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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

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Tuesday, 28 November 2017

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


"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


"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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Friday, 17 November 2017

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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Wednesday, 15 November 2017

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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Friday, 10 November 2017

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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Tuesday, 7 November 2017

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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Saturday, 4 November 2017

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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