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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

Wednesday, 30 August 2017

Swapped Paper Dreams For Thrills


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 57

  The unusual cool winds smack hard at all living creatures far and near as the afternoon inched further into evening. Upright and fit, the young doe strayed from the herd to find greener pasture. It helped that her older and wiser friend, struts with her, side by side into the wilderness. This fast and furious city called Lagos, where demand and supply fist fight, face to face everyday. The aim of this perilous journey is to buy a phone and the specifications were crystal clear in my mind and head. And as we roamed round the stores in computer village, we did not find my dream phone. I swayed and waned and seethed deep in my own disappointment in this annoying crowded streets. A sharp guy spotted me and asked me what I want.      What do I want?
Stupid question, I want the best of the best or at least what I could afford to buy. Then he flashed the phone, an iPhone. My eyes lit as the greener pastures this would attract filled me with renewed hope. I tried to hide my excitement and told this fast man that I could never afford such a phone. After all all, all I had in my pocket was forty thousand Naira and the phone cost one hundred and twenty thousand Naira only He tells me that for me, the phone would cost only eighty thousand Naira. I signal to my young buck friend with locks that spelled experience and packs and muscles all over his body, that stated he had toiled hard in this life and a past one. My friend adds that if they could reduce it to fifty, we may be able to afford it. Not that we have the ten thousand extra but to check if it was possible. Two other hustlers appear and tell us to take this deal going once, twice....
And I announce that if only they can take forty, then it's a deal. My friend takes the phone and walks away as I count forty thousand and give it to him. I am a happy doe with my first iPhone, my friends could die of envy and I'd be the Belle of the ball.
  Instead he says it's too small and hustlers have been watching us. Anything could happen, does he mean I could be robbed? Or that my friends pocket could be picked?
They are not selling anymore and want their phone, My dumb buck friend gives them back the phone.
I want my money. They hand it back as a Crowd closes in. I hold on to the money and try not to get robbed. Something is not right, I stop to check the bundle of money and gasp. They did it, Swapped Paper Dreams For Thrills. The thrill of the iPhone made me get rid of my intuition and guts. I have been duped and my forty thousand Naira is down to one fake thousand Naira note. Nothing. This lesson I will never forget, this would never happen to me again....

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Busola Elegbede
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Saturday, 26 August 2017

Carved In The Bark Of Time


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 56

  The wind picked up and packed up specs of dust floating and flowing by. Mimicking the rough winds in a cool Houston sky, made wet by a raging rain storm. The woodpecker drilled quickly as it's wings soak up and it's feathers stick awkwardly to its muscular frame. Lightening deterred all its plans as it took flight and finds shelter underneath the large African fruit tree.
 It was not the only one drilling, a woodworm was hard at work and as it munched on the hard wood bark, fine wood flakes broke and sawdust like mountain appear. Almost naked to the human eye but massive to a minute woodworm.
It didn't end there, the woman swung her axe and struck the tree. She wanted the wood cut down and in her workshop. It would take time and a lot of patience but she had to create her masterpiece. One full year it would take to dry it, but the ones from last year is dry. I just have to prepare for next year today. I drag it to my shack and cut to even sizes. The wind isn't so bad and my dear of been struck by lightning has not reduced. I just concentrate more on getting the job done. Cut, stacked and both ends sealed with natural wax from my bee hive, I'm ready.
 My knives are ready, the stone that sharpens it, passed on to me by my father and the knives handle carved by my mother. This tortoise, my spirit animal. Beautiful, slow and steady, will come to life and bless the family it joins as my journey begins...

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Wednesday, 23 August 2017

The Ant Eclipsed The Past


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 55

  The lone ant crawled up the delicious corn stalk and munched on it, like it's life depended on it. The raw edges shriveled and dried up as the chlorophyll moved back and disappeared and then leaves a gap in it. A beautiful gash, a signature mark on a life well lived. The corn stalk starts to turn yellow and then brown as it begins to die, sacrificing life for another. It is beginning to sound like a Nigerian tragedy, but wait... There's more, the Robin hovers over and searches but finds none. This lone ant is alone, an easy prey for this majestic aerial beast. In an instant, it pecks and devours the ant that broke the rule. The pack mentality is not a myth, it is there to help you. To protect you and reduce your chances of been eaten by predators. But something happened and the bird lost all ability to move it's limbs and falls hard on the near ground.
The moon is in the sky, not lurking but bragging and shinning and radiating. It signals to limbs and body, eyes and minds to stop. To recognize all around the world that the Queen of the Night has conquered the kings sky. That as predicted in an age old folklore, all balance shall be ripped as she prepares for the end of days. Goats and sheep, wilderbeasts and deer all fall on their sides as limbs fail briefly. As victory wanes quickly, signalling the beginning of the end.
The line ant crawled out of the beak that refused to munch on it. It pushed on failing limbs and knew it was doomed. So digs into the earth and finds a forgotten hole. A pathway back home to the colony, far away from the wicked rays of an angry Queen. And just in time, because the sun King snatched back his afternoon sky and limbs are restored. The bright red Robin regained it's limbs and all that moved, moved. The Ant Eclipsed The Past and told tales of surviving the Eclipse as none believed it's tale, because the Eclipse was too far away to grace their skies..
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Friday, 18 August 2017

Humans, Geckos, Millipedes, Hairy frogs And Spiders


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 54

  Dead in a few hours, she lays eggs on decay. Digging deep into the moist earth, the blow fly followed, burrowing deep and displacing dirt and debris to reach its target. Here, secrets hide beneath the place of worship, created by serial killers. Fueled by the need for a leader, in this chaotic mess of a life not well lived. People desperate for magical solutions, flock to these false prophets. Fueling this horrendous trade of human parts with paid professionals or should I call them what they are.... Kidnappers and psychopaths, peddling their whimsical miracles to a hungry crowd watching and waiting for more, searching. But not much is hidden for long as a deep dark eclipse draws near and uncovers a sad reality. The prayers of the desperate multitude fall to deaf ears as the actors are revealed just as time ticks and passes on by.
    Humans, Geckos, Millipedes, Hairy frogs And Spiders all cut up, caged up and peddled for money, for the wrong reasons.
  As the truth is exposed and cut sacrificial pieces of people are buried beneath the entrance of a fake place of worship. The tales told by Kidnappers sound fake. The truth is that it's real and as worshippers discover this ugly side to their false prophets. They band together and chat about maybe that's why their miracles didn't come, maybe there is some truth to the rumors
   Angry followers decry their failed miracles, drowned quickly by pointing fingers orchestrated by the wicked false prophets. Their voices dim the truth as blame is screamed at the naive crowd. This congregation has stolen what is mine, sayeth the false leaders. Empty all your life savings, so miracles shall look your way, also so I can open more houses of worship in the land of decay. Prove to the world that we are true worshippers, let's spread our noise and buildings, as prosperity prospers.
 Confusion reigns as loud voices reduces to a whisper of doubt. Maybe its not our prophet, God would not answer our prayers if that kind of atrocity happened here, right?
   Words I hear from confused people, what do I know? I'm just a blow fly.
  So I do what blow flies do, I dance amid the buried corpses, laugh as our population thrives. Only in this unique country of lies, peddled by the greedy, do many perish to feed our colony.
   But as the blood of the innocent victims, soiled and soaked the earth below, it made the concrete poured over the colony, crack with tears.  And give way...
 It was time for the truth to be revealed and a fued begins....
   Greedy kidnappers, fight with false prophets, angry at the bulletproof cars that litters the compounds.
 Don't worry just kill more innocent victims and maybe, I will give you one of the cars. He bragged and thumped his chest for all to see. Pathetic and sad yet said with much conviction, like a true psycho.
Their words spread more confusion as the death toll rises above normal and the tears of the victims seem silenced forever.
  Desperate to meet their quotas, the human part dealers kidnapped more than they could control. And as they do, live victims escaped their traps. The innocent returned with law enforcement officers only to be led to the false place of worship.
  In the forefront, A battered daughter looked on, seething in a whirlwind of confusion. As her grieving parents, hold on to the false prophets. The very men that paid her kidnappers with blood on their hands and buried her friends physically, deep beneath them.
  The evil circle of deceit is broken and it takes an entire platoon to stop the angry mob from burning the building. And only in the nick of time, because underneath revealed more corpses with millions of us blow flies hatching and burrowing upwards, at loose age old cement rising to the surface.
  A lot more secrets are quickly exposed, as the very people that were supposed to lead us to salvation are just using us, as manure. Fueling their evil trade with our blood. But what do I know?
    I'm just a blow fly.
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Wednesday, 16 August 2017

Clash Between Men In Agbada's


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 53

   Coughing and tweeting the bird sang and tried hard to lure it's mate and failed. There was after all more to life than attracting a mate. She dug hard at the dry infertile ground and searched for a meal to quench the hunger, tearing at her stomach walls. His nest was scrawny and the twigs did not look like they would stay in place. Nothing about him looked good. Yet he puffed and fluffed his feathers and tried to make himself bigger than he actually was. Others had fallen for it and had eggs fall out of flimsy nests. The wicked rodents thrived beneath, waiting for the future generation that would never be.
  I pretend I don't see it all, the last friend if mine who voiced her opinion was almost pecked to death and left the clan, scarred, limping and alone. A one legged captive, a human pet took pity and sheltered her. In the land were no one returned from. She was lucky to survive the journey but her former home can never be hers again.
 I will escape this horrid harem, this barren land of wickedness. The question is how? I'm almost exhausted from trying, but I can't see a future here. On our border, the young flight prince appears. The one we fantasize about and dream we will escape with. He is vicious and I did see him attack a rodent once. He is the forbidden one, the one born from a queen that relinquished her throne. My dream mother, not the compliant one that brainwashed me into accepting this boring life. The hardest truth about me is that I am no longer a child and can no longer blame my folks. I am now at their age, that age of decision making. So I do the impossible and fly towards him. I am not his type and neither is he mine. My move shocks him and he steps aside and my clan grab me to stop me from commiting social suicide. I loose feathers and blood as I wrench free from the hold that tries to clamp me down. And in an instant, I crossed the forbidden line into a territory I can never leave. He looks at me and points backwards and my  opens their wings to take me back.
 Silly bunch, all of them. I do need any of them to rescue me. I have eyes on a goal far beyond them. My eyes are on the rich field of dreams. The fertile land everyone fights for, fights to be in.i want so much more than a saviour. I want to be my own destiny changer and that bronze statue in a beaded necklace calls to me. I will make it and bond on the way but I will not move through life like a freaking zombie....

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Saturday, 12 August 2017

Corn Curb Fresh And Lush


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 52

 Like a humming bird rotating it's shoulders and elbows and staying precisely at one exact point. I stare around at the mess and order that I am now in. The juice is sweet and I can almost taste it, that's why I am here. I hold on to my spot and sweet delight as I flap and suck on all the nectar I can get. The sound of hope startles and then grabs my curiosity. I am afraid, the women on this inflatable boat have reduced. Did the sea suck them out or were they pushed? Holding on is harder with the crowd and we all want to be that success story in the news. Not me, as in I don't want to be publicly seen. But if I am caught, I will be. People are not that sympathetic to me because my country is partially in disarray. Not like other war torn countries. But the reality is that my family is in abject poverty and I'm tired. I know I lost a lot of opportunities but I didn't loose this one. A radio broadcast reveals that my cousin was one of those left to die in the desert. Her journey was through the Niger, through the desert, she lost her baby and barely survived. Now she owes the smugglers back home and it is on my burdened shoulders to pay back what we both owe. I'm tired and I have tied my hands to the side of the boat, so tight that only deflating it can separate me from the boat. I see their knives and their eyes watching me. I feel the wandering hands attempt to assault me and I scream. Yes, I may be an illegal immigrant but my body and right to live is still mine. The idiot doesn't try anymore, whomever the pervert was. But I am still afraid to sleep. A hand taps me and I stab at it and miss, I am paranoid like that, Sleep she tells me and I'll sleep tomorrow. Not in words but by signalling to me. I have no clue what language she speaks but she looks East African. I feel calm and the slaps from the icy waters feel like a blanket and then I finally fall asleep.
  I wake up rocking and confused. I am helped to my feet and hear some Spanish. I made it from Morocco to Spain and the onlookers in bikinis and Speedo's watch us. I cut the rope and stare at the woman that let me sleep. Now we run.... I didn't know I had it in me and as we run, I pray hard and follow her, I hope she is going to work and not sell her body.
  In the bush, a bus waits and we are handed hot coffee and a sandwich. I taste the trees and pasture in the beef and swim with the fish as the tuna eases my taste buds. The bread is fresh, how I did not die from eating stale bread, I do not know.
 I have a week to start paying back, before my mother's home is seized by the trafficking cartel. I must free my family from this evil trap called poverty in Nigeria.
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Tuesday, 8 August 2017

August 8th And All It's Goodness


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 51

 The predator is massive and swift but my beak just can't retreat. I dive and flap my wings until I feel the massive weight of water from the waterfall. A transparent barrier strong enough to knock me down and out. But not today, today the years of been battered has thickened my son and shoulders and my back. I am stronger because I have taken emotional tourture.
Today, I slice through easily and watch from the cool water wall.
  I'm safe for now abs happy.

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Saturday, 5 August 2017

The Hyena, Her Spot's And Stripes


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 50

 Life is never as simple as it seems and even though we are constantly brainwashed to conform to rules. We inevitably break them disbelieve their purpose or just do it to fit into the puzzle called life.  There is a crazy stage, an impossible pedestal we are placed on when we decide to break out. And the price for individuality may sometimes be exactly what the world needs. Or exactly a waste of time again and again. But like a blind mole, filled up with Delicious treats, the unstoppable urge to dig and find a way fuels me and fills me with purpose.
Sure, occasionally I have been knocked down several times by other moles but big deal. We are but creatures in arms and gregarious by nature.
 There aren't always people shouting and screaming on the top of their lungs, encouraging us to rise again. But we must remember we got into the ring and want something, the end goal should motivate us and remind us that truly we want to rise again.

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Wednesday, 2 August 2017

A Delicious Treat


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 49

   Eight inches of wingspan, eight feet buried deep and eight years as a larvae... I'm a creature of myth, miracles and revivals. Three to six segments and long courtship calls, I am destined to live and spread my seed all around the world. Exoskeletons drum and call out to everyone and remind them it's time. Like a squeaky door, moved by the quiet wind that mimics a ghost. But instead, the drum roll echoes and lingers until we are all whole. And then our mating song morphs into stringed instruments.. Like a cricket watching and singing as the orchestra takes on a higher note and peaks.
  Ours is the sound of attraction and love and companionship that lasts a lifetime. Smile my beautiful Cicada, ours is a union that is immortal and forever.... Just you wait and see...

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