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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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Saturday, 7 January 2017

Scorpion’s On A Train, Frankly Not Today.


    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.

    This is your Life, and at this point, I can only, live it right. I have thought that my marriage would crush all stupid talk. That it was a huddle I have finally crossed and now I was free and all grown up. Little, did I know that it was the excuse they were waiting for.
 I am not happy, that I am spending so much time with her. I have resumed work and we, my new co worker and former P.A. Are struggling to get a new deal, a new contract this New Year. It’s tough, but I am tougher. The last two weeks of the year was totally, time consuming. Three reunions, two weddings and my grandma turning ninety, brought about so much joy. That I could not help but smile, be happy and wake up four am, everyday.
 Nnoye’s drama escalated and I got roped in, so much that I promised that in 2017, I would stay clear of her. Did it work?
 My dear, it has not and I blame myself.
She invited me for a mini reunion, that I could not resist. Schoolmates that I have not seen in twelve years. Good friends, real friends, successful and big in their careers and they were equally impressed by mine.
 They even attend my Aunt’s wedding and all. But something happened, something that has woken up a side of me. A side I thought had faded away forever. I saw a couture dress that made me pick up my pen and draw.
 Did I stop there? I could see myself in a gown, different from what I was expected to wear. I would definitely wear the gele, the family head gear chosen for my family. But, I wanted to look a certain way and I drove. I got to the clothing market in Ikotun and shopped. I bought tulle and fabric and applique, I just got everything you need to make a lovely dress. And then watched a lot of YouTube videos on do-it-yourself videos. I was about to start, when my dear friend Ajoke, paid me a visit.
'Abeg, why stress yourself. I have someone, I’ve used him since my secondary school days ‘
 Ajoke recommended a tailor, one that could perform magic. Since Celine and her crew, were on holiday and I was not interested in stressing my friends.
 He is popular and makes a lot of traditional, custom made outfits for her friends. He is known as Mushin Tailor and he does amazing work. I was skeptical, but excited. I went there to make a simple blouse and iro. It was just five thousand Naira, so sensible sewing. Then he calls me, a day before to tell me that my outfit would not be ready until noon.
 If you don’t know by now, I will tell you. I am a Yoruba girl with traditional, demanding relatives. Once, there is a function, you represent. That means, arrive early, pay your respect, be present, give a helping hand. And just get there long before everyone.
 I wanted to die. This was eight at night and I had no other outfit to wear, all others had featured on Facebook and I was not going to repeat any of the outfits.
 So, I pick up my fabric and start cutting, sewing and testing my outfit. It was three in the morning before my dress was ready.
The familiar sound of Skype, startled and jolts me out of my zombie state.
'Hi, you are up’
‘Celine hi’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Been sewing all night'
 I yawned and add.
‘And morning’
 I feel like a butterfly, high and hoovering over my laptop, watch Celine.
‘Hello, hello?’
‘Snow Sleigh Swish. I’m warm and free, Or so it seems.
I won't freeze, Mum doesn’t agree. So I'll pad myself, until I get my
Snow Sleigh Swish'
‘Ade, Ade?’
 I jolt out of it and giggle.
‘Celine, don’t mind me. Just some old poem I wrote awhile back. Seems my creative side, has-been haunting me lately’
‘It’s good, is there a second verse?’
'You want to hear it?’
‘I’m wide awake and waiting’
‘I can't freeze, dad disagrees. Though I pride myself
enjoying my Snow Sleigh Swish. I’m more at ease, On high spirit
relishing my… On your mark, set, go'
 I take a bow and Celine cheers me on and claps.
‘Thanks’ a bunch ‘, I add all happy and proud.
‘Ajoke doesn’t know this poem, does she’
'No, she doesn’t even know I have a journal’
‘You have a journal?’
‘Ade’s Journal, my journal’
‘Since when?’
 Her question, makes me feel guilty. Because, I started it, when I got heartbroken. When I returned to Lagos, a woman deceived and lured by marriage. By a fake man, already married and had gotten my fake best friend pregnant.
 I was about to answer, but Celine raised her hand.
‘Since you moved to Lagos, I get it. You know, you two are not very nice'
‘Henrik and I? What did we do?’
‘No, you and Ajoke. You just ignored me the last two weeks of 2016’
‘I ignored myself and ended up pleasing everyone. I didn’t even bake a cake for Christmas and the new year’
‘No’, Celine exaggerated her answer and we both laugh.
'I will repent, this new year and from now on ‘
 We both laugh.
‘Let me see you in the dress you made'
 I put it on and check out my reflection in the tall mirror in front of me.
‘Its gorgeous, I now have competition’
'I could never compete with you. You have trained and have been an apprentice for the best in the world’s
'You have no form of training and look what you came up with ‘
‘Thanks’ Ce, but a Beyoncé dress, is unique and a Chanel dress is unique in its own way’
'You are right, I would never butterfly my sleeves like that. And that fabric is so expensive, I’d have made it firm fitting’
'See, I’ll always be your best customer’
‘Can I record that, and put that on the record’
‘Yes, please’
 We laugh some more, I take off the dress and I fall asleep.
The wedding was awesome and the dress a show stopper, everyone wanted to meet the designer and I proudly told them, it was me.
 So for half of the wedding, I had my own dress on and out of respect for the family. I had the aso ebi dress on, for the rest of the wedding. My own gold dress, made my skin glows and their own made mine dull.
 Thank God it was a successful, hitch free union.

  Back to my current drama with Nnoye, she had invited me for another reunion. I should have declined but I was curious.
 The party was good, my make up on point and I dressed down because I knew they would dress to kill. My former school mate, walked up to me to remind me I was not getting any you. That I should stop acting like I was in my twenties. The old me would have made a fuss and Nnoye started to shout and make a scene. I quietly ask her to relax and turn to this jealous bitch.
'Why would you say such?’
 I have learned to ask, instead of reacting to situations.
'Because, your ex, has moved on and is married with two children and you are here deceiving ya self’
'So, what should I do?’
‘Get married, spend all the money you spend on looking good and traveling around the world on IVF'
 Seriously, the more we move closer to flying car era and modern age, the more some people regress.
‘Imagine, I saw a picture of you, in between your grandmother and mother. You should be ashamed of yourself’
 Nnoye pinches her but the ignorant woman, keeps yapping her oversized mouth.
'Interesting’, I could not get out of the shock of it all.
'At least, have a daughter and do what put you on earth for'
'Ade is married’, Nnoye snaps at her.
 The girl grabs my hand and shows the crowd of my former school mate’s that have gathered around us.
 I yank my hand away from her and stare hard at her.
'My dear, mind your womb and I will mind mine’
 And I walked away from the toxic woman.
‘Ade, don’t mind her. I hear her just chokes her and beats hell out of her’
‘Then she needs help'
 I turn to her and she cuts an evil eye at me.
'She doe not believe in divorce and all intervention has failed ‘
'But, I hope her friends and family won’t give up on her'
'The recent stabbing in the private part of an abused woman, made everyone reach out. To try to rescue her…’
‘Why on earth, dies she stay?’
‘For her daughter’s sake, she is a full time house wife, with an upper division engineering degree. Whose husband tell her she is ugly and ungodly and has no achievements, but her daughter. Mentally, I think she is unstable'
‘Is her husband here?’
'Never far from her, in fact he told her to make sure she reforms you’
'What kind of weak man, does that?’
‘He is over there’, Nnoye points at him.

 My heart drops and I cannot believe my eyes. Who sent me?
I should have just sat down, Jeje in my house.

 Frank smiles and raised his glass at me and I freeze and grab Nnoye’s arm tight.
This cannot be happening. ..

**Season 1, Episode 98**
**"ADE'S JOURNAL", 98, COPYRIGHT 2017 **

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Adebusola Ukayat Elegbede is a Playwright and Content creator with a passion for real life challenges. Born in Kaduna state and lives in Lagos Nigeria, she has a passion for story telling from the perspectives of characters in conflicting situations. I started out on the New Writing Project in Nigeria with the British Council Lagos Nigeria and The Royal Court Theatre, Sloane Square U.K. My passion for creating stories led to comic books, television drama's and an online journal on my website (busolaelegbede.com). As part of the WPIC in Stockholm Sweden 2012, the experience has forged life long friends and ignited my passion as a volunteer and advocate for human rights and the United Nations 17 Sustainable Development Goals.

Follow @Busola Elegbede