The Long Kiss Goodbye

She could feel his presence in the room

She didn’t have to turn around to confirm if he was there. Her intuition had already done her the honours. She just stood facing the wall, her heart rate racing faster than a speeding bullet as she waited for him to come to her.

The atmosphere was charged and her body responded to it. Her skin increased its sensitivity and a shiver travelled down her spine. She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. Her nipples were hard and clearly visible under the light fabric of her negligee. This time, she wore it for him as she knew he loved seeing her in it. No one said anything, they both knew that words would only ruin the moment for them. Besides, they had nothing to say to each other

He touched her and suddenly, a brilliant white light flashed before her eyes. She shut them; afraid that the light would deprive her of her sight. He ran his hand down her bare skin: touching, teasing, caressing, daring her to let herself go and fall into him completely and she felt the strength leave her knees as they began to wobble. She had to plant her hands on the wall to steady herself.

She heard him chuckle behind her knowing her had hit the right spot. He kissed her in different places and threw hear head back with a soft moan. Her ears, her neck, her back were already tingling from his kisses and she was afraid that she wouldn’t survive any more of his teasing. Her moans became intense as his hand reached under her negligee, finding one full breast and giving it a gentle squeeze. She ground her hips against him, feeling the tremors going through her body as she neared climax

‘Ugo! What are you doing?’
Her eyes snap open and she turns around. Her sister stood alone in the room; a mixed look of worry and confusion on her face. Ugo glances furtively around the room
‘Where is he? Where did he go?’
‘Who?’
‘Dozie now! He was here just now. Didn’t you see him outside?’
‘Ugo’ Amaka takes her sister’s hand ‘You really shouldn’t do this to yourself’
‘Do what? I’m telling you Dozie was here and you’re saying something else. What is wrong with you?’
‘Dozie isn’t here Ugo. He’s dead! He died in a car crash a month ago remember? And we’re burying him today. You should stop hallucinating; it’s not doing you any good’

Ugo jerks her hand free and runs to the window hoping that she would see Dozie standing there and she can prove her sister wrong. There were a group of people standing outside; mourners who had come to accompany her to the funeral but Dozie wasn’t amongst them. Disappointment takes over and she slowly sits down on the bed, her face in her hands, her tears running through her fingers as the reality of Dozie’s death hit her with the force of a hammer striking an anvil.

Amaka sits beside her putting an arm around her shoulders for comfort and waits for her as her grief and loneliness ran with her tears. All done with her sobs, she picks up a wrapper from the bed and wipes her face with it

Amaka squeezes ‘You really should get ready now. Everyone’s waiting for you and the service starts in an hour. I’ll be in the living room if you need anything okay?’

Ugo just nods and Amaka goes to the living room, allowing her to get dressed in private. As she gets dressed, her eyes travel to the picture of herself and Dozie on their wedding day. A young and happy couple, looking forward to a bright and blissful future together

A future that was abruptly shattered by a drunken tanker driver

MY WACKY LAGOS RAIN EXPERIENCE

No one gave me a warning

Not even the sky that was so clear when I left home that Thursday morning in my usual fashion of speeding out the door. I barely managed to utter a ‘good morning’ to my dad who was already engrossed in his daily ritual: deep thinking with his elbow on the arm rest and his index finger resting on his upper lip. Staring at nothing in particular Mum wasn’t going to school that day which meant I wasn’t going to get my daily drop off at the bus-stop closest to where I board my fully air conditioned BRT bus (Fashola God Bless You!!!). So I had to do what I had been dreading for months: board a bike to Yaba bus stop.

It was something I couldn’t avoid especially when someone at the office had decided to re-activate our timer which meant everyone had to be at the office latest 9am sharp. 9:05am was considered late and unacceptable (Like I don’t stay at work for close to 2hrs past closing time) Anyway, I finally got to the BRT bus, settled in and shortly afterwards, I was joined by my friend and colleague, Afi. The bus began to move and we carried on gisting about anything and everything.

The weather didn’t change until we got to Marina. The sky was dark and little drops of rain began to pelt the windscreen as it began to drizzle. I turned to Afi

‘ Afi it’s raining o!’

‘Chei’ she responds ‘And my umbrella’s at home o. I should have taken it since Enuka told me it was raining on the Island’

‘What do we do?’ I asked ‘Because what if we get to Obalende and we can’t get a bike to take us to the office’

We then decided that we would get down at CMS bus-stop and then take a Taxi to the office from there By the time we got to CMS bus-stop, the rain had begun to pour and traffic had built up on the road. Afi suggested that we follow the bus down to Obalende because there was little or no chance of us getting either a good shelter, or a taxi. The thought of the dirty, smelly Obalende water struck my mind and I hoped against all hope that I was over imagining things.

Obalende, turned out to be worse. Everywhere was flooded. We thought the BRT bus was going to park at the terminus and so we declined to come down under the bridge where he had stopped for some passengers to come down. We were about to kick off our shoes and relax when he suddenly made a complete U-Turn to face the opposite direction. He wasn’t going to the Terminus; he was going back to Yaba! So there we were standing under the bridge and looking very confused.

'Shit!' I muttered under my breath and kept promising myself how I'd do everything in my power to get my self a car.

There was no way we could take a bike as we would have been soaked to our underwear before we got to the office. Taxis weren’t forthcoming and we were desperate to get out of the filthy area so we decided to go for the next best option: Keke Marwa We finally got one, complete with rubber curtains to keep out the rain and we were grateful for the relief. Unknown to us, there was more wahala up ahead. Instead of going through the normal Moloney route, the guy turned into St Gregory’s road so he could link up through Awolowo road. We didn’t say anything. We just sat back and let the guy drive. As long as he was going to drop us off in front of the office, I wasn’t bothered what route he was going to make use of to achieve this.

Then I saw the flood. It was up ahead and the water was so high, it nearly touched the side windows of the cars that waded through it. I looked at the driver. I hoped he saw what I seeing but he remained unfazed and proceeded to wade through the flood as well

And so we went Chu chu chu chu!

The vehicle jiggled as the driver manoeuvred it through the flood. Then smack right in the middle of it, the vehicle gave a shudder and the engine died there! Afi and I panicked. We were right in the middle of the dirty, filthy, smelly Obalende water!

‘Shit’ I muttered and instinctively raised my legs to keep the water from touching my feet ‘

Ye! Wahala!’ Afi exclaimed and raised her legs as well.

The driver tried to start the car. Once..twice...thrice...still it didn’t budge. He got down and began to push the Keke to higher ground. At a pont, the keke shook and we were nervous about it turning over. We were laughing quite alright but the kind of laugh where deep inside, you’re thinking ‘Chei Gbese!’

'If this keke should tumble over’ Afi began ‘I’m going straight home. I will not go to work!’

Another keke passed us by and the stupid driver forgot that he was driving a Keke and not a Trailer. His Keke gave an agonizing cry and like we say in pidgin 'Pafukaed' there in the flood. Our driver kept trying to start his Keke but the machine refused to listen to him. Apprehension began to build in me. I thought of the vermin that could be crawling around in this flood. There was no way I was going to get down in the middle of the flood and wade my way through it! I didn’t care if we sat down there till noon. I wasn’t going anywhere in the rain. Afi bowed her head and closed her eyes, praying to God to leave whoever he must be rescuing in VI flood and come get us out of here.

And He did hear her because after what seemed like the 10th attempt, the keke finally came to life. We heaved a sigh of relief and commanded the driver to do a complete U-Turn. As we made our way to the office, I found it amusing that we were coming in Chinese style and for a brief moment, I changed my name to Xing Li (Whatever the hell that means)

Later that night, I related the story to my mum and brother. They laughed so hard that I was scared I would have to explain to my dad why there were 2 heart attacks in his house.

But at the end of it all, like all other experiences, I think back to that day and I laugh

Let Go- A short story

The sudden ringing of my phone startled me out of sleep, sending me into a confused frenzy. I had the mind to fling it at the wall so it can shatter along with its blasted alarm but then I remembered that it cost me an arm and a leg to buy the damn phone so I stuffed it under my pillow and hoped it would stop anytime soon.

I got out of bed with a sense of dread hanging around me like some poisoned aura. To be frank, I didn’t want to get out of bed. I just wanted to sleep for as long as I wanted and when I woke up, there’d be some toast and a cup of hot Milo waiting for me on the dining table, plus a copy of the day’s newspaper and my favorite magazine. Mum said that would only be possible when I’m super rich and didn’t have to work for anyone for the rest of my life. For now, I was just an employee, one of the participants in this seemingly endless rat race and most times I feel as if my Ferris wheel spins faster than others.

I hate my job. That was the primary reason why I didn’t want to go to work today. I was overworked, underpaid, unfulfilled and unhappy. I wasn’t getting the job satisfaction I hear people preach about all over the place. At a point, I accepted the that such a concept doesn’t exist, that people only claim it just because they’re ashamed of actually coming out and admitting it. We’re all a bunch of mice, running in the Ferris wheel of life. Some of us are hurting, yet as we’re conditioned by society, we just have to grin and bear it.

The ride to work was just like every other Monday. People were agitated, grumpy, irritated and aggressive at 7am in the morning. Who would blame them? Maybe like me, they didn’t want the weekend to end and have to deal with the harsh reality of another working week thrown in their faces. I wished that I would get to work and hear that it’s a public holiday so there’s no work. I don’t work for the government so I can’t even wish for a worker’s strike.

I had barely sat down in the when my Head of Department came screaming at me, her veins visible under her over bleached skin. No wonder at thirty eight, she still wasn’t married. What man in his right mind will want to marry someone who looked like she just came out of a Star Wars movie? I didn’t want to imagine what she’d look like in a negligee. That thought almost made me throw up. By 2pm I was unarguably tired and depressed. My brain refused to function and I was emotionally drained. I felt as if a heavy burden had descended on me and I could feel its weight pushing down on me. I needed to get out, I needed to break out of these chains that tie me down and run free. I felt caged and I needed to get out but I didn’t know how.

Out of nowhere, a tear slid down my cheek. That was when I knew that I had been crying. Everybody walked by me, no one stopped to ask what was wrong. They were too engrossed in their own world to notice that mine was falling apart. An image of the letter I received from my boyfriend flashed through my mind. A man I had given the best nine years of my life woke up one morning and decided that I wasn’t going to be a part of his future. All my efforts and hard work, not to talk about my emotional investment for the past nine years, went down the drain. I felt like a failure, I had failed in my career, I had failed in my love life… I had failed in life. Then I remembered an advice I read on one of these random sites I used to visit whenever I had nothing better to do with my time. It said that whenever one feels stuck in the rut in life, the best thing to do was to let go. Then it struck me, I could let it all go. Say ‘to hell with all this’ and just fly away. I smiled to myself. That was what I was going to do.

No one noticed when I walked to the balcony of our office. Situated on the tenth floor of the office it had a good view of the city and was a perfect spot for those who wanted to spend some time reflecting on issues. I didn’t want to reflect, I wanted to break free and let it all go.

I stepped on the railings and took one deep breath. This time, the air was different…somewhat sweet. I took one more breath and one step forward

The last thing I heard as I stepped off the balcony was a piercing scream. As I descended, my entire life flashed before my eyes. I saw myself in primary school playing with my friends… secondary school when I had my first boyfriend and my first kiss…university when I lost my virginity…I saw my mother, father, my siblings, my best friends…then I saw my friends who I had lost along the way and my grandfather who died ten years ago . They were smiling at me and my grandfather had an outstretched hand. I smiled back, reached out to him and closed my eyes

Sickness & Death for sale

Last night, my mother reported our domestic help to me

The girl had gone to buy bread which was to be used as breakfast for the family and without checking the bread, put it in her bag and skipped back home. When my father had settled down to eat, he picked up the loaf and noticed a foul smell coming from it. On further inspection, it was discovered that our girl was given a loaf of bread which had fallen on feaces. She was ordered to take it back and took another one instead

One to be easily irritated and sickened by disgusting stuff, I called the girl and gave her some serious tongue drilling on hygiene and how she’s supposed to be vigilant at all times especially when buying things that people put in their mouths.

Its common knowledge that most of the illnesses people suffer is as a result of what they eat but what got to me the most was the fact that these guys knew that there was something wrong with that loaf of bread yet out of greed and lust for money they decided to kill their conscience, turn a blind eye and put the money in their pockets without the slightest regard for the consequences that would follow.

People put poisonous substances in toothpaste, soft drinks and goodness knows what else because the chemicals are cheaper than the standard ones which are supposed to be used and safer as well. They don’t care that hundreds of people could die... that parents could loose their babies and little children... that children could loose their mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters... that a lot of families could be thrown into an eternal grief that even time cannot heal. All they care about is the profit they would make and how rich they were going to be in the next 2-3 months.

Thanks to man’s greed, one can buy illness and death at any price they want. For N20, you can buy an orange which had fallen into the gutter and wasn’t properly washed but wiped with a dirty cloth or wrapper (Oh yeah I've seen that one happen). For N100-N120 you can buy a loaf of bread which has been contaminated by the deadliest bacteria you can find under the microscope, for N500 or more one can buy a teething mixture that would cut down the life of an innocent little child without giving that child a chance to see the world or become the person he/she was destined to become.

The quest for wealth and affluence has made killers out of a lot of people and as long as it isn’t any relative of theirs, they don’t care.

May the good Lord continue to help us all and may instant judgment come down upon those who know the implications of these actions yet they choose to tread the path of sickness and death in their search for instant money

Emptiness

'I feel so empty & hollow inside; I can't find the right words to describe it. If this is the same feeling people have before committing suicide, then I'm scared'

That was the content of an SMS I had sent to a friend yesterday. What I got was the fastest call back ever in the history of my using a gsm phone. My friend was concerned about how I was feeling and was more worried when I explained further that it's so deep that I can't put my finger on it.

These past days have been the most depressing period I have experienced since my relationship crashed some years ago. When it first happened, I took it as one of those momentary mood swings that disappear as fast as it came. But I was wrong

It’s been days now and I can’t shake off the feeling

Empty...unfulfilled...unhappy. That's the major feeling I've been having these past couple of days. Throw in the drain that I feel emotionally and psychologically and you have the perfect picture of what I'm going through.

I don’t like where I am, I’m not satisfied with where I am. I want more and I know that it’s out there but I’m afraid to step out of my comfort zone. Questions continue to plague my mind

‘What if you don’t get something when you eventually get out?’

My mother and some of my friends don’t seem to make it any better. They keep feeding my fear with their ‘advice’

‘You had better stay where you are until you get something else’

‘Don’t make that mistake o! it’s really difficult out there when you don’t have something to fall back on’

If only they knew what it’s like to have your energy drained out of you. To watch the days go by feeling like you’re only existing and not living. To have your heart feel so heavy and be depressed for no reason.

If only they knew

What am I to do? Do I make the blind jump and trust the fact that by some twist of fate, something else will fall on my lap

Or do I stay put and continue to endure emotional and psychological suffering just for the sake of security?

I don’t know. but I know one thing

I am not satisfied hence, I am unhappy...yet I am afraid

THIRD PAINLAND BRIDGE!

A facebook friend (lol) of mine, sent this hilarious story to me and I wanted to share the humor with everyone who visits this blog. It's titled THIRD PAINLAND BRIDGE by Gbenga X-Adebija and it's an excerpt from his forthcoming collection of short stories titled STORYTELLA.

Read and Enjoy!

THIRD PAINLAND BRIDGE!

Like most folks who live and work on Lagos Mainland, any trip to Lagos Island is cause for significant apprehension and trepidation. Having been traumatized a few times over the years by the mind-boggling hold-ups on third mainland bridge, I had consequently limited any trips to the island to family outings at weekends when there would be virtually no traffic on the bridge. Alas, this blissful state was totally shattered when much to my chagrin, a significant percentage of my clients are based on the island. This means numerous meetings on Ikoyi and Victoria Island, via the third mainland bridge. The eve of any such meetings would mostly be spent in a dark and somber state of mind, a thick cloud of melancholy enveloping my mood. The following day’s trip was an unfolding nightmare which I could not control. Being a “novice” at such matters, I often misjudged the traffic and quite a few times ended up hours in advance of scheduled appointments. On one of such occasions, anticipating heavy traffic, I took off early(too early!) and found myself with about 3 hours to kill. An unwise decision to detour and look up an old friend meant I just about made the appointment with a few minutes to spare! Needless to say, I spent the first part of the meeting simply nodding in agreement with everyone and looking “wise”! I was only trying to catch my breath, phew!

Another meeting on another day and I approach the third mainland bridge. My heart sinks when I see the massive stretch of vehicles. It looks like the New York Marathon on wheels! This is despite the fact that I left home relatively early in the morning for a mid-day appointment on the island.

Una no dey sleep for this Lagos? I wonder.

There must have been at least five lanes and I gingerly maneuver into the nearest accessible one. It is somewhat central and hemmed in between a massive truck and a large staff bus, I start feeling slightly claustrophobic! I wind down the windows and look around. Most of my new “neighbours” seem fatigued(not enough sleep, perhaps?) and their faces look grim. Minutes roll by and we remain immobile, no movement. Gawd! One of the cars slightly ahead of me to the side contains a couple and the wife is seriously berating the man who seats with slumped shoulders. From the bits and pieces of what I hear, the man is responsible for their lateness and subsequent plight in traffic that morning. Hmmm.. strange because women are far more likely to be the cause of lateness than men?(any female readers out there with a different opinion? Email gadebija@yahoo.com).

Anyway, I must have been doing “amebo” rather too obviously, because the man suddenly sits up and swings around to glare at me. His face is contorted in anger. Talk about transferred aggression! I quickly pretend to drop something on the floor of the car and bend down out of sight of his murderous glare. I remain motionless until I suddenly hear loud blaring of horns and raised voices. Gingerly, I straighten up only to find that the vehicles in front of me have moved a few yards ahead. All around and behind me, the “neighbours” are angrily questioning both my ancestry and mental stability. Quickly, I drive the car forward taking care to move as far as possible from “Mr husband” who is still looking daggers at me. I am over six feet and about two hundred pounds so “Mr husband” would probably suffer a rude shock if he is foolhardy enough to press the issue, but still, I am taking no chances o! For all I know he could be an expert in martial arts!

My car draws level with a Toyota Camry filled with girls. Now, that’s better! The girl driving the car looks casually in my direction and then suddenly smiles. I return the smile, happy to see a friendly face after “Mr husband’s” savage scowls(Editor’s comment: yeah right!)

“Your face looks familiar” she says

The girls in the car also look at me. This goes on for sometime and I manage to keep a straight face.

“Are you an actor or a model or something?” girl- driver asks.

“Me? No way!” I answer.

“So, how come your face looks familiar?” she persists.

Again, I am subjected to intense scrutiny by five pairs of eyes.

One of the girls in the back leans forward and whispers something to girl- driver.

“My sister says she has seen you on TV. Have you been on TV before?”

I reply in the affirmative.

Girl-whisperer leans forward again.

“What’s your name?” asks girl- driver

“Gbenga”

Another mini-conference among the girls ensues.

Girl- driver looked across at me “You were a judge on The Intern abi?”

“Yes,” I confirm

Girl-whisperer speaks aloud for the first time. Girl Aloud?

“And why have you stopped writing for ThisDay ?”

Yeeee!

Images of my editor, Gabriella Osamor, flash through my mind. Let me say here that Gabriella has two methods, both equally persuasive, of getting what she wants. Method A is a systematic and calculated avalanche of calls/text messages while Method B is ominous silence. I frantically try to remember the last time I wrote my column, two weeks? Three weeks? Can’t remember.

Wahala!

Dimly, I become aware that one of the girls is asking me a question.

“Sorry, what did you say?” I apologize.

“Do you have Ebuka’s number? He is soooo cute!” she gushes.

I search my phone and call out Ebuka’s number. The girls whip out their handsets and store the number.

“Is he a nice guy?” one of the girls smiles coyly

“Very, very nice” I say. I make a mental note to compel Ebuka to “settle” me. All the PR must be paid for!

The girls wave goodbye as the line begins to move again. When the cars inevitably halts, I find myself at the edge of the lane closest to the water. Suddenly, extremely unwisely, I start to remember all the mails on the internet about real or imagined structural defects of the bridge. Infact, a group of Nigerians in Los Angeles held me “hostage” on a recent visit to inquire about the health status of the bridge. I recall being touched by their concern for relatives and friends back “home” who frequently used the bridge and my fervent assurances seemed to provide great relief. However, the truth was that I knew absolutely nothing about the bridge but I did not think it was a good idea to reinforce their fears!

I peer over the rails on the bridge and stare at the mass of water. God forbid, that anything should happen o, because I can’t swim! No movement at all. I vaguely recall reading about a 4^th Mainland Bridge in the works. About time too! Suddenly, I hear something alarming. Eh? Wetin be dat? The bridge is shaking? Help! Anyway, we finally start moving again. I look at my watch. Two hours have gone by. What a waste of time and manpower. Have there been any studies to track how much the country loses on a daily basis?

My thoughts are interrupted by a dark and swarthy man tapping on my window. I wind down to attend to him.

“Oga, buy correct and latest CD and DVD” he beams at me.

My eyes rove through his inventory which seemed to be rather extensive. I have a few reservations about the quality of the offers, so decide to turn him down very nicely.

“Do you have the latest CD by Engelbert Humperdinck?”

His eyes bulge with surprise and shock.

“wetin be dat?” he gasps

I maintain a poker face.

“Engelbert Humperdinck. That’s the only music I listen to”

His sales instincts kick in smoothly

“ I get am but I just sell the last one, now now. ” he tells me

I spread my arms in an exaggerated gesture of despair

“E pain me say you no get Engelbert Humperdinck o!” I say

He shrugs disconsolately.

“Maybe one of your friends fit get. Why don’t you ask around for me?” I suggest

His face brightens

“Ok, I go try” he declares

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him approach one of his colleagues. After a few moments both of them turn to stare at me and approach my vehicle.

“Ethelbert wetin you call am oga?” the other one asks

“No be Ethelbert, na Engelbert” I correct him.

Both men exchange glances

“Im be naija man?” one asks

I laugh heartily

“No, na oyinbo man”

A slight pause

“I thought you said you had his CD” I say accusingly.

He looks somewhat sheepish

“Na Ethelbert Humphrey Dick I get” he blusters

Now it is my turn to look perplexed.

“Who be dat?”

A triumphant look alights on the face of the CD vendor’s face

“Oga, e be like say you no current at all o!”

With that parting shot, he bids farewell and saunters away.

Yeee!!

To console myself, I switch on the car cd and insert a CD of rock and heavy metal songs. (And yes, it includes a track by Engelbert Humperdink!). A few minutes later, I somehow find myself side by side with my arch enemy, “Mr husband” himself! We eyeball each other and he looks away. Either he has forgotten about the incident which happened two hours previously or he has “forgiven” me. Either way, bless him! Because, now that I have a closer look at “Mr husband” I can see that he more than matches me in size and other physical attributes! There is a standstill, no movement for about ten minutes, but I continue to enjoy the rock music from Red Hot Chili Peppers, Bon Jovi, Guns & Roses, blaring from my CD player.

My thoughts are suddenly interrupted .

“Mr Man, what kind of music is that now?”

I could not believe my ears. Leaning across to address me is “Mrs wife”

“Good morning Madam, are you talking to me? I politely respond

“Yes, you. Why are you playing all that demonic music early this morning?”

My jaw drops open.

“I don’t know what is wrong with some people. Why can’t you play music that will edify your soul and people around you?”

I am totally speechless. Unbelievable!

She continues to harangue me

“Not that I am harassing you(oh really?) but I am just advising you for your own good because I am an evangelist(oh really?) and your soul will be on my conscience(oh really?) if I don’t warn you of the consequences of what you are doing”

I turn to appeal to “Mr husband” to call his wife to order and I am further shocked by what I see.

His face is wreathed in smiles! He then winks at me and pleadingly signals for me to ignore her.

So, I reach forward and turn off the car CD.

“Ok, Madam. Thanks for your advice.” I say

She looks pleased at her “victory”.

“God bless you and let me invite you to my church”

I listen with feigned interest as she gives me the details.

“Thank you, Madam”

She wags a warning finger as traffic starts to move

“See you on Sunday o!”

Yeah, right….

I am Impatient

I am impatient by nature. I have never hidden it

I have long accepted the fact that patience is a virtue I cannot boast of having.
An acceptance which has long put me at peace with my self

I don’t suffer fools gladly and I see no reason why I should be around you if we cannot indulge ourselves in some degree of creative & intellectual sparring ( And I don’t mean all those Chemistry or History notes you crammed to pass while you were in school- try engaging me in that and I’ll be sure to flee from you. Not out of insecurity but just plain boredom!)

I don’t have the patience to wait for people to learn the same lesson over & over again especially when they’ve heard it 20 times before

I don’t have patience for people who are sluggish in nature, dragging their feet until the soles of their shoes scream for mercy

I don’t have patience for the cashier at the bank who takes a clear 20mins to perform a simple transaction- an exercise which is usually done in 10 mins, sometimes less

I don’t have the patience to sit down and wait for hours for something which technology has made possible to have in a matter of minutes

I don’t have the patience to wait for a webpage to load and tug at my hair, looking for strands of grey hair while I wait for emails to be sent or for files to attach

I don’t have patience for people who call themselves educated and yet their behaviors are worse than those of the people in the villages

I don't have patience for people who drive like they got their driving lessons from monkeys in the wild.

I don’t have patience for people transferring their aggression to me like I’m the one who’s responsible for the way they’re feeling- I’ve got enough of my own issues to deal with and clearly I don’t want yours!

I don't have patience for 'control freaks' and 'busy bodies'. Always trying to pry into your private life and take whatever control they can have over it- Quit minding my business and mind yours for a change!

I don't have patience for people who keep promising they won't do something again, yet they go back and do the same damn thing- If you've not learned the lesson yet then quit wasting my time & yours

I don’t have patience for snobbish, arrogant, rude & saucy people who treat others in a condescending manner just because they ‘believe’ they’re better financially & socially – like hell you are!

I don’t have patience for a boyfriend who likes to behave like he’s the best thing that has ever happened to me since the sanitary pad and goes on to disrespect me & my feelings. He should be intelligent enough to know where the door is so I don’t have to waste my energy showing it to him.

I don’t have patience for a friend who berates me and finds fault in everything I do and every decision I take just to make herself feel better-Go find someone else to ease your insecurities for you

I don’t have patience for whiners. They whine and whine about anything and everything and in the process, they drain your energy as well leaving you depressed for no reason- who said misery doesn’t love company? Quit whining and do something about it!

I don’t have patience for a lazy person who doesn’t want to make something out of him/herself but is content with mooching off others- either you get a life or you get the hell out of mine!

I don’t have the patience. It’s that simple.
I am what I say I am. I am impatient

Prejudice

A relative of mine believes that the Yorubas are the worst people to walk the face of the earth. A colleague at work would rather die or remain a spinster for life than marry an Ibo man. Some people look at the Hausas with the same suspicion with which an American/European looks at his fellow man from the Middle East. They think 'north and the only picture that comes to their minds are violence and the senseless slaughter of innocent people. Say Binni person to some and the next word that comes out of their mouths is 'Witchcraft'. Makes me wonder 'so which is the perfect ethnic group'?

Is it the Yoruba who are seen as deceitful, two faced walking Nigerian versions of ‘Judas Iscariot’? whose men are known to be irresponsible when it comes to marriages indulging themselves in 15 to 20 mistresses outside when they clearly have 1 or 2 wives at home? Who are also seen as highly fetish and heavy ‘juju’ practitioners?

Is it the Ibo, who is seen as a greedy, shrewd and manipulative money worshiper? Whose love for wealth and affluence pushes them to throw away all moral dictates that they learn and take part in money making rituals which more often than not, leads to loss of lives or sanity? Who are known to make a young widow drink the water used in washing her husband’s corpse just to prove that she’s innocent and has no hand in his death?

Is it the Hausa who has no qualms about drawing his dagger and stabbing his neighbor from the south with whom ironically, he had shared lunch just hours ago thanks so some religious radicalism?

People at some point or the other, have consciously or unconsciously allowed ethnic prejudice to cloud their perceptions and views of someone or some people. Now I’m not talking about the village people who know no other place than their home towns. I’m talking about the so called enlightened, educated people. The doctors, the bank executives, the engineers, the lawyers, the architects, the lecturers, the business executives. They claim to be enlightened, yet you would hear these same people say ‘Lai lai! I can never marry anyone who’s not from my tribe’

Another surprising bunch are the so called ‘Christians’. They claim to be children of God: you’d go to church and they’re the ones sitting in the first row. When it’s time for praise worship they’re the ones who sing and clap the loudest. When it’s time for prayers, they speak in tongues more advanced than that of the pastor. Those same lips with which they howl unto God are the same lips with which they’ll go out and say ‘Omo Ibo ke? Olorun ma je!’ ‘Onye Yoruba? Tufiakwa!’ indirectly telling God that He did a bad job by creating such an ethnic group. So much for being children of God. What a bunch of hypocrites!

People have forgotten that we have to deal with people on an individual basis and not as a member of an ethnic group. Ok so you had a bad experience with someone else from that group, is it fair to judge everyone because of that? I used to tell my mum that if Jesus was a tribalist, he wouldn’t waste his time dying for the whole world. He would have died for the Jews alone and that was it! We wouldn’t get a shot at Heaven. But He chose to die for you as an individual not as an Ibo, Yoruba, Hausa or Efik person

I hope that one day, I would go out and no one will judge me based on my ethnicity. That I would be seen as ‘Rita the individual’ and not ‘Rita the Ibo girl’. That I would stop hearing people make prejudiced comments about any tribe. Statements to that effect sickens me each time I hear them

If you have a problem with them, why don’t you go up to God and say ‘Look! You really did a bad job creating that tribe’. I can imagine Him looking at you and saying ‘What makes you think yours is any better’?

And while you’re giving a list of 10 reasons why that tribe isn’t good, be sure to know that there’s also a list of 10 reasons why yours are seen as the scum of the earth!

New Year Resolutions??? I don't think so

So the clock struck midnight on January 1, 2009. Like my other christian brothers and sisters, I was in church thanking God for the year 2008 and believing for the best in 2009. We prayed, we sang, we praised the Lord, wished each other Happy New Year as we watched fireworks go off....I got calls from 2 of my closest friends, one in the UK, the other in the United States. It was my typical entry into the new year except for one thing....I did not have a New Year's resolution and frankly, I didn't want to have any.

The past years have seen me start off with one New Year's resolution or the other ' I will write more...I will exercise more....I will gain more weight (this was when my parents labeled me 'anorexic' and threatened to send me off to the hospital for a marathon of tests)...I will loose weight (when my jeans were getting too tight and my pocket wasn't in the mood to buy more)...I will work harder.....I will control my emotions...I will pay off all my debts...I'll never borrow money from family & friends again....I will be financially independent'...the list is endless. But in the end, these resolutions get shot out of the sky and never go beyond January 10th.

I have then come to the conclusion that like rules, resolutions are made to be broken. We say them because we try to fulfill all righteousness to ourselves that at least we ought to have one and in the end, we feel no guilt or disappointment when they're broken.

So instead of making resolutions this year, I decided to challenge myself and have goals instead. At least I'll know that I have failed (A feeling I have grown to hate so much) when I don't meet those goals and that propels me to work towards them.

Anyone who made resolutions, good luck to you guys. By the end of the month, I'll definitely come and ask you how far with your resolutions

Shalom!