Feeble but Blessed Hands

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I sighed with resignation as my car came to a halt. These will now be my neighbours, ma familia for the next couple of minutes  hopefully, i mused as traffic came to a standstill. I again considered the wisdom in my decision to head towards Maraba at closing time knowing full well that i would get in this jam.

I crunched on the carrots i bought earlier to juice. Might as well get the fiber, i thought as my mind scanned the area to find some distraction. As we crawled along i noticed a girl on the road divider doing the chicken dance. You know, the one girls do when they are trying to cross the road. I find it mildly irritating as i believe the uncertainty poses more of a hazard than even stepping headlong into traffic; Lagos style, brazenly plowing your way to the other side.

I smiled as another girl who had just made it to the divider gives her the “what is doing this one?” look as she prepares to lunge into the sea of cars. The boys hawking are laughing and jeering at her when one steps forward and gives her the crook of his arm. The others cheer the Ribena-laden champion as he tells her in broken English to take his arm and he will take her across. She continues to whip her hands in that imbecilic way that is a cross between drying your nails and doing the spirit fingers as he calmly assures her that they will both be fine.

Finally she obliges and takes his arm. He expertly dodges the cars with one hand keeping his wares in place on his head while she clings to him, muttering what i believe to be a prayer of protection while not even daring to look at the cars. I watch through my side mirror as they make it to the other side, safe. She waves a thank you and scuttles off, embarassed and relieved at the same time. Our hero expert surges back inbetween the cars, loudly calling out his wares; his good deed done for the day. And as i face my own journey, i smile at the reality that for a moment that clean chic, clad in her shredded jeans and top with her baby curl weave and makeup on fleek was a damsel in distress who did meet her grime covered-sweat slicked-unlikely champion.

Valentine no hard. Let’s keep it simple.

Photo credit: “Feeble but blessed hands”._ Ibrahim Suleiman

Anger

Where it wells from is unknown.
Somewhere deep inside when you thought you had thrown it out.
Triggered by what you could not have believed would.
Unfurlled fully, uncontained, unrestrained.

How do i do this lord? How do i get to being you?

Anger

Where it wells from is unknown.
Somewhere deep inside when you thought you had thrown it out.
Triggered by what you could not have believed would.
Unfurlled fully, uncontained, unrestrained.

How do i do this lord. How do i get to being you?

It isn’t you.

Wow.

It isn’t you.

I thought we were so compatible.

It isn’t you.

We’ve know each other for so long and found a rhythm.

It is not you.

What do you know? I know what i know.

It is not you.

This is what i want!

It is not you.

But who is it then?

It’s not you.

It’s Him.

Inbetween

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Right on the edge.
That’s where i am.
I’ve stripped myself bare, shedding off all that was and i stand here, cold and shivering, naked and uncertain as i wait to take the dive.
I’m not sure what is ahead, not sure what i will look like arrayed in newness but i guess it beats all what i took off.
I’m lonely and somehow long for what i know but the broken circle and seclusion makes it easier to deal with.
I curl my toes on the cliff as i close  my eyes so the tears won’t slide down.
I don’t know what they are for so i hold them at bay.
It’s time, i know so i wait.
The sun is  coming. Dawn ends. It’s time.

Books…

I love reading.

Sometimes i find myself wrapped up in words, so tightly bound, nothing gets through.

I travel to places my feet will never touch and become a thousand people as my voice changes to mimic every character i come across.

I imagine myself walking into a room filled with books, after following a long trail, laid out like gingerbread crumbs, guiding me into a world where somehow, i know i shall maybe never leave.

Wall to wall, books surround me. Wall to wall, tales of valour, cowardice and lust. I read and read and still i’m rarely sated. I become one person after the other, travel from one set to the next even as my brain filters and keeps the memories of things i’ve seen with my mind and places i’ve travelled with my heart.

I forget all things human, nature, nourishment and slowly my feet become crisp, dry and lithe like the pages i flip with mine eager fingers, even more curious than my mind, barely able to bear the suspense.

Soon the memories will replace my true life and all that will be left of me will be the tales i have woven together from all I’ve read. Somehow a new story will emerge and as i try to leave, a new trail will start. One someone will one day happen upon and soon like me, will be transformed from one person, to a letter, the words, pages, and then books.

Books. Some of the best places to lose yourself.

Night Terror

2:15am

The sound blended in with my eyes flapping open. I’m awake at this same time for weeks now, so it’s hard to tell if it really happened, or it was just the insomnia.

I lay still, fighting the urge to pick up my phone and look through my workload for the day. I read somewhere that if i lay still long enough, the sand man would come to me and claim me for his own.

I heard it again. The banging sound. Proof that it was not just my imagination. I held my breath and waited, trying to be dead sure it wasn’t coming from my muddled brain.

Help. One word and i was up. Where was it coming from? My windows were shut tight, to keep the room freezer cold and the AC hummed softly, muffling the sound and making it harder to tell where it was coming from. I threw on my sweater and quietly went to the front door as the banging sound continued.

Fire. It could be a fire and my neighbor with three kids would be trapped. She wasn’t very chatty but the voice could have been hers. I maneuvered past the furniture in the dark and stepped out into the cold night before it crossed my mind that it could be thieves. What if i exposed my family?!

I slink into the small generator room by the shared fence to hear better. Silence, Dead Silence. Even their bat-crazy dog -Sasha or Bella or something- was quiet. I could hear my blood flowing past my ear drums as i called to memory every dark tale of armed robbers, killing the dog before entering the house.

I stood deathly still and waited, maybe it wasn’t from the house. Maybe it was from elsewhere. 10 minute. 15 minutes. 20 minutes. No sound. I turned around and hurried back inside, suddenly not so brave as i chastised myself for been so bold. What could i have done anyway? What was my plan?

I went into my room and opened one window quietly, just in case i was wrong. I quickly looked up the Police emergency numbers for my area and put them first on my call log, in case i needed it. I lay down and willed the sound to happen again, caught between the prayer that they were indeed safe and the slight apprehension that Insomnia doth trigger hallucinations. I may have to speak to someone.

Just as i had settled in and wrapped myself up, i heard it again. Distinctively. The crapping, clawing, banging sound and the cry for help. I grabbed my bottle of Vinegar and water- my homemade pepper-spray, and i rushed to the parlour window, straining for a sight of my adversary.

I walked out again and stealthily made my way to the generator house and waited. I peered through the perforated blocks, hoping to catch sight of some sort of  activity. again nothing. I waited contemplating whether to open the gate and risk the likelihood of letting whatever monstrosity was out there into my home. I finally heard the dog next door, shuffling as he tried to find a more comfortable spot to lie down. I reasoned, he’d be barking if his family was at risk yes? I turned around and went back in, under the puzzled gaze of our puppy as he again wondered what kinda a mess he had been pulled into. I double locked the door, drank some water and went back to bed, promising myself to immediately go over at the crack of dawn.

Immediately i heard the birds, i was up and out the gate. I looked about the grounds for signs of a struggle or disturbance and there was none. I peered over the fence into the house next door and there was nothing. They was no life stirring and in the light of day, i felt silly about my hour of Nancy Drew/Holmes stakeout. I went back in and tried to get ready for work. I heard their front door open (It has a loud drag) and i quickly went over.

No. No one was banging or screaming last night. No. No one heard any banging or screaming for help last night. I apologised and walked away, thinking, it’s time to see someone.

I skipped my morning workout, too tired to punish my body any further. At least i didn’t call the Police, i thought as i quickly showered. Imagine how that would have turned out!

P.S

It turns out i don’t need to speak to someone. The bat-crazy dog (Sasha or Bella or something), did it all along! They just made a new cage and left the blasted dog locked in all night. The crapping and banging sounds were him pushing against it and it flapping back shut.

But the cries for help. Do i hear dogs now? So someone yea?