JB-FEVERS RUN DEEP

I still see it now, erratic waves crashing against stoic rocks-at the base. At the base we're all faced with waves, but me, I saw it, chipping away, softening the surfaces, slowly, surely, till it gave way, a mountain parted like the red sea, and all because of her.

She still hung around in shadows, edging her way across my corners, mocking me, with the same passion she was loving me, once.

The ribbons in her hair billowed when she was in the light, but in the light she was never with me, always a gaze way. In the light she smiled easily, bit her lower lip and turned away.

I'd call it stalking if it was anyone but me, but I just couldn't shake the fever. It ran, like electric bolts torturing me, jolting me from semblances of dreams. Volts and streaks of white, they formed crooked flags in my dead of night.

She reigned like the rains in their season. I remember one evening, beans fresh on the stove, I told her we could while away time, swore to Jove that it would not burn this time. Again I was wrong, her laughter rung in my ears for an eternity, her words were jittery, a lifetime of speech, when she held me I could no longer feel the watch on my wrist. Beans burnt and I wondered what sort of love is this? the sort that seals promises, and is too fervent to honour it.

The strange kind the preacher called it. The kind that had a man losing his purpose, pon a roof. Same man had a lion by the tooth, but facts so seldom mean a thing to the truth-he was weak! Weak at the knees like the rest of us, the sort of weakness that always gets the best of us, by playing on the worst, like a pun playing on the words-it was cheap. Bought us at a price that meant nothing to it, brought us to our lives and made us throw a punch into it, and why won't we do it? Be victimised by our own affections, the things that dominate our attention.

It's a garden you see. Flower beds cushioning the fall, roses overpowering the stink of it all. A garden if ever there was and a maze of thorns, stay away from the walls. It cuts you, you bleed, you cut it, and she bleeds. You're without enough root to stem the flow, in a vein she lets no needle go, and if there's a red streak of tears, it's all show and no tells. It's all wood and no bells, no space on the door frames for knuckles, just nails pon nails reinforcing its purpose.

"I don't want to talk about it." Stay away from the walls.

I loved.

By Jove I loved and by Jove I lost, but the consequence of what it cost caused a crevice to constitute the berth where once was, my heart.

Tattered, a bullet hole through a tat, bloodied picture of a man, I demanded this. Holding her wrist, loving it, loving the bracelet and its glint, loving it because I got it, I bought it, and she brought it, because she thought it looked good on her. And you never care for fashion, just the look of you on her.

I'd give two for her, heck I wouldn't fret an extinction level event just for a view of her, smiling, biting and not turning away.

One end of a day, she called, cold on her breath. She coughed when she spoke, and I remember clutching the phone, because I wanted to be there, but she told me not to come, the weather was for flu and the flu was for one. She told me not to come, her angelic voice ruffled at the edges-a spooked peacock of words I still saw beauty when she said this, saw beauty in her wreckage.

By jove I loved and by Jove I lost. A similar call, that morning, day breaking, light dawning, noise forming in the womb of the street, sun dispelling all the night had conceived, it was that moment between the cold and the heat, she called and I picked.

Hey babe

Hey.

You still coming over later?

Silence.

Babe you okay?

More silence. Then a no.

What's wrong?

You Justin. You're wrong.

What did I do?

Tope told me you have like a shrine of my pictures in your room.

Well I wouldn't call it a shrine but....

That's not normal Justin.

Okay. I guess I'll take it down.

I don't know anymore...

Know what?

I'm sorry.

For?

"Love has no middle term; either it destroys, or it saves. All human destiny is this dilemma."- Victor Hugo

"He that loveth silver shall not be satisfied with silver; nor he that loveth abundance with increase: this is also vanity."- King Solomon

I still see it now, erratic waves crashing against stoic rocks-at the base. At the base we're all faced with waves, but me, I saw it, chipping away, softening the surfaces, slowly, surely, till it gave way, a mountain parted like the red sea, and all because of her.

She still hung around in shadows, edging her way across my corners, mocking me, with the same passion she was loving me, once.

The ribbons in her hair billowed when she was in the light, but in the light she was never with me, always a gaze way. In the light she smiled easily, bit her lower lip and turned away.

I'd call it stalking if it was anyone but me, but I just couldn't shake the fever. It ran, like electric bolts torturing me, jolting me from semblances of dreams. Volts and streaks of white, they formed crooked flags in my dead of night.

She reigned like the rains in their season. I remember one evening, beans fresh on the stove, I told her we could while away time, swore to jove that it would not burn this time. Again I was wrong, her laughter rung in my ears for an eternity, her words were jittery, a lifetime of speech, when she held me I could no longer feel the watch on my wrist. Beans burnt and I wondered what sort of love is this? The sort that seals promises, and is too fervent to honour it.

The strange kind the preacher called it. The kind that had a man losing his purpose, pon a roof. Same man had a lion by the tooth, but facts so seldom mean a thing to the truth-he was weak! Weak at the knees like the rest of us, the sorta weakness that always gets the best of us, by playing on the worst, like a pun playing on the words-it was cheap. Bought us at a price that meant nothing to it, brought us to our lives and made us throw a punch into it, and why won't we do it? Be victimised by our own affections, the things that dominate our attention.

It's a garden you see. Flower beds cushioning the fall, roses overpowering the stink of it all. A garden if ever there was, and a maze of thorns, stay away from the walls. It cuts you, you bleed, you cut it, she bleeds. You're without enough root to stem the flow, in a vein she let's no needle go, and if there's a red streak of tears, it's all show and no tells. It's all wood and no bells, no space on the door frames for knuckles, just nails pon nails reinforcing its purpose.

"I don't want to talk about it." Stay away from the walls.

I loved.

By jove I loved and by jove I lost, but the consequence of what it cost caused a crevice to constitute the berth where once was, my heart.

Tattered, a bullet hole through a tat, bloodied picture of a man, I demanded this. Holding her wrist, loving it, loving the bracelet and it's glint, loving it because I got it, I bought it, and she brought it, because she thought it looked good on her. And you never care for fashion, just the look of you on her.

I'd give two for her, heck I wouldn't fret an extinction level event just for a view of her, smiling , biting and not turning away.

One end of a day, she called, cold on her breath. She coughed when she spoke, and I remember clutching the phone, because I wanted to be there, but she told me not to come, the weather was for flu and the flu was for one. She told me not to come, her angelic voice ruffled at the edges-a spooked peacock of words I still saw beauty when she said this, saw beauty in her wreckage.

By jove I loved and by Jove I lost. A similar call, that morning, day breaking, light dawning, noise forming in the womb of the street, sun dispelling all the night had conceived, it was that moment between the cold and the heat, she called and I picked.

Hey babe.

Hey.

You still coming over later?

Silence.

Babe you okay?

More silence. Then a no.

What's wrong?

You Justin. You're wrong.

What did I do?

Tope told me you have like a shrine of my pictures in your room.

Well I wouldn't call it a shrine but....

That's not normal Justin.

Okay. I guess I'll take it down.

I don't know anymore...

Know what?

I'm sorry.

For?

"Love has no middle term; either it destroys, or it saves. All human destiny is this dilemma."- Victor Hugo

"He that loveth silver shall not be satisfied with silver; nor he that loveth abundance with increase: this is also vanity."- King Solomon

THE NIGHT OF DEADPOOL

Trying not to hear the spoilers was like trying not to get an STD when you're sleeping around.


I was on my roof, in Surulere and the night idled by. There was no particular thought on my mind. Just clutter from everything and nothing. I'd had a rough couple of weeks and it seemed, at last, that I was happening upon a bit of a resolution.

Jude was going to be there in a bit. Jude was the designated driver. We were going to catch the movie, Deadpool, finally.


We meant to see it earlier. But in life the big things tend to bully the little things to the background. And there'd been a lot of big things lately. The sort that had you deep in the throes of realism, spiralling like little sheets of timber beneath a smoothening plane. I was being formed into an adult, prosaic as it sounds.


I saw the headlights first, pulling into the street. It was his dads car, but he drove it like it was his, slowly, gently, like a calm wave. He stepped out of the car and I stepped to him.The usual ritual ensued.


Side hugs; small talk; grunts and we were off. There was little to no discussion as we drove. We picked Wole up about a quarter of an hour later, and with him, came life.


LAST NIGHT was AWESOME! He said slapping us both on the shoulder and bouncing on the back seat, then he wrapped his hands around Judes neck as a mock hug. You were right man, Judith was fronting this whole time, and there I was about to call it quits as usual, and there YOU were being the voice of reason AS ALWAYS, thanks bro!
 Wole always spoke like the comic relief character of a sitcom, with an exaggerated stress on certain words. He didn't grow up around these parts.


Jude started the car; turned to look at me, said ; at least one of us has been having some fun, and with that we hit the road again, nothing was going to get between us and that movie.


The police.


They stopped us about a quarter of a mile later, close to the National stadium. Kunle flashed them the requisite qualifications of a driver but they asked us to come down anyway. As though the gathering of three testosterone fuelled men in a moving vehicle was a crime in itself.


A cross examination ensued.

No, it wasn't his car.

Yes, his father was aware.

Yes, they could open the boot.

No, there was nothing in the suitcase.

Except there was. We all gathered round and stood shocked as we peered into a bag full of cash. Immediately it played out in my mind. Judes dad was just back from a busy business trip. He was weary and forgetful so that when Jude asked for the car keys, he just tossed them over. Now there we were with thousand naira notes faced with the insurmountable task of convincing the Nigerian police the money wasn't stolen.

It was all an act.

All three of us knew we'd have better luck trying to convince a mountain to move with sign language. In both cases we'd be dealing with dumb rocks, only these particular rocks were particular about money which was in particular high supply, particularly in our trunk.

I managed to smack Jude on the head before they slipped the handcuffs on and led us away to the back of their van.

There went the resolutions I was happening upon.

We drove for a while, like criminals at the back of the van. We drove in silence, as though the suitcase were some form of gravity that permitted no lips to part. Finally the bulky one, the one driving the car spoke up.

Una know say you don enter trouble abi? He said and I nodded at Jude towards Wole.
He was freaking out. Heaving and sighing and heaving and sighing then repeat.

Jude and I looked at eachother, then I said this is
a misunderstanding and you know it. His dads a businessman...

Smack!

The one sitting behind us at the back hit me across the face. All you this small boys of nowadays, una think say na una get this country. He said.

Jude started then, in that low ominous tone of his, like a gate creaking in the dead of night. You will take us to the station, we will fill your statement form. You will keep us locked up, then we will pay for our bail. What you will not do is treat us like criminals before the courts find us guilty!

There was silence then, again, but unlike before it didn't last long.

The two men in front started to chat under their breath. The one seemed to be convincing the other about something.

We soon found ourselves in an abandoned lot.

Oya come down, the one that drove said after he had done the same. Wole, Jude and I got off one after the other. Wole was still jittery.

I looked in all directions, saw no life around. Jude spoke my mind.

What are we doing here?

The bulky one cocked his gun and asked us to move.

My heart pounded, Jude stood up straighter, Woles knees hit the ground.

PLEASE. Wole squealed. Please don't kill us! I swear we've never hurt a fly! Maybe a couple girls, maybe we never tip the bouncers enough. But not this! As he bawled his neck threw his head forward towards the ground like the springs of an old bed.

Jude was about to speak up, but the officer that rode shotgun interjected him. Shut up! He said cocking his own gun. We'll waste you right here! In fact, Sunny, where are we even taking them to again? Make we blast them for here!

NO said wole.

No, the bulky one, Sunny echoed. It needs to look clean.

This is unacceptable, my dad will have you all jailed for this, you better...Jude began but Sunny hit him in the gut with the butt of his AK47.

Shut up, he said through gritted teeth.

Wole who had been sobbing this whole time gave what appeared to be his eulogy. I never hurt a soul, not intentionally at least. I'm a good kid, couple skeletons in my closet, yeah my cupboard looks neat but beneath a few layers of folded clothes, it's scattered, I'm not perfect!

Sunny raised his gun and aimed it at Wole. The shotgun cop aimed his at me. The third one said stop.

Stop, he said again. And Sunny looked at him with a question on his brow. What?

Stop he reiterated. I already called it in, the station is expecting us.

Sunny rolled his eyes and began to pace round. Ohhhh, ode, why nau?

I no know say na wetin we go do be dis nau. He said.

Bassey you don mess up. The other officer from the front seat said.

Jude spoke up again. This means you have to let us go Mr.Sunny. As Mr.Bassey has rightly said, you have to stop, after what you've just pulled off you can't afford to take us to the station either. Best to let us go.

Sunny looked at him, sneer on his face.

With the cash too! Wole said defiantly.

A few minutes later Jude was driving us back to our various homes. There would be no Deadpool for us that night.

"There are many devices in  a mans heart; nevertheles,  the cpunself of the LORD that shall stand."- King Solomon.

SHORT DRESSES DON'T MAKE TEMPTRESSES PT.2

I know what you're thinking. So you felt used and abused and it left you damaged forever, whats new? Well for one thing I wasn't damaged foever, just long enough to indulge my wrath. Secondly, nobody used or abused anybody, Yemi and I got into that social contract together and we were both on the drivers seat. But I was nevertheless broken, and I took my brokewn parts and put together a weapon of mass destruction to be unleashed on every poor unsuspecting soul. King Solomon said in proverbs to beware of the strange woman, but that's just it. On the outside I was the ordinary girl next door, whose skirt dared the depths of her feet, the one who spent her weekends in church. Only very few people knew what I'd really become when I finally got into Uni, and these people were mostly victims and the ears they entrusted their tragic fate to.
What was their fate you ask? Well, I'd become the biggest tease since the invention of the American dream, I enticed and intrigued but never quenched the flames I fuelled.
 I was smart about it too, never went for the bad guys.
In fact, I made the bad guys. I don't buy into the thought that all guys are the same, but they all react uniformly. In the face of rejection they walk away whimpering with their tail between their legs, till their friends and shame goad them into becoming the big bad wolf looking for a red riding hood to devour.
I didn't need to be thrashy to do it either, I could never pull off the Rihanna good girl gone bad niche, but, it turns out guys are as attracted to bad as they are to innocent. They seem hardwired to chase what's easy and what's possible, and I seemed all too possible, but it was always a dead end.
In fact there was this one guy whose initial intention was to hook me up with his brother, but I ensnared him and by the time I was done he spiraled down a self destructive path of prostitutes, aids and ultimately death.

 Yes, I felt guilty about it.

 The entire campus was in shock, and even the non-church going hedonists were compelled to stay chaste for a month or two. Only very few knew I was involved, but it was enough to get me to change

 So I hit the scriptures hard as one must do when the devil you wish to escape is you. It wasn’t easy, but overtime the fire breathing butterfly became a grass eating caterpillar and it was the brand new me that my husband Austin Ashton met and married.

 Austins the perfect man, tall dark and handsome, God fearing, hardworking and faithful, I thanked God that not only had he delivered me from myself, but he had also found the time to favour me, I was really ontop of the world.
It was the eve of our one year anniversary, We were sitted on the veranda, I was on his lap staring up at the moon with my head being carried by the rise and fall of his chest. After a few moments-perfect, out of fairytale moments-I broke the silence.
‘Whats wrong?”I asked, biting my lower lip and caressing my ring-The perfect picture of a doting, submissive wife.
“What do you mean?” Austin replied.
“Well you’ve got on that look.”
“What look?” He asked
‘’That wistful look that says your'e thinking about something important.” I said.
“Wistful look ke, what am I Cinderella? I don’t have that look. Besides, you can't even see my face.”
“Of course I can.” I said and interlocked our fingers.”Always.’"
He felt the gravity of my words, and was quiet for a moment. Then finally said “I just don’t want us to become one of those couples who ten years down the line aren’t able to talk anymore, or even enjoy the silence together, like we did just now." He said softly and buried his face in my neck. I turned to face him.
“You know, we can always talk about anything.”
“Really?” He asked playfully.

‘Really.’’ I said with all sincerity.

“Even..” He began tentatively. “Even the guys from your old life?”
“I already told you about that.” I said a bit put off.

“Yeah, in generalizations. When I married you, but when I married you, I married every bit of you, even the viscious temptress you have buried 6 feet under. It just feels like it was a pivotal time in your life, and I'm not a part of it.”
“I played on peoples emotions, that doesn’t seem like the kind of thing you want to share in a lifelong commitment such as marriage.”
“I just, want to understand darling, at least give me names, let me know what to look for in your contact list.” He quipped and we both shared a hearty laugh, and just like that, the air was cleared, and my lips loosed.
“Well after the thing with Remi, I met a guy called Dare during clearance. He was all helpful and I went from being grateful to being suggestive. It didn’t take very long before he started going the extra mile, doing all my photocopying and printing, the stuff fellowships do during CTY. I took advantage of the favours, batted my eyelashes, maybe a peck on the chick, and then when clearance was over, that was it. We were in different departments and hemust'vee called like a million times the first two months but I never picked.” I said and saw that no judgement stood in Austins eyes. So I pressed on. “Next was Tola, very fine boy, but he had a stutter so he was really shy, he was isolated and vulnerable, and he practically took care of all my 100 level assignments and projects. Then there was Wole…”
“I'm starting to notice a pattern here.” Austin said smiling. “You have a thing for Yoruba guys, no wonder you married me.”
“No, that wasn’t it, after all that wrong doing I just felt a bit of charity was in order for your people.” I teased and he chuckled.
“Continue.” He said.
“After Wole there was Charles-who is not Yoruba by the way. I think he works at a law firm now…”
“Oh so you keep tabs on them.” Austin said melodramatically and I giggled.
“Then there was...then there was Justin Jegede, also known as JJ…” I paused to heave regrettably. “You know, the one who…”
“Yeah.” Austin said sympathetically. “A real man wouldn’t let anything change him .”
“That doesn’t make me feel better Austin.” I said and got of his lap to go sulk in the room.
“Hey, hey, hey.” He said and got up after me. I'm not judging.”
‘And why not!” I screamed , turning around. “He died Austin!”I continued as tears brimmed in my eyes. “He died and here I am living my perfect little life.” I said and Austin caught me in his arms as I crumbled to the ground.It's okay.” He said, cradling me in his arms. “God has forgiven you.”
“I know, but if I'm forgiven, why do I feel so guilty? I try to hide it, but I wake up every morning feeling like I don’t deserve to live, and I go to sleep wishing I wouldn’t wake up, because I feel like I deserve to be punished...” I said amidst my sobs.
“It's okay honey, you were young and…”
“Stop trying to justify what I did!” I said in a deluge of tears.
“I'm not honey. I'm just saying, God's forgiven you, Justins family too. It's time you forgave yourself.”
And that was it folks, I realised with those words that I hadn’t been allowing myself to enjoy my new life in Christ, because I was still pointing a finger at myself. Self condemnation is a subtle form of self righteousness which is an overt from of pride, because if Jesus has washed away your iniquity, then who are you to not forgive you?