Theme Layout

Boxed or Wide or Framed

Theme Translation

Display Featured Slider

Featured Slider Styles

Display Grid Slider

Grid Slider Styles

Display Trending Posts

Display Author Bio

Display Instagram Footer

Dark or Light Style

Powered by Blogger.

Search This Blog

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

Friday, 15 December 2017

Crusty Dusty December


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 88

   Crusty Dusty December blows finely ground sand on everything and just moved slow and with it, icy cool winds. It should have been icy cold but the harsh intensity of the blazing sun sliced and raised the room temperature. And as I try to ease the biting pain of a sudden burst from the wicked sun. My poor skin suffers and as I massaged it to try to stop the pain, I feel his hand on my shoulders and flinched.
I feel like I'm back in there, in that hatch of that ship. Praying the blades don't hit me as I hide and pray.
So much is happening and much of what I have done Falls short until I remember. I believe I have put myself in this message and there is no going back now.
Hard lessons shoved me into this message, this brand new naive me that can't seem to find my way back home. Everyday I hear it, I can't stomach and watch it. It is all too painful to see someone else experience it.
A migrant trapped in another land, one they are unwanted and unwelcome in. A land the predators hide and wait for prey blind and confused by the storm.
How did I get into this message you ask and my answer is easy. I could not cope anymore, the power supply never functioned for an hour and the employers owed me for months. I became one of those annoying workers that beg and every time I was snapped at and asked if I didn't get paid. I had to lie and try to sound like I was paid. I know, it's stupid right? The promise of what you are owed will make you act stupid and make all you believe become a lie. A stupid lie now molten something soft and untrue.
Cracked open the space now empty, what used to be my memory palace.
Left spoken like spades digging into a dead earth now faded and pale yellow.
Traced hard from leaves that refused to decay as I continue to hope and pray.
Never did I believe I would leave, but I did on money I never touched. Just a belief of a better place where people won't be owed and what's mine is mine. Oh, of course batter I pay this man that is making my journey to Europe possible.
The dusts pile up and this quick sand pads sink as I try to walk on them.
I speak of what I have gone through as if it's in the distant past. Yet we all know I was deported just last week and given a merger pay. I owe so much more and my other sister is ransom and bait until I pay back all that I owe. How do I get out of this mess?
 Now isn't that ironic, rescued from the jaws of human trafficking and yet trapped by a transaction long ago done by a naive young girl. It's hard to read about Nigerians risking it all for a maybe. For death and torture and trauma and years lost.
I have not suffered like illegal immigrants have but I know what it's like to be trapped with someone brainwashing and hovering over me day and night. To constantly pray for that wicked soul to die a thousand deaths and nothing happens.
Have you noticed how these people always stay alive and untouched?
 The reason I bring this up is because I am tired and exhausted. I miss my late husband and I am grieving and it is this time that my stupid ex buffoon decides to write me an open letter. Saying I should be strong and all is forgiven, can you imagine? Who is forgiving who, he lied to me he was single and asked my parents for my hand in a faux marriage. The only reason he even started dating me was to reduce accommodation expenses. Tricked me into paying half of the rent in Abuja because it would become our home once we got married. Wanted a child out of wedlock because his secret wife could not get pregnant. And the biggest lie Yet, my best friend that introduced him to me and accepted to be my chief bridesmaid was sleeping with him.
 So how dare he say he has forgiven me, from where is this trouble maker coming from? I did not dignify his antics with a reply and acquaintances m even more peeved a reporter had the nerve to call my office for a response. I have shouted and screamed and cursed him left and sideways and then I stop. This is exactly what he wants, to be relevant. I dust my hands physically and spiritually off him, he will get what is coming. The corn flakes in my warm milk starts to break and I can't eat it like that. I only take it a few seconds after it has been dunked into warm milk. So I stand up and get rid of the unappealing breakfast.
  I have not seen Celine this morning and I do not like that the house is quiet. Celine is staying until it is still safe to travel while pregnant. I want her to go home to Pierre and the girls but they all decide to spend Christmas and the new year here.
Surprisingly, the girls love it and can't wait to tell their friends about their first African trip in Nigeria and of course batter n unique Lagos. Alan is here too and they have rented the house beside mine.
Honestly, I'm glad I don't get to be alone and suicidal this holiday season. Celine just keeps reminding of the good times with Henrik. It surprised me that she wants us to talk about him and I'm kind of the alright with it. Although my parents and family don't like me talking about the dead. To me, he is still here and we still get to chat and talk in my dreams. Sometimes it's like nothing happened and other times he tells me to accept he is gone. It's confusing and makes me all sad and happy, depending on which dream I dream. Bottom line, I see him even now. He is quiet sometimes and as real as the cereal bowl I'm washing right now. And other times, he is fading away and totally disappears. No one ever noticed or said anything before yesterday. Trust my spiritual aunty to ask if I was just looking at him. I actually was because we had all cried and hugged and cried some more, until she started saying I will find someone else. It made me mad and just as I wanted to protest, he walked in behind her and shakes his head. I fall silent and acknowledge his presence quietly and as he smiled I knew we would talk later. My busy body aunty jumped and panicked and scared the living daylights out of me.
She claimed I was hunted by a familiar spirit and need a serious deliverance session. I stood up angry and mad that he was no longer with us and promised to give the security her picture. The only person she was allowed to come to my new house with was my mum. Any woli or pastor was not allowed into my house. Of course I will see him around me, it's my coping mechanism, my way of handling this tragedy. I collapsed to the floor crying and my relatives all attack her verbally and warn her to keep her prayers within herself.
'Emi a so te mi ooo, the truth is not easy to hear ooo'
 A barrage of abuses follow and brings a smile to my face buried in the throw pillows I made in March of the his year. The only one Henrik helped me stitch and finish tacking the edges. Of course I'm not possessed, I'm grieving and trying to accept I am now alone. I smelled baby milk, no it's actually breast milk. I have breast milk available for the twins I lost. Luckily I have on a padded bra, so it's not visible to the family audience here with me. The doctor says it will stop sipping milk or I could take medication to stop it. The smell is strong and wicked and I swear I heard a baby crying. It was my aunt's daughters baby, she was not sure who the father was because she was too drunk to tell which of her friends she slept with. I hope she was not raped, it's sad but intoxicated people should not be alone. The child is here now and the men all want to be the father. We are waiting for the results, DNA I mean. The baby wants me to carry her but he'd presence makes my heart beat become irregular and my head light. I'm having a panic attack and I try to breathe in deeply and exhaled long and then inhaled longer. Her mother tries to stop her but she had put the baby in my arms. The baby tucked itself on my full breasts and turned to suckle from them. The silence that ensued was deafening and I sit up and rock the hungry child. Crying my aunt collects the child and insists she is fed now. The child breaks into a loud cry and I stretch out my hands to take her back. I watch my little cousin breastfeed her daughter and I coil up into a ball and shut my eyes.

  I woke up in the evening exhausted and to the aroma of grilled lamb. The fresh grated Parmesan cheese and carrots bathe in greens did it for me. I was eating and drinking fresh orange juice quickly. I don't remember the last time I had a meal.
'You have no time eaten in days, so Alan made you dinner'
 I had to swallow first and try not to choke, it was quality chef food.
'He wanted to you to have your space, so he has gone'
'Thanks him for me, it's delicious'
 Celine had a magazine with her and I ignore it until I am satisfied.
'Did he write something else?'
'No we did'
 It was a full page of friends and family of Are and there they denounced him. And state his deception and horrible attempt at trying to stay relevant.
I rest my head on the couch and Smile, yes my friends are awesome and this will give him the fame he wants. Not the positive one but enough to get his ignorant bride to be, busy.
'Of you want, we can go and see the girls'
 She was talking about Pierre's daughters, her way to try to make me get out of the house.
'Do you have up Christmas decorations?'
'Yes and presents, even yours'
 Her statement made me think and try to remember if I got them gifts.
'Do I have to buy them gifts?', I was not in the mood for that.
'You have forgotten, you made them ASO OKE gowns, fitted and wrap around...'
'I thought it was still in my former house...'
'You didn't want to forget, so you made them early...'
'I didn't finish the hem of the dress...'
'I hand stitched it and wrapped it all'
'Even yours and Pierre's?'
'Everyone has a gift from you under our Christmas tree'
  So doing things early has its advantages and upsides, I am tired and pack extra lamb chunks as we decide to go to her house. It looks just like mine and as I enter, I smiled at the majestic Christmas tree.
'Aunty A, do you like it?'
 The little girls asked and I smile and add, 'its beautiful'

  Nine days to Christmas and I have done what I did not think I could ever do Again, smile. I know seeing Henrik makes it all better and I suspect more people are catching on to how I'm coping. But I have to see him and talk to him, how else am I getting through this s Christmas holiday?








**"ADE'S JOURNAL", Season 2, Episode 88**
*"ADE'S JOURNAL", 88, COPYRIGHT 2017*
**BUSOLA ELEGBEDE, COPYRIGHT 2017**

QuickEdit
Busola Elegbede
0 Comments
Share This Post :

You Might Also Like

Follow @Busola Elegbede