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About Me

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 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, 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 I grab the only source of light in the dark night. My charged phone far from been smart. Tears well up my eyes as I bend my knees and arch my shin towards my dilated pupils. 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 is that high speed rat I poisoned to save myself from that dreadful Lassa Fever disease. Little did I know that other dangers lurked in the dark. I was still cursing and imagining the many ways I will kill the bloody rodent. Then I see it, it's spiny little antenna and the other. It 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 filled 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. 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. 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 out on ankle socks. It would have to go through my socks first. 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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Wednesday, 15 November 2017

A Slice Of Rich Creamy Reality

A Slice Of Rich Creamy Reality


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 79

    It's not real because I can't see anything and nothing approaches without me knowing about it. I believe I am quick and nimble and careful and experienced, at least that's what I tell myself. And to top it all up, I have worked on this farm for years. So I did not expect today's event to sting this bad. Like any other day, we all rise and meet on the road to work. The one pathway we all trek on and others ride old bicycles and the very fortunate ones old vehicles. I have refused to join my friends and escape my old life. He struggles everyday to keep up with appearances. He buys fuel for a worn out and over used generator set and has to keep food in a fridge that barely sees power supply. His children have become rude and he can no longer bring home food from the farm he sold to move to the city. A city of false hope, a lie told Yet decided by all as the biggest lie of them all. Water has become gold and his children fetch for the neighborhood with pompous kids that can't be caught dead fetching water. That job is preserved for his now angry children. School they told him was free but the crowd and disaster they experienced breaks his heart Everytime they joke about it. He missed home, the schools were more than enough for his village people that seemed to be enjoying the mass exodus to the city.
I on the other hay I will not abandon my home to live like refugees on illegal lagoon fronts. His wooden shack was crushed last night and some that left with him returned. The days of feeding off the land for free were missed by all. And I remind them that the consequences of their actions lingered. Little did I know that my prophetic visions were more than just going to come true. But as I raise my nose up at the city returnees, I sense it.
They are no longer quiet as they approach the farm land they cross to school because their farm has long seized to be theirs. They screech and shout and sing and disturb nature as this mass returnees brag of a difficult life they now missed. Even though to them it was all glamorous and fun, it was neither to us that listened.
Yet I think that am the one in denial, they distract me from my keen alert senses and as I match on. I listen.
I can hear the faint echoed of hissing and I stop because it is coming from all around me. Not one approaches but several, and as they crawl and climb the dry twigs break and dead leaves crack. But that isn't the problem, these juvenile creatures are just excited and exploring everywhere and as I signal to the distracted crowd and start to retreat. I freeze as children born far away from the village March heavily on faux floor. Unfortunately for the people all around, these abandoned farm land is the perfect breeding ground for the raging juveniles. Children screech and cry as swift slender creatures strike. Many mother's run to rescue their children and the men run with matchets and hoes and step on heads hiding flat beneath dead plants. They strike multiple times and the consequences of this clash of species can be heard the world over. I run to paranoid children watching their mother jerk and have seizures on the ground. They stand confused and begin to cry and I can see that there are snakes no longer hiding but crawling towards them.  I raced to them and pick up both children and grabbed the mothers hand. I pull and hop and shield them from a field saturated with snakes. People are falling left and right and some start to grab child and run. Safe and away from all the twigs and dead leaves, I rip at her  wrapper and tie the wound and then suck at the bitter venom. I spit it out and give her CPR. She was not breathing and I repeat it and then she coughs and sits up, searching for her children. Their warm embrace distracts me and by the time I see it, I strike at it and get its tail. It turns around and strikes and I behead the slimy Beautiful creature with glowing black scales. I have never seen a black mamba up close but its skin is glorious. I unbuckle my belt and try to stop the venom from spreading from my own leg. The child kneels to suck it but instead, my returnee friend does it. He holds me by my arm as we start to head to the hospital. On the field are almost a hundred people clutching onto snake bites and men and women striking and beheading them. Other farmers have been informed and volunteer cars, bicycles and strong able people carry us as we all head towards the hospital.
The hospitals is filled with snake bitten victims and decapitated heads of stray juveniles whose journey ended the minute it started to help doctors identify the snake bite and use the correct venom. As I arrive I see bikes of empty anti venom's and helpless hospital staff trying to cope with the traumatized victims. A loud shrieking sound familiar to me made me look down and then another. The number of the dead was sixty by the time I was still lucid and then I drift up to sleep. Awake I stare at the mother and her two children watching me. She had survived hers and apparently so did I but an additional eight people died. The next thing I felt was hunger, I don't think I have eaten anything all day and then I smelled it. A roasted grilled meaty delight, not only me though. For hungry patients start to watch the entrance with hope. Meals prepared with roasted snakes went around and even though I had never had snake before today, it was delicious. Even the doctors and nurses joined us as we had a feast celebrating lives not lost. But it was not yet over, the fight to survive this excruciating pain could only work with help and as people bond and come together, nations outside Nigeria. It was a long and treacherous journey to wait for anti venom that was scarce and people prayed and wait for the ASV drugs. I didn't even know we had carpet vipers in this country, black cobras I knew about and puff adders definitely. Puff adders were much more delicious though and united kingdom and Costa Rica were the two countries providing the anti venom's and after one painful month of managing my snake bite and other victims. It arrives and we are all relieved, although most of the farm has been harvested and food in our homes. And then I remembered my friend from the city and searched for him, he didn't suffer any physical injury from any snake. His pain was emotional and to my surprise I saw him dangling from the ceiling fan in his one room apartment. I race to him and hold him high and stop the rope from strangling him as I raise an alarm. The neighborhood rush in with matchets and hope to slay the snake and instead meet my friend trying to commit suicide. He is rescued and crying because his lover abandoned him. Did I mention that he was my first love, the man I lost my virginity to. Before today, he was this powerful force no one could stop but now I see a broken man. The doctor helps me out him in his car as we take him to the hospital and he squeezed my hand and smiled as he reassured me he will survive. I stare at the doctor and smile, this same man that has chased me all my life suddenly looks good. Finally, you see me he says and I smile and touch his rough unshaved face. I may be a farmer but this farm woman has fallen for the town doctor. We hold hands and I thank God for all I have suffered this past month, it has helped me find love.
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Busola Elegbede
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Friday, 10 November 2017

Silhouette Of  A Ghost Ship

Silhouette Of A Ghost Ship


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 78

  The anchor rams into the floor in disarray and as it does, it shifts sand that is in perfect unison with themselves. Shoved, grinded and shaved into almost identical sizes as they line the sea bed and lie in wait for something to happen. Hollow bones and empty shells crush under the weight of the symbol that has been used since time immemorial. This heavy metal digs deep into the ground and yanks at the chain that latches it to a ship, high above the water. It coughs and sinks deeper under the weight of the floating burden until it finds a resting place, deep enough for it to rest on its side as its claws to sink in. The ship comes to a halt as the anchor stares at the adjacent ship hovering above.
Unsure of why or how long it has been chained to the massive burden, the anchor knew it was time. The chains had wounds that cut deep and had made the hold on it less attached than it was. So I do the logical thing and pull at it hard and hope that it snaps. Instead it just hangs and almost gets unhinged but that's about all it did. Yes, it is time to do more than hope. It's time to just more than help and pray the trouble will go away. The time to do something is now and as my headache piles on and intensifies... I shove at the chain and jerk and watch it almost get detached. I do it again and again and then my excitement starts to wane. Maybe this is my fate, to be tossed into the ocean with the hope that after I am dragged for a while then I'd stop.
 Unfortunately for me, that is not me. Me, I choose to stop this stupid headache inducing routine. So I pull at the chains and grip it tight and then I flipped it like I was trying to form a loop and turn the chain into a skipping rope deep in the depths of the sea. It works and flips twice and then I am free. I am no longer chained to that boring old ship. I celebrate my victory and then to my dismay I hear bubbles behind me. Slowly I turn around to the source of my fear and confirm my woes. A diver has just found me and in its hand, inching towards me. A shining new stronger chain, and latches it on tight and then chained it to me. I watch as I am hoisted up and out of the water into a terrifying new reality. I hear them talk about how I will be refurbished and chained to another ship. I just hope this time the relationship is worth it...
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Busola Elegbede
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Tuesday, 7 November 2017

Hyenas Bond To Get The Job Done

Hyenas Bond To Get The Job Done


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 77

       Seventy seven women lay limp and lifelike with their souls long gone, along with dreams drowned and enveloped by a mixture of two of life's most important elements oxygen and hydrogen. All of it mashed up and frothy as it engulfs and sucks life out of those who dare to travel across the sheer force within its waves. Thier bones line the sea floor and enrich the oceans with fresh stories and tales of hopes all revived and forgotten as quickly as it starts to simmer down, it starts to go into an uncontrollable rage. These women had some form of wicked luck, their shells didn't get to hit the floor, they were barely gone when they were whisked up like fish caught up in a net. Rescued by sailors on a mission and distracted by the cries from people in search of a better life. It was too late for them and one additional girl starts to sink as they are carted into the submerged submarine. Babies survived and young blood tired from trying to stay afloat made it. But the question is what did they survive? Is this a perilous journey, taken only to be returned back to what and where they were running away from. Others too tired to cry or tired from mourning lost ones stare on as cameras filmed and record their faces for the world to see. At this point none of them cared and none of them said a word. Quietly they stared at all seventy seven women now hoisted up and onto the shores, the men and the boys had long hit the bottom of the sea. Onlookers watched as people with microphones brand them and state who they are to a world of people diverse and confused about why they would take such high risks. Immigrants desperate for a new life, a new start most now at the bottom of the sea.
Coconut trees wave and bow to the angry winds of the women crying as they float away from the bodies they once held dear. And now as they are fingerprinted and photographed, mini meals and water are passed around and taste buds  munch and mulch it all up and wait for what happens next.....
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Busola Elegbede
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Saturday, 4 November 2017

Churning Out Winters Flames

Churning Out Winters Flames


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 76

      Ever wondered which side you would end up on if you travelled back in time? Say... In a ground breaking event that changed the world forever. Let me start with the one grand event.....
Of course the great flood, a constant downpour for forty days and forty nights. The sheer amount of water all around and the constant stream of heavy downpour from a raging sky. The one major question I would like the answer to has haunted my dreams and plagued my very imaginative mind. Will this event have a happy ending or consume you completely. Are you going to be safe inside the ark or drowning outside in a tsunami higher than anyone has ever lived to tell or film. For a long time, I dreamt that I was safely inside the ark with the good and noble men and women of that time. Running around with little children on the massive ark, from the slow tortoise and the graceful gazelle and watching the black widow spin her massive web and the grand African King Cobra raise itself high up as I skip by unafraid. I am only anxious about the days and I could not wait until the rain stops falling and my bare feet soaks in muddy banks.
That was then when I was young and blameless, unbiased and gregarious. Now I look at the person approaching me and think, why is his hand in his pocket. Is he alone or are his gang members lurking in the shadows. And when I see her give me a second look, I ponder and ask. Is she scrutinizing me to see if I have cash in my bag or worth attacking. Yes I am no longer innocent, I have been sexually harassed and blamed for it. I have had my documents seized for no reason and asked what I was wearing, been chased and ran as fast as I can. And then blamed for been afraid. So do I trust people? No. What about my thought pattern, I hold back when I can and try to answer only what I've been told. The result... I'm too quiet. So you understand why I'm paranoid and skeptical about everything and everyone. I do not beat my chest and brag to be one of those on the ark and I also do not think I am one of those drowning outside in the flood. I seriously feel like I am a conflicted whole and my destination depends on when and what trials and tribulations I am facing. I hope that when the ark comes that I am calm and not hateful. I pray that o have hope and I am prepared and if I am caught unawares... I am ready to build my ark and rise above all and every challenge I face.
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Busola Elegbede
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Tuesday, 31 October 2017

Like A Thief In Broad Daylight

Like A Thief In Broad Daylight


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 75

      The gullible flock watch me as I enter the rusty old bus with a driver half high from his half smoked wrap of weed. Fear not, I announce to the rattled people afraid of the uncertainty. I am here, after all it is written.... Touch not my anointed. Of course I am referring to me, I am covered and true. I try to hold back and away my anxious hands that want to bring out envelopes o distribute to the scared people in this cross country bus. He should not be smoking weed, an irritated mermaid girl with snake like curls grumbled. I shiver and cast away spirits of lust as her Beautiful skin distracts me. Eyes on the goal, I repeat to my friend as she catches my eyes wondering. I am not the only one, two young men are discussing and deciding the best course of action. It's either I toast her or you do. I quote a verse and reject their sinful ways. They have had enough and grumble and accuse me of extortion. What is their business?
A desperate man waves and signals for help as his bus lay on the opposite side of the road. The girl protests as he slows down and others chastise her for it. But our words turn into horror as the distraught man springs out a loaded gun from his belt.
 The young men scream at the intoxicated driver to reverse, he doesn't react in quick time. And we are ambushed. The young men scream and insist he reverse and speed away but the cocked rifle ushers him deep into the bush and the false preacher announced that none have anything to fear. As prayers ring loudest from the mermaid girl and the preacher blames her weave and trousers on attracting evil. The armed robber rushed to the boot and aimed the gun at the unarmed passengers threatening to spray them and cursing like he was in an American movie. So much repetition of the word fuck. Then he screamed 'mopo', our slang for mobile police in Nigeria and the hopeful bunch stretch scared necks at the men in special black uniforms and khaki pants. These additional men were high and armed and order us all to get out from the vehicle. They were fake policemen and fellow armed robbers. The mermaid and overweight market women in wrappers were the first to lie down and cover their heads. As phones, bags and briefcases disappeared. Then they formed a pile, expecting to be shot or beaten to death. The young men were last after the bragging pastor. A struggle ensued as one of those men shoves him and hides his head under his stomach. A scuttle ensues and verbals use begins as the fake pastor accused the young man of putting him in harm's way. The excited robbers hear the commotion and warn them to stop. The young man takes cover and the overconfident preacher grumbled. This angered the robber and he sprays into the air and then to the floor on the people. A bullet penetrates his stomach and his comrades join him and order they leave.
Real policemen in sirens approach and the dazed crowd stare on at the bleeding preacher that claimed before the journey that his good ways will rescue and protect the crowd from armed robbers. An NYSC lady was wailing, her certificate and all were stolen and today was the last day for clearance. Everyone pleaded and tried to calm her as real policemen arrived. Men and women who had tuckedand hidden money shared and tried to help others as phones appeared and calls went out to loved ones. As a false preacher bleeding out, I stretch to them all as I am put in the back of the van and carted away. A horrible scene unfolds in front of me, a gang were raping women and beating up naked men. The real policemen shot into the air and as they dispersed approach the distraught young girls and old women. I look at the blood gushing out from me and gather an old rag and put pressure on my own wound. Only a real miracle can keep me alive to tell this awful tale. I hope I get my chance...
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Busola Elegbede
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Saturday, 28 October 2017

A Man For Every Woman And More Where They Came From

A Man For Every Woman And More Where They Came From


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 74

  Talk about unfair, I choose to wait until the wicked  sun shining outside disappears. As soon as it does, I’m on my way. I’ve practiced all night and I have m eyes on the house that I believe would give me the money I need. I’ve watched them all month, bought drinks enough times to be recognized and let in without raised eyebrows. I buy drinks from the woman with a red cooler, she gets excited when she slots me. I always buy bottled drinks and leave the change. No I’m not rich but every week I have a new house I stake out. This house the lesson teacher has changed four times now, I’ve offered to buy them drinks in the hot sun. And they have accepted, that’s how I know so much. I even know the name of the new house help, Bright. Yes her name is bright but she is gullible and afraid to mess up. Today is my opportunity and I’m taking it. I can’t wait to have her bosses Rolex in my hand, I have a buyer already and will not need to come back to this area. I walk briskly and knock on the door and Bright answers. She scans my outfit and shoes and bag and I do not disappoint. I have on a designer bag and shoes, thanks to generous family members returned back to Nigeria. They discard their wardrobes to impress people like me and then fill it back up as soon as they return.
A little cash in hand could have been better but they had none to give and a referral maybe. But there was nothing they could do for me and trying too hard has left me exhausted. So I am honing what easily comes naturally to me, whenever I feel trapped or cornered. Its lies and lying, I open my mouth and tell Bright I have meeting with her boss and he said it was alright to wait. This was the time I had calculated she would be in her towel. She had heard about the job from the gateman who was collecting his reward in kind. After rumps of sex, she liked to take a long twenty minutes shower. All these I deduced from taking my fizzy bottled drink from the woman with the red cooler. Bright let me in and showered as quickly as she could but not fast enough. It was like Christmas, perfumes, the watch and makeup bags filled with designer goodies. I tucked it all in and pretended to receive an urgent call. Bright watched as I promised to make another appointment and was kind enough to walk me out. It would have been perfect, but the nosy neighbor walked in just as I was about to walk out of the gate. She scrutinized me and frowned, she had a wicked mistrustful look and asked who I was. I recognized her and tried to stay calm. She started dialing and then ordered that the gates stayed closed. She did remember me from years before. My game was up...


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Busola Elegbede
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