"ADE'S JOURNAL", 105

    The cool air is ushering in the second rainfall this year. And as the sun blaze intensifies, i wait for an angry sky to reign down on me. The rain is heavy, but brief. The drainages have filled up with water and mud puddle, scatter haphazardly all around. I am waiting for my shortcut to making it. They say that crime pays, so here I am, waiting. I have no job and i have lost all form of self respect. I am policed when I go to the kitchen, for fear of eating food designated for my Aunt and uncle or his children. I am that cousin they are surprised that i am even an undergraduate and about to finish my part time university degree. But the job isn't forthcoming and I am a hairline away from been tossed out into the street. So I am careful, as a woman on the street, how would I survive? My big sister tries, she has gone to Europe through Libya. The money she sends, makes them tolerate me a little. But even that Money has reduced drastically and i suspect it's because she is stuck in Libya and trying to do the boat crossing, into spain. I can't keep waiting for her, I have to find my own way. So I have done what I know that I can, promised to hide their goods, when it arrives. For fifty thousand Naira only, I am in this mess. The mess is that the vehicle conveying the steel doors, have been intercepted. And of course, the true contents revealed. And just like that, the fast cash is up in smoke. I suspected drugs but I know these my fairweather friends are not that organized. So when I read the Truth about the true contents of the vehicle. I am not surprised. 661 Pump Rifle Action And The Mayhem Behind It, have been exposed. Now, every footstep heading towards the house scares me. My aunt is back and I greet her with fear in my eyes. She asks me if I know and I just watch her and feign ignorance. Flipping open her phone, she apologized and started to show me an internet link that confused me and shocked me. A familiar face is in the video, but she is stark naked. There is fresh blood sipping over dry blood, bleeding from my sister's face. Her nose is swollen and black and blue but I still dont understand what is going on. I am trembling as I played the video and pray that it is not real. That it is a movie and that my big sister is just a very good actor. It is not acting and I can hear them speak and laugh and enjoy torturing her. She is raped, molested and poked with metal objects and I am crying. Then they do the unthinkable and place a metal ball in her mouth and gag her. A chain grabs each limb and they pull at her and I am screaming and begging for help. Are you all watching me? Can you all do something about this? Even my neighbour's dog that killed someone was put down, without torture. How on earth, does another human being treat another human being,with such little dignity. It's a violation of every human right, that I and every being on earth is entitled to. Are you just looking at me? These beast's, won't stop there. Soon they will be coming for you. We cannot let them get away with this. Illegal immigrant or not. We need to Rescue Our Girls, Never Deny The Mayhem Behind It

"ADE'S JOURNAL" 104

  Puff's of dust, jump off a clay Caked floor. Absent of rains for months and hardened by a consistent wicked blazing sun. Reflecting on people with eroded values, murderers, liars and thieves and the worst of the bunch, kidnappers. As the leader stands and listens to the court, judge and try this beast. Justice is almost within the grasps of the abused and the sad victim's. But just as justice is about to be served, Defiance By A Notorious Vampire erupts. Unknown bandits storm the court in Imo state and free this beast, breeding beasts. How can this be, justice isn't served, somebidy help us. End this madness and mayhem. This corrupt mood and hardship, plaguing my lovely country with endless potentials. The eroding plant life, looks out of place, in my rich and untapped Africa. The awkward standing electric poles, made of untamed and roughly finished cement, cramp on the beautiful landscapes and modern buildings. And the almost absent green life, struggle's to pump oxygen into the air filled with carbon monoxide and awaiting a down our of acid rain. The only saving grace, is that I am in Lagos, here the air is swept clean by a buoyant Lagoon, recycled by an angry Atlantic Ocean. Rusty ships, slice and float above the waters occasionally, a beautiful sight to behold, no doubt. As other natural waters and man made waters build up and spew out some of its liquid contents. The streams and canals collect and evaporate as the scorching heat transforms the water mass into moisture. It mixes up with the harsh winds and feeds the little plant life left in the city. The concentrated forests, beg to remain intact and few clusters of plant life, attract insects, animals and man alike.
Fireflies float and fly upwards, flashing golden behind with bright lights. Flickering and lighting up the dark night with hope, with love, with a shiny yellow lights. Signalling to the others that this darkness will not reign supreme. Others wake from their slumber, and start to communicate in Morse code, in Yoruba and in French. All and many languages of love and hope in this dim world, repelling those not in the mood and attracting like minds. At the same time, stimulating loves lime light and reminding everyone that love trump's hate, that money isn't everything, that where there is life, there is hope. And that like minds find themselves and together, we shall shine bright like coal, hardened and battered and metamorphosized into rare precious diamond's that we are. No matter how bad it gets, we shall and will overcome, today, tomorrow and always.
 Did you catch a little light?

"ADE'S JOURNAL', 103

    The dark night is quiet and as the heat escalates, the mosquitoes wake up from their slumber. Desperate mates play their violins and try to attract mates as the buzz and fly around my ears. A quick whack on the face, sends the horny pair spinning out of control and away from me, briefly. But then again, they return, determined to play for me and dine on my overheating blood pumping away beneath me. At least, slumber is within my grasps. Sleep woos me and I'm almost in dream land. There, far, far away from my tired absent world. All is fine, everything works. Tall beautiful castles line the street with bright lights and electricity flowing. Everything all around works. All my appliances are useful and not just decorations. My reality is a faint fantasy reality. I bought it all. I am the one, the one that starved and has acquired all the gadgets, the satellite television, the beautiful lamp and all. In reality, all that is absent, is power supply. Don't get me wrong, I have a generator, but I don't have petrol so I am in darkness waiting. My neighbour's have petrol and live upstairs. Their generator is downstairs, close to all our bedrooms. And as I hear my neighbour open their metal entrance door, I cringe. The old patched up generator is about to come alive and on. And as it does, the sound that erupts and the force it exerts, shakes the foundation of the four bedroom flat I reside in. The generator is too close to my bedroom and I have complained, my husband says my own is too much. The black fumes don't enter the room, it's the choking smell that slips in and just lingers. I suspect it's dangerous and I have complained, to the landlord, other tenants and everyone. Since I can't yet sleep tonight, i get up. I check on my five children and reassure them that tomorrow, I will make sure there is fuel in the generator and we will all sleep with at least the fan blowing. My husband is snoring already, too tired from driving and marketing. That is his job, we should be grateful for. I sacrificed my car, so his errands would be faster. His own car, is with the clueless mechanic, overcharging him. Don't let me go there. Now, I can sleep, after checking that the gas is turned off and all light switches are off. As I lay on the bed, next to him, i can see the fumes in the room. The sound is worse, but I need to catch some sleep. So ignoring the fact that I pay for power and get none or the fact that even when there is power supply, the landlord does not pump water. None of these problems peculiar to Nigeria, will get to me tonight. I will sleep today, for tomorrow is another day.
  Only, tomorrow never comes, for us I mean. The rage from parking behind the neighbour, makes them knock and knock on the door. Thinking they were ignored on purpose, they threw tantrums. Getting no reply, they broke down doors. Asleep, we all looked, until the doctor's confirmed their worst fears. The Neighbogurs Generator Fumes Killed Us All.

"ADE'S JOURNAL", 102

    The wind and the dust, spin and create thrust. As it spins and forms whirlwinds, naked kids slice through burst pipes. Each with a dream, of a happy life promised. Promises made and broken, by naive parents, holding on to a dream that their own parents brainwashed them with. Everything has a price and to long for more is to inch closer to the commodity that price can get. Right now, it's the winds tilting the ray of water my way. Bending the splash of water by stiff winds that buckle and break the united body apart.
Again we are here, at that point where men become monsters. Where father's murder their wives and dump them in septic tank's. And the saddest of all, his five year old son... Slammed on the head by a rock and tossed and dumped like rubbish, along Iba express way. Now tell me that he is not a monster, that beast masquerading as a human being. Tell me that there is something very wrong, with our priorities, with our eroding human heart. Reassure me that, though horrid Monsters On The Rise, Humans Will Arise. Justice will be served and such atrocities would  not repeat itself. Tell me such a world can exist and will exist. Because, it can and it will. Humanity will triumph amidst all the evil that men do. We will read of kindness and the goodness of men, more often I hope...

"ADE'S JOURNAL", 101

    The scale of justice wanes and the witnesses lower their eyes, far away from the truth. Like an angry wind, tugging at a weak branch, trying to force it to break away from the tree. Trying to yank it away from some form of sense of community, sense of belonging. That's what this life feels like, right now. Like a series of people looking away and ignoring what is right and supporting what is wrong. It's hard you know, hard not to have a yard stick to measure up to, to use someone's victory or tragedy to uplift or console myself. But, Do I give up? No, this is only the beginning of things and I will continue to cry out in silence, until I am heard. Gravity hears me and i see a shadow of the large spherical object, crashing quickly towards me. I move Swiftly and watch miraculously as events turn out. The tangled leaves from the leaves of a plant with roots morphing into yam tuber's, stretch and curve and receive the spherical coconut. It lands on the chlorophyll rich plant, but does not break. The hold they have on each other is amazing. Pointy Stems stretch and search for water in this land, this beautiful Lagos, surrounded by canals, rivers, Lagoon and the Atlantic Ocean. The marvel of it all, made me stare in awe at it. All I want is a cool summer, with a mild sun and light rain showers. Instead, bombs land on people, seeking refuge and fingers watch without moving, as triggers go off and get Nigeria in the news for all the wrong reasons. Souls gone forever, with no clue and lives affected forever by this one event. Am I sad, yes. I am. And I honestly, pray that things get better, lives live longer, may their souls rest in peace. I just want good to come to us and hope that joy floats and flows back my way. I think, I need to get some form of good news, today I'm not referencing any tragic or spectacular life changing event in the news or around me. Instead, I'm looking inwards. I want to know what I planned to do this year and what isn't on track. My goals as I recall, include me getting more jobs and just generally, be happier and gain more skills. Did I write them down, specifically? I doubt it, I did not write down a new year's resolution. Very unlike me, I did not write anything down. I guess, years of writing it down and not getting it done has affected and annoyed me. So I instead, search and find my old lists and prioritized my dreams. It's magical to watch and read dreams I penned down years ago. Such promise, such dreams, very ambitious and uninhibited. A common goal I penned down, was to learn French. I remember in final year, in the university I declared I would in a year. See life, see how time has just sped past, fast. So many years of saying next month, next year, I would get it done. In fact,  I'm changing my mind and writing down my goals for the year. Im going to Start with learning French and then increasing my earning power. Lord knows, that with everything in Nigeria jumping to almost twice it's price last year. I need it, seriously.

"ADE'S JOURNAL", 100

 It starts with a cool calm surface, that face, that innocent look he gives you and attracts your innocence. Life is beautiful and all flowers, clouds and the Atlantic ocean. The red clay, malleable under your warm feet, grapple at the gravels in the mud. And as you squat on the pavement, you stretch and catch at least three tadpoles in your crumpled plastic cup and show off. He loves that you are carefree, tomboyish and unrestricted. He loves that you love your girls and hug them, every time you meet. But now you are together, his harsh words remind you that you are no longer a child. The feet should not always be in mud and catch all sorts of bacteria or smudge his clothes with your excitement. The girls that you deem close, want a part of him and can no longer be trusted. The sea, should be better appreciated and seen less of. And looking up at the clouds and bumping into people isn't cute anymore. And dressing up as a nineties music video, tomboy is so old fashioned, it only makes other people laugh at you. The world has lost its fun now, and I look down more often. I walk past my naive friends and miss the laughter. My friends envy me and tell me I am in the best relationship ever, I am the ugly duckling that is now a swan. it makes me go back and check out my old pictures before I started dating him. How ugly was I? Instead, I see a flawless me laughing and touching people. A guiltless me, in different outfits and hats, inspired by Chanel and Mary j. Blige. Now I am a lady, who needs her face to be seen. A lady, like one in the eighteen hundreds. I swear to God who made me, all that was missing was the constricting corsets. Maybe if I had them on, I could cry for the girl I once was. My former best friend, longs to be touched and loved like i am everyday. I want to tell her that i long to be her or old me once again.
In silence, when I am alone, I wish I had never agreed to date you.  You rubbed me of a life free and sane, filled with girls, dressing up and rolling in the mud. The carefree girl is gone, now afraid to sweat and leave armpit moisture, on her perfect outfit. The calm façade he exhibits, has started to simmer or is it boil. He won't wait for years for me to loose my virginity. And now, my wayward friend is more honest about her emotions than I am. Confused and tortured verbally, I start to ask why I am different, if he will stay. The perfect face of the lid on the pot, starts to crack as he boils over and gives out ultimatums. No one told me that love was bitter sweet and about all the emptiness in between. I give in because, I am tired and curious and forever I will regret this. But, it's okay. I won't nag or become a stereotype girlfriend, instead I will be the walking dead and smile and laugh at your tired jokes. He is happy now that I am an obedient pet, he says jump and I say how high. I hide my growing affliction, the rabies affliction splitting and multiplying inside me. He cracks a joke and brings me down and all his friends and side chicks, laugh at me. I laugh and face him and bite hard at the words that hurt me. How foolish of you to think so little of yourself. And you all laugh because he mocks you and taunts you and you all agree he is stupid. It was words, said to cause strife and reveal secrets and plant mistrust. Yes, I am no longer that sweet girl, but I won't be silent anymore. The verbal abuse ends now, this minute and not a second more. Three years of eroding all my confidence and hopes and dreams end forever and now.
   Men Lie Now They Will Fry under the sun and on a hot pavement. Not in secret as they have done since time immemorial and gotten away with. Today, everything  coming out in the open. And I will expose you for who you are.

"ADE'S JOURNAL', 99

  The December I Remember has faded away. When did we get lost
and go astray, with carols and games all here once again. Now all we see is no petrol, as we line up all day. The December I remember will come soon my way. Just give me a moment, to get up today.
  It’s strange what your mind remembers, when it tries to escape.
    Spinning blades, slice through the heat and spew out cool air, on sweaty epidermis. Short hair stands, stand erect, prompted by swollen follicles, confused and abused by ravaged beast’s, pretending to be children. These heartless aliens, wearing a human skin, talking as if they have done nothing to me. Trying to confuse me with warm smiles as they punch and blame me. Teenagers left unchecked, unguided and uncultured, have Blindfolded And Abducted The Lost Generation. With the female specie, bearing the brunt and assault of an evil, wicked face. Injected with poison, subjected to torture and filmed by these rabid animals.
   Sadly, to understand this, you need to walk with me to the beginning. My generation, my classmate, that borrowed my book yesterday. Is responsible. He and his friends copied my notes and I had advised them, not to let it pile up, this much. Reiterate, to them, the need to get my note back quickly. Did they listen? Ha, if only, it was that simple. I am bound and have realized, It was all a ruse. A psychopaths game, that will end in me, losing my life. He convinced me, that he was normal and convinced his friends that his plan was bulletproof. His friends, agree to partake in this mayhem and I have unknowingly, fallen for their innocent ruse. I did not go to them, to collect my book, no. I was smarter than that. Teenage boys only want sex and, I was hard-working enough to stay awake all night to start and copy a new note. Just because, he refused to return mine. I am not like him, fortunate and well off to afford to hang around the area with friends. No. My mother said, education was never going to be enough, that I should learn a skill and learn to sew. So that, the small expenses would be covered. And like the good obedient, focused daughter, that I am, I listened. I am about to earn my first money from this completed skill, that I have acquired. I have finished my school homework, so I am free. I have collected two thousand naira to sew, my first dress ever. A six piece, mermaid bottom dress with invisible zip at the back. I am excited and I am almost at the accessories shop. When I spot my classmate, he does not have my book and I do not ask for it. He greets me and  I do too. But a motor bike has crossed me, and another and I recognize the drivers. His friends and my classmates from school.
 I am kicked and slammed on the floor and even though, I am in shock, I struggle. I screamed and bit at this my classmate. Asking and begging for my life and fighting to get away from the situation. Someone will hear me and stop this afternoon madness, I am sure of it. Instead I am gagged with rags and injected by four men and carted away. This cannot be happening.
   The torture can only last for hours, I tell my battered body and mind. This must end. As if responding to my mind, my soul escapes it’s casing. I cannot survive this, how can I? Hours turn to days and several injection’s later, I do not want to see this. It is time to exit this cruel world.
  But justice grasps at the tip and tail end of my soul and drags me back to my weakened body. Not to torture me and replay the assault I have endured as a teenage victim. No. To expose the mayhem these beast’s have continued to afflict on innocent young girls. To identify the evil neighbor, that smiles and greets your mother and buys and keeps weapons, shovels, to bury their sins and pretend to be human. Not anymore, I will survive and speak the truth. I will scream and shout your sins and survive and hope that you, all dangle and hang on an old high tree. So that, I, your victim will finally get justice and watch you die. And other victims, heave a sigh of relief, knowing, that you will not point and mock them for enduring in silence, the evil that men do.

 "ADE'S JOURNAL", 98

    The rock sack is jam packed, with Butterfly wings fluttering to find a way. A route out of this prison, the oxygen level has depleted and I cannot taste any chlorophyll in the air. Not too long ago, I was in a silk cocoon. My chamber of safety, expecting to wake up to a green lush forest with uneven, ridged brown tree trunks. The pink juicy fruit on a deep purple flowering tree is not there. My dream of the world I should experience, is absent. Instead, I slide and slip and walk on plastic. It’s shiny and tasteless and beside it is an array of compressed dead  wood. A hard book that could have fed my linage, fed an entire swarm of butterflies. Where are my kind? Am I alone on this journey? I stretch and spread my wings, pumping blood into the folded shriveled compact wings. The pain is unbearable, but I turn to see the beautiful turquoise pattern, embedded with yellow and black designs. I am a full butterfly with beautiful wings and now I am hungry. I taste something between the almost shut zipper of this rock sack. It’s my chance, my opportunity to escape and just as my skinny limbs start to climb out.. I feel a sharp pain behind me, I turn around and see a pregnant scorpion. She is starving and looking at me like dinner. Is this my last chance in life? To just taste the beginning of this year and not do anything. I struggle and climb and fly out of the compartment and thank God my wings have hardened. The sting didn’t hit me, it grazed my beautiful wing. I feel slowed down and look at the dying section of my wing. It falls off and the scorpion, chases me. I crawled out and jump, I push and pull and stretch, but I start to fall. The gapping hole in my stung wing is not allowing me catch enough drift. I feel the many limbs chase and almost catch me and I jump and flap my wings. And it happens and I start to climb. Large monster eyes watch me and I fly higher, until a short monster points at the rock sack that I just escaped from. Look, it’s a lobster, an anxious child shouts. A little more chant from the child and her friend adds, Scorpion’s On A Train, Frankly Not Today.
It’s all child’s play. Until the scorpion jumps. I have not flown far and it misses me by an inch. Echoes of screams, ring out from the fast train and someone, opens the window. My chance and my own way out and far away from the monsters. I fly higher and just as I escape from the train, I smell it. Freedom to chose, freedom to be and become whatever I want. I will always carry this scar, this attack on my personality on my wings and every time I spread my wings. The world would point at the scar and remind me. Of my attack, if my failures and of my struggles. Would I cower and hide? No. I will, spread my wings higher and wider and tell everyone that it is my turning point, my battle scars and proof that. No matter what, I am a survivor.

"ADE'S JOURNAL", 97

  Numbers jump haphazardly, on a printed off white sheet of paper. Slumber had long left my tired eyes and only adrenaline, pumped hard into my blood and prompts me to believe and hold onto hope. I am not alone, I see young men, mostly buying the tickets and believing that luck would somehow, someday, shine on their fingertips. Everyday, I hear tales of young boys, even girls, winning the lottery. I just pray and hope that, this time, I win. I shuffle and shift and then, finally sit at the edge of a rusty, yellow bus. It’s thick twin black stripes outside, shout and announced to all that it was commercial. And that I was stuck with the masses. Inside, was not any better, the walls Pierce at my sides, and protruding metal, jabs at my thighs. And I’m dodging a sharp roughly soldered corner of this death trap. My eyes stray and I spot a simple beautiful young lady. I pray, quietly that the slim young girl would join me on my seat. This bus that allows four passengers, for now we are three. But two hefty others, have taking up most of the space and are squashing me towards the wall of the bus. Then it, my lottery ticket, almost flies away and I grip tighter and keep the paper firmly in-between my fingertips. I stare away from the white sheet of tiny paper and watch the entrance. My eyes drift for a moment, as an overweight man, shoves me closer and nudges me nearer to the edge of this mangled, poorly, put together secondhand bus. An overweight woman joined us and I knew that, I was doomed. It was my threat’s and loud grumble that made them adjust and stop squashing me. As I was about this to shout some more, the hefty man by my side asked if my number was close. He too had lottery tickets, I looked and he showed me numbers that looked like mine. My heart skipped and I crossed checked it with mine, I had won....