No means no

No means no

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For the girl, who screamed No
Till her voice was hoarse-
From yelling,
From screaming,
Pleading- for them to stop.

And her blood stained clothes,
Weren’t evidence enough;
And the length,
Of her skirt-
Was brought into question.

For the girl turned down,
By those who swore to protect her-
Cause good girls,
Aren’t out,
At such time of the night.

For the girl whose strength was burnt,
With one statement to the ground;
Did you resist,
I said No.
Well, is that all you said, No?

For the girl who built her world,
From the rubbles of the past,
Born from anger,
Fuelled with pain,
Watered with hope in order to say-

To the girl, who screams No,
And is told, It isn’t enough.
No means No,
It is enough.

In response to the daily prompt- Resist

The above image is courtesy of Sos safety magazine

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Nature’s Embrace-

Nature’s Embrace-

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For her luxury is the sight,
Of a cloudless sky;
Golden rays streaming,
Unfiltered, through cracks.

It’s the crowing of hens,
At the first string of light,
And the tune- of mocking birds,
Singing their hearts.

It’s the softness of wool,
On the skin of her Lambs;
Radiating, “we’re here for you”,
Entwined in her arms.

Luxury is her knees,
In friction with the ground;
With her forehead in prostrate,
As she speaks- to her Lord.

Luxury is the wind,
Sweeping across her face;
With her feet in the grass,
In nature’s sweet embrace.

The above iMage is courtesy of Own Skin.com

How Puberty did me wrong

How Puberty did me wrong

I don’t think 400 words is going to be enough for me to talk about this but still, here goes. Today for free write, I decided to tackle PUBERTY! A stage I’m pretty sure everyone reading this has gone through. Well, I ain’t got any love for puberty. It did me bad, real bad. I remember seeing many girls blossom into barbies when they hit puberty. I didn’t think I was going to turn into one of them, no, but I also didn’t think puberty would hate me so much and do me so wrongly.

First from a mere 33kg at the beginning of middle school, by the time I graduated I was over 55kg (thanks Puberty). And then came the Pimples. Well, they weren’t really pimples more like rashes. They were all over my face and neck. My lord, I looked like a hornet of baby bees. I remember someone (a friend) when he saw my face, suggested that maybe I should begin to cover up with a veil (we call it Niqab). It’s the veil that some Muslims cover their faces with; he suggested it cause my face looked that bad.

And when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, ‘Hormonal Imbalance’. Ever been on your period for more than two weeks? It is the most uncomfortable thing ever! At first, I didn’t think something was wrong. But then 3 days, 5days, 7days passed and the period didn’t stop. I could use up a whole packet of Pad in just one day. The flow was so much that the blood clotted.

In the 2nd week of my period, I remember standing with my classmates (who were boys) talking and then, I felt a dribble down my leg. I look down, It was Blood! I ran to the toilet like it was nobody’s business. And it was barely an hour since I changed. For someone who on a regular period had little flow, it was a huge change.

Later on that same day, I was sitting in the class with my girl friend and a bunch of boys playing whot. I had a feeling something was wrong so I whispered to Musa (the girl) that I’d stand up and she should check me. When she did, I wasn’t just stained, the whole of the Neon Yellow chair I was sitting on was now Red. Oh Lord! I was mortified.

I just sat down there, scared, angry, frustrated, you name it! And it felt like the boys were never going to leave. One minor embarrassing detail I intentionally forgot to add is, I could see one or two flies circling around me (that was real embarrassing).

I would explain how I finally left the class, cleaned up the chair and walked all the way to the main gate of the school in my now ‘red skirt’, but maybe in another post. I’d say this- When I got to the school gate, the first thing we did (I and Musa) was call my mum to pick us up, and the hospital was the next stop.

Day 4: serially Lost

Day 4: serially Lost

She picks up the phome, ‘mama, I need help’ ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me’

She was trembling, shaking, barely getting the words out. Okay, I was trembling and shaking barely getting the words out. The tears were streaming out, my nose was clogged, and my head was spinning. I knew I couldn’t take it anymore, I couldn’t handle it. There is only so much a teenage soul can take. Teenage soul, or rather an adult soul, I was turning 18 that day.

For almost a week, I could barely hold myself together. A week of hell on earth. The only person I trusted enough was over a thousand miles away from me, my mother. I didn’t know what was happening. I wake up in the morning feeling good and then slip into the depressive cycle. I was way behind In school- I stopped going to school. Nothing felt right anymore. I could barely eat, I was losing weight ( which at the time I thought was the only good thing, to become slim again).

“Baby, breathe” …
Stop crying and explain to me, what’s going on?”
Mama, I don’t know”, I managed to say amid the sniffs

How do I explain to her, I feel like my head is about to explode, my body is trembling and I can’t stop crying. It’s been a week, I can’t stop! I can’t read, I can barely function properly. I get tired and agitated easily, the list goes on and on. Still, I managed to explain to the woman that gave birth to me, to the best thing I ever had, roughly what was wrong with me.

What could she do, she was in a different country. Maybe that was a good thing, seeing me In that state was sure to break her heart. Knowing I wake every morning with the hope of not making it through the day. I was prepared for the angel of death, or so I thought.

“Don’t cry, it’s going to be okay“, she says
Okay? Never in my life had I felt so lost as I did in those few days. And she says it’s going to be okay. And yet, whether I believed things will get better or not, there was something just so true in her voice, that I knew I wasn’t alone. It was time to find that lost soul.

Day 5: The tragedy of life…

Day 5: The tragedy of life…

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The goal of today is “BE brief” which is something I find extremely hard. When it comes to writing, I tend to go overboard. But today, it’s time to change and try something new. A 100 word story- fingers crossed, here goes –

June 17′ 1960
The war has ended, the fight is over
My love I’m making my way back home
We’ve got independence, our nation a president
But joy ain’t for me till you say ‘I do’

Two days and I’m home
With Your ring- a ruby stone
The train arrives at one
I’ll be home before dusk

My dear please don’t fret
The war is gone, your love will be here.
To my dearest Mary Margaret

This was the letter I found at a drawer I just got from a yard sale. I thought it was oh so sweet, and then it hit me. On June 19 1960, there was a bomb blast on a train Set to arrive at one O clock. The tragedy of life….

The Daily Post: oh, i fell off a bike!

The Daily Post: oh, i fell off a bike!

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The Daily Post: Uncanned Laughter
A misused word, a misremembered song lyric, a cream pie that just happened to be there: tell us about a time you (or someone else) said or did.

I absolutely love today’s topic because coming from Nigeria, we are a bunch of drama folks- one way or the other, there is always something unexpectedly funny.

During my last holiday in Nigeria, a friend of my mum came to visit. And told us this story which had recently happened to her cousin, Ak(not real name):
Ak who is married went to his friend’s house (who is also married). Anyway, the friend was complaining to Ak that his wife had too much problems and was causing him headache. All the while, not knowing that the wife was actually listening. She was so mad that her husband would complain about her to his friend.
When the friend was done, Ak began his own. He told his friend, “you’re so lucky, my wife has made my home a living hell”.

The friends wife who was gossiped about first, heard all this and decided to avenge.
She called Ak’s wife and told her what Ak said about her. When Ak got back home, he saw his wife all dressed up, scenting of perfume, ready to go out. He tried to talk to her to know where she was going to, but she ignored him and got into the car. He really didn’t thinks she was serious. As he tried to stop the car, she put the gear in drive, brushed him to the side with the car and took off. Well, it wasn’t just any brush cause he sustained injuries.

He felt so embarrassed (still does) to tell people that he got injured cause his wife hit him with a car. Where I come from, it is de-manning. So, anytime anyone asks him about his injuries, he says ‘oh, I fell off a motorcycle’. He’d rather get a lecture about the disadvantages of riding motorcycles with the bad roads in Nigeria, than say his wife gave him injuries.

P.S if you are a guy and want to gossip about your wife, think twice, for your sake.
That’s it…my uncanned laughter!!