"ADE'S JOURNAL", 5

  Scores of time have drifted away and I'm still here wondering, pondering on why I'm here. I stare with a bland look at my audience as they watch me, judge me and expect me to do it all. Have I done enough?
Do I do so much more or am I wasting my time. I tilt my waist to the side and scrunch my tummy inwards. The tension I inflict in my tense spread out palm ensures it's stagnant and then I inhale. The capacity of my lungs to collect oxygen all at once stimulates me. And then I launch downwards into an invisible Lagoon and start my Bata dance. Twisting and slamming my bare feet into a hollow wooden stage, my waist did not betray me and the dance thrilled my audience.
''Mo ti de', I declare beating my chest and launching downwards and swaying to a melodious echoing rythm that refreshes my smile with every beat. I am intoxicated by my indigenous music, my very own Yoruba sound. I am home.

"ADE'S JOURNAL", 4

    Like a sting from a scorpion, a sharp jolt shocked and confused me. I instinctively press at my index finger, obviously there is cut there. There is one thing that can end this, a hot compression on it will end the pain. Luckily, I was boiling some water. I let it start to burn the cut that was not bleeding until my pain threshold ended and I jump up and down. That should do it, I add staring at the finger and searching for the cut. There was none, just a loose cuticle and instead of the pain subsiding it intensified.
I made myself some hot cocoa and then started to feel sleepy. It was time and so I cross checked that all was switched off and safe before crashing into my large comfortable bed.
I woke up staring at the finger and also with a fever, my period was about to start so that's normal. I have too much to do and need this beauty sleep. I wonder if men call it beauty sleep?

 

"ADE'S JOURNAL", 3

  Hush, the noise is too much. Silence now, I want to try to get some sleep. The flutter of birds, the swooping of dragonflies and that crackling sound the cockroach makes when it creeps up the dry twigs behind my window pane. In all, my index finger throbs and swells and I stare at it in the moonlight. I try to trace all the edges and curves in the aching finger that has doubled in size. I want to see it burst and I want to soak a needle in alcohol and prick all the pain away. It's the second night I have not slept and it's time to do something about it.
To think something this tiny could affect me in a big way, I have even considered cutting off the finger, but the healing process will most likely be as painful if not more than it is right now. There's only one thing that can happen now, if I am to retain my sanity....

"ADE'S JOURNAL", 2

  Hopeful as usual, the elections have come and gone and there is no power to follow the outcome and result. I wonder what I would have done if I didn't have my smartphone and power bank with at least ten hours stored energy to follow the news. Easy answer, a transistor radio with enough rechargeable batteries to last an entire day. Ask me why I bother? I know I have to personally empower myself to generate more income, so that I can earn enough to pay for fuel to power my generators when the power inevitably disappears. It's a grim reality I face as a Nigerian based in the city that's supposed to be the most developed in the nation. The weather isn't helping, it changed from the extremely hot and unbearable night to a cold and rainy morning. I am in my parents house this slow Sunday morning and it has started off really gloomy. I didn't sleep well because I have a bad cough and then the neighborhood now has seven churches in its non-commercial strictly residential estate. That meant I woke up to a clash of clarinets, uneven drumming and untrained choir shouting and trying to drown the competing church choir.
 The best I could do was cook or at least boil water on the gas cooker to cool my raging cough and it happened. Just as I thought today could not get any worse, then the rain intensified and the gas finished.
 I turned it off and go back into my room, I dragged my feet, enter and face the door.
The sound of tiny feet and body slamming into my door scared me. My little nephews and nieces struggle to open the door and fall into the room and jump on me.
I had no idea what game they were playing but their shrills of laughter put a fresh smile on my face. Just as they drag me to the bed and jump over me, they got bored and run out.
 I wanted to run and follow them and crash into the door like they did. They were happy and light and free and I miss that.
Just like the song birds splashing and slamming into tree branches and enjoying the rain falling on their beautiful plumage, these children brought me pure joy

"ADE'S JOURNAL", 1

  In a fluter of joy and a compilation of moments I build day in day out. I celebrate today as a day of revelation, a day I will forever cherish. It's cool the sun is peeping through large bulbs of ice cream clouds and the airplane flying across the bright blue sky has formed a massive pass mark on my life. It's an amazing feeling to pen this down and much more fun to know that I have actively made my choice. Not once or twice but for the fourth year, so you know... Today is the beginning of year four, since I decided to write and fill in Ade's Journal. My journey from brainwashed expectations  of my life to my harsh shocking lessons, loss and gains are truly a monumental reality.
Hope lifts me up Everytime I crash and vigor propels me forward whenever I am in doubt. Best of all, my visual brain and manner of processing my unique situations appear like movies to me, when I re-live them. So I have acted out drama's, horrific thrillers with stalkers and tragic losses have crippled me. But it's not the end of my story... I have found Dana Cody and loved how she is real and fights and creates and forges ahead. In every story is the journey of a struggle, triumph and the continuous battle to empower others as we climb up these many ladders of success. Today is not different....

"ADE'S JOURNAL", 85

  My Visions Dissipates Into Reality, as I fight to wake up. My childhood friend shows my teenage self, a scar and tells me to touch it. It looks fresh and a part of me tells me not to touch anything, anyone. Or I will forever be lost in this dream world and definitely meet my end. The grim reality of the situation makes my friend desperate and she grabs my arm. It's not her anymore, but a young man I crushed on as a teenager. His beautiful smile showing off perfect dentition made me feel all warm and fuzzy. He is the one I wished I walked up to and embarrassed myself by confessing my crush and asking him how his uniform stayed uncreased even at the end of the day. His dark even skin and deep brown eyes made me relax my arms and stretch. But even now, decades later.... I knew that, that was not me.
I treasure my personal space and looked in your eyes and at your response before I encroach the precious three feet circumference around you. He didn't and his arms expose hidden exoskeletons that move an inch towards me. His teeth seem to grow and canines start to look like fangs and as he tried to hug me, I flinch and jump backwards. And my bronze shield appears and merges with me and becomes me, we are one and we defend all I stand for and as my posture becomes erect and upright....

"ADE'S JOURNAL", 84

  Don't stop believing because you didn't get it, just keep trying until you achieve it. Trying on your own is like jumping into the lagoon and trying to learn how to swim, no lessons or instructor in sight. Just false hopes of grandeur as untrained limbs give up and the surface slips further and further away. That is gambling now, let's try something else. This time, you exercise and build your muscles. Read up on swimmers diet and change yours and get an Olympic medalist as an instructor for a year. And every month you swim in the lagoon and increase your distance for another full year.
What happens now, when you go into the lagoon to race, do you have a chance?
Whatever you believe in, works. Only if you put in the time and effort with successful trainers in that field. So why don't we?