"ADE'S JOURNAL", 110
Heavy mortar crushing hard, selling laughter that he never had. Silence ensues as I slowly crawl, under a bridge I'll never pass. Waiting in line, hope you’ll never decline. To say you are mine, as we jump high and smile. Wish I could spy, on you from a mile. Because, I don’t trust you at all and hate that this is love. A definition that is appalling and so much like prison.
What do You want? It’s a simple question with a complicated tone to it.
When last did someone ask you this question without shoving an answer down your throat before you even thought about the answer. What we want depends on what we believe is important and what we believe is important, depends on what we once had, what we long to have and what we dream of owning.
So be absolutely sure you know what you want before you step out of your home or wherever you are right now. Repetition, is the first learning tool we use to learn, starting with letters and words. And then imprinting pictures and fusing it with a memory until it’s permanently embedded in your brain. And fixed strongly, deep inside your mind. Just remember to be thoughtful, considerate and uphold all the values you treasure and acquiring these thing wont make you feel guilty and no one can stop you from getting the things on your dream list. Keep dreaming, act on it and eventually you will get there.
Sounds good, right? Not when it comes to relationships. I have a horrid sense of what a good man is, I have an attraction for men who want to travel. And today, after three children… I think I am over the phase of, the grass is greener out there. I doubt my partner is on the same page though. He has asked me to sell this house, that we live in. It’s my father’s house, my siblings got tired of funding my pipe dream of moving to America. I say pipe, because there was no solid attempt to move. No good reason to travel, I thought I could back pack and travel like the rest of the world. But I learned the hard way and the only way. The rules are different if you are broke. So I got a job as a personal assistant. And like others in the rat race, I got access to a loan because I am now a government worker. Then I met my dream man, chest as wide as Abacha's cupboard, skin as soft as a fantastic sponge cake. And the dream of relocating to America, one day. The harsh truth was that, he was a façade, the job he told me was his belonged to his uncle. The house he said was his, belonged to the family. I did not understand the lies, after all, I too had no property but a joint Family one. So why lie?
Pounding Through His Mortal Sin, I found more lies. More reasons to ask why I am in this horrible mess. His lies piled up and the bills too. Friction forced us to move out and my siblings scattered all over the world, became a source of misery because of him. He wanted us to join them, in Europe or America. I had baggage and was not prepared to stress anyone. So, I was forced to pay the rent, five hundred thousand Naira and climbing. My salary could not keep up and his earnings had to please his family. My sweet siblings, adviced me to get a developer to look at our family land. I got a loan and got the complete documents for the house. And built a four flat, two pays back the loan and one, supports my family. I thought this would make us happy, solving my money problems and reducing it to almost nothing. But three children are a lot to manage in Nigeria and my husband wants the best and freshest of meals. He does not care that I do not eat the fresh fish he does, but the frozen preserved turkey. I stop, when an emergency surgery on my first child comes up. And chaos returned, he bullies me everyday and call me selfish. After all, in his words we lived in his own family house. He neglects to say it was just for a year. And that I paid rent for three and now two additional years later, we have been rent free. What about our children, do you want me alone to pay their bills? He was unmoved and finally woke me up tonight, the reason he has not been dropping money for our three children is because he is traveling to America. And is just a five hundred thousand Naira short, at this point I could have borrowed to help him and free myself from his tyranny. But I was out of options. Delay paying for our first child’s surgery and I swear I will make it there. This was not naïve, child free, me, listening. This was a mother, a wife and a sibling, anxious to stop collecting the family assets and sharing it with my siblings. If only he was not so demanding, I would have started, remitting the one flat rent, into our family Account. Instead, my husband is watching me try to sleep and anxious for tomorrow’s surgery that will save my seven year old son and ease the stress his two little sisters have. The smell of smoke, makes me cough and jump out of bed. There was light, last night. So I didn’t put on the generator set. The sight of burning flames, Confused me but the burn got me wide awake. The house is on fire and my husband is missing. I run to the burning children’s room, stepping on burning rug and wood and wincing and screaming as I do. Their beds have flames, way up high and I can see their remains. I race to hold them and feel my clothes catch fire and stick to my flesh. The pain is unbearable and then I look out at the window. Through tearful eyes, I see him standing and watching the children’s bedroom. He has a keg of petrol and a matchbox. I Am in shock, and watch him wave at me the cash for my dead firstborns surgery. The flames burn got and I run to the burglary proof and start fighting to shake it out of place. But it was well built to keep thrives out and say to keep me in. The flush door, by its side, falls outside and I crawl towards it. My husband moves away from the burning house and I stretch my hands to stop him. My lungs give up and with my last breath, I whisper.
You will Pay.
