Jonathan Has Won!

I hoped the elections would be peaceful

And that the after election tribunals would return GMB as president elect

But you made sure we were clear about your promise of peace

You made the call, the call of acceptance, the call of sportsmanship

I have a new found respect for you, Sir

The voice of your 6 year tenure echoed nothingness, I tweeted

But then I was wrong!

Forever I would remember that you chose to do good 

Even with unlimited power to do evil

The noise of the sycophants around you

Perhaps didn't allow you see that beyond your niceness,

Nigeria was falling apart! 

We needed someone to act and go against the moth of corruption

That has eaten deep into the fabric of our society

I forever would be in honor of you,

Not because you performed as president,

Nor because we hail from the same region,

But because you have shown me, 

That when ambition and peace weigh on a scale

Peace wins! Jonathan you have won!
Not the elections, but a special place in the heart of every right-thinking Nigerian.

No 5, Ezeobi Street.

Part 1.

Strangers walked by Mama Vero's shop everyday; some stopping to buy biscuits for their kids on their way to school, others for random daily necessities. 

Mama Vero had a lot of friends. Many housewives who always came to tell her about their marriage woes. They all looked to her for support, she was a good shoulder to lean on. A widow, a strong catholic and a retired teacher. Her ears never got tired of listening, her mouth never got tired of counseling.

------

Vero was beautiful, dark and of average height. She was the last of three kids. Her twin elder brothers were already in the university. She was brilliant.

"Vero! Veronica!!! Where you dey?"

"Mama, I just finished preparing dinner for dem Ejima. Wetin happen?"

"Oh okay, well done. Come and carry this fowl to Uncle Titus. He says your JAMB results are out, eh? Collect am bring am make I see. No open am o. Hope say you pass, you know our agreement na? Abi..."

"Yes ma, let me go and wash my hands before I go"

-----

"Good evening. Please is you dad around? My mother says he has my JAMB result."

"Vero?" asked Ahanna

"Yes"

"He said you should wait for him. He walked a friend down the street. He would soon be back." 

"So where can I drop this fowl?"

"Hand it to me. You are a strong young girl o. Hehe" giggled Ahanna

The parlor was small and cozy. Ahanna was almost double her height. As he walked to the backyard, he thought of what she thought of him. Her eyes were strikingly dark and beautiful. Would that be the last time he would see her? All manner of questions crossed his mind.

Then My Words Not Be Few...

Sandra walked quietly home, musing over the results on the notice board. She had failed those four out of the nine subjects she offered, again. 

She wondered if all life was showing her was that she was not good enough. Her strides were long, her body stiff. 

The sky was grey, the rains were coming. The rains reminded her of how long the sun in her life had been away. She could not remember the last time she was happy. She could not remember which part of her life made any sense. She shortened her steps and decided to let the showers wash her rising tears away. She was giving in to the war within her. She was letting herself stay free to lose, free to accept defeat and cry over the defeat.

The tears were not going to change the Fs to As. They were not going to change the advise of the senate on her withdrawal. Nor were the tears going to make it any easier but at least she would have let go of all that was bottled on the inside. 

She thought she heard Ikenna call her name. She had loved Ikenna, Ikenna had someone else he tagged soulmate. She would never win, she accepted. 

*Honk* *Honk* 

"Sandra! Come into the car, let me drop you off. Are you ok? What's wrong?"

Sandra stood still, staring. Staring into the thin air. She didn't respond. 

Ikenna came down from the car and shook her. 

"Sandy, what's going on? Sandy!!"

The rain drops co-mingled with her tears and the salty taste hit her tongue. Her clothes clung to her body while her senses almost let go of her mind.

"To say that life is unfair is to call ashes, grey; we all know that. The pain I feel on the inside cannot be explained to you. I don't know what to say... Never mind Ikenna, in but a while I would see my Creator and then I know my words won't be few."

Normal

Blue sky. Scratch that, sky-blue sky. 

Hibiscus flowers, yellow roses.

Flat sandals, green color

Sling bag, pony tail hair.

Quiet.

Random thoughts. Crazy ideas.

5ft 8". Hour glass.

One lover. One heartbeat.

One desire. One God.

Peace.

Asa on the beats. Rhythm.

"Hello!". Stranger.

Friends. Lovers. 

One life. Shared.

Not. Normal.

The Nun and The Journalist

Ambient restaurant, soft music. Two heart beats, meant to resonate.

The journalist stared at her round face. Her eyes danced with many stories. He wondered how long he had been staring, all he knew was that he had never felt that way before. Never.

As she looked up, to catch his gaze, he flushed. His thoughts ran amok. He tried to silence the butterflies in his tummy all to no avail. He would write a story about her, he mused.

"But she's a nun, you can't fall in love with a nun! Get over yourself and this crush," his other self suggested.

He saw reason with the argument, he however knew he might never feel this way about any other person, ever, again.

-------

She wondered what he thought of her. If he found her attractive, if what she saw in his stare was indeed love, want. 

She would say more prayers for him, she couldn't add another person to her list of "crushes". She would pray for grace to keep her word, her bond.

Her stomach fluttered, her drink spilled.

-----

He stood up to help her, in that moment, that still second in time, their eyes locked.

"Sister, let me help you clean the spill," said the waitress, Sisi Vero.

She heard her but wasn't sure she could comprehend anything. Vero stylishly pushed the Sister aside while whistling "Ije love".

Vero would nag in days to come about the tension between one Oga Editor and a reverend sister. She would tell everyone who cared to listen what transpired that evening. She would say she wishes the Nun wasn't one.

The Sister would lose focus over the next few mass celebrations.

The Journalist would write endless versions of the same story on his column in Thisday newspaper.

Life after some seasons would return back to normal.

However, if you ever come across he article, remember, you read it first, here!

Just Another Day

The sky was grey, Anita was sad. She was sad because she was going to an empty home, alone, again.

The words of one 'Mide babe echoed in her head,

"If you do what you've always done, you'd be where you've always been"

Where had she always been? A state of denial, she agreed. For once in a long while, she was going to have a conversation with God.

The gala seller she drove past  on her way home seemed happy. The kind of happiness exuded by those agile dancers in she saw in Sunday church service. Were they just pretending or were they truly happy?

The honk from the car behind her shot through her thoughts. Soon she would be home,
each kilometre driven bringing her closer; closer to reality.

She dreaded opening her door. Afraid she would have to confront the part of her she had ignored for six months. Afraid, no one would hear her cry, not even the chair. Yet she prayed.

"I thought I would have enough venom to spit, but I don't.
  All I have are shattered words from a broken heart.
  I can't say all I want to say,
  Because I don't even know where to start from


  I thought I was numb but I am not
  I thought the feelings were dead but they aren't
  I still can't get over him
  I still can't forgive them

  All I know is I need to move on
  All I know is You need to help me
  To help me find the words I can't conjure
  To help me, lest I drown, never to rise again"


With tear filled eyes, she slept, believing the next day would just be another day.

I believe it wasn't, 'cause I heard God answers prayers and I know he heard her.