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Archive for July, 2013

Coming Back Home – Epilogue

Slowly, Adaobi’s clutching fingers relax from their death grip on the soaked bed sheets. As her heaving chest slows and resumes working normally, she allows her lips slacken in a smile. Maybe it is true what they say about men – the older the better!


She watches as Eze; moonlight glinting off his naked behind leaves the room. It is almost impossible to imagine how they had made it here – when four years ago it was as though she was married to her son.


And now…


It would be better if I just tell him now.


The thought scares her more than it should, because she clearly remembers what happened the last time she’d told him the same thing.


And it’s been so good – I’m scared to spoil it.


Adaobi slowly sits up in bed and looks at the second finger of her left hand. The rock resplendent there looks like it recently swallowed a rainbow – a yellow sunburst here, a red splash there, a blue sparkle elsewhere. She blushes shyly. How did I ever become so lucky?


It is true what the bible says. Sorrow may last for a night –


“You like it, abi?” Eze speaks from the doorway.


Adaobi smiles in response. “Exactly. ‘Like it’ is right – I love you for it.”


He walks over. Now it is his belly that catches the moonlight – it looks like a well-oiled bald dome. She smiles at her own joke. Who cares for a six pack? I love this one-pack – and everything that comes with it.


She mutters a low ‘Thanks’ as Eze hands her the glass of cold juice and she drains it in one gulp. She sets the cup on the table beside her as the bed dips under Eze’s weight. She turns in time to catch his lips in a fiery kiss, bodies pressing against each other as though they had not just ended almost two hours of lovemaking. Eze reluctantly breaks the kiss.


“Chei! I for like no go work tomorrow o,” he says, idly fondling Adaobi’s limb nearest to him, which happens to be a breast.


“You better stop that if you really have to go to work,” she says, laughter evident in her voice. Eze moves his hand away, and then moves his face to where his hand was. Adaobi shudders.


“Anyway, what is it?” Eze asks, his voice sounding muffled from where he is. “There’s something you want to tell me, isn’t there?”


She shouldn’t be surprised but she is; by the connection they share. It almost as though they can read each other’s minds these days.


“I’m…um…I’m…pregnant,” she stammers.


She looks at the hands she had folded in her laps, remembering what happened the last she said those exact same words to him.


Eze’s fingers gently touch her jaw and turn her face in his direction, a somber look on his face. He can tell what is going through her mind.


“I’m sorry I hurt you so deeply – so much so you would still remember after all this time.” He paused, and then a smile steadily showed forth on his face. “I want a girl. One of Chika’s enough for the rest of my life.”


The smile becomes wider as Adaobi’s lips reciprocate and she starts laughing. “Diayen, what makes you think it’s up to you?”


Eze jumps off the bed theatrically and kneels down beside it. “I know na, I know it has nothing to do with me. That’s why I’m begging.”


Adaobi, her eyes looking like an inner sun illuminated them, says calmly. “Well, okay. You’ll get a girl.”


Eze jumps up and on his wife, tickling her till she’s laughing and crying all at once. And then he finds a reason to kiss her lips softly – and ‘softly’ becomes something else entirely…



You may also like: Coming Home I

Coming Home II

Coming Home III




Thank you for staying with me!

Have a great week too!


Swift Scribbles: Lunch


I was hungry. So I stood up, walked out of the office and into the Chicken Republic directly opposite my office building.


I was at the counter about to order rice and beans when I saw this couple feeding each other fries.


Wouldn’t have bothered me – or I probably would have come to tell you that story, but something about the encounter made me write this story.


The man was my boss. The lady was my ex of eight months.


I jejely* walked back to the office and decided to starve.


I don’t feel like job hunting yet. Or what should I have done?




*jejely – informal slang for ‘gently’ or ‘softly’






Coming Back Home III


“How was work today?” Adaobi asked as she nervously puttered around in the kitchen. Hearing no response, she turned around in time to see Eze sneak a second piece of meat into his mouth; at the same time try to replace the pot cover quietly. She burst out laughing.


“Oga, at the rate you’re going there won’t be anything left for your son to eat o,” she said, still laughing.


Eze stopped chewing and looked at his wife with mock seriousness. “Me nko? I no go chop?”


The humor on Adaobi’s face vanished cleanly as if wiped off with a towel. “You…you want to eat…my food?”


Eze looked indifferent while inside he cringed. “Why is that news? Is it strange that a man wants to eat his wife’s food after a hard day’s work?”


Adaobi walked over to Eze and hesitatingly, touched her palm against his forehead. Eze closed his eyes, enjoying the cool feel of her hand. It felt so soft…so warm, as it lay there.


It felt like a stranger’s hand.


Her voice penetrated his closed-eyes-created darkness and warmed him gently and softly like a lover’s caress. “Nna, are you okay? Is something wrong?”


She was worried. Genuinely worried.


Swallowing the meat he was chewing, he opened his eyes and found himself looking into hers. There were a lot of things in there – things he did not recognize. Things that looked like they were running after each other in a race they couldn’t win. Suddenly he grabbed her arms and asked, “Adaobi, what happened to you?”

Adaobi shook off his hands so violently she staggered as he involuntarily let go of her. Reaching for the cooker to steady herself, she whirled almost immediately and stared at Eze angrily.


“What happened to me? What happened to ME?!” she started shouting, tears springing out of her eyes making her face look like an overfull pure water sachet. “WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?”


Eze looked away guiltily. “Why are you asking me that?”


Adaobi, her chest heaving with an emotion he couldn’t – didn’t want to identify, responded; “Are you okay? What is this – what are you doing?! You don’t eat my food, you don’t touch me – you don’t even look at me for almost…” she stopped, emotions overwhelming her. “And then suddenly…. What are you doing? Who are you?!”


Eze felt ashamed. What am I doing? What went wrong with us?


But bros – you know na. Why you dey ask Jamb kweshun?


Damn conscience. But it was right.


He knew.


“You never forgave me for Chika. And though I really tried to…” she stopped, quite sobs shaking her shoulders. “You said it was a mistake to marry me…” she stopped and wiped her face with the back of her hand. The gesture oddly reminded Eze of crying children – and he thought about the last time he had seen it.


There are no kids anymore o. They grow too fast.


And whose fault is that?


When she told him she was pregnant it was like everything became dark. He had suddenly realized how empty words like ‘I love you’ and ‘I’ll always make you happy’ were – easy to say; hardly ever meant.


He hadn’t been able to see that it was his fault as well as hers – in fact it was more of his fault. He refused to agree that there was a better way to have handled the whole thing. All he could see was that he had become a father overnight; a husband over the next few weeks – something he wasn’t ready for. Sure, it had cost him his job as a business manager, but they had not died, had they?


He thought about the cliché – that one about how loving their mother is the best gift a father can give his kids. He thought about the fact that he loved Chika, loved the boy enough to do anything to protect him. But is it fair to love the gift and not the giver?


He looked at her now, the mother of his son, the woman he had stood in front of before God and witnesses and promised to love, honor and obey. Even though he had spat out those words in fury – even though he had been eyeing the bridal train as he was making those vows, should he not have tried to be a better husband?


What kind of man am I raising my son to be?


Who cares? If you know say you sabi ask redundant questions, why you no go work for JAMB?


“Adaobi, I made a mistake…but it wasn’t by marrying you. It was by not trying. See, I blamed you so much – and it’s almost as though I needed an excuse for it not to work.” He moved closer to his wife and carefully put his arms around her. The iron rod in her back remained erect for a few seconds, and then slowly it unbent and became a human spine.


They held each other there, standing silently until Eze’s body started to inform him of some biological reactions. This is awkward; he thought to himself. I finally start to fix the holes in my life and this…this shameless thing just wants to plug a hole.


Adaobi sighed contentedly, innocently moving her hips closer to her husband’s. Eze’s sudden jerk back made her head come up from the shoulder in which it was nestled. “Is something wrong?” she asked. Eze had to clear his throat twice before he could speak. “No…nothing,” he said, heart thumping like a konga drum at work. It was enough she accepted him this much. It would be better if he did not push his luck.


Adaobi looked at him – Adaobi who, somehow within the past few minutes had gone from plain to being the most beautiful woman he had seen a while; smiled at him in that way that used to tickle his ears. “Nothing, shey?” she said.


Eze swallowed and nodded. He had no idea what was coming.


Adaobi suddenly wedged her left thigh between his legs and softly bumped her hips against his groin. Eze exhaled noisily and almost fell down. His wife steadied him, laughing happily.


“Hmmm,” she said when they were standing properly again. “Seems we have a dilemma here.”


“What dilemma is that?”


“Your body is saying it has missed mine – but your mind is saying you’re moving too fast. And you don’t know if you want to go that far all in one night; you don’t know how I feel about it.” She looked like a kid with unlimited credit in the Shoprite sweet section. “Am I right?”


Eze nodded. “It’s…a lot to take in at once.”


“Well, here’s my feedback!” Adaobi said, and grabbed her husband’s most intimate part suddenly but gently. Eze’s knees became pap in a nylon bag and he fell on the kitchen floor, Adaobi sprawling across him and laughing at the same time. He kissed her throat; slight glimpse of her azure bra strap peeking from underneath her blouse testing his control.


“Mummy I’m hungry,” a voice said from the doorway. The grownups scrambled off their feet hurriedly to see a sleep-infested Chika rubbing his eyes.


“Okay baby,” Adaobi said, hurrying to the boy and hugging him. “Let’s get you eating.”


As she carried him past his father, she whispered in his ear, “I’m coming back for you, honey. Don’t think you’re safe.”


She winked at him and kept moving. Eze swallowed and smiled.


He needed a drink.


Thank you so much for staying with me.
The story’s done – but there’s a small piece remaining – a ‘three years later’ kind of thing they do in Nollywood movies.
Begging your indulgence, would you still like to read that?



Pounding. Slashing.

Softly caressing, roughly intruding

A hello when it’s least expected

Calling ahead for days and not showing up.

Spelling peace. Clearing filth (or exposing it)

A respecter of no one, leveller

One with the grave.


gently rough

gently rough courtesy

Coming Back Home II



If you have not read Coming Home I, click here now!


Hehehehe. Good morning!


When did I stop loving my wife? He asked himself.


The answer came from his ever-honest consciousness instantly; It’s not a matter of when you stopped loving her. It’s more a matter of if you ever loved her at all.


He blinked repeatedly with shame. He never loved her.


He looked at the boy beside him. Chika’s eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply and calmly. He didn’t stir as the car left the tarred main road and began climbing the rocky slope of the street they lived on. Eze’s mind went back to his wife, and inexplicably he ached to see her. But what if she isn’t home? What does she do throughout the day sef?


What if she’s having an affair?


She dare not!


Ehen, see ya head like ‘she dare not’. Are you not having an affair? IN fact; nna, are you not having SEVERAL?!


He drove up to his gate and bit his lower lip nervously. He felt totally out of sync – as though he was about to meet his wife for the first time. Suddenly he picked up his phone and switched it off. He did not feel like going to the island anymore.


“Sanu, oga Eze,” the gateman saluted as he opened the gate. Eze lowered his side window and responded. “Sanu alhaji. How market?”


The man shrugged. “Dey go dey go.” He suddenly peered into the car and saw the sleeping boy. “Kai! E don go flay ballu abi?”


Eze laughed and put the car in gear. “Abi o. E don commot since morning na – e must tire!” He waved at the man as he drove past; easing his car into the landlord’s parking space. He smiled grimly. The man was going to have to adjust.


Turning off the car engine, he stepped out of the car, walked to the other side and opened the door to carry his son – and then he looked up and realized his window was still down. He reached across the sleeping boy and turned on the ignition, pushed the window button and watched it close. And then he eased back to carry the boy – and bumped into someone.


“Sorry,” they said at the same time, and he turned to stand face to face with his wife, Adaobi.


He felt how you would feel if you suddenly found out your next door neighbor; the same one you have lived with for almost nine years was Genevieve? Not that Adaobi was that beautiful or anything.


In fact, she was looking thinner and paler than he remembered. There was a droop at the corners of her mouth – and the shine had gone out of her eyes.


Her hair…


“Welcome,” she said, not looking at him.


“What happened to you?” he said, unconsciously speaking out his thoughts. “What?” she asked, meeting his eyes for the first time. “What do you mean?” she asked again.


“Nothing,” Eze mumbled, and suddenly brushed his lips against hers. Adaobi flinched in surprise and he almost laughed out loud at the shocked expression on her face. Instead he turned, pulled his key out of the car ignition, scooped up the still-sleeping boy in his arms and sidestepped his wife when she reached for him.


“Are you not going out again?” she asked as she fell in step beside him. Eze shook his head.


“No. I’m staying home today with my son and wife.”


He walked on into the house carrying Chika and therefore missed the look on his wife’s face.


I apologize for the length. The next place I could reasonably break it off would have made it an epistle!


Thank you. Let’s make it a date – next Monday! 


Have a fulfilling week!

Midweek Fix: And Death Cries

I had a conversation with Death last night;

In tears she was; making noises with deep sighs

It startled me; I was scared – I cried

And then I saw her tears; I wanted to ask why

But I was scared.

She said; with that shivery, scary vibe

‘It isn’t your time.’

I hushed

And she continued; in that same quiet voice,

‘This is what I do; you must think my tears are absurd,

But what we do is not always quite what we love,

Taking old souls really is my job,

But the way the young die nowadays?! Ridiculous!’

I though I understood what she meant;

But then she said ‘I have seen things you can’t imagine’

They say the graveyard is full of potential,

Of what use is potential to the graveyard?

Then I got the gravity of her tears; the weight of this grave yarns

So I sat at my system to spin a yarn

Stop procrastinating; do what you need to now,

No time like the present; I no fit shout,

Don’t live wasted half-lives; the grave has had enough,

Do what you know you need to; the universe needs you.

And death still cries. And cries.

And we die.



Coming Back Home I


The nine year-old said “Me and Tobi have agreed. We don’t ever want to get married. Ever.’


The forty-two year old looked at the nine year-old, an amused expression on his face. “And why not?”


The nine year-old thought carefully. “Because marriage does not make people happy.”


The forty-two year old was shocked. “Who told you that?”


“Nobody. But Tobi says his parents argue and fight loudly – that his father likes breaking things and his mommy likes crying. I told him my parents don’t argue – they just don’t talk. And we both agree that both our parents are very unhappy.”


Eze turned back towards the road and gripped the steering wheel tighter, his face frozen in a smile. It shook him to his center to hear the words coming out of his son’s mouth – and for the first time in a long time, he looked in the mirror and was appalled at what he saw.


His son looked at him. “Did I make you angry, daddy?”


Eze rubbed the boy’s head. “No, Chike. You’ve made me think.”


The boy nodded and looked out of the window as the man continued driving. Out of the corner of his eye he watched the boy and wondered what today’s children were on. “My parents don’t argue – they just don’t talk.”


My God; he thought, what have I been teaching my son?


He felt ashamed to realize he hadn’t thought about his wife in a while. Adaobi. Trying to bring up her image in his head was some kind of feat; he found to his chagrin. What sort of wahala is this?


He felt a small surge of anger at his son. How dare he – but then, it wasn’t the boy’s fault. He was saying what he saw. He and Adaobi were strangers living in the same house.


A streak of cold sweat running down his back made him shudder suddenly, and irritably he pushed the AC control to max. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he pushed down the throttle.


Which kain wahala be dis? Which kain pikin be dis?


In fact, which kain afternoon be dis?


The plan was to get Chika from school, drop him off at home – and zoom off to the island for Champions League and Sandra’s with the boys. All of a sudden, after nine years of marriage he was having a crisis of conscience. He didn’t need that. Not now.


“I don’t need that now,” he said half-aloud.


“N..need what?” Chika asked his father. Eze looked at the boy to see him shivering. Feeling guilty, he turned off the AC.


“There. Is that better?”


“Yes. Thanks dad!”


Eze nodded and eased off the throttle as neared the junction to Ogudu. His turning into the road was fluid and smooth; the earmark of a professional driver – but it wasn’t smooth because he was paying attention to it. It was smooth because turning into that road had become second nature to him. He could do it with his eyes closed.


His mind was not on the driving.



Hope you enjoyed that! Please check for updates on Monday!


Have a fantastic week!