"ADE'S JOURNAL", 40

     Spying on pale pink and peach, sweet flavors of peace. Lining the edge of a beautiful tree, with the backdrop of a vast sky blue sky. Climbing and clawing at a past, long gone with vast leaps of missing time, crunched and dumped into a well. The deep one that rumors swam and told of a mammy water trapped at tge bottom. By the sudden trappings of a river trapped, by modern structures, vast. Cut off from a family she dreamed of, locked out from a dream in her grasps. How cruel the future is, swaying her perfect hips and puckered lips. Oh, how much I would change, with a whisper from this cruel future. Smelling sweet with chemical lies. That screamed as I heard my echoes bounce back at me. With my skinny frame as a child, leaning down into the abandoned well on Ekenwa road. Reaching down to a silver surface, reflecting a cool sun. Like crystals bouncing off glass, they entice and pull me down. Deep into a pretty world as all my friends laugh at my imagination. Almost, I begin to doubt myself and loose hope. And then I see her perfect fin, her Beautiful dark skin glows and her babyish smile invites me.
Come down to us, she said. And I look back at my tiny friends, the boy I loved to swing high and jump out of swings from. And the girl I like to play ten-ten with. Well, all the kids love to play ten-ten with me. My energy s unmatched and my joy unquenchable. And don't let me start with my defiance, with me respectfully disobeying grown ups. Rumors of defiant kids falling in the well and been lost in the water world for life. Scared others, but for me, it was always my lost world. And this recurring dream had to happen. Even though I'd miss my siblings. Not daddy so much, he's on course all the time. Mummy is worse, my restlessness drives her crazy and she really can't deal with my almost permanent adrenaline rush. No I don't blame anyone them, but I want so much more. I want to swim with the gods of old, goddesses of the rivers, lakes, lagoons and seas. I want to skate on icy raindrops in Lagos state and run on molten volcanoes in Gongola state. I'm closer now, almost touching her side fins. She blows me a kiss and should i have said no knowing she would have let go. Sweet life, we'll go further. Wont miss the world as we bow out and swim the world together. But I feel grown ups pull at my feet and fragment back to this boring world on land. I struggle and Fight to hold onto her fins and she whispers a quiet sssshhh. We will meet again little princess, just let go. I sniff and cry and then let go. But only when i am sure, we will meet again.
 Thinking about that late morning and the high fever they claim I had. I know it's all a distant memory...
One that only a dream can bridge the gap between my silver finned friends....

"ADE'S JOURNAL", 39

     Screeching sliding Blues, left behind by hues and then made her brand new. The Queen is not yet made, the princess is far away. With her mind long gone astray, her dreams now she can touch . As she sighs at a reflection of herself in the shallow murky waters. Left behind by an angry rain, Drowning away the sorrows of a lost colony. She tried to be grateful that she survived the harsh winds, the turgid waters and the mudslide. Ten segments of crystal abdomen covered in mud thrusts until I am safe. A smile crept up her face, as she realized the competition was easier now. A little ashamed of her selfish thoughts, she sunk deeper into her shy self. Life is cruel and a minute silence for her fallen comrades made her sigh. As broken people surrounded her and looked up to her guilt ridden face. No time for remorse or glory, this hive has no choice but to get up and rebuild itself, one termite at a time. The smell of wood that has grown, lived and died, oozed past the layers of soil not far from here. The soil had sipped into it and the decay had started. A castle of hopes and dreams they have started to build. Clay, swear and blood mingle and with dead soldiers, workers and care takers.
I can taste new life already, all the young babies I birth, lifted high, as they are carried into the massive nursery. Each baby, bathe in my rich DNA. The new generation, not from a pampered weakened race. But from a strong female, a fighter with remorse, a soldier that rose from the ranks and became Queen. This Swaying indigo, above my head, shields me from the direct sunlight. It’s a fellow comrade, spotting a direct sun Ray, burning and heading my way. She dived just in time to save me and her ash is scattered by others diving and shielding me with swaying indigo’s. The sun rays divert their attention from us and seek other colonies to destroy. I raise my head up high as the taste of victory returned. The smell of charged indigo flower petals calm my nerves and in turn, the troubled hive heaves a sigh of relief.
I feel their pain cause i love them, those that have laid down their lives for me. I will birth for my hive, millions of eggs that will become nymphs and become one of the millions of my people. My talk is expensive and others buy into it. Abandoning their tiny hundred thousand strong hive to build mine.
Rhino’s surround me and prepare for battle, as tertiary and secondary queens kick ad bite. I bite back and fight back. My alliance with my new nestmates is forged and formed as blood spews and travels. The air is saturated with toxic dangerous spray and sticky moist liquid that land and form chewing gum like trap. Some ants are attracted by our blood and start to pick up and carnibalize on our injured and dead. I refuse to watch and ignore this horror. So I whistle and scream and order everyone to stop and face our mutual enemies. We fight and retreat as our soldiers destroy them our workers build our best. I start to emit the chemical to end the weaker men’s fertility and boost the strongest. One hour later my best is built on the foundation of a thousand nest. It started out as a Sweet blunder and now I am Queen to People who want me to rule. I have stepped up to the challenges before me and the world is mine to behold.

"ADE'S JOURNAL", 38

  Beside a Spirogyra lake, grew a flower hedge. The yellow blossoms thrived and the thick green leaves clustered together. It was a rich garden that looked good. But beneath the branches, was an army of giant snails, breeding and feeding on the young shots below. The carcasses of dead leaves, TD a different story. And in-between the branches, weeds grew....
Blue Brewed Blew Bloom expanded and choked the stronger trees. The soil was under pressure and the rains drowned the trees. But the Gardner, ignored the signs. The harmful smell of weed repellant, he could do without. The snails that thrives, climbed out to the surface when mature and made his wife happy with its succulent tastes. This was no garden of Eden, it was a garden of doom. Soon to be an array of leafless branches with dried snap twigs. And the empty shells of snails that never made it to maturity, line the roots of death. A reminder of life ignored, untamed, unmaimed, shinning like silk on a damask curtain. A support cushion for a blooming weed, bright blue with yellow anthers on sticky filaments. Attracting Everything to it, s that the life of the destroyer continues as it searches for its next plant colony to destroy. Enticing it's protectors with gifts of giant snails to ensure its survival in this cruel, cruel world. A true beauty and a beast....

"ADE'S JOURNAL', 37

    If Only I Could Win, then my life would be like a sword penetrating deep
within me. Through pain and tears, it hurts, revealing all that they said i'd never be.
 This year, because I did not earn like they did. If only i could breath, i'll sing from the bottom of my passions little heart. Never to succumb, like a bird that hit rock bottom
after falling free. Oh, if only i could win
i'll show them that my river is worth more than my liver. How I disappoint and turned to rot by the drugs pumped into me to help me heal.
  I fight jump on my two hind heels and I'm grateful I have enough fuel to sustain me as I fight. I'm fighting for my right to exist, to live and survive. The world watched and just did nothing. It's a fight that would get nowhere. She will be bruised and battered and learn her place. But I refuse to quit and leap and peck at my attacker. Even if I don't win, I would leave my mark.
My claws scratch like claws from a lioness, slicing and wounding this being that would not let me be.
  The chicken was defiant and refused to bow out of a defeated battle. No shaking, I chuckled as I surprise onlookers. This small voluptuous hen pecked and pulled at his oversized comb. It was bleeding and attracting an audience of busybody flies.
This was never my plan for where I call home. Obviously, there's something wrong. I begin to tire and suddenly, I don't feel strong. I feel as if My legs will give way. But I can't just stop, I must fight to the end.
I cry out and for the first time in a long time. It sounds like I'm not alone,
I hear myself grunting. Shadows of many me, cheer me on and tell me to stand up straight. The flood of defeat is gone and i grab short stout feathers all around the puffed up lazy cocks throat. My life has begun to expand as I feel her hearty and alive. He is bowing down, under my bloody beak. Crowing and crying to be released. Impressed by my bravery and spark. Sure that now, my success in everything I do would never leave me.
As he leaves, the predator spies a innocent chicks, watching to see who he can brainwash. I tell all who can hear to listen. But I know that each lesson has to be self taught. Each fake love has to be self weeded out. Each dream crusher, disguised as friends, has to be fought and chased out. The repeat offender pretends not to see me, as he crossed over into another compound. Searching for innocent chickens to deceive. Underneath his long feathers hides his mini bucket of sweet ketchup and foil paper to place his victims on......

"ADE'S JOURNAL", 36

      The Vast Lagoon leads to an open Atlantic Ocean, with the occasional shipping containers bringing luxury goods into the state called Lagos. The evil marketer sees the vast emptiness and raised the greedy bastards hopes of false promises. Profit is the name of the game, driven by his commission on the lives that will be drowned in the sea or boiled in the desert. A million Dollars was HS price for the lives he snatched from their school, that is Four hundred million naira to be exact. And an average of fourty million Naira per person to build a falsehood of making it to the land of milk and honey. He tells them that they will not be caught but the school is a tuition free school. Only boarding house students pay, from the torture of Biko Haram in the North and the wicked inflictions from kidnappers in the South. Where and when will the children of the most populous nation in Africa ever know peace?
 The poor parents raised a million Naira, from selling homes the only legacy they could leave their children, the only way they could free their babies. From the monsters that plague the Lagos waters, as the rest of the world watched.
Ransom Paid And The Lies They Sell, has been exposed. The children are not back home and the world still watched on. Are they alive, are we safe? What was the essence of registering phones, when they can't be traced. Their boss was caught with high tech phones each worth twenty three million Naira, how can we catch them before it is to late. Children snatched from schools, travellers shot at, for trying to make a living or going back home to family. It's a disgusting future that needs to change, Family values need to return with moral values upheld. This culture of respecting money has eroded our humanity, but even animals have their rules of engagement unless they are rabid infested and then must be put down. One way or another and as soon as possible. The genesis of it all is a power supply that does not work, for if it does we can track, film and see the faces of these rabid beasts....
   The journey back home was quiet because I didn't want to go back home. The village life was how as a child I imagined been empowered and rich I would be as a grown up. Organic food and spring water all day everyday.
'We will live it, just give us five years'
'We can sell it all and move'
'And our babies health and our security?'
    Paradise is beautiful, but who protects it?
It was a legitimate question and I thought about it. The illegal armed herds men, roaming with AK 47's, the hidden Eden uncovered and tried to be coveted by jealous illegal aliens. Nigeria was more complicated than it looked, especially for remote places with sweet welcoming people.
'Yo can't tell me that they can't protect themselves'
'They can but with how much force? I want to be sure a battalion of police and military can protect us'
'Me too'
 And I rest my head and fall into a deep slumber.

 Home at last, I put on my phone, you will be surprised by how little I missed my phone.

  As we drive into our compound, I see a tired looking Celine stagger towards her car. Henrik parks the car and I run to catch her.
'What's wrong?'
 She pulls the back of the gown to show me what was wrong. It was stained with blood, Celine was bleeding.
'Why didn't you call a cab'
'I did, I got tired of waiting'
 Henrik helped her into the car and then we drove straight to the hospital.

  God please protect Celine and her baby, I prayed as I kept glancing back to see if she was still awake. Celine looked exhausted and was still bleeding, I called my doctor and he assured me they were waiting for us.

 Lord have mercy eh, which kind wahala be this?







**Season 2, Episode 36**
*"ADE'S JOURNAL", 36, COPYRIGHT 2017*
**BUSOLA ELEGBEDE COPYRIGHT 2017**

"ADE'S JOURNAL" 35

"ADE'S JOURNAL", 34

"ADE'S JOURNAL", 33

   The hive thrives because it believes in hope, the Queen is fertile because she feeds her hosts. The land is bleeding because it is lost in hope, yet a few stray away. Never afraid of the stories of large bees invading vulnerable youngsters. Soon I too will be Queen and rule my kingdom.
 For now let's leave my fantasy world alone and just come back down to planet Earth. I have heard many stories about people trying to cross into Europe. In fact, any time I hear people brag about been abroad, I wonder. But that's just naive me wondering, I don't know anyone dumb enough to risk their lives like that. I only know smart, enlightened people thank God for that.
I am lucky that I am not one of them, floating on a raft to nowhere or stranded in a truck in a desert. My enlightened uncle is here telling us stories about his unfortunate friends. Mugus that could not do their due diligence. As I sit and wrap moi moi leaves over bean cakes. This time, it has fish and crayfish courtesy my rich uncle. I imagine and really try to imagine why he was been so nice to my mum. His tales drowned those thoughts as I laughed at the girl that refused to marry him. He told us that she tried to swim to the shores of Spain from Morroco. By some miracle, she made it across. She only lived there for two days and then she was deported back home.
   If only I had waited to taste for one last time my mother's sweet moi moi. Or stood my ground when I suspected foul play.
My uncle cut his hilarious stories short, he had a travel permit for me and an opportunity of a lifetime. He too was going with me, so I would be safe.
My gut feeling said no and I cried and begged my parents to let me stay. But the cash was ready and the debts too many. The loan sharks had heard that my rich uncle was around, so came to collect.
  My uncle looked at me and gave me the money. The choice was mine, watch them beat my father up again or pay up. The men where large and their muscles thick, there were rumors of them feasting on debtors and many of the debtors getting missing didn't help matters. I give my mother the money, she is old enough to decide and she gives my father who in turn pays up.
The thugs leave quietly and my mother hugs my father but the old bruises still hurt. I did not even have time to bask in the Beautiful brief show of affection my parents granted me.
      We leave now.
  Deceived by money starved merchants, lazy twats that feast on naive men and women. The gathering of the starving innocents, fueled with lies by buoyant human traffickers. Selling lies about jobs available in other African war torn countries. Telling lies about Europe been just a mile of the shores of Morroco and Gambia. The uneducated fools don't even know where Gambia is on the map, the educated illiterate tells himself he has an advantage and would find his way when he gets there. The trucks leave the north east with women and children promised work. The trailers leave the east with young men searching for glory and in the south large containers filled with frustrated youths head for a greener pasture.
  The money has exchanged hands and the human traffickers look even richer, some have borrowed money to pay and others sold their souls for a chance to escape.
My uncle found it all funny and made me swear not to tell my parents we were traveling illegally. Don't worry, when we make cool Euros all these will be a distant dream.
 The desert is not kind and most die of thirst on the perilous journey. Others are well equipped and prepared, but the driver in the middle of no where has stopped. Guns spew out bullets and knives slice the necks of those that survive. It is like a bad dream as I stare at the jerking body of my father's brother. The young girls with me are wailing and are dragged and we sold to sex traffickers. Not the type that want sexual pleasures. The worse kind, the ones that treat donkey's better than humans. The type that slice and kill their victims for sport. I watch as my older neighbour is raped bound and ripped apart by metal chains. These are not human beings, these are demons masquerading as men. It is indeed a cruel world to be female, I think as the tears from my eyes dry up. I am shoved into a room with little boys crying and mutilated. The demons did not discriminate, as long as the people where illegal immigrants they were fair game. From the tiny window in the silo we were hidden, I dared to peep as the other children begged me not to. They point at a smelling decaying child in a corner, a boy missing his eye sockets. I burst out crying and cover my mouth. He was almost dead, yet they still toyed with him.
 Is there no way to let our families know that we are been manhandled. That we are dying here? Maybe they sell us so we are no longer a financial burden to them. One girl whispered, I don't think that is it. They borrow money to get us a better life and instead sell us to the grim reaper. Merchants of death. I would rather die than let those pigs touch me again, so I peep and see a woman. She is veiled up and pretty and serves the men food and tea. They look happy and normal, until they kick her and pour the hot tea on her face. Crying she picks up the kettle and leaves and a girl serves them and they smile.
Too old, a girl tells me, once you get too old, you die. I think of home and the wild vegetables we eat, the frogs that we roast during the raining season and the garri we eat when we harvest cassava. These are the good days but on bad days we drink water until our bellies are full and sleep off the hunger pangs. Those days are better than these, here I have no human rights and I am dehydrated. The eyeless boy has stopped moving now, he is dead. Swelling and swelling and soon he would burst. None of us cry, we expect to die and count him lucky. This hive I am in, has no Queen, no rule of law, no family unit. We are injured baby zebras, stuck in a hole with rabid hyenas. No one will find us and no one would care, this greener pasture grows green with our carcuses. When will this nightmare end?

"ADE'S JOURNAL", 32