those years go? wasn’t February just 2days ago? when I overslept and nearly missed out on the commercial shoot for the guyz at box-office?

Didn’t I just spend one of the best valentines day ever with Tayo and Moh?

Didn’t the most amazing 10 year old i know just ask me to be her best friend?

Wasn’t it 3 days ago when the guyz at green gate killed our cat? ( I love you Parkash)

Didn’t i just turn 21 some hours ago? Didn’t i just move on from a friendship of 5 years that got tangled in a web emotions and stupid feelings?

Wasn’t that supposedly beautiful sallah morning when Hawa called to let me know Taofeeq was dead minutes behind me? And exactly a year I lost Iman?

Didn’t Teni just bake that amazing cinnamon and apple cake for sally and I?

Didn’t I just discover that Calabar woman’s bomb ass Afang soup three days ago?

Wasn’t it an exhale ago when majority of Nigerians were enthusiastic about Buhari and his campaign promises?

Didn’t I just explode my taste buds from trying the awesomeness of Abula (Gbegiri and Ewedu together)?

Didn’t i just find out there was a huge mistake in my result? And I might have to suffer an undeserved extra year?

Wasn’t a dollar 198 some minutes ago?

Wasn’t “waste his time 2016” just trending on Twitter?

Where did time go? Wasn’t i just 17 some days back? How did most of these things happen in a span of 9 months?

As i strolled into school lost in my thoughts, a hand touched my shoulder and a strange funny voice asked where i was going. I looked up and it was Towbi! Shocked and speechless, i hug him in a full embrace as tears fill my eyes. He felt really embarrassed and asked that we go to his car. As we walk towards his car I try to fight back tears, I still couldn’t believe he was right there. We hadn’t seen in over a month and I didn’t even know he was coming to Uni. But there he was, when I literally needed a shoulder to cry on. He asked what was wrong and all I could do was hug him once more, just laugh hysterically, and crying in between as I let myself be overwhelmed by these mixed emotions. I didn’t know exactly why I was crying but it felt like the most natural thing to do and I just let it all out. jokes about his muffin top, his relationship and a twenty minutes long drive later, he drops me off at school.

Fast forward to end of September, at the editors meeting, Towbi announces that I am the new Editor- in – Chief of the brand. I just stand there eyes wide trying to process the big news. Lost of all emotion I freeze up and remember how it all started. Time after time I have both disappointed and come through for Towbi and the brand. In all honesty the former mostly being the case. But he still thought me worthy and put me in charge.

Despite all these eventful months, I must say I had a very blessed year. I lost people dear to me and I met really talented, amazing, funny yet evasive and sometimes button pushing, hardworking people. I found out new things about myself and discovered my strengths and learnt to control and work on my weaknesses.

I moved to a new city and opened a new chapter in my life. Whelp I’m still the same silly, supposedly funny, evasive, caring and sometimes cold,  person Rahee thinks i am. But like every other year, i have grown and copped 12 months of life’s lessons and experience nearly for free. With God’s endless favours on me and my loved ones.

Rahee, Kulu and Mukky finally decided to settle with the love of their lives, ( because they were greedy and didn’t want to have to share me) they decided to get married and move away with just a month interval between them ( imagine what my fragile heart had to endure?) still can’t believe i have to share my guyz with someone else. But on the bright side i got to eat more than enough party NIGERIAN Jollof.

Like every other year 2016 was an eventful year for me. And I am more than grateful for everything that happened and how it happened. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I did a lot of strategic planning in 2016 and i intend to execute the practical aspects, read and write way more this year. Starting with being more active on the blog. i know i have been the most inconsistent with my posts but i promise to step up and serve my readers with a minimal amount of grammatical errors and an overdose of fictional stories and articles as from next week.

Furthermore, I’d love to welcome everyone to the year of Dexter’s Laboratory (The movie), the year of Ed Sheeran’s return, the year of Spider man, Logan and the other amazing movies We’ve had to wait ages for.

Lastly and most importantly I’d like to thank everyone for visiting the blog, reposting, sharing, supporting and enduring my endless bc’s. Happy new year.

Without wax,

❤❤❤

Sefinah Lamii.

Love Abenii

The Triangle

My wedding was in two days and I still didn’t feel the excitement of spending the rest of my life with the man I was about to walk down the court room with. Don’t get me wrong, Kamsiyochukwu is an amazing guy. Great personality, good job, good looking and kind. He is everything my unborn child deserves and more.
   We met at the gallery when i was about three month’s pregnant. He’d come to get his mum a birthday present, he wanted something elegant and pricy but the man was as oblivious to art as I to  Mandarin. After almost an hour of going round the gallery and being unsure of what to get his mum, he finally went with an African’s take on a Margaret Keane inspired painting of a big eyed, waifish, young black girl. He began to frequent the gallery after that day, buying almost anything. He’d come in, look around the gallery and pick the most random things, from paint brushes, oil paint and some work of art that were clearly not his taste. We spoke for the first time on a rainy Thursday in August. Kamsi came in the gallery soaking wet. He was shivering like a wet kitten as he rushed into the gallery. Laraba’s frustrated look was impossible to ignore, considering she had to clean up when he left. He smiled pitifully at her, but she was in no mood to acknowledged his gesture. He looked lost as usual, going from isle to isle, feigning interest in every piece of art he picked up, then stood in front of an empty canvas, he looked at it for a moment then picked it up. I walked up to him and offered to help him get dried up, as his muddy shoes and dripping clothes were like multiple blows to Laraba’s kidney with every step he took. As we walked to the back room, i asked what kind of paint he was looking to use for his new art project and he seemed lost, then I asked what he wanted an empty canvas for. He looked at the empty canvas, then at me looking like a teenage boy who’s mum just saw naked. He then smiled and told me he had to be honest with me. He said there was an employee he’d been looking forward  to ask on a date, but anytime he got to the gallery he chickened out. Chickened out? How does a 6ft, caramel, hazel eye, well dressed, hot spice chicken out? For one I thought it was adorable. Well that ruled out our suspicion of him being a kleptomaniac. He told me he saw her the very first time he came to the gallery and he couldn’t get her off his mind ever since. I offered to help him get his dream girl as I took him into my studio. My best bet was Caroline was the girl he had a crush on, I mean it only made sense cause she was the most attractive and only single and available staff we had. She was to resume her shift in about 30 minute’s, giving Mr hazel eyes enough time to dry up. I gave him one of the promo shirts for the gallery, as I stood and watched him unbutton his drenched white shirt, he carefully revealed his perfectly toned caramel body. He then put on the gallery promo shirt I’d given him. His broad shoulders and buff chest doing justice to the picture of the gallery resting on his chest. I made for my oil paint and brush, then picked up an empty canvas and wrote;

” Dinner after work? Yes or yes?”

I was so sure Caroline was going to be head over heels when she saw this. Caroline was a helpless romantic. Literally forcing everyone to listen as she either lamented or praised  Nicolas Sparks or any other romance novel authors choice of plot after every read. I was about to write her name when I paused, just to double check the person in question was indeed Caroline.

“And what’s her name?”

He was standing so close to me that I could feel his breath. He said he wasn’t sure, but the security man told him her name was Teniola. I proceeded to write, then the name rang again in my head. Teniola! I froze up, when I heard that name. Teniola! That was me, that was my name. Was he crazy? I looked up at him, his hazel eyes fixed on me, his glasses complimented his diamond shaped face.  I began to laugh and then made to explain that Bala mixed up our names, I told him I was Teniola and Caroline was the hot cashier he wanted to ask out. He stopped laughing and told me he didn’t know who Caroline was. I was the reason he’d been frequenting the gallery for days, I was the one he wanted to ask out on a date. I was perplexed at what he’d said mainly because it didn’t make sense. I instantly turned him down and pleaded with him to stop coming. That didn’t happen, because he came by everyday for the next week. Then I agreed to go on a date with him because the man didn’t seem like he was giving up anytime soon and i was more than certain he’d flee once i told him i was pregnant. But that didn’t happen either.
  Two years older than I was, at thirty two, Kamsi had a lot going on for him. He’d achieved so much at such a young age. At 22 he’d bagged two MSC degree’s, he won his first major case at 26, he was one of the best lawyers in the country. Kamsi what most people would refer to as a classic overachiever. He lost his wife two year’s ago during childbirth, they had a beautiful daughter together. It was easy to tell the man had been crazy about his late wife.  He asked me to be his girlfriend despite me telling him I was pregnant with someone else’s child. I eventually said yes and on our fourth anniversary he asked me to marry him. Being the only son, and putting into consideration that I was the first woman he’d dated since his late wife, though sceptical and initially against this madness as she’d often referred to Kamsi’s decision, his mum finally gave her blessings. Kamsi was a kind hearted, intelligent and humble man. He was everything my unborn child needed in a father. I didn’t want my baby growing up without a father like I did. This was as good as a second chance could get. Kamsi knew I wasn’t in love with him, yet all he wanted was to take care of me and make me happy.  I’d say Kamsi and I were simply drawn by the common love and search for finding a good parent for our kids. I was about 8 months gone When we agreed to have a simple court wedding before our baby was born.
  The day was finally here, I was in the court room, with Laraba and Caroline and two of Kamsi’s friends. I wasn’t ready for this, I felt like leaving all this behind and  starting over for the second time. I could feel contractions, but i wasn’t about to let this young man come into the world before our “I do’s”. Kamsi could tell I was terrified, he had no idea i was about to go into labour. He held my hand and told me we could always get married some other time. This marriage wasn’t about me, my baby deserved better and that is what I was going to get him. The Solemniser went on with the necessities, when we heard loud voices from the other side of the door, as the fragile 15- lite pine double doors swung open. The security man was trying to pull a young man out when I heard that overly familiar voice call my name. It was Nabil. He was bruised, but most surprisingly he was there in that room. My heart sank, I couldn’t move, my back began to hurt, then I felt liquid drip between my leg’s. My water broke.

Love Abenii

21 and counting

  When i was 10 years old, I was sure i wanted to be an actress. I dreamt of being in front of the camera, perfectly interpreting everything those behind the scenes had envisaged to life. Somewhere in my head i felt like i was a flipping good actress and i saw my self dominating the movie industry.

When i was 13years old, I started writing stories, i knew i had a wild imagination and different events played in my head. At that point i remember the line between what was fictional and real being very thin. I discovered most fantasises i had were a little overstretched, so i decided to write down my imaginations. It sort of became my safe haven and i loved that i had something i could relate too and loved just as much. With my aunt’s help, i got to write jokes, and riddles for the National Pilot news paper. At 14 i wrote my first script and shared it with molly, and i was so sure I’d be an amazing actress and writer by 21.

At 16 i lost all my scripts and short stories, Still hurts till this day.  I started dreaming of having my own food show, because of course, amazing cook.( i mean to gloat). I wrote food articles and dreamt of bringing food network to Nigeria. But i found myself wanting nothing more than being the brain behind making this dream a reality, i cared more about being the brain, rather than the face in front of the camera.
I wrote recipe’s for friends and shared with my home economics mate. I soon began to write for Magazines and blogs at about 17 on 18.

When i turned 18, i  embraced my inquisitiveness towards being behind the scenes, i had this unexplainable interest in how and what made a movie. I started sharing my writing and my love for story telling increased. My writing wasn’t exactly good, Punctuation and grammar errors ( hell i still make those, but not as much as i used to). I started reading script and fell more in love with the art of film making and as the years went by, i saw my self dreaming of being the ‘story teller’ responsible for the adrenaline and every ounce of emotion viewers felt during and after an amazing movie.

I’m 21 now, and the dream still lives, not as strong as a steel Magnolia but it’s still there, somewhere. Losing the AMVCA didn’t help to keep my already sinking dream afloat.  And my creative juice hasn’t really been flowing as used to.

My birthday was few weeks ago and though i was hoping to drop this post on my birthday week, for some reason i didn’t. Few days to my birthday i took an online mind test, something about how to tell the age your mind was, or something like that. The result turned out i had the mind set of a 40 year old woman, my mind is actually 19 years older than i am.  Wow!  I mean, i appreciate that i have a mature mind, but 19 years more mature is very unsettling. Not very inspiring either. It got me thinking about how i was living.

Truth be told, the constant fear of not meeting up to family and societal expectation clouds my mind every single day. I constantly fear that i am not doing the right thing, or doing enough and not achieving as much as i hoped i would have. I have goals and i have envisaged my life to take a certain form. The fear of running out of time is at the top of my mind, but then again, there’s only so much i can control. After taking the test i remembered what my friend kassim said to me at the beginning of the year. He said; you spend so much time worrying, about how little time you have to do all you have listed out, unknown to you that your worry consumes a large percent of your little time and at the end of the day you accomplish almost nothing and you are right where you feared you’d end up. I honestly chose not to understand what he was trying to say, but now, i think i understand his point. I feel like i have a lot of people to make proud, with finals just around the corner and the reality that sets in after graduation. Sigh! I really don’t enjoy spending time thinking about the hassle. Leaves a big fat lump in my throat.

What do i want to do after graduation? Where do i see my self in 2020? I used to have answers to these long run question’s. But right now i don’t have an answer to any of these questions, and I’m not going to stress to find answers, and i have come to accept that its totally fine not to have the answers. I have decided to be a little optimistic and not worry as much. I’ll still work hard, but I’m yet to figure exactly what I’m working towards, but I won’t be living on the ifs, whys, and how’s anymore. I’d rather just learn about life  through osmosis, Until i figure out exactly what my ‘calling’  is. Till then, I’m going to continue posting right here every other Thursday, Stressing your eyes with unintentional grammar and punctuation errors.

P.s I will never stop loving you guyz for reading, reposting and  commenting. Most especially for your kind and encouraging words💋.

This post is inspired by Lukas Graham’s 7 years. ❤❤❤

Love Abenii

Voices

   You claim to be against education yet your platforms are built upon the very grounds of what you fight. Was it an uneducated man who invented the weapons you use to harm us? Is it uneducated individuals who create and run the social media you use to broadcast your cause? Are these weapons and social media forms of nonwestern education?
The answers to these questions show the non sequitur in your campaign, and highlight the confusion that besets your inner workings.
You take and kill. You steal our children. You burn homes and tear families apart. You corrupt the innocence of children and use them for acts of terrorism. You claim to be against western education yet destroying Nigerian homes, villages and places of worship. It is sad how the horrible cycle created by you radicals could continue. As you harm the innocent, inflict damage on children, tear families apart and destroy villages, you lay the seeds of pain, anger, vengeance and spite in the hearts of the people. These seeds if left to grow would sprout tomorrow’s members, terrorists, militants, and radicals.
I recently visited some of the places you attacked. I visited my village and other neighboring villages in Adamawa state to see the extent of damage you incurred. It was not a pretty sight. I saw how the survivors there lived. I saw how their houses were burnt. I could see pain in the eyes of the people; the children. I wondered why we weren’t fighting back. We were all sitting at the sidelines and pointing fingers. Ask any one about the challenges Nigeria is facing today and you hear many answers. Ask the same set of people what the solutions are and although the voices are quieter, you still hear some answers. Finally, ask these groups of people what steps they are making to solve these problems, and they go silent. What is my point? We, have the attitude of analyzing and complaining about our problems while doing very little to fix them. Our problems are man-made and can be fixed by men and women.
The challenges we face are self-inflicted and so can be remedied by us. You don’t have to be in a position to be in power and you don’t have to be in power to be a change agent. If we help children; if we help these IDPs; if we sponsor the education of the masses, we reduce the chances of these children becoming tomorrow’s insurgents. Countries, legacies, brands and worlds are not built by money, bricks or stone but by mindsets; mindsets created only through education of the masses. Educating the masses that violence is not the way; educating the masses on various ways to fend for themselves; and most importantly, educating the masses on love and care for one another. Mindsets of love, compassion and fidelity are the things that would take Nigeria forward.
So how can we fight back without destroying our country? How can we fight through this terror and safeguard the future of our country? We can tend to the IDPs and ensure they are not left alone to rot and be overcome with hatred. We can look to the children and ensure they are educated enough to see the lies behind this vicious cycle. A nation that places emphasis on children being the future leaders MUST do more to give these children the right tools to lead the country! As Nigerians we should no longer choose to accept whatever happens, but we should be responsible for our actions and the actions of fellow Nigerians.
In order to progress, I believe we should rely on educating the masses and educating our future; ensuring each child gets a primary and secondary school education, to give them a fighting chance in the world; to give Nigeria a fighting chance.  In order to deal with the major challenge facing our Great nation Nigeria, we must come together and take responsibility regardless of our religious, social and ethnic differences. A leader is not just someone in a position but also someone whose personality and attributes are admired and imitated by others. We cannot let the attributes of hate and destruction be assimilated by our leaders of tomorrow. We must fight to safeguard our future. We must make conscious effort to do so. The time for passivity is over Nigeria.
              

      –  Wadi Ben-Hirki

Love Abenii

For the pear’s

2015 is probably the most eventful year of my life. A lot happened. I gained, i lost, i grew, and most importantly learned soo much personally and from people around me. I got to write a short comedy skit and it has over 50,000 views on YouTube ( i don’t mean to gloat),  I got to work with four different magazine’s, and Yawa got nominated for the AMVCA’s (African Magic Viewers Choice Awards). A lot happened and Here are the top 15 lessons i learned this year.

THE POWER OF DUA
  The only place and time i felt genuine comfort whenever i felt down was on a prayer mat while i had a heart to heart with Almighty Allah. Putting my trust and the mystery of what the future holds in his hands, has made me live life differently and helped me be a better person

FOREVER IS EQUIVALENT TO 3 MONTHS.
   whenever a person say’s forever, they might mean a week or two, a month or half a year or in some rare occasions, forever might actually mean forever.

IT’S OKAY TO PUT YOUR SELF FIRST.
  It is very okay to put your happiness first in almost everything you do.

MAN PROPOSES, GOD DISPOSES.
  Every failure is a blessing in disguise. Never question what Allah has planned for you.

DON’T WASTE 3 YEARS OF YOUR LIFE WAITING ON SOMEONE WHO AIN’T SH**T.
  
SELF LOVE IS EVERYTHING.
It all begins with loving yourself, seeing you for the beautiful masterpiece you are will take you far.

MY SOUP GAME TOO STRONG.
  Thanks to everyone who shared their recipe’s  and helped increase my wife material to 1000 yards.

IT’S “JALABIYA” NOT “JALAMIYA”

   I recently discovered I’ve been saying it all wrong my whole life. It took loosing a bet to get the pronunciation right.

YOU CAN LOVE SOMEONE BUT NOT BE IN LOVE WITH THEM
.

  Until two days ago, this sentence made absolutely no sense. Then leemah took it upon herself to explain.

WE ARE NOT GOING TO BE AROUND FOREVER.
      I mean, I’ve always known this part of life, loosing someone is very inevitable in our individual journey. But i never really thought about it from this angle. Something as trivial as flu can take the person you love the most away forever, leaving you with so many unsaid words.

I CAN SUCCESSFULLY MAKE A LUMP FREE PAP
   Yeah! That’s right, i can make a lump free Kunu Tsamiya.

THE ART OF FORGIVING
    It’s actually easier than you think. Stay positive, remember how imperfect we all are, remember no one is above mistakes, turn the table’s and judge as if it were you in the particular circumstance.

JOHANNES WOJUOLA TOBI IS FOREVER MY DAY ONE.
    Lord knows how many times I’ve let him down, but he keeps pushing and encouraging me to be a better leader and  a better person at heart. P.s you remain the smartest person your age i know and you are also the biggest pain in the ass.

GETTING WITH YOUR BESTFRIEND IS A TERRIBLE IDEA.
   It’s all fun and bliss until thing’s go south and the awkwardness goes 100 and you become stranger’s with someone you considered family.

IT’S OKAY TO LOOSE
    I never really understood what it meant to loose and still be a winner at the same time. Up until this year i thought loosing was the criteria for a failure. But i was totally wrong. My Team and i got this job exactly a year ago, our delivery was rather discouraging and our client was disappointed, We went back 9 month’s later. This time, we were stronger and better, the same client took us back, gave us another opportunity and we slayed. They are looking forward to working with us in 2016.

2015 has been an amazing year for me. I’m very grateful to everyone who made this year what it is. I appreciate everyone and respect the individual roles they played. Thanks to those who supported me, believed in me, sent prayers, Trusted me, made me laugh, lied to me, and to everyone who helped share my work, thanks for helping me grow.

Suggestions and criticism on what you want and or Dont want on the blog are welcome.
Contact me via email on sefinahlamii@gmail.com

Don’t forget to vote for Yawa! As best short film and online video on the official AMVCA website. Thank you and stay blessed.

http://amvca2016-awards.dstv.com/nominees/best-short-film-or-online-video_15

Use up your 100 votes and remember to tell a friend to tell a friend.

Season’s greetings beautiful people.