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About Me

My photo

 My story may shock you, but then again your situation may be worse. Delve in and find out....
The best moments are the ones when, that affect people positively and inspire them to laugh and live. 
             But is this, the entire story?
 The Human experience is Unique and every person has something to give, you just need to see it from my perspective and I craft words, actions and events from this very human angle.

Ade's Journal Part 6

Ade's Journal Part 6
My Valentine & The Elegance Of A Clean Breakup

Ade's Journal Part 5

Ade's Journal Part 5
My Scrumptious Valentine Kiss

Ade's Journal Part 4

Ade's Journal Part 4
A Scorpion is not a Lobster

Ade's Journal Part 3

Ade's Journal Part 3
My Insane Week Before Valentine

Ade's Journal Part 2

Ade's Journal Part 2
He Had The Guts To Come Back

Popular Posts

"No"

Friday, 8 December 2017

Stolen Ostriches Eggs Bags Jail Time

Stolen Ostriches Eggs Bags Jail Time


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 86

    Reach out deep inside and underneath the tough feathers and try and feel the hard exterior of this rare gem.
  Seriously, I've never seen anything like it before in all my life. Quail eggs look like marbles and I heard they are delicious but no thank you. I am not crossing that line, after chickens that's it. But then again  I am tired of asking and trying to just earn a serious living. Maybe it's the risk involved, but you can't blame me for trying. Just look at my phone, cracked and passed on from many hands. The screen blurry and missing bits and I pray all the time it does not ring. Because if it does, then that awkward moment is here. That time that I have to reach into my pocket and pick it up. Yes I put it on silent mode, but those updated apps just know how to embarrass me. Anyway, shame has me at this junction and has me in this horrendous mess. My face has gone viral for the wrong reasons, if only I had listened to reason.
 As I feel the exterior of the large egg shells, I see it already. The new phone and laptop, the new shoes and hot meals. The ladies all beside me as I walk into the VIP section, all expenses paid by me. My shoes shine and cause a ruckus as they Google the price and faint.
These ostrich eggs will make me rich , way beyond my years. The creature pecks me and I snap out of my daydream. Have you heard an ostrich cry out and call out for help? It's like nothing I even imagined or heard and because of it, the owners nab me. And as they cuff me, the large bird kicks me back into a harsh reality. Me and my stupid accomplice are whisked away in handcuffs and paraded in front of the media. If that was all, I would have just been silent. The court sentence was harsh as I heard the overweight judge rant. Twenty five  years' imprisonment for Stolen Ostriches Eggs, the taboo is real. As I listened and collected from all the generous Bags of Jail Time I am christened with, I cannot help but want to turn back the hands of time...
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Busola Elegbede
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Tuesday, 5 December 2017

Everything Is At A Halt

Everything Is At A Halt


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 85

  The Afternoon sun blazes and rages on as the rain clouds shrink and evaporate into nothing. That's what the weather is like right now and as my feet gently stumps into the dry crusty earth, fine dust powder rise and fall all around them. And clings and tries to hide between the crevices in my toes. Like smoke it travels beneath my limbs as they shiver and rise and fall, advancing towards something. Ask me where I am going for the bitter truth is that I do not know. Only ask me where we have been and then I will proudly show and tell. What wonders I have experienced and such love I have felt. It is sudden and to my dismay I hear my heart flutter and beat irregularly and then feel my brain wobble in my light head. I do what I must, respond and fight and almost crash and fall.
But alas, I don't. Because I have learned to hold my breath in that instant and breathe in deeply and out smoothly. Again I have disappointed myself, I really thought I wanted it all to end, Yet I have just tried to continue to live.
   What does it all mean?
I spot a beautiful funnel flower white and lovely with yellow stamens hanging over as if ready to be placed over a burning flame. But I cannot just stare at it, I must own it or worse photograph it. The shade does it no justice and only in the natural light can it shine. So I pluck it from its stem with its voluptuous leaves and place it on the gray nylon. It stares at me and invites me to join in the photoshoot and as I get my shot, I cover it all up. The end of its short but useful life and the beginning of mine. This is the only time I can feel something, when the camera is between my fingers and I hear the shutter sound. Like with everything this has come to an end and as I look up, I spot my friend calling out to me....

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Busola Elegbede
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Friday, 1 December 2017

Dreams Is Where We Are A Family Again

Dreams Is Where We Are A Family Again


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 84

  Just like a shell high on hope and fuel abundant yet scarce, I move with the tides. I sway where it takes me as I just fight and flee and try hard to survive this brutal underwater world. I clap and swim and cheer and scream until I reach close enough to it and stretch and try hard to catch it. I am close to everything yet far from everyone and I want to go yet I stay and stray away from my goals.
   Do you catch my drift?
 Well maybe not in this wave that smashes and tries to pry me open and dislocate my shells from one another. Should I yield or buckle or hold it together in my pink fluffy world. The pink shrimps circle and lead and then follow me. Beautiful uncountable creatures that gives the long legged flamingos those feathers you all love. The sea tastes fresh and the frothy white sea waves rise high and crash hard until perfect sand pebbles line the shore and form an array of beautiful ripples. The grooves on my shell collect perfect sea sand dust that sway in the sea and flow with the current like fluid smoke. You should see it as the pink shrimps devour the elements within them, the nutrients hidden in them. I just want to get to my mate, even if we both lay on our sea bed with disjointed shell casing. All that would matter is that we made it together, until the very end. If only this was us....
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Busola Elegbede
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Tuesday, 28 November 2017

A Nigerian Tragedy

A Nigerian Tragedy


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 83

I slept angry at the world and mad at myself. The guts of these people, these annoying people that won't stop yapping.
Talk about unfair, I choose to wait until the wicked  sun shining outside disappears. As soon as it does, I’m on my way out of this wicked miserable world. The question is why did I go to bed angry. The real question is what is going in? And why did this happen to me? To understand my plight you need to get to the core of things....
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Busola Elegbede
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Saturday, 25 November 2017

A Wedding, Two Gifts And All Sorts

A Wedding, Two Gifts And All Sorts


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 82

 Just like a tall glass of cold sweet and sour lemonade on a hot humid afternoon, the smile on her face lights up and soothes me in this congested room. As she waves a fan made from painted peacock feathers, why anyone would paint a majestic birds colour baffles me. They painted it pale golden peach like the colours of our gele's. As I huddle and sway with the other friends of the bride. I watch as it gets dark as we advance into the room that has practically no air. Many rush to be with the bride and be seen in the camera lens that record this eventful day. But not me, I just watch her nails and the burgundy lipstick perfectly carved on her full lips. It parts and sings along as we all sway and follow her. The MC then ends the song abruptly and orders us to leave that they do not need to see us anymore. There was a rudeness in his voice that made us all gasp and echo that we are no longer needed. When did we get so rude and insensitive? The jokes were distasteful and directed at women as if they were desperate and clasping at straws in a very big ditch filled with quicksand. I have not looked at my watch this much since the early two thousand's. And the worst part is that I don't even have a watch on.
That is why I made sure the MC of my day was not just popular but respectful. I trust my family members, they would match up to the stage and collect the microphone from you. I want to leave but my friends hold me back and ask me to stay an extra hour, that is sixty whole minutes. I bring out my phone and set an alarm that has the same ring tone as my in coming calls. The sitting arrangements are interesting, those of us not on the high table are closer to the caterers. And for thirty minutes we watch as drinks and food are hoisted high up in silver trays over our heads and marched to the high table. I don't mind, I have my frozen drink and I set it on the table and sip from it. Melting quickly I drink it all up and the clock just refused to move. This heat will not kill me and I check my phone again, not sure why the alarm has not gone off. The older men and women around me can't take it anymore and stop the waiters from passing us with drinks and food. Screaming that they have been here since twelve noon and I just gasped. I'm here for an hour and I want to jump up and run. The bride joins us and smiled at me and I frown. I recognized her and did not like what I was seeing. Her chief bridesmaid was also someone I knew and I grab my bag and I'm ready to run. My friends stop me and ask me to smile. I watch my father frown and grumbled that he did not approve of this, that traditionally the bride picked the venue. I try to calm him and my mum starts to cry. She did not like who I was getting married to and I snapped at her. I wave the golden peach fan and tried to breathe in my very tight wedding dress. He picked it because the waist was sinched. And I agreed because I wanted it to look smaller, even though I never imagined wearing a course wedding dress. He tricked me into paying fully for it  and I did not like this. It was as if I was the one marrying him and he was just present. To make it even worse than it was, he was drunk by ten this morning. So he was nursing a hangover and blaming me for everything. And I did see him hug Khadijatu as if they were intimate and my heart broke. Why didn't I see it before now and why did I not listen to my gut instincts. Should I divorce him now based on my suspicions or live with this?
The alarm starts to go off and I flinch and turn my head and try to open my eyes...
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Busola Elegbede
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Wednesday, 22 November 2017

Septuplets Alone Will Do

Septuplets Alone Will Do


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 81

   Seems like I missed out on a lot, do you blame me? Before you answer, don't, I have so much to say and show you. If you could just calm down and listen to me. My creative mind takes off long before I catch up. So just try and be patient and just walk with me. I am walking on a path that is familiar to me but not right now and as I approach the room that hunts my childhood I pause. The familiar bed that my siblings and I fiddled with the loose thread and then all the fabric encased around it peels off like when I peel off without breaking the perfect layer of onion. The bed then became our personal poker dot project, we would try to make even holes in the foam of the matrass without any form of cover. My father is long across the ocean on a training course and my mum too busy in her out of control creative mind to notice. The room that used to boast of visitors has become a tomb and that word joined my vocabulary when I stumble on a horror movie with a desecrated tomb. That's how it started, the fear I mean. I have long abandoned the idea of having fun in empty abandoned rooms. The spring filled matrass that I used to jump up and try to touch the ceiling. No longer has that appeal to me, it is now that room filled with monsters lurking in the dark and hanging and swinging my feet while I sit on the bed now scares me. I do not want to be here but when I feel trapped and stagnant, I find myself in this room from my childhood memories in Benin city. Yes I know, I did get scared a lot in that city but it's because I got aware of fear. Before then a skeleton was just something imagined but then I found out that that's what is underneath our skin. When the flesh is stripped off, and blood long gone it's all that is left. Science class now has me wondering if the teacher had killed to get the skeleton in her laboratory or if it's all plastic. I reached out to touch it and she shouts at me and my suspicions grow.
Why am I here? I so want to wake up and never see this room again but the curtains form the head of a monster and I try to turn to leave and tried harder to wake up. This is ridiculous, I hear my mum laughing and know this is definitely a dream. She has not laughed like that since I was a child and the visitors help. The house gets to see sunlight again and the light floods the room and all the horror fades away. I begin to open my eyes and wake up and then I heard it.
I listened as the crickets stopped chirping and the dogs stop croaking. I sighed and it ends with a whistle and I search my current room for someone with a whistle. I breathe again and heard my breath whistle, it was strange but true. I decide to adjust and help to see if I was still whistling. It had stopped and I missed the sound.
 The pillows I lay my heavy head deflates as I tried to keep it just high enough to stay calm enough to send me to the state of mind I long for. I heard it and then shrugged it off as I hear it again and again.
The lizards grind their teeth as they munch on the carcass of curious cockroaches hunting for prey. This, been awake is better than being out of control.
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Busola Elegbede
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Friday, 17 November 2017

Thicky Madam Swims Like Patterns

Thicky Madam Swims Like Patterns


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 80

  The cool winds hit my tiny toes and I wiggle it just to say I am awake but need a little more sleep. If that was just the case, it would have been fine. I feel it and flinch and then hope it's just a horrid dream. The skin underneath my toes hurt as if I have been bitten and in panic mode I grab the only source of light in the dark night. My charged phone far from been smart, the only one that can withstand the one hour power supply I am lucky to have per day. My smartphone now only charged with stabilizer and the generator rigged to power my flat for twelve hours per day.
Tears well up my eyes as I bend my knees and arch my shin towards my dilated pupils and pray like a typical Nigerian in denial that what is happening to me is just a dream. But alas, no amount of prayer can reconstruct a shattered raw egg and I see signs of tiny bubbles at the edge of my toes and exclaimed in horror. I have been feasted on by a creature in the night. The first culprit i suspect is that high speed rat I poisoned to save myself from that dreadful Lassa Fever disease silently killing my fellow citizens. Little did I know that other resilient more pertinent dangers lurked in the dark. I was still cursing and imagining the many ways I will kill the bloody rodent. Then I see it advance boldly towards me, it's spiny little antenna and the I spot another. The alpha climbed me and aimed for my toes and I sprint out of the room, did it let go? Nope, instead it holds on tight to my shin and enjoys the ride. I stump and slap and miss and then feel four other spots underneath my toes. I cry briefly and then remember as the creature chases me back into my dark room. The insecticide covered with dust was still under my bed. As the wicked carnivore approached, I sprayed the dark brown antenna and it paused a little and then advanced angrily fluttering many layers of wings. It was like a scene from a horror movie. I had to kill it to survive. I grab shoes and slam into it, crush it and grabbed a tissue. I put alcohol on it and then whipped all the rubbish and innards now a horrible mess off my floor. I wipe and make sure no infection spreads as I ponder on what to do next. I do not know if it had signalled to the others that my toes were on their menu and as I clean the tiny bites around my left feet. I pray and then search and put on ankle socks. It would have to go through my socks first. This did little to ease my troubled mind and nowhere was safe. My Dreams were not pleasant and in them larger carnivores feast on my limbs. At first I cry and beg but then realized I must wake up from a senseless slumber and fight. I don't just get up, I dress up. I wrap my gele around my head and prepare to slay. My buba and wrapper go around and envelope me and my full frame. As I pick up my spear and dagger and fight. The creatures screamed and begged as I screamed and pierced. Stabbing quickly and shielding myself, I prepare for more to come my way. The battle may be won but the war is not over. I will not stop until I slay all that comes my way. This Thicky Madam Swims Like Patterns, traced and drawn from experience and knowledge from trials and tribulations and as they fall by my side, I get stronger and stronger by the day.
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Busola Elegbede
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