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

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

Saturday, 27 May 2017

Pigeons Back In The Sky As I Dream of My Middle Eastern Home


   Pruning it’s gray and brown feathers, the lone bird on a mission looks left then right. Thinking and cooing out loud, it’s a real honour to be a scout, a spy, a messenger in this tight border world. Many would accept their mediocre lives and fly into trees and build nests under makeshift trees, now unfortunately under rooftops or air-conditioning unit compartments. Not me, I am disciplined and a born soldier. Give me any command and I’ll follow it meticulously. Tales passed on by my grandma from my great great grand parents, filled my naïve mind. Tales of courier pigeons delivering messages in the time of war, messages that could signal that the enemy was ahead so soldiers should retreat. Or hidden messages with locations of where meals and food supplies were, hundred or ten miles from their current positions. And best of all, spies within enemy camps betraying the enemy with crucial information disbursed on the backs of proud pigeons, messages that ensures victory for the other side.
  Eager age old messages on the backs of proud soldiers like myself. So when others wait for the grain merchant to feed them and refuse to fly far away, I choose to go to the war front today in two thousand and seventeen. The training was rigorous with designated stops coloured and coated to ensure that flying warrior’s like myself don’t miss our way. Just two miles to my rendezvous point, I see a net and try to fly over it. The miniature bag pack on my back does not let me show off my flying skills and hair like nets trick me into its web.
I signaled to the others a cry for help, one that a civilian pigeon would fly towards. But not this flock, we have been trained to divert our flight route if ever we hear fellow pigeons in distress. I am the best but I have been caught and betrayed by obviously spies in our midst.
I expect to be roasted and killed and expect my head yanked off if I do not cooperate, instead I am treated with care.
   I am ashamed to admit that the sweet water I was offered, I drank quickly. And the fresh grain, I eat as if it was my last meal. The bag pack was snatched off my back and in that moment I could read the headline..  Pigeons Back In The Sky As I Dream of My Middle Eastern Home.
 My quest for fame made me ignore the signs as I tried to breach the Kuwaitis border. My back pack was not filled with war relief messages or spies notes, instead it contained one hundred and seventy eight pills. High profit illegal drugs sold to desperate addicts at their own peril. I hang my head in shame and watch cameras film and take pictures. My family would think me dead and lost at sea, or killed by While trying to cross the borders. Thankfully, they do not watch propaganda driven television. But my troubles are just beginning, I am given a document to sign by a starving eagle. I would either be devoured by him or I would cooperate and reveal our other routes. I have done the unthinkable, become the villain in this adventure I thought would take me back home a hero. Life choices are not fair and I just wish I could disappear. The talons of the eagle tapped on the document as I signed and then I noticed the feathers between them. It was one of the fellow smuggler’s. I have just missed death by a feather..
  Today starts without any worries and I snuggle beside my boo and sip on hot cocoa. No breakfast yet, we are just lounging. No television either, we just want to take things easy this blessed morning. Even my phone is on silence and then loud knocking on my door and the doorbell all clash in the air.
Henrik smiled at me as I sighed loud and clear.
'We will resume this later', I announced and drag my freshly bathed body out of bed and the arms of my true love.
 I slip on my carton shift dress and a tong and smile at Henrik Watching me.
'We need a holiday', he adds.
'I agree, to a remote island with no cell phones'
 We both laugh and he too gets out of bed.
'It's not your dad?'
'No, it's Ajoke, but Celine would sort it it...'
 As I speak the words I realized that Celine was in my former house just next door.
It had to be her, because we left strict instructions to our security team not to be disturbed.
I peep at the camera at the entrance to my home and Celine is with Ajoke and Ajoke's other sister Jibike.
'Jibike, thought you were in school?'
They barge in as I unlock the door.
'Good morning Auntie Ade'
Jibike was the baby born when Ajoke's mum thought she had long past menopause, so she was sixteen years younger. Although Ashabi refused to give up the name baby of the house. Jibike was supposed to be serving in Borno state but was redeployed because of Bomo Haram to Lagos. She was shaking and Ajoke was frowning and I knew there was trouble on the mountain.
'Come in, what is going on?'
'I was... I was.. I'm just thanking God'
'Can someone explain to me what is happening', I was not in the mood for all this.
'Jibike was teaching in Model....'
 I almost lost my footing.
'Which model?'
 Celine raised her palms to the sky.
'The same one'
 Henrik was massaging my tense shoulders as he helped me sit down.
'I don't know ooo, I told her to work in the bank, with me or Bala but my silly sister said she wants to be a teacher. In this economy....'
 I squeezed Ajoke's hands, she was talking about money indirectly but her heart was with her sister.
'Auntie mi, let's just thank God', Jibike tried to calm her.
'Im still confused', I blurt out.
'I was at the Assembly ground when the militant attacked'
'Here in Lagos?', I was in shock.
'They are armed kidnappers stealing children for money', Celine tried to put me up to speed.
'Didn't they just attack that same School?'
'Yes, I guess they were paid and used the money to upgrade and recruit more militants'
'You poor thing', I said hugging her.
'I escaped and helped some students, others were not so lucky'
 Jibike was still shaking.
'Imagine them spending children's day in the hands of those beast's', Celine said massaging her forehead.
'They took children?', it made my heart ache and I massaged my baby bump.
'So who is safe?'
'No one, this Nigeria is unrecoverable. You cannot send your children to boarding house or a school far from you'
 Ajoke made her point but it was more than that.
'The same criminals commit these crimes, what we need is a working power supply to power CCTVs and a database of all citizens or foreigners in this country'
'Your water ways are to porous'
'So what now?', I asked.
'Jibike will stay with Celine if you don't mind, just for a week. Until we sort out her transfer to my company'
 Jibike was frowning and I understood her plight, Ajoke was sweet but a perfectionist. Working bwith her requires patience and understanding which Celine and I had. But Jibike was such a sweet girl, she was meant to teach or welcome people.
'So there's no conflict of interest, let her work in my office'
'Really as what?'
'My receptionist so my two workers can concentrate on getting our twin campaign going'
'Only if she also is hands on and learns computer programming'
'You know the software's we work with, she will be designing and planning projects at the end of her youth service year'
As we discussed I realized we didn't even ask her what she wants.
'Jibike, what do you want?'
 She hugged me and smiled.
'Ade don't let her smile fool you, she can be relaxed...'
'Not at my office, we have tasks schedule with time sensitive deadlines and my workers clock in now'
'Really?', Celine was shocked.
'Since my work force increased, the older employee got it in her head she was oga. My time attached salary made them buckle up'
  They laughed but. Celine could not.
'What happens to People who can't find any other job'
'They make one, my friends are improving their blogs and skills'
'And the kidnapped children and principals?'
'Security agencies are on it'
'Thats why our governor is working on placing CCTVs on our water ways and public vehicles. To catch people lurking around and spying on unsuspecting victims'
'Because safe our fellow children, we won't relent until you are back home'
'Amen oooo'

 Like a boat upturned on the shoes of a pregnant lagoon, waiting....
 It's a sober children's day for them and I hope we can hear some form of good news soon.

**Season 2, Episode 30**

Share This Post :

You Might Also Like

No comments:

Post a Comment

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