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Monday

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“Wicked” – “You are wicked.”
Three little words, the longest no more than 6 characters. Combined, the sum of all hope – dashed.

“Time” – I have asked Chronos to raise his hand,
and still the tempest that is time matching on,
sweeping all and sundry before its unseen fury,
and leaving broken limbs and sorrowful hearts in its churning wake.

“Wish” – I have begged Chronos to roll back time
till just before anger wrapped its unreasoning fingers round my delicate brain,
costing me what I had not lost because I did not own,
but sought by words, deeds,
and a certain look in my eyes that I didn’t see
but neither did you till I had wasted 2 months and lost it all.

“Chronos” – But Chronos is the figment of fearful men’s imagination,
who knowing not hat to do with the vagaries of nature,
ascribed power to chimeric figureheads in order to still beating hearts near bursting point.

“Pray” – So I turned to God and prayed,
asking for a miracle of gargantuan girt.
“Selfish request! Pharaoh’s bones long since dissolved to nutrients beneath Jordan’s waves! Does God still harden mortal men’s hearts or soften them because of prayers raised by earthly beings?” screamed the “devil”,
whose name should be spelled in subscript letters to dishonour his base nature, vile and to be reviled till hell freezes over.

“Alas!” – he was right.
Would a mere mortal command God to put love in another’s heart?
Would God deign it fit to answer such a prayer were it said upon bended knees
rubbed raw by rough-edged stones
coated in amber fluidly flowing carrying plasma to replenish the patched earth beneath the scorching Sun?

“Monday” – just like any other day …
But wait! A chance to think less those thoughts
that weigh like leaden weights on burdened brain
and rob the eyes of peaceful sleep.
Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday. Saturday. Sunday. Who cares.
Not the man who just lost the family’s food to the one-armed bandit down the road while seeking 3 cherries that unleashes the flood of unlimited income.
Not the fellow dying slowly on the bridge over the River Kwai.
Not the man you smile at.

“Monday” – Just another dreary day in an endless sequence of days in weeks in months in years in wandering the featureless desert of hopelessness by lost souls seeking forgiveness and deliverance where none may be found. Monday.

Saturday

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Saturday

The taxi was old and rickety. I watched it as it made its way slowly down the street. A couple sat in the back. The man looked straight ahead. The woman looked out the side window. I know them. How long has it been since the big day: the wedding? Four years give or take a couple of months. How long ago did the raised voices late at night become a constant source of distraction? Two years give or take a couple of months.
And how long before the wedding were the walks in the evening, hand in hand; the whispering; the giggling? The outings? Maybe a couple of years give or take a couple of months.
I have marked time by the events in their lives.
More importantly, I think I have been here too long. Time to move on.
But to what? To where? It’s not like I have it any better than them. Yeah, there is a case to be made for two people who may be unhappy together over the single person haunting a building he calls his house, but does the headache beat the loneliness?
I know you will ask if I am lonely, why don’t I do something about it? Good question: complex answer.
When Cupid came for me, I was having a bad day. So instead of leaping for joy, I said f**k it all, and went my way. But the arrow was in my heart, so I had no peace. Then work issues cropped up and I went round like the living-dead for a couple of months. By the time I sorted that out and came back to myself and senses, it was too late. Even I could see how bad it looked. I wasn’t that guy, but my actions made me look like some vindictive, callous, unfeeling, selfish fellow who is nasty if he doesn’t have his way or get what he wants. I am not. But R. Kelly got it right when he sang (paraphrased) “Cause when a woman’s mind is made up (no matter how you beg no) There ain’t nothing you can do about it. It’s like running out of luck …”

The taxi has stopped. The man gets out, pays the driver and goes in the house with not even a single glance: the lady could have gone away with the taxi for all he cared. The lady follows shortly afterwards, bag in one hand and shoes in the other.
Lovely lady, I would have been perfectly happy with her if she was free and my heart was otherwise unoccupied. But I guess beauty and character are not always enough to keep the fire burning in a man’s heart, but I have been told that for a lady, the fire burns almost unceasingly: maybe, maybe not.

So if that’s not working out, why don’t I look elsewhere? You would be surprised at the reasons … as it is said in these parts: “… condition …”
But enough about me. I can hear the voices again: anger, despair and disappointment rolled into one.
Same lips that whispered those 3 universal words; that recited vows with glinting eyes in front of a few hundred well wishers and family.

Why won’t you give me a chance? Why do I make you so uncomfortable? All I want is to see you smile at me.

The raised voices are replaced by the noise of the crowd at a soccer game. Their TV.

I will see them in church tomorrow. Nicely dressed. We will share a word or two of greetings when the service is over. We will smile and comment on how the weather is changing. I expect to hear their raised voices later in the day while I think about you.

Time passes. Nothing changes.

Bless our table

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Bless our table

“This bag is too small. Is this all you have?” (Policeman at baggage check-in)

“Yes.” (me)

“There is nothing in here. Oga, you don’t want me to have my breakfast?”  (Policeman)

“Maybe that’s why I didn’t put anything there.” (me smiling)

“Oga, if you have you will give, if you don’t have nobody will force you.”  (Policeman)

“But bless our table, it is the first of November.”  (Policeman)

“You are already blessed.” (Policeman)

“You too sir.”

I moved the bag to the next table. Policeman continues to talk.

The couple of ladies there (one in customs uniform) made no attempt to move at all. Just continued watching me expectantly. But they agreed with the police man by saying practically the same thing, “Bless our table; begining of a new month; etc.”

I just smiled.

Finally, they decided I should go on. But you could see they weren’t happy.

After dropping off the bag, made my way towards the depature lounge.

“Happy new month sir.” (The officer at the choke point)

“Same to you.” (me)

“Good morning  … eh .. Mr. Itayemi. How are we going to celebrate the new month. There is a lot of blessings in this month o.” Hands back my passport and I moved on.

“Ha ha, let’s celebrate the new month now.”

I didn’t stop or look back. 

At the immigration desk (where passport is stamped) before the scanners.

“Where are you going?” (officer)

“Cameroon.” (me)

As I walked away, “Happy New month sir.” (officer)

I smiled. (me)

To and Fro

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To and Fro

I think it was just as the train doors opened at Northfields that I heard the “heave”. The lady doubled over and the content of her stomach came up and out. She waited for the doors to open and stepped out. Continuing to heave even as she did. She sat on one of the benches and continued to throw up. I felt for her. It must be one of those really embarrassing moments. That on top of the fact that she was ill. I think if it had been my stop, I would have offered her assistance.

Not sure if it was the “puke” (excuse me) that smelled like chips afterwards, but I only seem to notice it around about then. I looked around to be sure no one was eating, even though of course, the food may be in someone’s bag.

* * * * * * *

And the old lady tottered to the escalator, and unfortunately, the old lady rolled (tumbled) down the escalator – all the way to the bottom.

An accident waiting to happen: she wasn’t fit and the escalator was as had always being the case very fast: blink, and you “take off”. Fortunately, she seemed to have survived it intact. Someone commented that she was probably in shock but not injured. But of course, the adrenaline may mask the pains from a sustained injury until much later. The only service offered by the immigration officials (mostly due to the anger of the crowd at their negligence) to the lady was to expedite her transition through the immigration process, after that she was on her own.

Lots of people verbally took the immigration officers to task. As one person commented, in foreign lands, the old lady would have been looked after and conveyed round in a trolley, only to return “home” and take a tumble.

Some dude in a jacket but with a funky Afro commented that immigrations had nothing to do with it.

Of course, that caused several comments to be directed at him “No home training; one day he will take the same fall; etc.”

More comments on the immigration service as money grubbers: “going; they say what do you have for them.  Returning, they ask what did you bring for them.”

Someone commented that in other countries, as in the UK for example, citizens zip through immigration, but in Nigeria, as usual the reverse is the case, we had a double line that snaked back up the escalator and the stairway.

While the foreign nationalities line (foreigners sounds xenophobic for some reason) was quite short. And it took them forever to “reconfigure” themselves so that the now “free” officers start attending to some of the people on the “citizens” queue.

* * ** * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It’s amazing how many things/experiences you can pack into a few days away from your regular territory.

* * ** * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

On Friday night, “we” tried to get seats (for 3 people in case some people start on “flights of fancy” 🙂 for SkyFall (latest 007 reboot) but it was booked solid. Even the IMAX option was fully booked. I think the fact that 007 is a British Spy was responsible to a large extent (quite separate  from the fact that 007 is one of those “Franchises” that have become part of the cultural fabric of society irrespective of country, and it was the 50th anniversary of Bond, etc).

* * * * * * *

I brought back a bag for a colleague and when the brother who gave me the bag put it on the electronic scale at the airport, it was exactly 23.0KG. I think that’s the first time I saw such a thing! Did he throw in a pencil or face towel just to get it to that exact figure (which is what the airline stipulates as the max size for luggage)?. Mine was 22.7KG (I think)

* * ** * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I like to think at least I tried – harder than almost any other time in my life – maybe I tried too hard too late. Sad. Is there anything else I can do? (Completely out of context statement. 99.9% of those who read this blog entry will have no clue of what I am on about – which is how it is meant to be 🙁

You

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You

Bundled against the cold
On a cold winters night
I wandered where I know not
Icy fingers can’t freeze my heart
Make me calm as the snow king
I think of you 

I looked at the sky
No stars
But they are there
Shining their light
I wish I was lost among them
Tell me how to define eternity
If not a day without you 

The leaves crunch underfoot
The lady smiled as I pass her by
Do I frighten her?
Maybe it is my eyes?
Why?
Do I frighten you? 

I wage war with the sins of my past
They fiddle with my mind
I am of late April
I am supposed to be strong
Stand firm against the tempests of life
I will – if by you 

I pass a man
A mugger I thought
“Jump me” says my eyes
Use the knife in your jacket’s pocket
Strike before the dried blood of your summer victim rusts your trusty blade
He didn’t hear me
Or maybe he thought he pitied me
Because of you 

I am back to my journey’s end
I opened the book
I turned the page
Paul tells me to stand firm if I could
But seek if I wont
So I knelt on the felt
Closing my eyes
I asked for you

The Old Woman

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The Old Woman

Standing still at the stop
The old woman tripped
I reached out a tentative hand
She had a firm grip
“Thank you” she said

We stood side by side in the little shade
Watched as the mid-day heat relented
And birds took to the skies
She said nothing
Neither did I

Her silence spoke to me
Of a long life
Of happiness, sadness
Of disaster and redemption
Of failure and success
Of possibilities unencumbered by age

The next bus went nowhere I cared for
She got on the bus.
“Thank You” I said.

(05-Nov-2011)

A Greek evening

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A Greek evening

Tis early eve
Thor’s hammer crashes overhead
Loki is playing with the lights
The Autumn leaves are fallen
They swirl softly beneath my feet
I see nothing.

My thoughts have taken wings
to roam the sky
in the fast approaching dusk
I think of you;
of beauty;
of God wielding the artist’s brush

Am I in your dreams?

27/07/2002 00:43AM (midnight – sad that history is repeating itself)

Are you listening Lord?

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Are you listening Lord?

Just before I called it quits for the day, I was lying on my bed with my eyes on the ceiling when I suddenly had an awareness of someone else in the room.

Then I heard a voice ask, “What bothers you?”

I heard the voice yet not a single sound echoed in the room – yet to all intent and purposes I did hear the voice.

I do not know why, but I said out loud, “Lord, can I ask you a question.”

And the reply, “Ask away.”

So I said “Lord, will I ever get married.”

“Son, there are Pauls and there are Peters; Stephens and Judases. If I say yes, you will ask to whom. If I tell you, you will want to know what she is like. If I describe her, you will ask when. If I tell you, you will want to know how. If I say how, you will want a phone number.  Then you will call her and tell her I said so. While there is nothing wrong in that, you would have destroyed your chance at growth; the joy of discovery.

“Lord, will I be rich”

“What is your definition of rich? Rich enough to live comfortably? Rich enough to buy anything – knowing fully well that the destruction of man starts with his endless wants. If I say no, you will lose all faith in life and probably me. You will become a walking brooding shell of a man, and watch life go past you – a self-fulfilling prophesy.

“Will I live long”
“If I say yes, you will want to know how long. Then you will sit down and start estimating how much of your life you can afford to live without me. Then when the time comes, between you and the Devil, you will most likely end of with him. Besides, it is not how long but how well. Stephen didn’t spend as much time as I did on earth, yet he was one of the first to behold heaven on earth.”

“Lord, will you always be there for me?”

“No I won’t – not in the way you want. You are all grown up now with decisions to make. You must learn to depend on people and be there for others. But once you have done as much as you can, I will always do the rest. So if it appears I am not listening, there is no need to shout (even your whispers and thoughts are as crashing cymbals in heaven). There just may be something you still need to do.  

“Lord, will I wake up tomorrow.”

“Say your prayers; make peace with God. That way, whether you live or die, it matters little.”

“Goodnight Lord.”

“Goodnight son. Have a good night’s rest. And if things go bump in the dark, keep thy peace for I am near.”

24/10/2005 (found this today while cleaning out some old docs in my room. Had no title)

Stand By Me

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Stand By Me

Did I say I love soulful (sometimes sad/mournful) songs? Don’t get me wrong, I will listen to any song as long as it sounds good to me: pop, soul, jazz, etc. While I won’t go out of my way to listen to (heavy) metal (because of its “dark” connotations), I have actually heard one or two by chance whose beats were not bad at all.
I was helping clean out my Uncle’s study when I came across an audio cd containing about 15 number one songs from a decade or two ago including The Temptations “Papa was a rolling stone” and Ben King’s “Stand by me” which got me feeling … ah well, such is life I guess.

Below are the lyrics of Ben E. King’s “Stand By Me.”
For all those who currently walk alone not by design or choice:

“Stand By Me”

When the night has come
And the land is dark
And the moon is the only light we’ll see
No I won’t be afraid
Oh, I won’t be afraid
Just as long as you stand, stand by me

So darling, darling
Stand by me, oh stand by me
Oh stand, stand by me
Stand by me

If the sky that we look upon
Should tumble and fall
All the mountains should crumble to the sea
I won’t cry, I won’t cry
No, I won’t shed a tear
Just as long as you stand, stand by me

And darling, darling
Stand by me, oh stand by me
Oh stand now, stand by me
Stand by me

So darling, darling
Stand by me, oh stand by me
Oh stand now, stand by me, stand by me
Whenever you’re in trouble won’t you stand by me
Oh stand by me, oh won’t you stand now, stand
Stand by me