Strange Faces. I

Part 1.

"Mama, I just gained admission to study in Uniben!" I exclaimed. After seven years of writing JAMB I finally made it.

My mother is a widow. My father died in the civil war. She often says that Nosa and I are all she's got. She often says that only the tough get going in life.

"Better be careful o Rose. You know you are a jambite. I mean did you hear of what cult boys did to that medical student last week? They raped her and threw her body into that bush path. The one in Ekenwan road naa...didn't you hear??? "asked Tony.

I heard. He could not understand why I seemed so cold. You see, the girl in question was my bunk mate.

Strange Faces. Prologue

"Ugbowo! Ugbowo Campus! Sisi u no dey go? " Shouted the cab man. My thoughts were far gone. "I dey go Oga, no vex," I said.

If only he had a moment to listen. I'd have told him I was not a sisi. I'd have told him to stop me ; to shoot me if possible.

If you've not met me, my name is Rose and I'm a cultist.

What a Week!

“**#!#%&@*!” A string of expletives comes out of my mouth as the alarm shatters my sleep. Monday morning! Again!

“Aaargh!” Sigh. I drag myself into the bathroom, groping in the dark. Somehow, my brain refuses to send the commands for my eyes to open fully. It’s probably still trying to enjoy the last lingering sweetness of sleep.

“**#!#%&@*!” Another string explodes as the cold water hits my face. My brain is awake now. I rushed my shower and was back in the room in no time. My brain starts to think of what to wear. An intelligent brain I have, but a lazier body. I know, from the bottom of my heart, that figuring out what you’ll wear in the morning the previous night can save you 30 minutes of dressing time. But I refuse to! Am I cursed? I say my prayers.

Sigh. I drag out clothes though. And a pair of shoes. Check. It looks neat. No need to shine them. Clean socks (don’t mess with athlete’s foot I remind myself). Dress up. Overdose myself with perfume. Why bother? I don’t even perceive them by the time I get to my car. Sigh. I pray other people do even up till close of work.

Rev my lovely mercedes’ engine. She’s old but she’s an awesome piece of engineering. Sally. She has taken me places. So when people ask “who drives this museum artefact?” I just wink at her. They’ll never understand.
Get to work. Pray to find parking space that is close enough to the office but won’t damage my career (parking in your bosses’ spot would do exactly that!). I’m 30 minutes early and I manage to occupy the last spot in the “nearest” space for people like me. Yea, that red camry behind me can’t park here…I took the last slot.

In the office now. What do I do? That’s story for another day. Most of my work is supposed to be on the field though so if it looks like I don’t have anything to do in the office, please don’t tell HR.
Looking up some office babes on the company network. Office babes. Hmm. Sounds tempting. Like the fantasies we had back in our broke school days. Dating a working class chic. Hmm. My friend recently got threatened by his banker chic – now ex. She was going to acidize his face if he tried to collect the expensive phone he had bought for her just before she dumped him. He had been totally played. She’d monitored his accounts and then flirted her way into his life. Sigh. What is the world turning into?

Fantasies don’t ever cover the minor details… for instance that a working class chic would still ask for N10,000 monthly maintenance fee from her boyfriend. Nor that that fair maiden you were breaking your head for would rather hang out with your boss. Hush. Don’t think about it too much. Just shake your head and keep fantasizing. Hmm. Mary is online. Should I…. Oh. There’s an email. Excel sheets! Lawd NOooooooooo!!!

Tuesday. Wednesday. Same. Thursday. Is today Friday? No. Sigh. Same. Friday!!! Yaaay! No night events this weekend. Sleep! Real chilling is when you have no alarm to wake up to. Watching tv. My phone rings. Gurl from Uniport. The rest of the evening is story for another day. Respect the school, that’s the point here.

Saturday. Sports club. 10am. A few good friends. That’s really all we need here on earth. A few good friends. We play lawn tennis. Maybe I should call it tennes because it’s nothing like what is seen on tv with the Nadals and Williams. Professional amateurs we are! But we have fun. And then table tennis. More fun. 4 pm. Everyone heads home. Some of us would have body pains for days.

Sunday. My birthday. I’m really shy about things like these. So I hardly tell people just before. Special apologies to Ify. I get loads of calls and messages. I’m sure I won’t read the ones on facebook for instance. Gave up trying to reply them all years ago. But it does make you appreciate yourself and people around you. A few of my friends come to the house too. I laugh even more pains into my body. Lord I thank You for my life and the life of the people I know. A toast to how far we’ve come!
“**#!#%&@*!” Monday morning! Again!



Written by Kenzo.

The Thread That Connects Us All.

She would never see me that way. She recently just said she sees me as a brother, I honestly wonder where that came from. Not that I'm angry, no I'm not. Ok, maybe a little pissed. Not at her but at the circle of life.

Rosemary just called me to her office, she said she had something to say. As I watched her fiddle with her hair, I imagined what could possibly make her so nervous. "There's something I've always wanted to tell you Osita..."

I went blank. I honestly thought we were really cool as friends because she had often teased me about Rolake and the other chics that easily caught my attention. I mean... It was just weird sha. So I told her I didn't know what to say because I did not see her that way. But that we would always be friends so there was no need for any "awkwardness".

So as you may have guessed, that was the last time she spoke to me. I tried to keep in touch but all I got were monosyllabic responses bathed with sublime hatred. I finally heard from a friend of hers that I led her on. See wahala o!

When Rolake told me she sees me as a brother, I remembered the look on Rosemary otherwise perfectly rounded face. It was one of confusion. One of despair.

I would never be hers, Rolake would never be mine. And if I do not find "THE ONE", I would settle for whatever the puppet master strings.

It's Monday and November. November is usually better than September, so have a great new month ahead!

A pen. A pad. A scarf. My glasses. The clock. V

Part 5. The End.

As Sister Nela ushered Senior Obiora and me into the convent's meeting room, I heaved a sigh of relief. At least now I would have a chance to explain myself. Now I would get justice, I said to myself.

"Anita, you have broken the school rules o. How dare you call the head boy by name? I mean, who gave you the right to walk into the senior's block at this time of the day? Shouldn't you be at prep? You know these things are not allowed. We clearly stated that such blatant disobedience leads to expulsion. I have no choice but to do so. I mean, it's unheard of," said Sister Nela.
I could not believe my ears. As tears freely rolled down my cheeks, I mustered words amidst broken chords.

"Senior Obiora abused me physically, Sister. I am pregnant for him. He wrote those letters that were found in my box, I just found out today because Dumebi knows his writing; he tutors science students in Physics. She is a science student Sister..." I choked; the pain was too much to bear.

"He knew I had reported him to Father Henry hence the conspiracy to get me expelled. I believe Father Henry told you this that day at the assembly. I don't know why I am the only one getting expelled, I don't understand. Where is Father Henry, he would vouch for me
I received a letter from my House Mistress the following morning. I had been expelled. "This is unusual o Anita, why dem no announce your offence for assembly as dem dey do before na. Wetin happen sef? Wetin you do?" she probed.

"I called the Head boy by name. He gave me a child. The school will rather part with the gifted than with the rich. I would survive Ma."

My aunt sent me back to the village to give birth to stay with my grandma. Three months later, I lost the pregnancy. I was however determined to continue my education and become the lawyer I had always wanted to be.

How I graduated from law school is all history now. As a high court judge, I need to be objective in this case of manslaughter, it's The State against one Obiora Omelora.
My clock tells me it's five minutes before I change my scarf to a wig. I just penned down my judgement on a pad and pulled off my glasses.
I know God will forgive me.

The End.
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.

(JRR Tolkien)

A pen. A pad. A scarf. My glasses. The clock. IV

Part 4

I ran. I ran as fast as I could to the prefects' lounge. There he was.

"How could you.. do this Obiora, how dare you?! I'm carrying your baby!", I screamed just as my palm landed on his face.
The room was dead silent. It was common knowledge that my aunt worked as a janitor in Senior Obiora's house. I usually assisted her during the holidays. You see, his father was a diplomat ; he belonged to the untouchables. On the other hand, I am an orphan with no one in this world except my aunt.

She couldn't quit her job at the diplomat's house just because Obiora raped me. She just could not. "How will I survive Anita? Please abort the baby, " she explained. "The rich always win my dear. Soon you will realise that. It's just how life is".

I had told Father Henry of my predicament during my last confession two months before. He promised to help and support me. He said he loved me and did not mind going against the tides to prove it. He lied.
When blackmail and politics shook his castle, it appeared it hung solely on the air.

P.S.: Watch out for the next one. It's the last part!

The Lady in Red Shoes...

It wasn't a regular Monday, I didn't have to snooze the alarm clock over and over, matter of fact I woke up before it rang. I kicked off with 150 push-ups and a 30 minutes burn session on the thread mill, in and out of the shower, dressed and sanctified with a few shots of creed. The drive to the office was however very typical, everyone was in a rush this morning with kekenapes and taxis stopping square in the middle of the road to drop off and pick up passengers.

My Yanni album has always helped me maintain my cool in traffic, within minutes I was heading to my car park and that was when it happened, the earth stopped for a moment and everything faded away, every single thing except her, everything except the lady in red shoes. Her steps were so graceful, she looked lost and was without a care in the world, it felt like a scene from your favorite Spanish soap opera. The moment lingered and by reflex my foot was already on the brake pedal, I have seen beauty in it's purest form in time past but this was different, before I could arrange my thought train, I was brought back to reality with the honking of the murano behind me. I caught a glimpse of a smile on her face as she walked away..

Will I ever see her again?
Will I ever see you again?

The lady in red shoes...