BETWEEN THE SHEETS

Sex with a dull man is so tiring, uninspiring. I would rather go shopping than let him inside me. Sex with a dull woman! How uninviting! Quite frightening!

Sex is a subject so sensitive and personal; difficult to talk about; many shy away from it. A couple just finished having sex and can’t talk about it. How nasty! I think crafty! Can’t talk about an act they just took part in. Never really understood why? But that’s another subject.

Now let’s talk about SEX!

Sex is a quick game…It’s nice, quick, fast but never lasts. It’s anytime and anywhere with no one to stare; as long as you are with the one you care. If you go with a stranger you are courting danger. If you are one of the few lucky ones that the feeling and chemistry is mutual, you have found heaven! Most times you don’t bother with clothes or disrobing… you know what to take off or push aside don’t you?

Quick and fast, in and out, screams and groans curses and words too foul to revisit. But ohhhhhhhh god! Paradise in all of four minutes or so and the rest as they say is history.

Some like a bit of roughness here and there, and many a times body parts are bruised but sometimes disjointed. On odd occasions you get the occasional black eye and mild concussion, and that’s okay too

Unlike sex, making loving is an entirely different matter.

Lovemaking…aaah, sweet

The sentimental thing begins to come into play. You have to be nice, act nice and talk nice; sometimes you either love or like this person. People…we are talking really scary stuff here, the LOVE THING, it bites!

For us girls, now really it’s a big deal! When you find that big dope like yourself who takes the time to know you and show that they care. They take the time to set the mood, physically, mentally and emotionally…and you can tell, because they are firm but gentle.

They want to know what’s good for you, where do they touch you, how should they touch you to drive you wild. For them it’s like a challenge and they go far beyond the call of duty to get you to that place of bliss; and since you have a romance going on here, paradise, that place of pleasure takes even longer to get to… extra care is taken to get the oils that smell right, and music that is smooth that it just soothes and melts your heart.

Now, for the boys…it’s not all wham, bam thank you ma’am! Yes it might seem like all they are really interested in is the physical, as in appearance and in the act but those are usually the dull ones…
A man does not want a log of wood beside him. First of all sex for him begins in the mind where and when he conjures images and imagery of how rewarding sex or making loving with you will be. This leads to the anticipation of what lies beneath all your layers of clothing in and around your pleasure zones…he’s already halfway to paradise.

Next comes your physical beauty…if he sees what he likes; he knows he has found paradise. Getting down to the nitty-gritty; now girls when the live action begins…if you really do care, this is the time to share, show and pray do tell. Show him how he makes you feel by the way you look at him, touch and caress him. Tell him exactly how being with him makes you feel. The way and manner your body responds to his touch has its own language and will definitely send him to paradise.

Lovemaking is a long but very rewarding chore…umm! That’s if you don’t mind all the wahala involved but it has to be worth it.

I say this because all men are not created equal…

Size does matter to the extent that you know what to do with it! If the size is right but you ain’t doing it right, 9ja we have a problem! Surprise! Surprise! This goes both ways!

If a man is too big for the woman, wahala!

If the woman is too big for the man…more wahala!

If the man is big but the container is too small, na wetin we go do! It means part of him has to remain outside in the rain and cold!

If the woman is big and the man small…how will she feel a thing! It will be like an itch on your back that you can’t scratch! Wetin naw!

All things being equal, whether having sex or making love, if you are with that special someone, you can have the best of both worlds.

YOU BROKE MY HEART.

Betina and Peter in their marriage have witnessed many trials. This is their dialogue in the aftermath of an occurrence which threatened to destroy everything they both held dear…

Betina knows a place and a feeling of helplessness and fear. A state of mind which when it grips her, never seems to let go; she has to fight and crawl her way out of it. She is weary and alone in this place and all she wants is to get out. What she doesn’t know, is how to navigate her emotions away from this desert of misery. As each day comes and goes, she feels as though her will weakens even more.

She knows that she has to try harder to help herself, fight for her life and happiness; yet this reservation to even try consumes her, why? She knows her resolve will determine to some degree the outcome of this saga which has become her life, but something much stronger seems to be holding her down.

She looks around her and sees her children. She hears their voices, their laughter and their cries. Their voices travel and echo around the house as she lays in bed and she suddenly wishes that she was a child herself. She wished for the innocence and freedom that came with youth. Somehow the thought of this is soothing to her, and for the moment all seems calm in her body and mind…but reality has a cruel sense of humour… in a little while it hits home again. This thing has been, since her marriage to Peter. She knows full well that holding on to the past especially to its negativity, would never allow her move on to some normality of life, especially since there were so many unresolved issues.

Her issues were many and overpowering. They were mainly with Peter’s family, especially his mother. He would always get caught in the middle of it all and as any rational human being would, he took no sides, just tried to deal with things as diplomatically as possible. The stand he often took meant that he treated her without sentiment and dealt with the issues almost as a court room judge would. Often he came across as preachy and uncaring. Betina believed herself to be a rational person, but this thing he did, she could not fathom; exactly what was he trying to accomplish and for whom? Where exactly does he draw the line and be her husband?

As a result, she’s unhappy and angry all the time because she thinks he has no spine to even correct them and their errors, whereas he thinks he’s doing his best. She’s filled with so much rage and anger, and constantly struggles to keep both in check in order to maintain some peace and order in their lives.

Looking back, she realizes that she is still filled with so much resentment towards all of them especially his mother. Betina believes she’s on a sole mission and its purpose was to destroy their relationship. Somehow Betina feels that this mission has been accomplished, because where they were at that moment was far away from happily ever after.

***

“Why don’t you hear me? Why don’t you see the pain and damage you are causing with this thing you do? Am I to be punished perpetually for one single mistake? Come on…you have to know that this is not right.” Betina vividly recalls her words to him.

She believed that he had fallen victim to something…what? She had no clue. “They or something have you believing that I will leave our life, so you buy into the fear. Those thoughts do cross my mind, I fantasize about it frequently but I also know that it would be just that…fantasy.”

The truth of the matter was that running away from their life or him, would not solve anything. She had to consider the bigger picture. It was not just the two of them anymore; there were other lives to consider. How exactly does she look her 3 year old in the eye and say mommy is leaving because she’s scared of what life may be five years down the road? How does she deny these children their right to a secure home with both mom and dad present at all times? The security of family life where both parents have a contribution to make, raising them in a manner they had come to know all their lives. 

Their children like most people, had also come to form an opinion based on their reality of what a home should be for them. She knew this included both her and their father; how does she take this away from them?

Then there was also this little matter of love…what does she do with her love for him? How is it possible to love him so much and still feel so much disappointment and anger towards him? Why do these negatives consume her so? As they evolved in the life they share, she is finally developed the courage to decipher between guilt and truth. The things that he had gotten away with, all because of the guilt she had carried in her heart all those years.

She feels responsible for him, his happiness and safety. In retrospect she sees the arrogance in her thinking. She began to see life from a different angle, an angle which neither judged nor condemned either of them. Rather this angle made her see herself as a woman prone to err and him as well. She no longer had the desire to smile and make happy as long as it brought peace, whilst inside she was screaming in agony with a burning desire to smack the jealousy, inadequacies and manipulations out of him.

“We are indeed kindred spirit in the sense that we do know each other quite well. Just like you, I anticipate every move even before you think of it, and I can read your face and expressions like a book. That’s why the lies don’t work anymore: the shrugging of shoulders and forced smiles as proof that all is good.” She remembers telling him. All these ceased to have any impact on her.

All these memories and more were painful and haunting to her. The times he allowed them speak to her as if she was nobody; she remembers being called a gold digger by his mother. The times she had to apologize and make happy when all the while she was the one who deserved to be apologized too. The times when she cooked and cleaned after them all like a maid, and still had to care for three new babies barely four weeks old, and yet he still did nothing. He just watched as she bore the insults and humiliation. All he said

All that she could think of was where was the promise of being there and shielding her from harm? Where did love go then? How will this hurting stop? Who can she tell her pains to, her best friend? Her best friend was the one who brought all the hurt in the first place; her best friend broke her heart.

Looking back now, she realizes that he could not have done any better; this was because of his general make up. He had adopted this superiority in character and belief, placing them above others; his exact words were “We know better and are stronger in spirit. Why let the weaker spirits suffer a test you know they can never pass.” Although remaining silent, she was screaming inside! Who died and made him mediator between her and her maker? At other times when he came up with the same line, she screamed and protested her disapproval and complained of her pain; all he did was call her selfish.

Moments like this, all that made sense to her was how stupid she was to have fed his warped view of their world. She Fed his perversion of what was right and wrong, enabling him by understanding each time and when he finally, apologized, only to return to the same pattern a few days later. She felt like an asshole for having tried to rationalize and justify him, always saying to herself…”perhaps he will see sense this time around and this will all stop.” It never did, and her suffering continued.

***

Finally arriving at a place where her soul was lost, asleep and confused, yet somehow it was this same Peter who reached out to her, stood, fought and help her breath again. The stress was horrible, the ordeal was devastating, but he was strong and like a raging bull fought his way through; razing any and every obstacle that stood in their way.

But what purpose was it all for, if he raised her up only to trample all over her again? Yes, that’s exactly what she believes he did. She knew that her knowledge of life was limited, but also knew one thing for sure; love does not treat anyone this way. He constantly compared and measured her level and quality of love for him, always claiming his as more worthy and superior.

He always said how he never measured up in her eyes and she lacked respect for him…this always confused her. She wondered how it was that after 22 years of marriage and 5 children, he could come up with something like this. Surely there must have been love somewhere in all of this. Why is it that as long as she disagreed or had a separate opinion about anything, it automatically meant that she is not one with him.

Here she was thinking that the uniqueness in unions is the diversity in thought and understanding, which when it comes together, has the capability of unleashing an incredible solidarity that no negative force could penetrate. Then again, what does she know? She had cried so many tears and faked so many joys that finally; she knew she was no longer willing to live this way.

Why does he want to own her? How could she be in this relationship where the very thing destabilizing is the same which is supposed to be her strength?

Every action or gesture connected to her or carried out by her in some way had an ulterior motive; he allowed his mind to conjure weird thoughts and belief’s and then turns around and judges her based on them. So many years of reasoning and rationalizing, always trying to make him see that these things were not real, but what he assumes them to be; in the end she would be in tears and resign herself to sorrow again. This had to stop…if there is no trust, where is the love? One cannot work without the other.

She finally decided to fight back; she will not have him define her anymore, no more ugliness and the assumptions that his opinions and fantasies are truths. He had broken her heart so many times; she now feared it would never mend again, at least not by him.

***

“I broke your heart? Ha! How do you break something that died a long time ago? Yes! You died a long time ago darling, all I have been doing for years is try to shock you back to life. Where is the girl I married? The girl filled with so much life and exuberance that I could hardly keep up. It’s as though you just gave up on life, our life. Tell me…what was so bad about it that death seemed a better alternative? Your body was certainly here, but your spirit had gone. Did I not treat you right? We had dreams and hope, planned how to map out our own little world and make it right as we saw fit. Somewhere between baby two and the triplets you morphed into a zombie.

You just made happy and went along for the ride, for so long I tried… oh I did try, to make you see me and accept our present as it was then. That did not mean our future would be same, but you coached your spirit not to budge, your version of reality was permanent, there was no way to reach you. I died to you. The children were luckier than me; at least they got the occasional smile, laughter and hugs.

They could still find their mom in that shell that you had become; somehow, they knew you were still in there. Every promise I made to you was from the depth of my soul, I know and still believe that you are my love and my life…this is not my making, it just is.

When you describe this man that you believe I have come to be, and these crimes I am supposed to have committed against you; I’m at a loss for words because I do not know this person, neither can I identify with him. I know that my desperation to keep us together made me cross certain lines and did things far from my character; all I did, I did so that we would not lose us. I had lost my best friend and I desperately wanted her back. You changed, you no longer thought like you or reasoned like you; you became sad and cynical.

I know that in your eyes, things have gone beyond mending, but that is for those who have no faith in love. You may say that you lack the energy or desire to try, but think about this my love, can you let go of any of your children?

Is there anyone of them that could possibly drive you to such an act? Yet you are quick to want to discard me, turn away and close your mind to me as though I never even was…this is what I saw and felt and how you make me feel.

My heart is not broken, no…far from that! My heart is aching; the ache lingers because it knows not where these accusations come from, and is exhausted from defending itself. I have been accused, convicted and condemned all at the same time…why? Where is this love you speak of so eloquently of? You my love have me imprisoned by the only thing which gives me hope…your love.

I have tried and cannot visualize my world without you…so tell me, where do we go from here? Everything I believe and know to be truth, is what I use as measure when dealing with you…every opinion, gesture, question, disagreement or acknowledgement, have all been based on what I consider my truth, our truth. If these have hurt or undermined you in anyway, then accept my most sincere apology; what do I gain from hurting or destroying intentionally, the very thing I desire most.

I know in my heart that my feelings do not deceive me, how then am I to accept that you are here with me, when I feel you and know that your soul is gone far away from me?

***

“This is the pattern of our life, we weave a web so tight that it’s become impossible to unravel, and perhaps if given a chance at weaving again; perhaps better a second time… if you will not stop to hear me, how do you begin to understand what is wrong or even have an inkling as to how to make it better? I fear I will be lost without you, but being here with you is not healthy for me. It’s almost as if there is a force that is making sure of this, because one minute you swear to do right, make it better this time, but next thing I know, I’m being interrogated and bullied all over again. The attention that you pay to details in your accusations, naming days and quoting times of my errors, insubordination and betrayal are truly staggering.

Anyone tenacious like that surely is out to prove something, what exactly would you achieve by catching me red handed as you put it; red handed at what? Not loving you enough? I have begged you to let me go…why would you want to be with someone whose love you are not so sure of? You claim you cannot make such a decision and have no desire to do so, now I’m stuck and thorn between choosing which is more important; your happiness or mine? Between doing what serves us best as a family, or what makes us happy individually. For each time I don’t smile and hug after you have abused my emotions and my soul, you get angry because I don’t make happy and play house with you.

Am I not entitled to my own soreness? Surely I should be able to have the privilege to sulk and be angry for as long as I want… our making up should not also be mandated by you should it?

You have broken my heart and it cannot be mend this time, at least not by you. I despair at it all coming to nothing, the struggles that we have faced and triumphed over in the past, and all we managed to achieve together; and I ask myself many times, to what purpose then was all this for? What glory is this to God? Someone please throw me a line…for I am drowning in this deep sea of sorrow and confusion.”

***

“Throw you a line? I will throw you a line, how about you come clean with me? Tell me exactly why you did not hear my voice when I shouted my fears and worries.

You were so unhappy with me you found comfort away from me. It can’t be because our love died, No! I would know if that was the case. I saw you look at me when everything was calm, and the night was still. I saw your look. It was always the look of love. You wince and grimace as though you struggled to remain so. Later I realized it was the battle between your head and your heart.

A new heart, a new place; where the stress of our world was far away. That’s what you found yourself. Now you want me to let go because you found a false release. I feel ashamed and dishonoured, but then I knew this would happen. You were an accident waiting to happen.

I have cried and cursed all at once, asking why? Why did God let it go this far? Don’t you get it? You are my prize, my treasure, my essence: You were not given to be shared or soiled, but that was what you chose; to share and soil your body and soul with another.

Forgive one mistake you say? I’m exhausted from rage and anger. Perhaps I’m guilty as charged. Funny thing though, is that I’m angrier with myself than I am with you. I kept pushing and pushing you to face what was happening. I wonder if I had not pushed so hard, perhaps you would have not gone so far.

We are now both in hell and I see your pain and mine every day. Why do you punish yourself so? Why? I know my sorrow and have made peace with these ghosts of pain. You my love need to take the first step towards healing. You need to forgive yourself. Your prison is self-made Betti, for long ago my love, I forgave you.

Angry yes, rage even more, but stopped loving you…never! Not for one day!

I have seen life through so many colours and many times I choose the colour Rose; because it shows beauty in even the ugliest of pictures. I am made this way, I have grown this way and this way I have found love in you.

There are no words to describe such beauty as my world as I see it in you. So accept my line and pull yourself up. As for me…I’ll wait here, and will wait still, until I feel your tug and I will pull you up.”

A Calmer and More Gentle Me

I recently had a personal crisis which put me in a really awkward position.

I suddenly realized that in all that I have come to regard as my character and make up, when it really comes to the crunch of a temptation or dilemma, my resolve seems to fly out the window. I came face to face with death, literally and somehow in my delusions it did not look dangerous at all.

I can honestly tell you that I was very comfortable taking those steps, and as each step brought me closer to my end, my journey seemed even sweeter and more worth the risks.

What is it that they say again? The road to perdition is paved with good intentions. In all that I experienced, I have come out with one very crucial and emphatic fact; at least in my personal reality… I’m not as clever as I thought I was!

I came to see that the personal standards and values I put out so visibly for all to see under the pretense or assumption that this is me and what I should be judged by; was my way of carving out a cocoon to protect my pride and ego.

In a way I believe that we all do this as human beings…we arrogantly want to dictate the standards we want to be judged by, but not the real and true picture of ourselves.

Life however does find a way of bringing it all crashing down! This is exactly what happened in my case. Looking back now, I am humbled by my experience and I thank God that I did not find myself too far gone to return. Basically, I will never arrogate superiority in character to myself, however, I will hope that at any given time, I will rise above the barriers presented and hope that something bigger in me will triumph over the bad.

I have also learnt that to love and show love is completely different from kindness, charity and all else. I discovered that love is in a whole new zip code solely occupied by its self.

Love is not driving 5 hours impromptu to get a friend or relative from the airport, and having faced the horrible traffic and weather; only to get there and hear your loved one whine about how long they had to wait, or what the hell took you so long?...Well people, love and the ability to love begins right there!...your response and genuine state of mind and disposition at that moment defines if you do possess love or not.

It’s amazing how the simple things are really the one that are most difficult to master, like ignoring that silly man down the road who finds real pleasure in parking right at an angle that it's difficult but not impossible to get out of your drive...or the one who thinks his kids are the best, but you and the entire block know for a fact that they are little devils intent on destroying the neighborhood.

The list goes on...but the fact remains that your ranting and raving will not get you anywhere.  But if you are able to block them out of your mind or just behave like they don’t exist, voila! Their interest is miraculously diverted to something else.

It’s amazing how the less attention you pay to things that ordinarily would annoy you, the quicker and easier they seem to go away! I previously never quite looked at it this way; I was always not ready to suffer fools gladly. The road down perdition boulevard certainly did a thing or two to my whole thought pattern...if you ask me, I think it's for good. I definitely feel so much calmer.

My So Called Life

I could come up with a million reasons why this life is not the sweet smelling flower I long it to be.
I could tell you right now that my sorrow has consumed what little hope I reserved,
Yet this sadness lingers and finally swallows me up.

All I see is the darkness and the depth of my soul
Gone so far in ruins that I wonder,
What reason is there left to seek.
Seek what you say?

A flicker of light perhaps, a sound or a ruffle;
Anything that can shake me to life.
Perhaps then, these reasons will dim and their numbers fall
So life can look brighter than I think it be.
Could it be that self-pity and pride have led to my myopia?
Could I really be this sad as to not see how life thrives around me?
Give me reasons to hope...just a little oh mind of mine,
For these walls of misery are wearing me thin.

Look all around oh petty feelings, peer into the horizon and see,
For what you think is lacking, really is there for the taking.

Sweet smelling flower?
What makes you think of life as such?
Even sweet can smell too much and the nose suddenly tires of the fragrance.
Sweet is not the only flavour to life,
Sour and tangy also make life good.
The mixture of all is what creates the perfection we embrace and each term reality.

Now stop! Stop oh soul...are we running away from the fact?
Focus on the subject...you are doomed!
Doomed you say? No! I refuse doom,
Suddenly I have the strength to fight.
Let me fight.

Let me fight for a chance to a life,
Perhaps not quite like the sweet smelling flowers I hoped,
But alas I will still be able to sniff, smell…
Even taste some aspect of life to make me want to stay
Come to think of it, why have I forgotten all that is reason to life?
I have it all around me; I hear them, feel them, smell them
Yet I forget. How indeed did my soul stray so far, that I stopped to think only of me...

The Many Faces of Love... Part Two

Continuation from part 1
The happiness of our good fortune came at a very good time for the family. We were able to treat the children and still had a huge lump sum to start over again. The main agenda however, was to get to Nigeria and finalize this thing we started, and perhaps lay a few ghosts to rest.



The thing about having a big family is that it's easy for friends and relatives to dump their kids on you, but you can't do the same. Seriously though, how do you pawn off seven kids on anyone? Funny…huh? You've got to see the humour in this. So we had to look for someone, friend or relative willing to move in for a month or so to help keep an eye on our precious ones. We did not have to look for too long; rescue came in the form of Uncle Femi, Tobe's business partner and brother from another mother.



Our preparations soon began and I got my trousseau according to Victorian standards. Even though I was not quite privileged to their bank balance, I do a mean thrift and vintage that would rival any real fashionista, if you get my drift. All I really needed was a simple but gorgeous gown for the reception and a good Gina...they do great shoes you know. Now there was also the matter of nipping off to Austria for some very fine voil lace for both me and the hubby. As we do it folks, you all know there has to be aso ebis right? That's where my many capable sisters eight in total come in. This was going to be one bad ass wedding and they were hell bent on making it so.


Tobe was still hustling, seriously determined to get this new company of his off the ground and thanks to our newly found mini fortune, he had something to bank on. He left all the organizing to me, said we had to live on something after the big giving. I laughed it off, never quite understanding what he meant, but I did much later when we got home in Naija.


I found the most amazing gown: vintage Dior, but was not so lucky with the Gina. One out of two ain't bad eh. You would never believe the stunner I finally found in Next Bridal. As for the lace, I scoured Liverpool Street. Somehow the hills of Austria did not make much money sense after all, wind fall or not.


As lady luck always followed me, I must brag that I did A-okay with my finds as well. The children were buzzed about the whole wedding thing, though the older ones were a little curious as to why we had to do it all over again. Whatever happened to the Registry over at the Council office, mom, Timothy asked?


His aunt, his dad's older sister had to explain about the traditions, whilst Uncle Femi got the job of promising the others they would all come to Naija next time. "It's not fair mom" the twins moaned in their silly whinny voices..."How come David goes everywhere?" "That's because he's the baby" uncle replies. Duh! Timothy teased.


The house was bustling with the usual crowd of kids dashing in and out, and my in laws who were now frequenting more than usual considering the coming event. Things were been taken care of this but we had to have help on the ground there in Naija and that was resolved by my lovely brother in law David, we named our baby after him. His wife is my little sis Ibuchim but we all called her Buchi. Now these two were typical Lagosians who had their ear to the ground on all the deals both legit and not so.


Between them they handled a lot of the organizing and putting things in place. But even though they steered clear of the not so legit, they knew someone who knew someone if the need ever arose. This time it did, and so they called on the someone who knew someone to handle certain matters.


The family in naija had their own aso ebi and the States side of the family also had theirs. There was still the matter of the in-laws from the Yoruba land...my people or so I thought. Our colour for my birth family was peach and green, my people, the Yoruba's, chose blue and silver and my sisters in naija decided on gold head ties for the Umunna's (relations at large) and Ndi Ibe ( my age group) I will explain later about these .



My mom had to get to naija from the states the same week as me to present a gift to our Umuada (daughters of my linage) to inform them of the upcoming visit for my hand and also plead for their help with cooking for certain members of my clan who would not on occasions such as this, eat food prepared by unworthy hands, no pun intended.



The further along we went with these preparations, the more I came to find out about how this most simple and beautiful tradition we were so keen to fulfil had been adulterated. The whole thing left a somewhat bitter taste in my mouth; but everyone else was amused and in good spirits...could be because they had done battle with these people and not only lost, but took great gladness in what they gained in return, their beautiful wives and once lost dignity.


Everything took its toll, between liaising with naija and the states and desperately striving to double up and fill the two deep freezers in our store located in the back garden with 3 different kinds of soups, stews, bean porridge, Jellof rice, Moi-moi, fried fish, meats and chicken. These all had to be individually packaged to serve the kids and uncle for the next 3 to 4 weeks until our return. Other things like the oyinbo food would come from Mac D's or Bugger King and our local chippie. I was definitely swamped, but am not called supermom for nothing; this gal pulled it all off! Nice and neatly delivered and in target time as well...up me!


The last time I attended a wine carrying was back in 05; my oldest sister's. All I had to do was make myself beautiful and show up for the whole shindig; this time around was a different kettle of fish. There was so much to organize; money had to be sent down to David to pre book for the band, pay the caterers deposit and also accommodate the Photographers and video folks. Thanks to internet banking the transfer of funds was easy and as far as other things such as decorations and theme, my capable sisters took care of that.


Here in London, as we put the finishing touches to everything, the days seemed to fly. The children became clingy and the yearning for Naija soon increased in all of them. Having visited back in 04 for my brother in-laws wedding, my darlings were had so much fun and were spoilt rotten by all the relatives; hence their fascination for everything Naija had set in since then.



They remembered the beaches and Mega Plaza, all the Suya and fresh roasted corn; practically living in Ikoyi club, swimming all day. I did not like the idea of leaving them behind, but when you have to cut your coat according to your material, the story becomes different.



The last days before our departure was spent reassuring them that it would not be for long and that we would soon be back. Timothy and the bigger ones however were not too troubled, a little more freedom for them they thought, I'm sure; but surprises lay ahead for them courtesy of good old uncle Femi. Thankfully they were in school the day we left, so all the goodbyes were said earlier in the morning just before they left.

The bad thing about international traveling since 911 is the ridiculous hours wasted on the ground before take off. In this instance, ours was a good 5 hours, this was so not cool especially with a 2 year old. The nightmare of customs and immigration was nothing compared to the horrible transit bus to the plane itself.



I have flown BA all my adult life, but this particular experience left me so frustrated that I made a mental note...never again!

When you are on board an airplane going to Naija, there's a certain atmosphere in it, even before take off that gives off the feeling of being home. Perhaps it's the sudden familiar babbling in our various languages and that crude manner we tend to treat each other, regardless of class or status, courtesy and good manners immediately eludes us...aah...how so sweet.



After the gruesome experience, we are finally settled down and as we taxied for take off, I glance at my Tobe and his expression could not hide his apparent self pity of being in coach...got to love this!.



Take off was good and as the turbulence settled, dinner was served and the cabin crew did their usual magic of clearing up and passengers soon settled for the long haul to Lagos. David soon fell asleep after a bottle and gratefully I placed him in the bassinet. As for me, I was elated to finally stretch out my legs and put my arms around my body in a self hug....okay coach was awful, but it was not the end of the world.



I felt truly humbled sitting between Tobe and an overweight sweaty German who already showed signs of being one of those people who will talk you to death. The good thing though was that he smelled lovely...Armani pour homme; I know that fragrance any day. He was definitely Gay I thought almost happy; if he was a talker as suspected, we would have some real gal talk, lol.



The great thing about night flights was the sleep effect....before long, half our section in the cabin was in snooze-land and the global map on my screen gave our estimated arrival time to be 4hours more.Tobe also finally fallen asleep but my eyes were wide awake. I began to think about home and curious as to how this whole affair would play out.



We had seen a copy of the LIST....this was a list of items and services primarily expected by the groom to deliver to the bride's family. "you are not going to like this David had warned when he emailed it to us, they had asked for everything...from the most ridiculous to the down right stupid. They all but asked for a pound of flesh. He was right, I was livid. I carefully went through the 65 item list and narrowed it to 40. At that number, the total cost was still staggering. Remembering all this, I promptly got it out of my handbag and stared at it once more.



My mother in law screamed "ye kpa " and broke into a banter of Yoruba proverbs about how these Igbo people have turned something sacred to a treasure hunt. I happened to be on the phone with her when she received it. "Mommy! isn't this a plague consuming everywhere in our beloved country?" I said to her amused.



The more I stared at the list the more I began to miss my late father; had be been alive, half the nonsense on this list would not be on it. Tobe's response was just grin and bear it,"after all, we've already begun this journey". David began to stir a little and I gently rocked him back to sleep in his crib. Now would not be a good time to whip out my double D's to pacify him, my little man was still sucking.



Somewhere between self pity and indignation, I too fell asleep. Though I slept for a good two hours, it felt like 30 minutes. I was awakened by the flood of light that illuminated the entire cabin. The cabin suddenly came to life again and the airline staff scurried along with their duty of serving the last refreshments before arrival. Tobe's vegetarian platter looked better than the Ploughman's sandwiches the rest of us in coach got, my opinion of course.



He looked up at me as I reached to grab David and I winked at him. He seemed a lot less tense now and David began to reach for him...our German friend, who simply smiled and stretched his arms towards me. "I'll hand him over" he said between a mouthful.



Our little man happily reached for his outstretched hands and let out the loudest coo....aahh! German guy says smiling as he gave Tobe his son. I got our things together, prepared some formula for David and went to freshen up while others ate in order to avoid the rush afterwards. In the toilet, I splashed some water on my face and dabbed with paper towels. The face staring back at me looked tired, but still hanging in there. Not bad for a 37 year old huh? I thought to myself. I could still recognize that face.

I hastily applied some moisturizer to my face and arms and hurried back to my seat. The crew were already collecting papers and finished snacks...hence the trolley in the aisle. After several minutes of ducking between seats, I finally made it to mine. Tobe had just about finished with changing our little man and our German friend had left for the toilet. For the first time in the entire trip, my love and I were finally alone....at least for the next 3 minutes or so.



Matter of minutes now babes, I said touching his chin; not too late to change your mind. He smiled in that way only he could; eyes twinkling and face lite up "not for a million baby, it's a done deal already" he replied passing David to me.



The entire cabin was now fully awake once more as passengers prepared before the final call to be seated for landing. I mentally took stock of our belongings and where there where stowed. The smooth sound of the Captains voice soon urged staff to be seated for landing and we gradually descended until the thump familiar sound of the wheels hitting the runway could be heard and gradually the speed decreased until we came to a final stop.



The only way to go through disembarking from the plane was with calm and patience,and we did just that. There was no need to get my panties all twisted up so early in the next 2-3 hours of a hellish morning that was just about to be unleashed upon us....welcome to Naija!


The common rituals of immigrations and customs were observed and after many faked smiles, forced parting so to speak with a few Naira; we finally came through the other side. The family had done well in arranging transportation for us and as we wheeled the luggage and stroller down to the parking lot, my cousin Charles and the driver chatted animatedly with us.

After 30 minutes or so, we finally got everything into both cars and Tobe rode with the driver whilst David and I rode with my cousin. It was good to be in Lagos.


Traffic was not so bad and the familiar sights of flyers, billboards and street hawkers was welcome to my eyes.

Everyone is so excited about your Igabankwu, Charles said to me...in fact all the Oborogu people in Lagos are said to be coming to the village also. "really?" I asked.


This was really nice to hear, but I knew it also meant more expenses. The union of my people voting to come home for my traditional wedding was really a big honor. These days folks were not too keen on spending their money, but to paying their own fares to get to the east? This really was a big deal.



We must make sure there's plenty to eat and drink that day sister, Charles continued taking the words right out of my mouth. Yes indeed, we had to make it worth everyone's time.


The journey to my family home in Ajao estate did not take long. The estate was just minutes from the international airport anyway. The old house was still standing...looking old and tired but still standing. As we pulled into the drive, the gates were quickly closed behind us and soon the few relations who lived in the boys quarters all came out to greet us.


Familiar faces; some now wrinkled with age, yellowing teeth and wide eyed grins. It was wonderful to see them all. There was an uncle deported from the soviet union and one who fought in the Cameroon war; I will tell you more about them as we go along. There was sisi Beke (English teacher) she spoke way too much grammar. She was a middle aged family friend, educated in Cambridge, but taught English in a local secondary school...another strange story for later. Then there was uncle BOY...yes boy; that's just what we call him; his wife and 3 daughters made up the rest of the house hold.

Their hugs were genuine and smelly, but it felt good being in their embrace. They all greeted Tobe in a manner typical Igbo in-laws would, the men that is. "Ogor nno o! welcome". Tobe knew them all, and soon the little girls swarmed around David wanting to carry him and of course he did not protest at all.

When all the luggage had been brought in and put away in the rooms, we sat in the lounge downstairs to contemplate on where we would sleep for the night, when we got our official welcome from NEPA...

TBC

Questioning The Bonds of Friendship

It is true that as parents we are the architects of our children’s take on life. While many try very hard to do their best, there are still some who don’t quite make the mark.

Unfortunately the right to procreate has been given to all; as HE does not discriminate. Success in parenting the right way is determined by things way beyond commonsense. There are kids who have everything as appropriately required from the beginning, yet still get messed up.

Cruelty and betrayal are taught to us every day of our lives by both kin and strangers. I believe it’s the world we now live in. Take a look around. It’s in your face every day: reality shows, peer pressure, sports, etc. Heck, we even have motivational speakers teaching cruelty and hatred; all in the name of getting one over.

This is the new culture for young people and they learnt this from society as a whole, not just parents. The real task is how do we stop this? Or at least make our children remember that they always have a choice to be the weirdo or odd ball, if the need ever arises or to make that choice to either stand out or join the status quo.

Two separate incidents come to mind. The first incident took place some years ago…

One evening, a friend of mine called from London. The kids had just finished dinner.  I was surprised she called, seeing that it was around 2am over there. From the sound of her voice I knew something was bothering her.

Chelle! I exclaimed happily.

“How the heck are you gal?”

“Just hanging by my lonesome” she replied in that throaty voice of hers.

“What gives Chelle? Why are you up at 2am, by your lonesome at that?” I replied mimicking her voice to make her laugh.

And laugh she did and it was throaty and contagious. I love her laughter, deep from the belly as my grandma used to say.

“It’s snowing freakishly over here.  Central heating is on the blink and I’m too cold to fall asleep”.

“Hmm… great time for nookie. Why aren’t you wrapped around that handsome man of yours?

There was silence for a moment, then she says “handsome has been gone for two months now, and I….

“What do you mean gone? I cut in.

“Gone as in the hell out of my life” she replies calmly.

***

Chelle and I have been friends from High school. She was just one of those people you could always depend on; kind to a fault and always there when you need someone. Unfortunately she just was not lucky in love.

I think it’s the bleeding heart syndrome she has, and men have taken advantage of this for so long. Until Money (that’s her boyfriend’s nick name by the way,) came into her life.

Money was devilishly handsome and brash, but in a really sexy sort of way. Chelle’s first response when he started talking to her was standoffish, which surprised us all because she is the sweetest thing ever; regardless of the makeup of the other person.

This made the chase even sweeter for Money and he persisted. Flowers, texts, calls etcetera. He did all the right things to get her attention. Chelle still ran. Money eventually grabbed her one day in front of her mom and planted one smack on the lips. The room seemed to freeze that day, everyone starred, surprised while Chelle’s mom had a wicked grin on her face.

Chelle tried to pull away, but he was stronger. I guess she liked his lips, and whatever Money’s tongue was doing in her mouth seemed to be working because she relaxed and kissed him back. Everyone cheered and clapped, Money laughed and took a bow, walking over to Chelle’s mom and gave her a hug.

Poor Chelle, you should have seen her face. It turned out Money had been talking with her mom and she had encouraged him to go for it. You see, Chelle is her only child. A mother gets weary watching love come and go season after season. She wanted desperately for Chelle to be happy.

That’s how Chelle and Money came to be a couple. He has been a hustler all his life. He was that boy who sold sweets in elementary school at three times the price to desperate classmates because recess was over and they had no choice. He peddled purses, shoes, clothes…you name it, he did almost anything for a quick buck; this was in high school. University saw him dealing phones, dvd’s …anything to keep cash flow going. And so everyone called him Money, because he loved the dealings and was darn good at it.

Now all grown up, Money had not done badly at all… he was obscenely loaded! This was one relationship I believed was meant to be, they were good for one another. To hear Chelle say he had gone was rather unsettling and sounded out right crazy!

***

“Hey! Hey! Slow down Chelle. WTF…what do you mean he’s gone?”

Her voice broke as she began to speak…It started about three months ago when she had the flu.

Another gal pal of ours, Sonia came over to play nurse. All went well as she made soup for Chelle and kept her company because Money was out of town. He called several times in those two days, but mainly spoke with Sonia. Chelle was asleep most times and when Sonia woke her up to speak with him, Chelle would say she should talk with him…heck, they all were friends. There was no reason for her to feel strange or otherwise. Sonia took care of her from that Friday until Sunday after midnight when Money finally made it home. He took Sonia back to her flat, and by the time he got home, Chelle had fallen asleep again.

Everything seemed fine until she began to notice that Sonia was not showing up for any of their gatherings any more. She avoided her calls and several times when they planned for lunch or something, Sonia would cancel at the last minute. She mentioned it to Money but his response was “women!”

Chelle’s mum managed to calm her down. She knew Sonia was one of her daughter’s few close friends still present there in London, so once more she decided to play God in her child’s life.
She decided to pay Sonia a visit; maybe she was going through something difficult herself and did not know how to handle it. One day after work, she drove down to Sonia’s street and soon found a suitable parking space. As she walked down to the building, she suddenly stopped in her tracks. At the corner by the end of the road, was parked Money’s jeep. That’s strange! She thought to herself. Alarm bells immediately went off in her head.

Unlike her daughter, Chelle’s mom was one tough broad. You really don’t want to mess with her.
Luckily she caught the door as another tenant entered, so she did not have to buzz Sonia. Her heart suddenly began to beat faster…she was scared all of a sudden. Somehow she already knew what she was about to find out, and though she knew the truth was important, she hated to be the one to tell her baby about it. Money!  That bastard! He was just like the rest of them. How could Sonia do this? How could she?

The elevator took her to the tenth floor and with slow tentative steps she approached the Sonia’s door. Voices came through faintly from inside. She stood there for a minute and then rang the bell.

“Who is there?” Sonia’s musical voice asked?

“Management” Chelle’s mom answered disguising her voice.

As the door flew open, she pushed past a stunned Sonia into the flat. There, sprawled on the rug was none other than the bastard himself Money; half naked in his boxers nursing a glass of brandy.

“You” Chelle’s mom gasped launching for him

“Mariam! Noooo!” Money yelled jumping to his feet to grab his pants. It was already too late.

Chelle’s mom grabbed a lamp and flung it at him, he dodged and it crashed to the floor. Sonia was hysterical by now, hands cupped together as if in prayer “Oh my God, oh my God” she kept chanting.
Money had one foot in his pants and was still hopping around like a court jester, as Chelle’s mom snaps away on her phone.

“Shameless, classless bastard! God! To think I got Chelle into this!” She yelled at him.

Money now in his pants moves away from her, hands on his head with the kind of look that says “I’m seriously fucked” begins to speak.

“Shut up!” chelle’s mom roared.

“You only reverted to type, as for you…” she turns to Sonia, “I hope he is truly worth betraying your best friend over”.

Chelle’s mom walks out of the flat, Sonia’s sniffling fading away as she approached the elevator. It was then that she felt the tears rolling down her cheeks.

***

 “Seriously!” I gasped horrified.

“WTF! WFT…!” was all I kept repeating. It didn’t sound real to me as Chelle narrated her horror to me.

Not exonerating Money in anyway, but I was more shocked over Sonia’s part in all of this. She and Chelle were the only two out of six of us living in London. The rest of us lived in different parts of the US.  Sonia and Chelle grew even closer over the years. Sonia had gone through a traumatic divorce five years ago after ten years of marriage. We all know she pulled through only because of Chelle.
We meet up once a year for two weeks, no kids, men or emotional baggage; just us gals. We had been doing this for four years now. Sonia’s face came to my mind, sweet beautiful Sonia. Her husband, Anthony, had cheated on her for years until she found out. He took everything in the divorce; the one thing she treasured and got was Jr. their 9 year old son.

Anthony stuck him in some silly private school in Switzerland, just because he could afford to, and also to make Sonia miserable. How could she now turn around and do the same thing to another woman? It wasn’t for material gains; Sonia was rich, as in old money kind of rich. Her dad was in real estate and owned premium buildings in London, N.Y, and South of France. Everyone had frowned when Sonia came home one day with this Benin boy. He was rough around the edges, working class background with a genius IQ, and a hunger to succeed.

Sonia was a wild child and she liked to wind her father up, so she stuck with him. Years later, Anthony’s hunger paid off, and he started making money. They marry against her father’s wishes, and when it ended, he was the first to say “told you so”.

How is it that Sonia has now developed amnesia all of a sudden? How could she now turn around and betray Chelle, over any man, much less with Money, whom she has known less than three years?

***

Chelle’s voice comes on again and she tells me that her mom did not tell her what she had found out immediately.  That day when Money came home, he was cold and withdrawn. Chelle had asked what was wrong, he said he was unwell. Poor baby she said reaching to give him a hug, thinking perhaps she had given him her flu. He stiffened when she held him, and still did not suspect anything. Instead she called her mom to have a chat; all worried about Money and his wellbeing. Her mom had had just about enough of him that she screamed that Money was a bloody grown man and why the hell was she fussing so much about his flu.

Chelle freaked out and began to cry. She wondered why was her mom being such a bitch and then she hung up. She felt all alone; Money was not feeling well and was withdrawn…and her mom had gone all psycho. She said she cried herself to sleep, but not before trying to call Sonia to talk with her, but as usual, no answer.

The next day her mom came over just before going to work. She simply handed Chelle the phone and said “here”. At first she did not make sense of it, Money looked rather silly hoping around with one leg in his pants.  Wait a minute she thought, how the hell did her mom come by such a picture? It was then her mom sat down and told her everything.

Chelle said she could say nothing. After what seemed like hours but really only twenty minutes, she cuddled up to her mom and began to cry. Chelle said Money never came home after this day. He came by later that month to pick up his things; always making sure she was out of the flat. Chelle never bothered to ask why or what happened, and Money never explained either. As for Sonia, Chelle said she later called her, several times but did not speak with her. The last she heard from friends, Sonia was in rehab.

They said she left her flat in her panties with no bra. The building security called her dad; he was the landlord. He came for his daughter, and put her in a facility. She feels sad for Sonya; her father finally has control over her.

***

I have kept more in touch with Chelle. She’s doing so much better now, but it took some time. I contacted our four friends and told them Chelle’s story. Like me ,they were shocked that Chelle had kept all this to herself. We arranged our meet later that year in Denver. This time Chelle came alone; she told us Sonia was on the mend and that they had started speaking again but still had not seen each other since the incident.

The rest of us were happy to be there. We talked, laughed, cried and talked some more.

Chelle met someone in Denver, He’s half Nigerian.  His father is Italian and his mother Igbo. Chelle now seems happy.  A lot more talkative and witty… There was a radiant glow in her face that we all noticed, and liked very much. We told her to be naughty and spontaneous. Adaku the loudest mouth amongst us yelled “live a little” as she pulled Chelle down into the snow. Adaku works for the U.S. Marines and knows twenty easy ways to kill a man and she tells men so. She’s been married now for thirteen years and Okey knows he is marked for life. She tells Chelle to let her know the next time any man wants to mess with her.

Okay, I have to go back to my introduction before this story; relationships are built in diverse ways. We all want the most worthy basis to be TRUST. Looking back to my friends and I; I begin to wonder about something that also happened more recently.

This really creeps me out. Just last week, we took the kids bowling and ran into a friend from their school. The girl’s mother says “hello” and they pick a lane next to ours. We soon began to talk whilst the children bowled. She tells me she was glad they ran into friends of her daughter Kayla….”she’s been miserable since Friday” her mother says.

Why I ask? Then she goes on to tell me about a group of girls whom Kayla had been friends with since kindergarten, how they had removed her as their friend on Facebook. “That’s not nice” I say really surprised.

I know, Kayla’s mom replies…would you believe they told her they did it because two boys from their school had asked them to do so. They say my little girl thinks she’s so cool but they will teach her a lesson. If the girls did not do it, they would not talk to them anymore and they would also be deleted from their Facebook.

You can imagine my horror…people these are 4th graders! I begin to wonder what kind of a world we live in, when little children terrorize each other and Facebook has become a weapon to oppress.
As I watched the kids bowl and play together, I smile broadly. Kayla was so cool. She was a gorgeous little brunette who would definitely become a stunner in the near future. My question Is, how could her childhood friends give her up so quickly over some boys?

Then there were these little boys who have already began to exhibit traits of dominance so early in life. What exactly had them spooked so young that their desire to control consumed them so? I discussed with Kayla’s mom at length, curious to find out what her child’s initial reaction had been.
She told me Kayla had asked all of the girls what was more important to them, their friendship or doing what some boys they did not even know wanted, just because they thought they were cute. She told them it was up to them to choose.

Wow! What a remarkable child I said, looking her way as she threw her bowling ball and cheered on until it struck the pins. “Her little heart was crushed when all those little freaks one after the other deleted her as a friend” her mother replied, clearly hurting for her child. Hard to believe how young it starts huh? She said softly.

I immediately look across to my girls, they were on Facebook too. In fact I signed them up myself in order to monitor everything they do. How would they react to such a thing happening to them? Had I made a mistake by letting them join? Are their little hearts able to take such rejection?

My girls are twins and are very close. In fact they are best friends and tend to have this shield around themselves from everyone. I tell Kayla’s mom to make sure she sends a friend request to my girls, “they will never do what a boy tells them to do “I say with a wink, it’s a twin thing…but am I really sure, I begin to wonder?

The Many Faces of Love .... Part One

I often wonder what my life would have been like, if I could peek at another other than this one I have. I wonder whether it's really possible to create your own destiny as commonly said,or is it all just a load of rubbish?

They say that if one wished hard enough for something that it may just come true right? How come it is that I always wake up in this crazy wonderful circus that is my life?

The most wonderful thing happened to me a few years back; I finally got married! After living in sin for 18 years and 7 awesome kids to show for it, we finally did it right. This involved a long aged tradition of IGBANKWU....Wine Carrying in English, and yes! You literally really do carry the wine.

In my culture, it's the big Kahuna of all ceremonies in the nuptial department that is. What took us so long you ask? It's a really long story but I will try to sum it up. The spiritual part of me sums it up to fate, because no body would consciously make the choice to subject themselves and their loved ones to the ridicule and insults we eventually began to receive. There are consequences when a man fails to honor traditions, especially in a family such as as mine.

Life has a funny way of switching on you, and you soon begin to understand that there's something bigger than you here in control. Circumstances and situations beyond your control force and make you realize and acknowledge that you really have no choices but to heed where it leads. We went from being the respectable couple one minute, to the disgrace of the family, back in my home town. After many years of waiting and 7 children later, the situation had become scandalous and the whispers of "alu emee" was a little too much to stomach. The final straw was when an elderly uncle referred to our kids as "UMU IGBO" , we knew we had to help my poor mother save face......something had to be done and quickly.

Now we come to the fun part.....as this grand decision was being made, the couple in question being "us", were on ground zero in the finance department. As mentioned earlier, fate is a great decider of things but before I reveal just how we managed to pull this off, I will take you back some years......a decade and some years to be exact. This will help you get better acquainted with me and my wonderful world.

I grew up with my husband Tobe, we went to high school together. After graduating, I left Nigeria for the U.S. I was 16 , naive and full of the most awesome dreams. I settled into life in the U.S. easily because I had siblings already here, and university was fun. A year in Texas was all I could handle and as soon as I was able to convince my older sisters about moving to New York City,  I moved in with my uncle in the fall of 1987. New York was everything I had expected it to be, and I soon  enrolled in Fordham College, got a part time job in a restaurant in Manhattan and my life was traveling between the Bronx where we lived and work in Manhattan.

Life was good, my uncle was the best and I loved living in the Bronx. The diverse cultural mixture was what did it for me....we had Puerto Ricans, African Americans, Africans, West Indians and every other race. I was enjoying both work and school and thought  what a great decision I had made coming here, when that thing Fate....came calling again. A family member blew into town and I had to leave town quickly again...this woman was trouble with a capital T.

Thanks to my uncle and the little money I had managed to save, I got a cheap fare on Delta Airlines, called the midnight express back in the day; and found myself back in Houston again; after just two semesters of school.

Things had changed in Houston; my sisters had moved into a smaller apartment so I had to share a room with my older sister; and had to get a job. This meant I stopped school for some time. In a way I was glad really, I had never really been big on institutionalized learning.....long story. I got work in Target and had to catch the metro which was not good at all. A beggar has no choice so I got with the program .I had not been in touch with my life or friends back home for almost two years and I often wondered what became  of them, especially Tobe.

One day I got a call in the evening and the static was so bad, I immediately knew it was a call from home and as I strained to make sense of what was being said to me, I soon realized that it was Tobe, my dear friend whom I had been wondering about just a few days earlier. We reminisced and after catching up on old times, I then found out that he too left the country for London a year after me, working and schooling as well.

We talked for along time and though it was emotional, I was still glad to hear  from him; I had forgotten how smitten he had been with me all those years ago. I used to always laugh at him and ask "what exactly could you possibly know about love" and he would look so sad and wounded......that look would always haunt me later in the night and I would feel bad for causing him pain.

To say that reconnecting with Tobe was something good would be an understatement, it was great! Soon it was as though we never even left the country or parted ways. Back then telecommunication was an expensive venture, and we both spent plenty money on it. We talked about everything, love, God, Religion, abuse, politics, sex...etc you name it, we talked about it. Everything was as before and we each carried on with our lives. Tobe was my best friend....he was the one I called when I had good news, and the one for the not so good. Even though my sisters had not met him, they felt like they already knew him....God knows they talked to him enough!

Houston also started being good to me......I got a nice boyfriend who simply adored  me. and Tobe initially silent when I told him about Pete, after some time was back to his usual self again. He would even advise me when Pete and I had a fight, and they got to know each other over the phone.

Pete was my first love and soon after my 20th birthday, he became my first lover. As always, fate had another plan for me and it came in the way of me falling pregnant not too long after sex began. My perfect world  came crashing down all over again. At first I was frightened, and gradually my fears turned to curiosity. I spent about four and  a half months on the curiosity boulevard before moving on to anxiety close. At this time, I was putting on a little weight and my sisters commented on it......it was then that I told them. They must have cried for days....they were both terrified at what our father's reaction would be.

You don't get pregnant where we come from.....at least not until you graduate and marry; they could not understand how I managed to remain so calm. You see, I had done my own share of the crying thing and was all cried out! I knew they would eventually get over it as I did. The strange thing was that I never for once thought about termination....in fact, I found out I was pregnant after just 3 and a half weeks. I told my loving boy friend and he immediately developed a phobia for babies....he was scared to death about becoming a father. I told him it was okay, I will do this on my own then, just feel free to jump right in anytime you want I teased trying to make him laugh. I failed woefully at that, well the short version was we had to go our separate ways.

Life was not too cool after that, at about 7 months I really began to show and all the fun stopped. The rest of the months was used to prepare for my child and on the 15th of mach 1990 at exactly 1:05 pm, my son Timothy was born at a healthy weight of 8lbs 9 ounces. All was not as Rosy as I write mind you...my father did find out, almost threw my mum out of the house(as you all know that the bad stuff is usually the mothers influence right...) I was told to ask my mum where I came from because it was obvious I was not his child.
I took it all in stride but made sure he was equally as frustrated as I was, so I always came back with an equally spiteful response. I told him that I knew for a fact that he was my dad because all his people claim that I am the spitting image of his mom.

We had our war of words for about 3 months and needless to say that my topic fully occupied the gossips of my very extended family whilst the cowards amongst them still pretended and came to visit me and my son.
My so called friends here in Houston gradually pulled away from me, we had nothing in common any longer and as painful as all of this was, I still managed to hold my head up. My sisters were incredible....they were tireless in their efforts and they were mothers to Timothy along with me. Between us we had no clue what to to ,but we winged it as we went along.

My father cut me off completely, no tuition money was sent to me any longer and I had to put my baby in daycare at 8 weeks, and went back to work. This new life was becoming too much for us to handle, and my poor baby was also suffering; I knew my only option was to ask my mother to take him, and she said "yes" when I eventually did. It was against my fathers wishes, but all she said was "let me see how he'll throw away his own grandson" She was right, the stubborn old man could not complain, but he did his best to stay away from Timothy I was later told.

The next three years were the most miserable of my life, I missed my baby so much and there was an empty void that I need to fill desperately; only having him back with me would do that. I finished school, got my degree and went on to take several jobs along the way. I was a cook, housekeeper, gardener, English tutor and a catalogue model at one time. That was a good period for us...the money was infrequent as the work,but when it did come it was very good.

Tobe and I kept communicating and it was during one conversation with him that he said something that changed my life....he said 'if you miss your baby so much Maya,why don't you work with children? that way you can still feel a part of him with you"

At first I paused and thought how silly is that? That would make me miss him more....but later that night in bed, the more I thought about Tobe's comment, the more sense I made of it. That is one thing I can honestly tell you that calmed my spirit. As I started the daycare work, I became happier with each new day. I saw Timothy in every child there, and I showered them all with all the love I had reserved for my baby.

Life suddenly seemed worth living again, my sisters graduated as well and started better jobs, and I made the frequent call to Nigeria and my son was growing gradually. I also found out that my father was also beginning to take to him....they said he had no choice; Timothy would crawl to his bedroom door and sit there most times and he would have no choice but pick him up in other to get in the room. My poor mother would be commanded to come take "this child"...and she would smile secretly as she saw his defenses gradually weakening..

I continued work at the daycare, some days better than others, one day I was very low in spirit and a colleague said I had a call. Thinking it was one of my sisters I immediately broke down and began to say how unhappy I had become lately and that it was not making it any better anymore being surrounded by children whilst mine was hundreds of miles away. When I stopped talking was when it dawned on me that I was not speaking to either of my sisters, but Tobe. He was very kind to me and after much pleading that I stop crying, he asked if I wanted to come to London. To do what I asked slightly irritated. Well....you'll be nearer to him for one, and you can bring him here.

You have lost your mind I remember replying, and how exactly are I going to pull this off? I finally have my green card in the U.S., why would I want to go through the hell of another immigration problem? Besides, I had help here and could not make it, how do you think London would be any better?

I will marry you he said ....for the papers and I will help you. I was speechless! That was typical of Tobe, but I could not put this all on him. I said no! And we went on to discuss it further; work mates began to fidget because I had been on the phone for long, so I said I would call him when I got home. I never did, but I did mention it to my sisters and they agreed with me that it was unfair to allow him do that.

I was all ready to let him know that I could not do it and so I was going to call him that weekend to let him know, but to my surprise, he called and asked if there was anywhere I could receive a fax and I told him where. He faxed me an invitation and had also located the British High Commission in Houston.

He told me to let him do this for me, that he felt compelled to and would not take no for an answer; so I finally agreed to go to the meeting at the British High Commission. Two weeks later I was on a flight to London and I was both excited and apprehensive about the whole thing.

We soon got into the U.K. and after immigration and customs, I finally came into the arrivals hall and there was Tobe. He had not changed at all...still had the smiling eyes and face and still ever so jovial. We hugged and screamed and as would people in airports, we were stared at for a while but people soon got on with their business.

He had borrowed a friends car to get me and we talked all through the hour or so drive to his north London bedsit. The geographically and cultural changes were amazing...I was coming from Texas where everything was bigger....from the cars, to roads and even the people. London seemed like Lilliput, everything was small and awkward, Tobe reassured me that I would get used to it.

I stole glances at him and caught him several times stealing looks at me as well. He said I had not changed either, a little bigger....child birth put me up to a size 8, life! We finally got to the house and the average sized room which he rented from a young Pakistani family was to be our home for the next 7 months, and as planned, we got married at the council registry the following week of my arrival to the country. I got a really great job at Harvey Nicks, an up market department store in the West End and Tobe continued with his managerial work at a local fast food.

We had so much fun living together, and I was able to call home more frequently and find out all I could about Timothy and his development. Our relationship was loving but platonic and I would be a liar if I said I did not know how sweet on me Tobe was. The problem was that I had always loved him as a brother, I felt no sexual attraction for him.

Tobe was my rock...he displayed an amazing strength in character that I had not seen in a long time from a man, and he was dependable. He had the ability to disagree with me without being offensive and even when the situation had been abrasive,he always found a dignified way to make his point without coming across as condescending. We played, we rowed and as friends we made up. Life was good and as time passed, our relationship began to shift. The hugs lasted longer, and then came the horseplay and kisses.

A courtship began that I really can not find the right words to articulate, but the inevitable eventually happened, we became lovers. Now my Timothy was almost 5 and I soon found out that I was expecting again. Within the years of my moving to London and marrying Tobe, my father died. We made our peace before he did,and I went home and got my son to London to live with us.

We moved out the summer of 1996 and our son Christopher was born in our new 3 bedroom semi in West Hampstead. Tobe started to trade in the city and he was very good at it and life gradually continued to upgrade to better levels. Me?...well what can I tell you, I was a stay at home mom. We had 5 more children, altogether,5 boys and two girls (twins) Hope and  Faith. The other boys are Micheal, Joshua and David, our last child.

Well that's the best way I know how to bring you up to date with things, the kids were great, and our life was chaotic. It was football, Cricket, tennis and more football. I was the original soccer mom and the house was a regular hang out for the kids in the neighborhood. All was going well until the fall of 2005 when the markets were bad and Tobe lost.....he lost really big, and one by one we gradually lost almost everything; that's how we got to that boulevard I was talking about earlier.

Tobe had taken one last gamble with the last of our savings, hoping to triple the investment,but as fate would have it, that too was lost. We were at our lowest but in all we managed to keep our spirits up. Thank God for good family and friends, we had nothing, but we never lacked. God was awesome and his graces kept pouring in from everywhere.

The hope for the marriage was gone and that was when fate decided to give us one final surprise. My sisters decided that they would loan him the money....it was the only way Tobe would agree to it, but an old friend who we had helped many years ago had suddenly come into a lot of money and would you know that he out of nowhere remembered us, and gave us a gift. On that day, I cooked the most delicious onugbu soup. He was an Nnewi man, and onugbu soup I knew how to cook well, so......

The visit was long and wonderful, and also really great to meet his Scottish wife and 4 beautiful daughters; when the clearing up was done and the kid s finally settled for the night, I limped upstairs to soak in a hot bath. I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard Tobe scream...... Oh my God!. what was wrong now? Luckily the children were all sleeping except for Timothy. who rushed out of the room the same time as me and we ran downstairs. Tobe was sitting on the sofa his head in his hands looking up repeatedly saying oh Father, oh Father........

Baby what is it? I asked......what's the matter? He simply handed me a paper....it was a cheque from Ekene his friend. I looked at it and caught my breath....this can not be....... my eyes were certainly playing tricks on me; but was Tobe's also? Ekene had given us twenty five thousand pounds!

Oh my gosh! Timothy exclaimed, mom that's a lot of money!.This God!...oh this God! was all I could chant. All we had done was house this man when he came newly from Nigeria and Tobe through his old colleagues from the restaurant days had found him work. He lived with us for 8 months and at that time we had only 3 children . Just food and shelter and people to talk to. He was a good house guest. He shared with Timothy whilst the other two slept together. Half the time Ekene was gone, he worked like a donkey and it was through that job in Harvester, that he met his wife.

Fate had indeed been sneaky and kind...who would have thought that we would have such benefactors in the first place, and why now when all hope seemed to have gone?

We called them immediately and expressed our gratitude, he hushed us up. No...he said, I wish I could do more. No amount of money can ever equate what you two did in my life. You gave me a family while mine was too far away, and I never felt like a guest in your home. Thank you for showing me the face of love. I vowed that if I ever became something in my life, that I would find you and let you know how you changed my life. Wow....his words were too much to take in, we always wondered about him after we lost touch, we never knew we had made such an impact on him.

Timothy was deliriously excited, he was almost 16 and had a list so long of all the electronics he had his heart on......Christmas had come early.

My sisters had already given the 2 million in Naira and had bought both our tickets, so this 25 grand was just God's way of saying....."see....I got your backs!"