So it just hit me that all I’ve talked about in the past episodes is my family. Let’s talk about me! Who am I, what goes on inside my head and what makes my life worth writing about? here I am with a plate of party jollof from my mum’s 54th birthday party and I realized that the taste never gets old. We see a lot of media updates about party jollof and the frenzy about Owanbe is totally worth it.
Have you ever tried having a quiet meal at KFC or chicken republic and then there’s this family that just won’t shut up? Remember that family that stops right in the center of the lobby at the mall to take pictures, (tons of pictures)? Remember that man posing with his cart right in the middle of aisle twelve in ShopRite, preventing you from picking up an item? Sadly, that’s my family.
After reading Episode One, you understand that the ways of Edo people are peculiar to this world. A typical Edo family experiences more drama than you can ever imagine in a day (just look at TYWSE and MARAJI), each in their own different ways. But one thing that cuts across them all is the unspoken gender factor. I say unspoken because no parent would ever truly admit it (except my dad), and most of them never see it that way. So yes growing up under the circumstances which I did is one major reason I’m a strong, unashamed feminist today.
Growing up, a typical Edo child is exposed to one thing. Family, family and more family. You never truly understand why but your family just seems like one really big tree that makes up tons of forests. Goes against the general belief that a single tree can’t make up a forest right, well mine does. Plus with a mother as dove hearted as mine I got to see a lot of family, always have, still am and I probably will for a long time. We’re like descendants of Israel scattered around the world or was it the seed of Abraham? There’s always this cousin in Kano and this sister in Italy.
Goodbye, good riddance
We take a sigh of relief;
Our hearts don’t feel so heavy anymore
Someone finally lifted the burden, or not.
So we say goodbye to our Demons
Goodbye to everything that haunted us.
Just yesterday it didn’t feel like it was ever going to end
And now it’s all gone, or not
Or did we finally accept it, so they don’t hurt anymore.
So we say goodbye to everything that taunted our soul
Goodbye to everything that we used to feel.
A fresh breath of greener pasture, it’s time to take it in
Our mind ready to let go of everything it had come to know in the dark
But greener pasture doesn’t feel like it’s supposed to, something’s missing.
The struggle, to be done with what was killing us inside?
The battle, between our sanity and insanity?
The hope, for a little light at the end of the tunnel?
The faith, that we would get to the end of the tunnel?
The anticipation, for freedom?
And after our first taste of a better life;
We realize we miss it all
For when we lost it all,
All the tears on the ground dried up, all the tears in our pillow soaked in.
We lost ourselves too.
So who then are we, without what made us push forward?
So we say goodbye to who we were
Having no idea who we are now.
“Are you Suicidal?”
I’ve been asked this question a couple of times I shrug it off most times I never really stopped to ask myself they misunderstood my poems I concluded.
Well I’m definitely not jumping off the bridge anytime soon but I’ll drown my soul if I could wash out my memories because I feel everything just might hurt less. I wish I could wake up with Amnesia life would maybe feel less fucked up but then I can’t kill one part of myself without killing the other.
Winter darkness Amplified grief exalted depression glorified melancholy. Mental scars to commemorate my experience Pain; a familiar feeling of nostalgia.
I feel like none should see this piece it feels more like a conversation with my inner self than a poem. But then who’s my inner self? The one I intend to kill. My inner self torments and filters away whatsoever joy that might be brewing. If I do this then, get rid of my inner self. I do so in self-defense is it then suicide?
Winds stopped blowing, Emotions stopped dancing So I guessed I’ll have to sleep on that question. call a lawyer, I’ll probably be needing one.
They placed my hand on a bible and made me swear
Judge, jury, and court they were
The clerk read out the rules to which I was to adhere
“Court in session” I heard the judge declare.
Ten thousand eyeballs fixated on me
Five thousand whisperers and screamers to convince
Court in session, a session in court
Either way I was doomed by default.
First came the pastor;
“Woe unto all men who sin, for to sin is of man.
But you should know no sin, for a woman need not sin.
And ye have sinned and come short of the glory of the church.
Sinner sinner woman, woman of sin! Sinful woman”.
Second came the father;
“Charity begins at home, and then your charity has never gotten home.
We laid your foundation, and you neglected our building.
Why not be a banker we told you, lawyers earn more money we preached.
Act ladylike that you may find a suitor we warned, the dark boulevards is no place for a woman we cried.
But you chose to disappoint, and the disappointment is you.
Disgraceful being! Not one of us”.
Third came the government;
“Tax evader, squanderer of public funds.
Abuser of public property, you built your home on our streets.
Obstructer of justice, you aided and abetted a thief.
Fugitive! Non patriot!”
Fourth came the seer;
“A thousand curses unto you who led people away from the light.
Blinded by foolishness and unable to see a clear path.
I see a legion for they are many, they that torment your soul.
Demoniac! Demonist! Demonic!”
“Speak woman and save yourself” the judge urged me
“Speak woman for they drown you with accusations.
Speak! Speak! Speak!”
To the pastor I said;
“Woe unto the church and clergymen like you,
Shame unto he that calls me a sinner and casts me out of the door.
Woe unto you! You cast me away because I have no penny to give.
Now tell me am I giving to the house of God or to the gods in the house?
If not fanning the flames of your greed is sinning, then I’ll sin till I die”.
To the father I said;
“Why extend charity home when charity never began from home?
People expected to provide and protect, but instead left me in utter neglect.
Think properly of the report you’ll give when your maker beckons.
I’ll gladly sing tales of how you shut away one given to you to nurture.
Let me tell you something about love
It is the overrated word in the ENGLISH vocabulary
A word so emphasized that it lives
We all, through our actions and inactions are victims of love
Like a zombie, our hearts as brains.
What is it they say?
Feelings are bitches,
Fly around like witches.
Am sure we all have stitches
From when we fell into ditches.
We do the sweetest things for love
We do the dumbest things for love
It hurts oh it hurts!
And the you that once loved is gone
And all that’s left is this demon con
This vile tyranny in your head
You do worse things that you can ever imagine
We lose who we are to whom it wants us to be.
Let me tell you about the love I have known
The worst kind of love
The one that comes with pain
It’s only sweet when she’s a she
Because she couldn’t hurt me I thought.
You see every other agent not she assigned by love
Has burnt me and will continue to
Each one worse than the last.
The kind of love I have had!
The type that gives jealousy free passage into my soul
Paranoia, low self-esteem, insecurity and pain hitched the ride
When sweet, when sour.
I want to be mad and I remember I have no right to be
And then I am sad because that I can be and there’s no care if I am.
I want to hold on but I was told not to and still I don’t know how to let go.
Am scared of what I’ll become
As I was scared of what I am now.
What do they say?
You don’t know what you’ve lost until you lose it
That’s a lie
You do know
You just love it more when you’ve lost it
That’s how vile love can be.
I am no expert on love, so please don’t take my word for it
Am just someone who has gotten to her disequilibrium.
I have fallen, I am falling
So let me tell you
I am scared I’ll become numb
And might never feel again.
My pillar of desperation
Oh sweet Goddess of sorrow and tragic inflation
Hear my call and make it stop
I seek just a drop of peace amidst depression.
Nero fiddled, my heart broke
Quick to memory thy gentle stroke
Don’t be scared my love .
While thy steward’s heart floats asunder
Peace where is thy healing power
Pour tranquility upon my soul I pray thee.
When history occurs consistently
Perhaps it’s inescapable
History into destiny
My worth easily dispensable.
Don’t be scared my love
Echos and Echos and Echos and Echos
Ut ne quis
Et sub Cuba Ero
Diutius servare non possum
Valleys of misery and orchids of self hate
Mysterious gallivanting of ferocious rage
Fountains of medieval passion
Cruelty upon my soul
Ut ne quis!
Et sub cuba Ero
Tempus pugnae est prohibere?
Mercy Mercy Eleos
Redeem my soul from the enslavement of hades
Mercy mercy Eleos
Thy subject can bear it no more
Diutius servare non possum
What is dead shall never die
What is broken shall never break again
Mercy Mercy Eleos.