A Knotty Affair-2

He had his bath with the scented soap his sister bought for him, he was suddenly grateful for her insistence on his taking the soap even though he said it wasn’t manly to smell like a flower. With his towel slung around his neck and his green and black boxers riding on his narrow waist, he hurried to his room to change into the clothes he had picked out the previous day.

“Guy this one wey you dey spray perfume for this kind hot afternoon, you don arrange babe?” Osaro, his roommate asked from his bed across the room.

“This one fit arrange babe? He dey spray the thing for him books them. Last, last na book he go marry.” John said from his perch on the top bunk.

A Knotty Affair.

He wanted to ask where she had gotten the gun from, it was easier to be practical than to try to unravel the knots, tangles and mazes that brought them to the point where his wife calmly- even casually, promised to stain the wall behind his head with his blood and pieces of his brain.

“Ehi…” he began.

“Ehi calm down? Ehi be rational? Isn’t that what you are going to say?” each word hitting him with the force of bullets.

Mrs Shebi

A facebook post by my friend Chimamaka about her niece reminds me of an incident that occurred when I was nearly six, just before my baby brother was born. My grandparents lived very close to us, going to see my grandmother/father involved coming out of the house and walking 10 child steps to the road, crossing the road and walking past one long house before jumping into her shop where I was assured Coca-cola or maltina, or whatever I wanted to wash down the liver from her goat meat peppersoup that she always had ready for me. My brothers and I would fly to her for hugs even if we had seen her an hour before, she gave the best hugs at the time.

Love between onion rings.

When you told me I would miss you, I did not think it would hit me the most as I stand in the kitchen with an onion on the counter and a knife in my hand. The tears on my cheeks can be explained as the effects of the heavy sounding chemicals and reactions between the onion and those eyes that enthralled you, but I know different. I know it is you that makes my eyes wet and pulls my heart downwards.

Sisi with shiny eyes.

The Voices…

You left home at 6:49 in a rush because you were nineteen minutes late, but not before applying an extra coat of the indigo lipstick that makes little children wail when you smile at them. You tried to stop a bike but he looked at your lips and shook his head, his action made you grimace and decide to head to Kilo instead of the Lawanson you’d been aiming for. Finding your way to Kilo would involve two different keke rides or one keke and one okada, you chose the latter option even before you began.

Even if my heart would break.

I’ve spent a great chunk of this week perched on a chair, arranging ‘stock’ on shelves with headphones blocking out aggravation or just letting music from my fill the room as I work. Today, I chose to listen to Dave Koz and Kenny G- card carrying smooth jazz fan in da building, I was listening to Kenny G’s ‘even if my heart would break’ when I realised I wasn’t alone, I had been joined by the young man who installed the shelves days before.