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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

Popular Posts

Friday, 29 December 2017

The Clown's Sweet Silence Is Revoked


    Pouring down the skies, skidding on your endless smiles that sway back and forth. Just like a giant life size boat on an endless path as it just continues to float. No matter the size of arrows shot at it it moves from left to right or north to south, depends on where you stand. Even then, the archery competition heats up and there is this need to duck. 
After all my bragging rights, I am a little scared one might finally hit me and then The Clown's Sweet Silence Is Revoked. He starts to get excited and raised one hand up like a terrible present wrapped in silver sheets. I cannot for the life of me 
Understand why he is celebrating as if one of his many shots hit me. And then I feel it, a pain from deep within my stomach as if there was a broken bone in there. The target has hit me and it hurts me a lot but I'm not screaming. I think I kind of am used to being hurt. Because I am not freaking out, instead I winced and oddly I am still rocking the boat. But then the bone in my leg gets pierced hard and I grab it with my bloody hand. Maybe it's the air but I feel a sharp pain and the tip of the arrow. It hit me and pushed at my liver and I have this strong urge to pull it out. I think it's a bad idea and leave it where it is. Now the rocking boat makes the pain worse and I have to get off it. The floor is moving and it's really odd. As in, beach sand moving like a flowing stream. Moving just like the video in the desert of quick sand flowing like a river. Only there's no visible water, just beautiful uneven pale brown and yellow sand. No care  in the world that it's now a game, that I am hurt and in pain. I have to get out somehow and i grab my dislocated arm and feel the empty ball and socket joint. The missing arm was about an inch below and all covered with my flesh. I didn't even notice I had dislocated my arm before now. Shaking I try to move and I am blinded by my own sweat and instinctively try to move my dislocated arm and I winced and grit my teeth. Yes I feel that pain, okay so what am I supposed to do?
I curve up and try to stop the bleeding and then start to loose consciousness, I have to leave this vulnerable boat. My arm has a mind of its own and tries to move back into place. That hurt and pulled at my liver, I growled long and hard and clenched my fist and feel a tough feathers start to sprout. It's not a sexy butterfly wing that crumbles like moth wings, no. It's the tough eagle wing span and muscles but the many layers of a prehistoric cockroach.
The wings flutters and floats and floats as it lands and settles and folds. Not haphazardly like one would expect, but in layers of succession and precision. Like any mishaps would crush it to bits as it lands on a clear window screen.
Its a lovely evening indeed and as I fly over the clown, it freezes and gets stuck.
And I fly over it all and land on solid ground. It's over, this nightmare that could make a beautiful scene...
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Tuesday, 26 December 2017

A Christmas Apart


     Trickling Down My Face is the teardrops frozen in time as it helps me to get to a place, Where you will Never hear me quake. The rest of the world laughs and claps I just drown in what I used to have. There was a time that things worked, that a home without a generator set was possible and a home could exist minus all the unnecessary needs. But that time has long faded and the noise drowns out and hides temporarily the problems of this world.
As I state my case to my numb self, tired of trying to just try to remember the truth.
 I guess I have been pinching on the surface and scratching at the reality of my situation. As I stop and blink, fighting hard to make sure I think. The Christmas decorations didn't come up this year, not that I didn't want to put them up. I just was too numb to try to make the house look happy, this empty hell that just looks shabby. Every corner has memories, even though it's not the same house, like ghosts haunting a space they desperately want to claim. My mind is creative I have to give it that, it has conjured and fit the room from my past to fit into my new home. Sometimes I wonder and try to imagine what he will say, Henrik I mean.
As I march ahead and walk through every room in my new house, I listen and try to decipher what I heard. Or what my mind spins into reality, I'm beginning to not be able to tell the difference. I need to try to hold on to something and as I do I feel him close and start to believe I am no longer alone. I Embrac e all my faith as I climb up again and try make a head way. It's all different now because for the first time in a long time, our souls are spending A Christmas Apart....
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Friday, 22 December 2017

Ransomed By Two Hundred Thousand Flying Foxes


  Plucked ripe is my need to suckle hard all that is sweet, patient and anxious to fly swiftly in the darkness you bring.
I wont stand here and scream, shocked and rife is my rim, I have to stay here and breath. Rocked and stuck is my ice, I have to reshape my ride. Flocks of pigeons peck my face, yet I stand here with grace. Plucked and Bright is my life, I'll just spread out and shine. The mosquitoes are uncountable, yet our hunger is unquenched in this new strange world I call home. I am not alone as my furry friends crawl up the clay caked caves, they climb my webbed wings and stump on my ears. Yes I am upsidedown. You need to see how I see the world. It beautiful and loud and real and covered in clouds. The mosquitoes mission is to wipe out their race but in my colony, we never stop until all is gained. The mosquitoes reduce to the thousands in one night and as much as we like to clean up, the taste is boring. It's like chewing gum that has lost its flavor or won't just mould and bend to a bubble controlled by your tongue. So we crawled towards the moonlight and out from our home, into an entire new world. The smell of sweet nectar invites and wood me, from a seabed filled with purple water lilies. Bright and beautiful with a bright yellow core, open and waiting to be sucked dry by me. This world has no clue not only am I going to bombard it, but it's about to be Ransomed By Two Hundred Flying Foxes. Our predators long extinct and our curiosity bar now unstoppable. The clueless children try to catch us in the moonlight and as we scratch and claw, we stain and spread what was long ours alone. Our infectious claws dig in and our moist jaws sink in deep. It's a night of many options and for a while, I think I am a dragon and I flap my webbed wings high and try to fly away with the child holding onto my  feet. A none-stick frying pan smashed into my face and I let go as the child's mother screamed at me. The game was up but as I try to recover I see a fat juicy moth and forget the pain and snatched it from the unnatural light that lit the front porch of this home. I am not alone and in seconds all was covered in me, my siblings and friends.
Our invasion was complete.....
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Tuesday, 19 December 2017

The Surprise Kiss


  The heels clicked and stabbed at the marble floors, barely making any impact as it bounced me back up and on my feet. The buckle around my ankle unstrapped itself and I almost lost my steps which I exaggerated to emphasize my crazy catwalk. I know I cat walk and it is funny to me, when people describe it. Especially children, the hip to shin ratio makes them find my unique steps hilarious. And I just laugh and throw my head back when they do. I love kids and I love their honesty and free range ability to move and run around everywhere. They put a smile back on my face when I am lost in my thoughts and trying to understand why I have not achieved so much more at this junction in my life. I know you are wondering what I am doing here, I do not have an answer. I think or try to see why in my head and the answer is crazy.
I want to see happy people and I want to imagine myself happy again. So i choose a mall and one with a great discount offer. Where I know that family members would go to. Ikeja is busy this Christmas season and so many people are shopping. I want ice cream, the rich shocking type. The one so intense it lingers in your mouth and takes its time to melt.
I am almost in the mall when the buckle gets loose. I half squat and get on my knees and try very hard to keep my knees off the ground. Then it happens for the first time since I lost my partner, The Surprise Kiss. Not from anyone I expected but from a cute little girl in afro puffs. Her tight curly hair formed knots around the edges of her hair and I just watch her big deep brown eyes. She didn't just give me a kiss, she added a fun sound and exciting mmmmmmuuaahh.
I watched her spread her arm and hug me and I almost start to cry and then I hear her mum screech and rip her away from me.
'My daughter is such a hugger', she half apologized.
The little girl hugged me and refused to let go and I just hug her back and shut my eyes. It was like a weight was lifted off me and I kneel and drop her gently into the arms of her eager mum.
As I do, the little girl jumps out of her mother's arms and off and away. I finished buckling my shoes and then watched her mum chase after her and smiled. Kids
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Friday, 15 December 2017

Crusty Dusty December


   Crusty Dusty December blows finely ground sand on everything and just moved slow and with it, icy cool winds. It should have been icy cold but the harsh intensity of the blazing sun sliced and raised the room temperature. And as I try to ease the biting pain of a sudden burst from the wicked sun. My poor skin suffers and as I massaged it to try to stop the pain, I feel his hand on my shoulders and flinched.
I feel like I'm back in there, in that hatch of that ship. Praying the blades don't hit me as I hide and pray.
So much is happening and much of what I have done Falls short until I remember. I believe I have put myself in this message and there is no going back now.
Hard lessons shoved me into this message, this brand new naive me that can't seem to find my way back home. Everyday I hear it, I can't stomach and watch it. It is all too painful to see someone else experience it.
A migrant trapped in another land, one they are unwanted and unwelcome in. A land the predators hide and wait for prey blind and confused by the storm.
How did I get into this message you ask and my answer is easy. I could not cope anymore, the power supply never functioned for an hour and the employers owed me for months. I became one of those annoying workers that beg and every time I was snapped at and asked if I didn't get paid. I had to lie and try to sound like I was paid. I know, it's stupid right? The promise of what you are owed will make you act stupid and make all you believe become a lie. A stupid lie now molten something soft and untrue.
Cracked open the space now empty, what used to be my memory palace.
Left spoken like spades digging into a dead earth now faded and pale yellow.
Traced hard from leaves that refused to decay as I continue to hope and pray.
Never did I believe I would leave, but I did on money I never touched. Just a belief of a better place where people won't be owed and what's mine is mine. Oh, of course batter I pay this man that is making my journey to Europe possible.
The dusts pile up and this quick sand pads sink as I try to walk on them.
I speak of what I have gone through as if it's in the distant past. Yet we all know I was deported just last week and given a merger pay. I owe so much more and my other sister is ransom and bait until I pay back all that I owe. How do I get out of this mess?
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Tuesday, 12 December 2017

Mass Weddings For Widows In Medieval Times


     Hovering around the skies like a thief in this light, wondering how long before the day turns to night. I see clearly from my birds eye view, territory I lost as I merged to become you. I became your maid, your nurse, your therapist and chef and the only thank you I get is when you paint me beautiful to your friends. My family bond you broke and my close friends you chose, this leash you yank and tug around my neck. Just to control and brag to your friends and prove to yourself you can. And the little mistakes I made, lord have mercy. You sing like a hit song to crush the little smile I bim just to prove you wicked self that you can control me. The times I stood for hours, begging and pleading with you to pick a meal you want so I can cook it to perfection. As I sacrificed my own time to please you, yet you tell everyone willingly and quickly that I do not care for you. Nights of tears were plenty and nights again you taunt me, blame me for all that befalls you and scream out loud the mistakes you made by marrying me. How you should never have looked at me and how selfish I have been in all our ten years together. My sister suffers my pain because at night when you spend hours bullying me far and near and I'm all cried out from your miserable existence. She is the only person you let me talk to and all our WhatsApp conversations you printed and showed me to prove that you own me. The synchronized phone lines, the buttons you pressed and the hard way you made me depressed. Oh what a wonder that you were snatched and lifted high by this prowling creature that swooped in untamed. My ignorance and sense of security crashed with you as my boss in our uneven relationship.
  Oh lord you blessed me when you didn't let me get pregnant for this beast I've been chained to for years. My painful zombie years as a slave to you now over for your wicked ways did not go unpunished because now it happened. You stressed your heart to stop and the attack was sudden and tough. So my freedom came as you died and I swear I never want to get married in this life.
    I never planned to meet another and I thank God everyday that I'm not rich enough to remarry ever again. So I tolerate you, this new man and watch you pray for a miracle to make me your bride. I set up on a pedestal my wicked pride and declare to everyone that marriage will never be my portion ever again. He was convenient this new man, not rich and not demanding just safe for me.
But this morning he raced in happy and lifts me high up in the air.
I watched him break my heart with news that I could not comprehend.... Mass weddings For Widows In Medieval Times.
I heard him say it again without adding what my mind conjured up, the medieval bit and my heart broke again as he snapped at me and shouts again. He blamed me for my denial and my dreams of a marriage that exists only in the movies. I had a duty to serve and obey and birth or procreate. I really don't remember his words, all I remember saying was never again. Yes never again will I be bullied into becoming someone else and yes, I reject the offer to be part of this. I'm sure there is respect and compassion in some unions and those ones deserve to take my spot. The repercussions was brutal, to reject this gift given to me on a federal level with benefits and goodies to uplift me from poor to middle class. To them it was simple and to me it was happening all over again. So I use my God given right of making a choice and choose to say no. I am shunned and bullied by my entire community and told I am self centered that life was not mine alone to live. This time I am stronger and I promise them I will sell the meals they never appreciate to strangers. To people willing to pay a little and appreciate that I make a meal available. Not to an angry man that shouts at me and declares I failed or this raging bull mimicking my man and has replaced my new groom.
As I pack my belongings into an old wrapper and mount it on my head. The community realized I am serious and my stand is solid as a rock. On the road out of town and as a group, they beg me and accept that I can draft a contract with witnesses and even leave after. The ninety nine bride's was not enough for them. They needed the hundredth bride to join and round up the figures. So that the odd number is rounded up and no evil befalls my very interesting community. But this opportunity for thier brother would never come again.
So I take control and draft my expectations and this time they know I am not going to take any rubbish. He apologized and claimed he was pressurized into bullying me but had long shed my naiveness. I am one of the bride's to be and I am one of the bride's with some leverage. My union is not a perfect one but I will exist and be alive in this thing called marriage.
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Friday, 8 December 2017

Stolen Ostriches Eggs Bags Jail Time


    Reach out deep inside and underneath the tough feathers and try and feel the hard exterior of this rare gem.
  Seriously, I've never seen anything like it before in all my life. Quail eggs look like marbles and I heard they are delicious but no thank you. I am not crossing that line, after chickens that's it. But then again  I am tired of asking and trying to just earn a serious living. Maybe it's the risk involved, but you can't blame me for trying. Just look at my phone, cracked and passed on from many hands. The screen blurry and missing bits and I pray all the time it does not ring. Because if it does, then that awkward moment is here. That time that I have to reach into my pocket and pick it up. Yes I put it on silent mode, but those updated apps just know how to embarrass me. Anyway, shame has me at this junction and has me in this horrendous mess. My face has gone viral for the wrong reasons, if only I had listened to reason.
 As I feel the exterior of the large egg shells, I see it already. The new phone and laptop, the new shoes and hot meals. The ladies all beside me as I walk into the VIP section, all expenses paid by me. My shoes shine and cause a ruckus as they Google the price and faint.
These ostrich eggs will make me rich , way beyond my years. The creature pecks me and I snap out of my daydream. Have you heard an ostrich cry out and call out for help? It's like nothing I even imagined or heard and because of it, the owners nab me. And as they cuff me, the large bird kicks me back into a harsh reality. Me and my stupid accomplice are whisked away in handcuffs and paraded in front of the media. If that was all, I would have just been silent. The court sentence was harsh as I heard the overweight judge rant. Twenty five  years' imprisonment for Stolen Ostriches Eggs, the taboo is real. As I listened and collected from all the generous Bags of Jail Time I am christened with, I cannot help but want to turn back the hands of time...
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Tuesday, 5 December 2017

Everything Is At A Halt


  The Afternoon sun blazes and rages on as the rain clouds shrink and evaporate into nothing. That's what the weather is like right now and as my feet gently stumps into the dry crusty earth, fine dust powder rise and fall all around them. And clings and tries to hide between the crevices in my toes. Like smoke it travels beneath my limbs as they shiver and rise and fall, advancing towards something. Ask me where I am going for the bitter truth is that I do not know. Only ask me where we have been and then I will proudly show and tell. What wonders I have experienced and such love I have felt. It is sudden and to my dismay I hear my heart flutter and beat irregularly and then feel my brain wobble in my light head. I do what I must, respond and fight and almost crash and fall.
But alas, I don't. Because I have learned to hold my breath in that instant and breathe in deeply and out smoothly. Again I have disappointed myself, I really thought I wanted it all to end, Yet I have just tried to continue to live.
   What does it all mean?
I spot a beautiful funnel flower white and lovely with yellow stamens hanging over as if ready to be placed over a burning flame. But I cannot just stare at it, I must own it or worse photograph it. The shade does it no justice and only in the natural light can it shine. So I pluck it from its stem with its voluptuous leaves and place it on the gray nylon. It stares at me and invites me to join in the photoshoot and as I get my shot, I cover it all up. The end of its short but useful life and the beginning of mine. This is the only time I can feel something, when the camera is between my fingers and I hear the shutter sound. Like with everything this has come to an end and as I look up, I spot my friend calling out to me....

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Friday, 1 December 2017

Dreams Is Where We Are A Family Again


  Just like a shell high on hope and fuel abundant yet scarce, I move with the tides. I sway where it takes me as I just fight and flee and try hard to survive this brutal underwater world. I clap and swim and cheer and scream until I reach close enough to it and stretch and try hard to catch it. I am close to everything yet far from everyone and I want to go yet I stay and stray away from my goals.
   Do you catch my drift?
 Well maybe not in this wave that smashes and tries to pry me open and dislocate my shells from one another. Should I yield or buckle or hold it together in my pink fluffy world. The pink shrimps circle and lead and then follow me. Beautiful uncountable creatures that gives the long legged flamingos those feathers you all love. The sea tastes fresh and the frothy white sea waves rise high and crash hard until perfect sand pebbles line the shore and form an array of beautiful ripples. The grooves on my shell collect perfect sea sand dust that sway in the sea and flow with the current like fluid smoke. You should see it as the pink shrimps devour the elements within them, the nutrients hidden in them. I just want to get to my mate, even if we both lay on our sea bed with disjointed shell casing. All that would matter is that we made it together, until the very end. If only this was us....
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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 ( 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