Nostalgic Pasts (4)

…I sat there with the bright shining security light in the courtyard,awaiting the morrow’s big verdict. I coughed and sneezed to the harsh harmattan breeze. I snuggled into my big champion tshirt. My eyes were betrayed to the sleep as my mind drift away in the past hours ecstatic moment.
In the morning, my step-mum,who we all fondly call mummy, came out and saw me. She sneered at me and said “Good morning, Oya, daddy is calling you”
I got up in shock, and first,my mouth was opened,I felt an electric shock under my feet that voyaged straight to my brain. My body was filled with white dust, the harmattan hazy wind must have settled the dust on me. I could feel my heart oscillating its position like a pendulum bob.
The childhood loneliness always kills like it’s been destined to take its toll on you. You get a longing within you to be able to discuss just anything with anyone in your house. Well, I wasn’t that lucky. Not like I was miserable as a kid, I had my younger brother,who spends most of his time in my dad’s study, he was into historical books. We had an intimate friendship but there was space for his privacy. We mostly quarreled over frivolous issues. But he was one friend I have that knew about my late night escapades. He never told anyone. We sometimes talk about his own romance but he hardly let me into the whole details. I had older siblings who never lived with us in Nigeria. My dad spent most of his life in England, which explains why my older half-brothers and sisters never lived with us in our place. I am the oldest one here- the new generation kids. His post-England life romance obviously did bring out 4 kids.
I was notorious for breaking rules,most times I do, for the right reasons. Unabashedly, I get on my father’s nerves the most. From, whippings and grounding,mostly I get barred from going to school for weeks too. Everything was fun and less complicated as a child. I lived those moments to the fullest. The chastity of my heart,the immaculate innocence, the unforgivable recklessness, all these, were those mainstays in my life back then.
That morning, I staggered into the house, to the living room,my dad was having is early morning shave. The scent of his after shave rented the air. It choked me. He sat in a large chrome sofa,with his eyes fixed on the CNN, “War in Iraq”. I stood far from his view and it was like he was about to ruminate over what to say to me.
Could it be that mummy had told him how, or it was a set up? He sat there and would glance at me surreptitiously to be sure I wasn’t comfortable with my standing. I prostrated and whispered a good morning. Then,stood like a meter away from his recliner, taking a position facing him,like an accused in a dock.
He cleared his throat and finally,in a loud voice; like a roar. “Ah! He shouted, “Bush is mad! America will never get osama! Then…he laughed so loud that his voice resonates so high that it shook the wine bar in the sitting room. For once, I muttered a slight laughter to myself, fixing my gaze at the Tv in the hypotenuse. Then, the driver,who also doubled as his Assistant,came and took his shaving props away from him. He still didn’t utter a word to me.
He cleared his throat again and told me to fetch his phones from his bedroom.
” Call the court clerk” he said.
Then,he had been appointed a Customary Court judge by the Judicial Commission.
I dashed to his room and started dialing the clerk’s line. It didn’t get through. I could sense his indignant look to mean, what would I ever be useful for. He called out to my younger brother, Niyi, who was already dressed for school to fetch the court case files, he wanted to know what the first case, that would be called, would be. Still tormented by this long silent treatment, I stood there, looking like a stock fish.
Finally, he removed his pair of glasses and looked up at me.
“You see, you are the one who would get yourself killed. You don’t seem to me like one who would ever pass WAEC. So,I guess you are out to be a failure, and I can gladly help you with that. But before then, give me just one reason why I should continue paying your school fees?” He said.
I swallowed a lump of saliva down my throat. My head was lost for the kind of answer he wanted. My legs trembled.
” I…I..I’m sorry sir” I mustered.
“Well, I have to go to court, I don’t think I have time for this right now. Here is my verdict, there’s no more school for you until further notice. Have a good day”
I was shocked. My dad was never a man to bluff. No one challenges his decisions. He loathes being begged to reconsider his decision. He’s not one to rescind his decisions. I wish he was less complacent.
He left for court.

That morning,I was miserable. I went to the telephone,I called rachael and broke the news. Most times,I would stay in my room and write rachael letters. she would call and we would laugh over little jokes. She would tell me how they were flogged for teasing Mr Bolarinwa, the further mathematics teacher who couldn’t speak english fluently. How the biology teacher with the tribal mark brought a chameleon to the class and it escaped and the girls went crazy. How she had been drafted as a member of the school choir and she was never going to attend rehearsals. We would laugh and tell each other how greatly I missed in class. Well, my fair princess never knew all the things I went through just because I was desperately seeking her attention. I would buy gifts,secretly stack them away in her locker for her to find.
I wrote a letter one day,
“Dear Tayo,
Top of the day to you. How’s mummy and daddy and your brothers? You look beautiful today and I have been staring at you all day. You make my heart melt every time I see you. I love you very much. You are the only girl in this class that I feel so different about. I want us to be in a relationship. I want you to be my wife in future. I want us to be husband and wife and I will not make you ever regret it. I know you want to always be first in class and you don’t want your mummy to know you have a boyfriend. Me too. We can be meeting secretly at the back of the chapel after school hours. We can even do our assignment together. I have brought four novels for you from home. You will like the mills and boon, I have “too cold for comfort ” the one you said u wanted to borrow during short break. I will give you everything. I love you so much angel. You mesmerize me everytime I see you. Your face simmers like the moon and you scintillating body make my head swell everytime. Let me put the golden pen of love in the golden basket of love. I will be expecting to get a reply from you. Please just say Yes to my proposal. I will always love you my african queen. Please tear this letter immediately after reading.
Your love,
Dotun.”

…To be continued.

Nostalgic Pasts (4)

…I sat there with the bright shining security light in the courtyard,awaiting the morrow’s big verdict. I coughed and sneezed to the harsh harmattan breeze. I snuggled into my big champion tshirt. My eyes were betrayed to the sleep as my mind drift away in the past hours ecstatic moment.
In the morning, my step-mum,who we all fondly call mummy, came out and saw me. She sneered at me and said “Good morning, Oya, daddy is calling you”
I got up in shock, and first,my mouth was opened,I felt an electric shock under my feet that voyaged straight to my brain. My body was filled with white dust, the harmattan hazy wind must have settled the dust on me. I could feel my heart oscillating its position like a pendulum bob.
The childhood loneliness always kills like it’s been destined to take its toll on you. You get a longing within you to be able to discuss just anything with anyone in your house. Well, I wasn’t that lucky. Not like I was miserable as a kid, I had my younger brother,who spends most of his time in my dad’s study, he was into historical books. We had an intimate friendship but there was space for his privacy. We mostly quarreled over frivolous issues. But he was one friend I have that knew about my late night escapades. He never told anyone. We sometimes talk about his own romance but he hardly let me into the whole details. I had older siblings who never lived with us in Nigeria. My dad spent most of his life in England, which explains why my older half-brothers and sisters never lived with us in our place. I am the oldest one here- the new generation kids. His post-England life romance obviously did bring out 4 kids.
I was notorious for breaking rules,most times I do, for the right reasons. Unabashedly, I get on my father’s nerves the most. From, whippings and grounding,mostly I get barred from going to school for weeks too. Everything was fun and less complicated as a child. I lived those moments to the fullest. The chastity of my heart,the immaculate innocence, the unforgivable recklessness, all these, were those mainstays in my life back then.
That morning, I staggered into the house, to the living room,my dad was having is early morning shave. The scent of his after shave rented the air. It choked me. He sat in a large chrome sofa,with his eyes fixed on the CNN, “War in Iraq”. I stood far from his view and it was like he was about to ruminate over what to say to me.
Could it be that mummy had told him how, or it was a set up? He sat there and would glance at me surreptitiously to be sure I wasn’t comfortable with my standing. I prostrated and whispered a good morning. Then,stood like a meter away from his recliner, taking a position facing him,like an accused in a dock.
He cleared his throat and finally,in a loud voice; like a roar. “Ah! He shouted, “Bush is mad! America will never get osama! Then…he laughed so loud that his voice resonates so high that it shook the wine bar in the sitting room. For once, I muttered a slight laughter to myself, fixing my gaze at the Tv in the hypotenuse. Then, the driver,who also doubled as his Assistant,came and took his shaving props away from him. He still didn’t utter a word to me.
He cleared his throat again and told me to fetch his phones from his bedroom.
” Call the court clerk” he said.
Then,he had been appointed a Customary Court judge by the Judicial Commission.
I dashed to his room and started dialing the clerk’s line. It didn’t get through. I could sense his indignant look to mean, what would I ever be useful for. He called out to my younger brother, Niyi, who was already dressed for school to fetch the court case files, he wanted to know what the first case, that would be called, would be. Still tormented by this long silent treatment, I stood there, looking like a stock fish.
Finally, he removed his pair of glasses and looked up at me.
“You see, you are the one who would get yourself killed. You don’t seem to me like one who would ever pass WAEC. So,I guess you are out to be a failure, and I can gladly help you with that. But before then, give me just one reason why I should continue paying your school fees?” He said.
I swallowed a lump of saliva down my throat. My head was lost for the kind of answer he wanted. My legs trembled.
” I…I..I’m sorry sir” I mustered.
“Well, I have to go to court, I don’t think I have time for this right now. Here is my verdict, there’s no more school for you until further notice. Have a good day”
I was shocked. My dad was never a man to bluff. No one challenges his decisions. He loathes being begged to reconsider his decision. He’s not one to rescind his decisions. I wish he was less complacent.
He left for court.

That morning,I was miserable. I went to the telephone,I called rachael and broke the news. Most times,I would stay in my room and write rachael letters. she would call and we would laugh over little jokes. She would tell me how they were flogged for teasing Mr Bolarinwa, the further mathematics teacher who couldn’t speak english fluently. How the biology teacher with the tribal mark brought a chameleon to the class and it escaped and the girls went crazy. How she had been drafted as a member of the school choir and she was never going to attend rehearsals. We would laugh and tell each other how greatly I missed in class. Well, my fair princess never knew all the things I went through just because I was desperately seeking her attention. I would buy gifts,secretly stack them away in her locker for her to find.
I wrote a letter one day,
“Dear Tayo,
Top of the day to you. How’s mummy and daddy and your brothers? You look beautiful today and I have been staring at you all day. You make my heart melt every time I see you. I love you very much. You are the only girl in this class that I feel so different about. I want us to be in a relationship. I want you to be my wife in future. I want us to be husband and wife and I will not make you ever regret it. I know you want to always be first in class and you don’t want your mummy to know you have a boyfriend. Me too. We can be meeting secretly at the back of the chapel after school hours. We can even do our assignment together. I have brought four novels for you from home. You will like the mills and boon, I have “too cold for comfort ” the one you said u wanted to borrow during short break. I will give you everything. I love you so much angel. You mesmerize me everytime I see you. Your face simmers like the moon and you scintillating body make my head swell everytime. Let me put the golden pen of love in the golden basket of love. I will be expecting to get a reply from you. Please just say Yes to my proposal. I will always love you my african queen. Please tear this letter immediately after reading.
Your love,
Dotun.”

…To be continued.

Nostalgic Past (3)

…Swiftly,I sprinted to the main road, to see if I could still get a view of any oncoming cab or motorcycle,but nothing was forthcoming. I stood there. Alone,in the dark with my heart thumping, faster than the german band. I was fussy about what my next line of action should be. Africa is about 3km to roundabout; on the Osogbo expressway to the centre of Ilesa township. I’m no usain bolt, besides, I am a lazy runner. I shy away from participating in any track event during the inter-house sports competition at school– I stuck with the shot-put and Discus,sometimes javelin throws. Once, I had bruised my chin from one epic fall,during one of those rehearsals for blue house. The Boos and gloats banished me from track events. In fact, I tore my trousers in groin area,the hollow was massive. With this incidence, track event faded out of my fantasy.

Trying to jog off a three kilometer distance, which usually is about 15minutes drive to town seem suicidal. I would pass out if I ever get lucky to run 200 meters. With gushes of adrenaline,not trying to take a shot, was not an option. I did not want to imagine my dad’s nicely cut whipping scars, all over my body. His thrashing is something else. Just one hit, I’m sure to dance better than MJ. Taking laps down the sloppy highway, hoping to get an okada or private car. The main road was already deserted. I was swaddled in despair, apprehensive of the uncertain but anticipated whipping, I was going to meet at home. I grew up here. Most of my life has been spent indoor. No neighbor, friends, or playmates; just a bevy of school friends who would never dare to visit me in my lion’s den. Yes,my father always wanted our friendships to end at school. But, I was quite adventurous and impetuous. I did stupid things sometimes. I didn’t know how to ask a girl out. I was good with the letters.
After I had run like 100meters, I knew, well, here’s where it ends. suddenly, a husky voice bellowed out from no where and it was scary. My legs took a tumultous halt.
“Duro nbe!, eniyan ni e ni abi anjonu” the voice thundered.
At first,I paused. I was frightened but managed to catch my breath. I was ready to have a bellicose banter to show my belligerent boldness. I turned to my east,where the voice had come from,to catch a glimpse of my supposed challenger. It was a spooky man in his early forties. He had a dane gun and a bright torch,pointed at me,shining right into my face. It was bright and I hated it.
“Eniyan ni o” I retorted with a squint.
He strolled towards me,with his gun dangling down his left arm and his torch fixed on my face with his other arm.
He was squiffy. I can feel the stench of gin from his breath. He was one hell of a drunk nightwatch man.
“Nibo lo ti n bo lasiko yii” he said, with dashes of irritating saliva spritz all over my face.

” Baba ekale jare, olokada to gbe mi wa nigba ti mo wa si ibi africa,nibe yen ni ko duro demi,so,mo ti n try lati get okada tabi motor mi ni jare” I replied him.

He paused for a while and then,with a twitch on his torch, it went off.
“E ye rin iru irinkurin bayi mo o” he replied.
“Oya e fun mi lowo,kin fi ra ciga”

I knew it was going to come to that. He wanted a bribe. He would use it to buy cigarette. Without much thought, I reached for a 50naira note in my bermuda shorts’ pocket and handed it over to him. He grabbed it.
“Oya, e ma tete lo, ti e ba de isokun, e maa ri okada” he said dismissively.

I thanked him and jet off,without looking back. After running for like 5 minutes, I saw a bike ahead. “Psssst…” I called out to the okada man and he sped towards me.
“Roundabout!” I echoed.
“Oya, 100naira” he replied.
Without wasting time, I mounted his bike for a ride home. Through isokun,itakogun, adeti,isida, we sped past these streets and within minutes,he stopped at roundabout. I paid him and rushed towards my street. Then,I remembered,I hadn’t completed my Chemistry assignments. Quietly, I went to the black gate, opened it, and i carefully like a mouse, peeped to see if there would be any noise or something to signal to me that someone was up waiting for my arrival. I heard nothing. I moved forward and I meticulously turned the knob,alas! It was locked. I squeezed and turned but it didn’t open. I felt my bladder pressed against my urethra lining. Hot urine trying to fight its way out. My legs accompanied one another to irrepressible vibrations. I slept under the satelite dish that night. In the courtyard. Awaiting the next day’s trial and what the outcome would be. My mind wandered to my fair princess. I blushed that I saw her that night. Her beauty shone like the early morning star. I would tell Rachael what I did the previous night and maybe over the telephone,if my judgement gets too bad. Rachael was always ready to listen to me. She was the closest female friend I ever had. She would listen to my silly tales and obsequiously laugh at them. Not because she had to,but because she has no other choice than to listen. She kuku had friend zoned me. After I had crushed after her for like a year without any luck getting her. I couldn’t tell her how I felt. I was scared,it might change the way she related with me .Sometimes,I felt with her sassy finesse and enviable desire for material things ,I don’t think I fit in to who she could date. But,I loved our intimacy,and it stayed like that. Just friends. She likes tayo for me. I always looked forward to seeing her. We would gist and laugh over our puffpuffs and comovit-c 45minute breaks. GSM was the new cool then. I would boast about the new Sendo mobile phone daddy just got. And how it would ring and vibrate and we dare not touch, unless we were asked to fetch. How my dad would scold you for not sprinting as fast as you could to fetch his phone while it rang. Shey,we kuku can’t pick the call unless we were ready to face his wrath. Whenever he bought new phones to his collections, we looked on with our fancies being tickled at how the GSM operates. But me sha,being who I am,I always manage to sneak out one of his latest phones. I would take it to school and brandish it to my mates to oppress those who never saw a flip motorola V97r. Even though, we attended one of the best schools in Osun state. Most of our parents are well to do. I was so out for the show off. I inherited it from my royal father.
My father, a disciplinarian extra-ordinaire. His cross examinations were sui-generis. He surely would do well with the spanish inquisitory. Just the thought of his fury alone, could send one to his grave. Rachael never met him. But,I spoke so highly of him. Her mum knew my dad and they were once business partners, I was told.
I folded my arms around my feet under the massive dish and dozed off. I slapped my ears at intervals to scare away the choir of mosquitoes,singing the looming trouble of the morrow into my pathetic ears. Tomorrow shall tell…
…to be continued.

Nostalgic Past (2)

It was a cold sunday night. I sneaked out of my bed after a cold shower, everyone had slept. I do this, mostly in the night; when it’s like few minutes to 10pm, sometimes 11pm. I would sneak out of the house,through the back door, Creeping and crawling,with widely spread ear,like a satellite dish, on the alert of the door creak, that could come from my Father’s room. The usual sound that comes at this time,whenever I do this, is the horrifying resonance of my dad’s snoring;could be thrilling at times. I would tip-toe towards my dad’s bedroom window to be sure to get a better melody of the tremendous jockey of his vocal chords.
Then again,I would move towards mum’s room to be sure she was asleep. She always keeps the bedroom light on,if she’s awake. So, the light was out,I heaved a sigh of relief,that’s a go! and would dashed towards the back door. I would quietly manipulate the hinges and push the door open as discrete as possible, to prevent the door from making so much noise. Then, I made for the streets. Hurriedly,I flag down an okada man. This time,I don’t ever negotiate a higher charge, I only focus on my destination. This crazy idea, I’m sure must have stupidly emanated from one of those nollywood movies I had seen. I must really have been a reckless freak, daring the devil. I knew I was going to be dead,if I ever get caught. But would say the recklessness was what kept the fire burning. I talk of the burning furnace of teenage romance, high school love games,love letter writing and stuff. I was not so good at playing the hide and seek, love letter writing games,back at school. I always get caught.
“Okada! I called out,
usually I tremble and shiver with the fear of not to being seen by anyone. I sometimes would imagine sneaking into my dad’s waiting stern face holding his thick pankere cane, ready to whip out the madness out of my brain.
The okada man had put on, a black hooded leather jacket. His eyes were black and scary, his head was round ball shaped, reminded me of my Agric teacher back in SACHS, Pastor Daniel.
“Nibo!” The okada man shouted back.
I signaled at him to turn towards my side of the way. He manuoeuvered his motorcyle and negotiated the bend in a rather too confident manner,and I told him I was going to “Africa”
“Ile ti su egbon, elo le maa funmi” said the Okada man,in ijesa accent.
” I will pay you any amount just take me to the new estate opposite africa grammar school. You will take me back here as well. I will pay N500″
“Ah,chairmanzee, Oya make we dey go” He said excitedly. I wasn’t sure he understood my English,I’m sure the N500 he heard,must have caught his interest.
When its dark,it is customary for motorcycle riders to hike their service charges. Well,it was his lucky day. We had a deal,at least I could not risk getting caught. Not today!
We sped past the streets. Scanty with people and only few vehicles were on the move. The light from the full moon illumininated the rusty roofs of most the galvanised iron sheets. I could feel my leg tremble,inside my trousers. I never really liked harmattan. The crispness of the breath and the burns it gives my throat makes it hostile. I dare to do these things and I don’t know in my heart,if anyone was ever going to understand my stalking of this fair princess. I was a mixbag that night.

The okada man was fast, we hardly spent 10mins and we already got there. Tayo’s house is a new house. Her parents, who belonged to the average class citizens,were able to build and furnish a 4 bedroom bungalow to their taste. They earn moderately and for a family of five, comfortability is the word. I could see the bright shining halogen security light at the exterior,from afar. There was no gate to the house,no fencing,it was not painted either. Just a garden adjacent to it. I didn’t want to be seen,so I told the okada man to drop me off at the entrance to the street. I told him to wait for me,I would not be taking so much time, which he agreed. So, I tucked a N500 note in his hand,hopeful he would wait for me. He smirked a smile and told me to make it snappy. It was 10.37pm. The estate was new. Only few people just moved here. It was like a new residential site,not so much is seen around except for shrubs and bushes. I ran off through a lonely street, lined on both sides were meligna trees,with solar street lamps. Flowers are grown in pots, but they are never watered. The road was dusty and hazy. The only thought in my head was to see, how she was looking that night. Then,I would eavesdrop by her window to listen to every conversation and I would boast about it the next day in class. It felt like a superman stalking his Lois. I just wanted her to see me differently and smile at me. I tiptoed to the house and made for Tayo’s bedroom window. I could see her. Sitting by a fancy desk close to her bed. Her mattress was lain with a lilac cotton bedspread,and a diligently folded blanket ,which laid across her pillow. A familiar scent escaped through the sliding windows,maybe the vanilla scent of her cologne. Smells like ice-cream. The one Aunty Seun always get from Captain Cook. I relished it. She hanged her neatly ironed cream coloured blouse and ash grey skirt by her wardrobe door. It was school uniform. I can only imagine where my own school uniform would be by now. There were books littered on her desk, New school chemistry, New school Physics,Nelkon Physics Textbooks, Notebooks,pencils,pens, candies, a stainless steel cup, a transparent plastic jug,half-filled with water. There was a white plastic chair placed opposite the desk. She was seated on it. She was putting on a flowery pink silk night dress, and I guessed she was rounding off her late night study. I do this most nights, just to stare at the only person at that time who ever made my heart skipped for no reason. Every time I see her in class, my heart drums incessantly that I lose control of my stare. She was fair and mild. Brilliant, beautiful and bold. She has the angelic touch of immaculately carved slim body. She’s kind-hearted and respectful. Everyone loved her,but I wasn’t sure anyone loved her as much as I did. That night, her elegance was alluring. I didn’t believe I could ride 3kilometers in the dead of the night,to the outskirt of our smallville,where this fair princess stayed. I stood there in the dark,staring into her room. She could not see me. She could never had imagine anyone could be out there at that time. At first,I felt overwhelmed. Did not know if it would be wise to call out to her. There was a knock on the door, and it was her younger brother, his name was Ola, he had come to inform her that she was needed, to iron her mum’s dress for work the next day. Just as she got up, the power supply went off. Everywhere became dark, I was terrified, I then for once thought of home. What if my mum had got up to do her midnight routine check and I get caught. I’m sure she would raise an alarm,which won’t be good for me. Soon, I heard footsteps approaching, I didn’t know how to react. Impulsively, I dashed into a nearby bush and raced through it, thinking it would lead outside. But I was wrong, finally, I saw a light ray from a nearby lamp post. I made for the a foot path and out to the main road. I was hoping the Okada man would be so mad at me for wasting his time,but he was nowhere to be found. He had left. I felt a cold shiver ran through my spine. My limbs were numb. I was shocked!. How could he have left just like that? This is trouble! I stood motionless and lost. I rushed towards where he had parked his motorbike,but it was gone. At first, I tried to call out to him,then I remembered the Night watchmen could have intimidated him and sent him away. I can only imagine what awaited me at home.
…To be continued

Sharing the Nostalgic Past…

Some time ago,I decided to start this blog to tell you those things which embody my beliefs and influences as a child. I attempted to shed light on few,but I was not lucid enough to make many readers understand. But,now,I have found at least my strength in telling tales; random tales,which are of love,betrayals,inspiring moments and of course the times have had to give myself up for clinical depression. I’m used to thinking successful people don’t ever get depressed,so anyone who is ever gunning for success or financial freedom,must at one time or the other wallow in situational depression. That article I read some days back about Ms Chimamanda Adichie’s struggle with depression is enough to get me inspired. There was a message hidden in that story,quite intrinsic,that if you don’t look deeply,you will never get it. It is an awareness that most times, things happen to people and they don’t ever have control over them. Even the people perceived to be the strongest; They all fight their wars. Some wars are fought within and others in the exterior. This is why,when the struggle gets too intense for some people,they quit living. While others soldier on;hoping to get the best. Some take comfort in their religious activities, associations,clubs,study groups and for some;their addictions. I will try to write about these things,maybe it could mean something to someone. Perhaps,it could also give me a better disposition or fuel my zeal to become a good writer someday.

Most times I do not always have the modern parlance to write a review on any trending issue. They are rather subliminal thoughts, on a very captivating scion of a transient social buzz. I’m still finding my inkling,which is, of improving my writing ability and maybe for once,I had guessed must be innate.

It’s one thing to want to write and the other is to know how to write. But, as a die-hard lover of Arts,I’m willing to try out something different, a leap of faith, maybe,I would call it. To share some experiences,mostly in tales of childhood days, high school habits which I relish greatly. I am not a better man because of what I think I know, it’s what I think I do not know that makes me better.

How does it feel when one is depressed? if you would ask me, I would have a hard time thinking. Feeling like I’m enveloped in a shell. A shell where I’m swaddled in a modicum of uncertainty. Where everything seems bleak and opaque. The only thing I see of myself,is just a shadowy figure, less of an apparition. I’m dead but walking alive. I’m lost,far gone but the bond of the homely twine still in a way, connects me with the present. Its a past seeking redemption with the present. Undoing a lot of misgivings. Despicable thoughts, sadly enough, you never see anything. You are listless to everything that is fun. I would beat up myself over little things that should not even matter…i would ask myself what happened to those high school days that I was really upright and there was nothing complicated. But now, things are different. I no longer like to go out. I still eat bread,but no longer with margarine. I don’t enjoy to watch “who wants to be a millionaire” anymore. Perhaps,have grown.
I would rather stay indoor and see Crime motivated movies and series. Sometimes, I would indulge in the comedy. Eat my food in my room, leave my room the way I want it and not expecting any guest to come and change the status quo except when my Caro,comes around.

This reminds me of those good old days,I needed to seek solace in companionship. Back in High school,I was popular with the ladies in my class, but one was remarkably different. She stood out. And of course there was another, who played the best friend role. I intend to share with you some of this experiences in tales. Diaries don’t ever work for me. I tried keeping some,but it was an epic fail. Nah! Not my thing. I never really had to keep one for a long time. I prefer to share experiences because they make me learn more. So, gear up to these tales.. and I hope you will share yours with me as well in my next posts.

By the way, the general elections are here. Do you have your PVC yet. Have got mine. I would implore you get yours. Let’s vote wisely and stay out of trouble.

Best Regards

“I’m a product of a thousand influences”

Hello,

  Just when I got this idea of having to keep my wandering mind settled on serious life issues,than it occurred to me that I could keep an open tale,or if I could choose to rather refer to it as an open diary of myself. 

            Some days back,I was browsing through my Time line ,on my twitter page. I saw a bio “I’m still trying to figure out what myself really is,when I’m a product of a thousand influences.” This really struck me and then I kept wondering how evidently true,this statement literally is to me. I have come to realize that man socially cannot exist independent of his environment. Which makes man subjective to his immediate environ. However, man has the free will to choose what he wants for himself,which would lead me to say,its a man who choose from myriads factors,what he wants for himself and whatever comes his way,becomes an influence automatically.

 

            I never really had the chance to make friends with other kids in the neighborhood ,when I was growing up. This is because I had a very strict father who always used to constantly warn us 

against keeping friends. It was a taboo for us to go out to play in the neighborhood or visit friends unless my father permitted you. It was such an unending lonesome life my siblings and I lived with my dad and caring step- mom. The experience brought a great influence to my life. My first contact of influence.               

           Maybe the liberation came divinely,when my dad passed away. Which although met me with both Sad feeling and at the same time of partial joy; an aura of the feeling of freedom. I became a man of my own. I made friends, good ones,ugly ones, and then some strange ones too. However,I savored every moment of joy and bitterness. Friends became the second influence.

            I couldn’t even own a phone of my own until I was in SS1. When my brother gave me one. Lol. I then got a new companion in the phone. I would call friends,send text messages,listen to radio on my Nokia phone, participate in radio programme games,I can remember vividly my favourite presenter was “shuna bee” on Gold Fm. Lol. I got a better phone and camera phone, yes! And I browsed with my phone. My phone became a part of me and this became my third influence.

           So,I passed jamb,I got admitted to study law,in Obafemi Awolowo University. Here, my life changed tremendously. Africa’s Most Beautiful Campus! Now,have been subjected to countless influences. I’m lost,I can’t find myself, I don’t know what myself is and I don’t think anyone has an idea of what the real self is…the media, religion, Entertainment, Groups,Organisations,Ideologies, Nutrition even Fashion Sense to mention a few have taken over everyone’s true identity. No more independent mind. We are all lost in this world. Maybe.But then, I’m still wondering who I am really …Have a great week.