Archive - December 2019

1
All of me
2
The Bookshelf 2019
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One good deed
4
Next
5
Seven days of selfies
6
Emails to mum

All of me

Esohe Williams. The name had a nice ring to it, she mused, gazing down at the glittering, 3-carat rock adorning her slender finger. Energetic music – typically Nigerian, expectedly loud, deliberately dance-inducing – reverberating from every corner of the large hall began to recede as her reflections drew her inward. That teddy bear lover of hers had brought it along, unknown to her, on their trip. “I was going to ask you until you said yes, my love.” He stated when she finally let him slip the jewel, he’d been keeping all year following her countless rejections, onto her finger. How ironic. At the time of her acceptance, he hadn’t asked! She might not have recalled every detail concerning the twins’ birth but one moment stuck. The moment she regained consciousness, hours after the babies were out, when she was back on the hospital bed and beginning the slow recovery from the emergency Caesarian section surgery. Her eyes fluttered opened and the first person they fell on was Eddie, parked in the chair closest to the bed; one of his hands gently clasping hers as he whispered with his sister, Ade beside him, who noticed Esohe’s opened lids and nudged her brother. Before either of them could utter a word, she spoke, faintly at first. “Yes, Eddie.” He straightened and drew even closer, his tired eyes narrowing with concern. He hadn’t caught her words. “What was that, darling?” He asked softly. Her voice gained strength and volume by the second. “Yes, Eddie.” She repeated. “Yes. Yes, sweetheart – “ His expression cleared as clarity set in which was abruptly interrupted by Ade, who was still out of the loop. “Should I get the doc – ?” She began to ask but her brother’s hand gesture silenced her mid-sentence. He stooped low as Esohe continued. “Yes to being Mrs. Williams. Yes to you, my lo-.” He didn’t let her finish as his face dissolved into a smile, and closed the gap between them in a kiss which length and passion saw Ade giving them all the privacy. Three weeks had passed”more

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The Bookshelf 2019

Man proposes. Life disposes. In my case, woman disposes…, you get my drift, don’t you? The other day on Facebook, I saw a video with the man in it counting: “1, 2,3 – “, his fingers ticking off one book after the other in a pile balanced on a chair. “- 22, 23, 24 – “. Tick. Tick. Tick. “ -50, 51, 52. One for every week of the yea -. “ I clicked it close, a frown gathering on my forehead. I knew where he was headed with all those books and refused to acknowledge the nagging thought that I had, once again, fallen short of my target number of books per month and, consequently, annually. So, I shelved my tallying exercise until I could no longer procrastinate on it. Until well…today. Here’s my count for the year about to end. • Treasure Island – Robert Louis Stevenson Ashamed to confess that I’ve never read this classic. Finally did when it was one of the recommended reads for my son. Replete with photos too. • Steal like an artist – Austin Kleon A trade book to set me in the mood for my writing year. • Creativity: The Perfect Crime – Phillippe Petit As insane and delightful as his acts of tight-rope walking • Wake-up: It’s time for your sleeping pill – Robert • New Ways to Kill Your Mother – Colin Toibin I was stacking up on the trade books like I was running out of time. • After the Darkness – Sydney Sheldon First novel of the year from one of my favourite fiction authors • Prisoner of Birth – Jeffrey Archer Swiftly followed by another by yet another favourite of mine. Second time around reading this but couldn’t let it pass me by. • Digital branding – Daniel Rowles Back to the trade world. We live in a digital everything age now, don’t we? Let me improve on my digital footprints somewhat • The Subtle Art of not giving a F**k! – Mark Manson • Born on a Tuesday – El Nathan • Sycamore Row –”more

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Next

The few I spied in the driver’s seat didn’t inspire much. They were Nigerian senator types with bellies almost touching the wheels. I had specifics in mind – big not bulky; lean/toned not skinny/lanky; bearded but certainly not Mai Atafo’s preference; age range 36 – 42 and definitely not the heavily- greying, grandfather–looking dude I caught staring at me one morning, and not juvenile either; presence, something that would attract and keep a woman’s curious eye; fit/fill out clothes as though they were bespoke. His colouring didn’t matter – dark, light, caramel, etc. Any would do just fine.

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Seven days of selfies

A few months ago, I ran into Moses at The Palms. By the food section in Shoprite, an unrecognisable, smallish, dark-skinned man with no hair on his scalp or face, approached me bearing a huge smile. Only someone confident of his knowledge of another could release a grin that enormous.

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