Can You Go A Little Deeper, Darling?

Scene from the movie Southside With You

I love to talk about sunset and sunrise, flowers,songs and books and to share mutual jokes.

I love to hear about breakfast, lunch and dinner time, the songs on the playlist you created specially for us, and all the funny things you heard, read or saw and thought to share with me. I love to laugh loudly with you about the mundane, sublunary and not so serious things. 

But,

Can we go beyond talking about favourite colours, food, cultures, movies and books to why?

Like why do I like Brown even if it is sombre and thought to evoke feelings of dreariness? Or why do I watch a movie over and over again even if it is over a decade old and wasn't even a Box Office hit? Could it be because the characters' experiences resonate with me? Is it because I laugh when they laugh, cry when they do and have lived the story they tell?

Can you go deeper? Can our conversations transcend the realm of the ephemeral to the sublime?

Can we have difficult conversations like the thoughts you entertain, the obscene fantasies you may have sometimes? Those ones you would be too embarrassed to share with anyone else because it may make them see you differently or even lose  respect for you? Can you tell me of your deepest pain, your eternal regret, your biggest fear and ultimate hope? What are the things that can set you on fire? Do you scamper and run in the face of pain?

Can you undress for me, stripping completely till you are naked, clothed with nothing but your truths, scars and the wounds that are yet to heal?

Would you take off the bejeweled watch, the bespoke shirt designed with none other but you in mind, the calf-skin belt with your initials monogrammed on the buckle, those trousers built both for style and functionality, that shell cordovan shoes that speak louder than words and your perfume that in itself tells a story?

Can you go deeper than sweet words and sugar coated messages? 

Can you tell me about the time you acted out of character in anger and did things that surprised even you? Can you tell of those deeds that may make any mortal consider you a monster?

Would you share the struggles you have fought for decades and still haven't overcome? Would you share the habits you fear you may never drop, not even for love? Would you tell me the story of your pain - raw and undiluted? 

Can I go deeper, just a little bit just so you see if I'd still be here? 

Are there ghosts from the past lurking somewhere underneath your charm and calm demeanour? Would I find coffins filled with decaying corpses and skeletons from years past? 

More importantly, 

Can you go deeper with me? Can you ask me of my worst experiences, the ones I wouldn't even share when I am asked of my worst experience? Can you ask about my biggest pain and struggles, the cruel hands I have been dealt by life? Can I tell you the stories of hurt, betrayal and how it has shaped me? Can I share my deepest secrets, those I dare not even whisper to myself for fear of the walls eaves dropping?

Beyond hickeys, soft strokes and nibbles, would you hit me hard with verity and the gospel of your life?

Would you give me a chance to practice unconditional love? To show that I meant every word when I said I would always care?

I may be asking for too much but would you dig or delve in a little deeper darling, please?

A Promise Kept: What It Means To Love Another

To feel extravagant fondness for another human. To consistently, unashamedly and passionately pursue them, seeking their heart.

To take on another human, promising to fight for them no matter what, to embrace their past, accept their present and forge towards an unknown future with them.

To make sacrifices you never thought possible for them, counting it as nothing and seeking their joy as your only gain.

To have your spirit dance excitedly at the thought and sight of another human, to look in their eyes and feel a fire in your heart and excitement in your soul. To heave with the realization that even if life takes them to the desert with nothing but a shirt and a tent, you'd be with them still.

To have another soul worried and restless until they are sure you are okay. To hear them speak words of life to you, challenging you to rise on your lowest days.

To have them sit with you on hard days, saying and hearing nothing but silence. To hold their hand through the silence yet hearing their heart say "I have got you no matter what".

To hear them sing a song written specially for you, unashamedly bellowing in a coarse voice in a bid to chant your worth. 

To watch them in amazement, thinking how funny their voice sounds but unable to laugh because you feel tears of gratitude welling up at the sincerity and genuineness of their expression.

To reach out for them at past 1am in a bid to snuggle, only to find their side of the bed empty. To call out their name and when greeted with silence, walk out and find them in the study or the living room or the dinning room or the patio or the balcony or even by the poolside deep in thoughts or prayers.

To press for answers but get none, to become agitated because they are visibly worried. To sit by their side, holding their hands and leaning against them in a way that says whenever you are ready to talk, I'll listen and if not, I'd still be here for you.

To hold your breath as you wait for them to change, for their consistency to dwindle, for their commitment to wane. To finally exhale at the realization that they would never stop fighting for you, even when it hurts their pride.

To one day accept the fact that you too cannot help yourself where they are concerned and that come what may, there's no place else for you to go. 

So you give them your heart willingly, knowing also that your body is theirs too because in them you have found a home.

To carry another human in your spirit, wishing them even better than you wish yourself. To share in their happiest and lowest moments, while feeling gratitude for the privilege of their presence.

To look in each others eyes and say "I have got you darling today, tomorrow and for all of time".

To carry their secrets with you, never judging, neither demanding perfection. To know too that you needn't perform or put up an act with them because while you are imperfect, you are enough for them, and them for you.

To meet others who look, act, speak, dress, know and have better than them yet hearing only their voice in your head, their name tatted on your heart, their laughter ingrained in your soul.

To realize long before you walk down the aisle  to them, that you have forsaken all others and will stick with them come what may.

To know that what you share, the commitment, devotion, allegiance and loyalty is not just a promise made but a promise kept. 

This for me, is what it means to love another.

Richmond Dayo Johnson: More Than A Man, You Were An Experience

 

How could you die? How is it possible that I would never hear, see or read from you again? How can one word change everything?

Death!

I can spell the word, I have heard and used it so many times but I never knew its impact. I never knew what a thief it is until it took you.

But did you really die?

I know your heart has stopped beating but have you died? Can I call it death if your memory lives on, alive and vibrant? If I can still hear your laughter, can I say you died? If I still see your face and hear your kind words, can I say you died? I have cried since yesterday and refused to use the words 'RIP' for you but reality stares me in the face, reality says otherwise.

Reality says I would never be able to pick up my phone to call you again because even if the call is answered, it would never be your voice. The voice of the man who epitomized grace, class, panache and excellence. You finessed your way through life and so graciously sprinkled love and kindness in the lives of those who came your way. I have read the tributes and thousands have the same thing to say "RDJ was a quintessential gentleman, true thought leader and sensitive mentor".

From that first encounter in 2013, you became a significant part of my life. Waking me up with calls just to speak words that water and make me bloom. Yours was a heart that loved without thought for class and status. Your love was blind to appearance and background, you saw my soul and that was all that mattered to you. I was insecure but you kept calling forth gold out of me. I doubted myself many times but you were never tired of reaffirming my worth. 

What a man you were! What a teacher! What a mentor!

My RDJ! If I knew I would have reached out more, if I knew I would have said 'thank you' everyday. If I knew I would have left work to see you on the days work brought you to my city. You were never too busy for me, for calls, for messages and even video calls. You promised "my dear Okiemute, I am committed to your growth" and you kept your word.

My RDJ! I could go on and God knows if you could be here for one more day, I'd say thank you to you over and over again.

Death! What a terrible thing, taking you with no prior notification. Stopping us in our tracks and causing us grief with no thoughts for our feelings.

Yet, you live on RDJ! For as long as the memories of time spent with you endure, you live, maybe not in body but in a space that cannot be hacked - our hearts.

Beloved Husband, Father, Grandfather, Coach, Mentor and Friend.

RDJ, the best amongst men of your ilk, you were not just a person, you were an experience and I thank God for the privilege to have known and experienced you.

Alas, I cannot escape it and I have to say Rest in Peace Sire.

Embracing Mercy, For Better or Worse

The first time he asked to sleep with you, you said "God forbid" as you stormed out of the office. You couldn't believe he would ask you to do that.

Did he not know you are married? The impunity and arrogance. "Evil man." 

But you got home and the bills were still there. You had prayed and continued to trust. You wouldn't cheat on your husband, you wouldn't violate the vows you made. You went about your job, avoiding Chief as much as possible at work. Useless man who thinks you are cheap because you desperately need money. 
You called everyone you know asking for financial help. "Nothing is too small", were your words. The excuses reeled in, they too had bills to pay and little to spare.

You waited and watched, prayed and strove, hoping help would come. You watched Richard your husband too, he had become a shadow of himself. Pensive, moody, despondent, temperamental, mad and sad. The slight arguments turned to quarrels and now shouting matches. You would go 3 days without talking to each other and when night came, he would stay in the living room. You got angry, he was being selfish you thought to yourself. 

"Didn't he know you understood it wasn't his fault? Didn't he see you were trying to be supportive in spite of the challenge?"

You cried and cursed and repented, "God please help me", was your constant cry. 

Days turned to weeks and then months until that day. 

You had gone to the hospital to see Sylvia, your 16 months old daughter who needed a Portoenterostomy for her liver. That day, Dr Raymond shared the news that changed everything as you knew it. Your baby may not live for longer if the procedure wasn't done soon, and in fact a transplant may be needed now. You cried as you asked for more time to put the funds together. But it wasn't even up to Dr Raymond, time was running out and a procedure had to be performed.

That day as you drove home, you called Mr Anizor who had made an offer on your car. You refused to sell to him initially because you felt he was being wicked. How could he offer 800,000 naira for a car with a market value of over two million naira? You called him that day because no one else even made an offer. 
"I'll accept what you have", you told him as you swallowed your pride. 
He purchased your car making the money you had a total of about six million naira. But you still needed ten million naira. The angel you had been praying for was yet to show up. Your faith was failing and for the first time you considered Chief's offer. 

What price would be too much to save the life of your child? Your marriage as it was, seemed to be nearing its end, you had promised for better or worse but the worse was too much to deal with. 

You remember the day you walked into Chief's office, you didn't bother with greetings but spoke six words.

"I'm headed for your Guest house." 
He looked up from his computer, obviously stunned at first and then he smiled. He made a call to the Guest house to say he was expecting a guest and you walked out. You wore the blue Zara wrap dress that accentuated your curves and showed some cleavage.

The last time you wore it was 22 months ago when you showed up at Richard's office with nothing underneath, just your dress and River Island ankle high heeled peep toe sandals. He looked perplexed at first but smiled when you shut the door and unwrapped the dress, standing in nothing but your heels. Those were the good days, but they seemed like a distant past now.

You arrived Chief's guest house and took in the room as you stepped in. The man sure knew what class and opulence should look like, it was a beautiful suite reminiscent of the hotel where you spent your honeymoon in Santorini. He arrived about 30 minutes after and as he spoke about how he had been drawn to you from the first day he saw you, you imagined how many appointments he had cancelled for his romp with you.

You have vague memory of the time with him because you were thinking of Richard and Sylvia and the future of your family. 
Hours later, you sat in Dr Raymond's office discussing plans for Sylvia's referral to India for the surgical procedure. Chief had given you fifteen million naira even though you asked for ten million naira.

You didn't tell Richard what you did but the minute you told him he needed to sign the form giving his consent for the referral, you knew he would know. He would know that you had violated your vows and traded your body and dignity to save your daughter. As you both drove home, he pulled over, pulled you to himself and whispered in your ears "I'm sorry you had to do what you did but I promise to love you like you loved our daughter and gave your all for her."

Tears trickled down as he tilted your face to look at his, you looked away, ashamed.

"I would never judge or condemn you my love. Your secret is safe with me and beyond love, I adore you now." 
You both cried and it seemed surreal as you had prepared for the worse, you thought your marriage would end.

One month after you returned to Nigeria with Sylvia, you quit your job. You felt dirty and couldn't look at your body in the mirror for a long time but Richard's love stayed, patient and kind, helping and encouraging you to move on. It wasn't a mistake, it was a deliberate choice, he too accepted it and even asked your forgiveness for his inability to raise the money leading you to do what you did. Still, it wasn't easy and on the days you were not cold to him, you were overly harsh because you expected him to get angry, mock you and leave. Instead he would send you messages, "I'm still here and I'll be here waiting till you forgive us."

He had to nurse not just Sylvia to health but you too.

It is over a year now, Sylvia is fine, you have healed and managed to lock the incident in a safe somewhere in your head. But more than ever the words of Job in Job 14:7-9 make more sense to you, 

"There is hope for a tree that has been cut down; it can come back to life and sprout. Even though its roots grow old, and its stump dies in the ground, with water it will sprout like a young plant."

You were like a tree cut down by life's challenges but Richard watered you with love, he chased after you fiercely, and you didn't just grow, you blossomed like a rose in springtime.

Today you hold people to a standard of grace, never judging, patiently watching and remembering that anyone can be a victim given the right circumstance. After all, you are a fruit of the seeds sown by the one person who could have kicked you when you fell.

You have learned that bad choices never really meant a person was bad, they only react based on their experience and exposure. People in themselves are imperfect and need only be loved even when they make mistakes, so now you have become a farmer, sowing seeds of mercy, kindness and love.

Today you have embraced mercy and love for better or for worse because like the great apostle Paul wrote "three things will last forever—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love." - 1 Corinthians 13:13 (NLT)

You, The Most Riveting Love Story

One word, with three letters spelling YOU,

Y and O and U, together culminating in YOU.

Like, why does the spinning in my head stop at the thought of YOU?

Oh the peace as the gbam-gbam-dum-dum stills because of YOU.

YOU, the lips that speak life to water and make me bloom.

YOU, the eyes that light up my path, watching me with love like a Groom.

YOU, the hands that hold me, guiding me through darkness.

YOU, the ears that listen while mortals slumber through night's stillness.

One word, with the letters Y and O and U to say the word YOU;

Father, Lover, Burden bearer, Teacher, Enigma, and Muse, YOU.
The mastermind constantly working wonders only you can do.

My safe place, praising YOU is my favourite thing to do.

Oghene ro fego - the God who is deserving of my worship

Agbani lagbatan - the one who delivers completely

Gaga n'ogwu - the God that walks on thorns

Yod Hay Waw Hay (YHWH) - the self existent one

YOU the most beautiful notes penned for music or poetry;

YOU, the most phenomenal and riveting love story.

YOU, the most remarkable event that happened to me;

YOU, a constant reminder that goodness, grace and mercy never left me.

He Fixes Broken Things - and People

Broken things are not allowed in the palace - it's a thing. 

If you think I'm joking, go back to the record of Kings.

From Saul that man who stood head and shoulder above all

He was tall and strong, the most handsome of them all

To David whose reign was characterized by wars and alotta skirmish

and Absalom in whom there was not even a single blemish

Broken things are not allowed in the palace, don't you know?

It's a space for diamonds, gold and every precious stone you know

Broken things and people have no room even in the servants' quarter

Cos the palace has no space for a life filled with clutter

It's a place for Kings and nobles and men courageous and whole

Who dine and wine from goblets that can buy even your soul

Broken things are not allowed in the palace you see

That means in it there's no space for people like me

Broken, battered, shattered with a proclivity for mistakes

A life mutilated and marred by all the wrong choices I make

Yet the palace was the one place where I desperately needed a space

I wanted to be in, even before I had an encounter with amazing grace

I fussed and pressed as I thought of a way through

Read the books, seeking counsel that might birth a breakthrough

I pined, and yearned, hungered and hankered till I was worn

Yet eager to find a space even if it meant being scorched by the sun

But the truth hit hard forcing me flat on my face

Broken things and people will never in a palace find space

Then I met this King, the one called the God of Jeshurun and Zion

Ephrathah! He said and my cup filled up to inundation

Now I have become Hephzibah and my land Beulah

A personification of grace and mercy with a dose of charisma

He accepts and fixes broken things till they are free to be

But you may never understand if you had never met me

Broken things can be allowed in the palace, this truth I have learnt

Cos of the God who fixes things and people no matter how broken or bent.

And if you doubt cos you think you are too broken to be fixed

Then ask about the girl I was before He called out "Talitha Cumi"

He breathed and suddenly life has a new meaning for me

And I can scream Rehoboth! because in the palace, he's made room for me.

A Love Stronger Than You or I

A love stronger than you or I,
A love that would never say bye.
Speaking the truth undiluted, bitter but peppered with warmth,
Reminding us that in our similarities and differences lie our worth.
Remembering to forget the wrongs, constantly forgiving imperfections,
Holding instead to the good, the simple understated yet honest intentions.
Never forgetting the richness of the laughter that warms our soul,
Even on the days when all we can manage is a sigh or a growl.

A love seemingly fragile yet consistent enough to make a mockery of lust,
Bigger, braver, higher, wider and stronger than the two of us.
Staying even when pushed to the brink by hurtful words and wrongs,
Staying because the many more rights are what make us so strong.
A love that understands that there are so many things we are not, like perfect,
Yet sees the realness, strength, resilience and genuineness we reflect.
Through life's many seasons of cool, warmth and hot,
Like gold it got purer as it was forged in life's heated pot.

A love that says Yes! rescuing and choosing us over and again,
Reminding us that the gift of each other is our greatest gain.
Through years of pain, turmoil, tears and hard days,
Holding and keeping us safe as we find our way back to sunny days.
An affair that defies logic making a mess of arrogance and pride,
That even when we thought we would die, we always stayed on for one last ride.
Now I look back and wonder where all the time went,
As I ponder on the love that held my heart steady from the day we met.

A love that got us two on a life long dance of tango,
And now we know that try as we might there's no letting go.
Giving me wings to soar, nudging me to reach for, do and be more,
Standing tall through the toasts we made as we became so much more.
As the colours fade and I watch heaven come to me,
I admit that my biggest gain is to have been loved for me.
That a soul reset its priorities the day it set sights on mine,
Relinquishing the familiar to make his heart and life accommodate mine.

And if I could rewind the clock to turn back time's hand,
I would still give all for this love God gave me through your hand.
Through water and fire I'd walk and my flag I'd hoist,
Till I feel that tingle in my heart caused only by the sound of your voice.
I would watch, pray and wait forever and a day more,
Cos for your love, there's nothing I wouldn't do or endure.
This love that in its minutest form is stronger than you or I,
And would never say bye, no matter how hard we try.

How Can I Find My Way To You And You To Me?

Memories. That's all we have now.

Memories of days in the Sun, days of laughter and play.

Days that before our eyes seem to have suddenly slipped away.

Days when we could just up and leave, without a care.

Days when making plans and commitments didn't seem like a dare.

Days when we could just touch and stretch out hands for a shake.

When rubbing skin against a stranger wasn't counted a grave mistake.

Days when we shared blankets instead of peeking in response to "hellos".

When we could just fly and like Angels happily rocked our halos.

Days taken for granted, moments we thought would always last.

Days now gone by, the worst we feared is here at last.

The worst has come but what next we must ask?

How do we make the most of the daunting and arduous task?

These days in the storm, and in the conundrums of hell's fire.

How can they prove to us the infallible truth that the Devil is a liar?

How can we find strength to turn houses once again to homes, love cubicles?

Filled with warmth and laughter and the calm assurance that we are each other's miracles.

How can actions of love transcend the realm of primal instincts?

And morph into intercourse that goes deeper than collision between sheets

How can this serve as a reminder of our common denominator, our humanity,

And instead of ending us, help me find my way back to you and you to me?

The Cost of A Touch: Lessons From The Coronavirus Pandemic

"May the angels protect you
Trouble neglect you
And heaven accept you when it's time to go home
May you always have plenty
The glass never empty
Know in your belly
You're never alone

May your tears come from laughing
You find friends worth having
With every year passing
They mean more than gold
May you win and stay humble
Smile more than grumble
And know when you stumble
You're never alone

Never alone
Never alone
I'll be in every beat of your heart
When you face the unknown
Wherever you fly
This isn't goodbye
My love will follow you, stay with you
Baby, you're never alone."

These are lines from Lady Antebellum's song 'Never Alone', and they make so much sense to me at a time like this. A time when humankind is puzzled and unsure where to turn for answers, a time when tears have flown so much that people do not know if they'd ever really laugh again, a time when a hug would really mean alot but we can't even hold hands. 

Who knew? 

Who would have thought that 'a touch', the gesture that says "I am here for you, you are never alone", would become the thing to avoid? Who would have thought that the things that take our time, work and the fast life would someday mean nothing and we'd desire only each other, to just breathe with each other? Who knew that in the face of pain and uncertainty we would have to fall back to love, stuck with family - literally?

I read statistics of people that are dying from the virus that has plagued the world and I imagine how their loved ones feel. Worse still is that these ones may never be able to grieve because they'd be too worried with thoughts of their own safety especially if they had physical contact with the deceased. Who knew how costly a touch could be?

"Who knew that money would someday fail?" This is what I asked myself as my neighbour who I'd asked to help me get something from the market came back to say it wasn't available anymore. She too couldn't get what she wanted.

Just days ago, my brother came to my house with bags filled with food items, so many. "In a few days people would not be able to buy food, so I thought to get these for you" were his words as I asked why he bought SO MUCH of everything. Today his words have come to pass and I'm mighty glad for the love of a brother who foresaw the future and looked out for 'US' because the 14-day lockdown has resulted in scarcity of food.

Today we have so much of the one thing we couldn't afford because of our fast life - time, and as I respond to the one question that has continually been asked by the people in my life "are you safe?", I accept that all we have is each other. Today as I sit in my home I wonder if it is all worth it. Stress, pride, hate, selfishness, (un)justified anger, envy, strife and many other unhealthy habits, are they worth it?

I am currently listening to Kristian Stanfill's 'In Christ Alone' and I rest, assured that I and the ones I love are safe in Christ alone. He is my peace, light, strength, song, corner stone, mind regulator, heart fixer, comforter and safe place, firm through the storm.

Today, I choose faith not fear because I am sure that when the storm passes, I'll be stronger, will value my loved ones even more and when it's all over, I'll rise with a song. You will too.

The Things You Tell Yourself To Feel Okay

A sharp pain sliced through your back as you made to stand up. It is one of the many issues that you have had to deal with since you became pregnant seven months ago - nausea, occasional abdominal pain, excessive appetite for sugary food and that sudden urge to cry.

You suspect though that the urge to cry stems from the challenges you have had to put with where Nnamdi is concerned.

Like this morning when you asked him to take you to the hospital for the antenatal session, even though he always declined. You asked because you knew he had the week off work and even added that the Doctor said him joining the session, would help with bonding.

He cut you off before you landed, reminding you that he didn't ask for 'this'.

You felt the sudden urge to cry as you asked "This? You refer to our baby as this?"

He responded sharply that he was in no mood for your drama and at the mention of the word 'drama', you recall what Chizaram your friend told you.

"You have to be patient and not let him see you as dramatic. Endure till you birth your baby and that way he'd have enough peace of mind to  make the move to see your people. Peace of mind is all a man wants."

You had wanted to ask her if your peace didn't matter as well but kept quiet especially because she'd remind you how you schemed to 'trap' Nnamdi with the pregnancy.

So today you kept quiet because you needed him to see you as his 'peace of mind', the woman he needs.

You apologized quickly and asked if he'd need you to do anything later.
He retorted with an emphatic "NO", so loud that you had to hold the phone away from your ear.

You made to apologize even though you were not sure why but he ended the call before you finished.

The urge to cry became so strong and like many times in the past 7 months, you couldn't hold back.

The salty taste of the tears reminded you of that day 7 months ago when you first told him about the pregnancy.

You had spent the night at his place and as you cleared the table after the salty meal of Yam and fried eggs, the uncontrollable nausea that began 2 weeks earlier and made you run a pregnancy test, overwhelmed you. You ran to the kitchen to vomit.

Nnamdi ran after you, rubbing his hand up and down your back and asking what the problem was.

"You should see a Doctor, run some tests." He said.

"Maybe it's the salt from the food." He had also complained about the salt earlier.

You should still see a Doctor." He said.

Without thinking, you blurted out the words "I am pregnant." There was need lying anymore as the truth couldn't be hidden for long. But he went on as though he hadn't heard you, "could be from the night we sat out to watch the city from the hills. Remember you wore Shorts and complained of mosquito bites?"

"Nnamdi I am pregnant" you said, again.

He paused for a while as if to digest the information and asked "How?"

"How? We had sex."

"How were you so careless? How did you let this happen without at least discussing with me?" He asked again.

"I let it happen? Were you expecting a new pair of shoes from unprotected sex?" You screamed.

"Really? What about the pills?" He had raised his voice now.

You kept shut because you had stopped taking the morning after pills when you told Chizaram about your plan to get pregnant but as you watched Nnamdi who suddenly looked at you as though you had grown horns, you knew you had made a mistake.

Chizaram's words however kept playing in your head, "Nnamdi, is an Opara, the first son. He may get angry at first but he would eventually accept the pregnancy. Besides, his mother would never let him abort her first grand child. So take the risk to keep your man."

It had hurt to know you had to 'keep' a man with pregnancy and it hurt even more to know that if it were up to him, he would have you terminate the pregnancy. But you tell yourself that sometimes, situations forced people to make the right decisions and that Nnamdi would eventually see the need to take full responsibility. Afterall, he is an 'Opara'.

Now, you stand up amidst the sharp pain slicing through your back - the antenatal session had ended, and head for the hospital reception where your cousin Edesiri and her sister in-law sat waiting for you. Edesiri had taken it upon herself to take you to the hospital whenever you couldn't drive and she voiced once that "maybe your baby would bring me luck and I'll have my own child too". 

She had been married 9 years without a child. The day she made the offer, you hugged her tightly even though you knew it was one of the things she told herself to feel okay.

They stand up as you approach and as you watch her laugh with Tosan her sister in-law, you feel a tinge of envy. Envy for the kind of bond you may never have with Nnamdi's family, afterall, his mother had coyly stated that she'd have loved it if her first son had married an Igbo girl "but I guess everything happens for a reason, and Nnamdi has not mentioned married yet" she said smiling ruefully.

Your head ached all through that day as you pondered on her words but, you told yourself that after you birth her first grandchild, she'd be forced to accept you.

You motion for Edesiri to make a stop so you could buy Dates, they helped with the strong Sugar craving that came with your pregnancy.

As you get back in the car, she announced with glee "We have decided to adopt children, a set of twins."

She reeled out details of her new decision with Francis her husband and added "Maybe loving children that do not have a family would bring us luck too."

She shrugged as she held tightly to the steering and you tell yourself, it is also one of the things she told herself to feel okay.

Yet, you feel that tinge of envy again. Envy for the kind of love she has with Francis, one you'd never have with Nnamdi.

You tell yourself though that unlike you, she'd never know what it is to carry a baby in her womb, one that is her flesh and blood.

You glance at Tosan, she too seemed to be at peace with the decision.

Not sure what to say in response, you pick a Date and bite into it. The very sugary fruit suddenly lost its taste in your mouth.

You feel your baby kicking and you tell yourself that Edesiri would also never know this feeling, this feeling of being kicked in the womb by one's own baby.

You bite into the Date again and blink back the tears welling up in your eyes.

Amidst the tears, you say "I am so overwhelmed at the thought of being a mother in a couple of weeks." You know it is an insensitive thing to say but you do not want to have to explain why you are crying. 

Because deep in your heart, you wish you could turn back the hands of time. Deep in your heart, you know saying you are excited about becoming a mother is one of the many things you have told yourself since you became pregnant, just to feel okay.

But in reality, you are not.

Motherhood: The Gift You Cannot Purchase

"Eyes on the shuttle. No matter what is happening around, keep your hand firmly on your Racket and stay focused. Until the game is over, nothing else matters".

You smile as you watch them. Kore, your husband of 12 years teaching Makashe your 4 year old daughter to play Badminton.

As you watch them you recall your sessions with him, many years ago.

You were an amateur player and he was an award winning Badminton champion.

You met on the court where you first started going to play. Playing was a hobby you took up more from boredom than passion.

You had just finished your final exams and project defense and was home waiting for your results and also preparing for the National Youth Service Corps program.

"Eyes on the Shuttle. Focus...no, forget about me and keep your eyes on the Shuttle...wait...hold your Racket firmly. Like a sword." He would take the Racket from whomever he was coaching, to show them. "Can you see the way I'm holding it? It is your sword, for defense and offense. So use it and make sure you never drop the ball or in this case the shuttle."

He would hand back the Racket, and the game would continue.

There were other Coaches but he was evidently passionate about the game and each time he tutored you, your passion grew.

After each game, while others sat to have drinks, he would briefly exchange pleasantries, get in his car and drive off. He never stayed back for small talk.

You admired his passion and discipline but more importantly, you admired him.

He wasn't drop dead gorgeous but he was attractive. He had a calm demeanor and a look that seemed to say "I'm here to win the game of life."

Those were his words the first time you talked. It was after a tournament that your team won.

"I see life as a game that can be won with the right strategy and I am here to win the game."

As you conversed, he commended you. "I like your discipline and commitment" he said. "If you put this into other aspects of your life, success is guaranteed. That's why I like Badminton, it's like life itself."

Hearing him compliment you meant more to you than winning the tournament.

That was the day he asked you out on a date. For some seconds you didn't know what to say. A Date? With Obakore the disciplined, suave Doctor cum Badminton Champ?

You kept smiling when you heard him say "You don't have to say yes. I just thought it would be nice to hang out in a different environment, away from the court."

"Yes. It's okay" You retorted quickly. "I would love to."

Then he smiled and you smiled too.

You watch him now with Makashe. Like him, she seem like she was born to play and win the game. She served the shuttle and returned his passes with vigour. She didn't even look in your direction, her eyes were on the Shuttle and nothing else seemed to matter.

As you watch them, you reminisce on all that has happened in the last 13 years. So much has changed from that day you both went on your first date.

Kore proposed marriage 5 months after and 10 months into your relationship, you were married. You were 24 and he was 29 years old.

You were still serving at the time and in those early days you felt your heart would burst from too much happiness. You were happy in a way that felt illegal. Kore was an all or nothing man and loved the same way. He held nothing back in showing how much he loved and valued you. Life was perfect.

After service year, you joined your Mum in her catering business and 2 years after, you started your own company.

Kore's medical practice was sailing smoothly. All was well until three years after, then the questions started. "Why is your tummy still flat? Why have you not started a family?"

Even friends asked when you both planned to start a family.

You had thought marrying meant starting your family but soon learned that for society a couple become a family only when a child is born.

You didn't give much thought to comments but three years passed and you still hadn't taken in. The tests results said you both had nothing to worry about.

In the fourth year of your marriage, you decided to try In Vitro Fertilization (IVF) but two attempts failed. 

You had faith still. Then five years passed and people started using words like 'barren' and 'infertile' to describe you.

You would attend baby showers and then naming ceremonies and dedications and birthdays and yet another baby shower and you wondered why your case was different.

You started having sleepless nights but the last straw was an altercation between Kore and his Mum.

Kore's sister who lived in Norway was expecting a baby and his Mum who was to go nurse her stayed the night at your house. She was to fly the next day from the Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport. 

It was the kind of visit you dreaded but all seemed to be going well until she brought up a conversation about a Pig rearing business she intended to start because a church member doing same business said Pigs bore as many as 10 to 14 Piglets per litter. She thought it would be good investment unlike Fishery where she lost over 300 fishes. From Fishes and Pigs she began a sermon on fruitfulness. Even Jesus cursed a Fig tree for not bearing fruits. Then she turned to you and asked if you knew of anyone that may have cursed you.

That questioned turned into an argument that ended in Kore asking his beloved Mum whom he revered above everyone else never to come to his house or interfere in his life again.

The next day, his entire family began to call. The clan came down on you, the barren woman who makes a son disrespect his mother.

Those were the worst days of your life.

You curled up and cried but Kore would remind you that you were enough.

"You are the prize my darling, not a baby."

But words no longer meant anything to you. You couldn't hold words in your arms or feed them and play with them like you did with your Nieces and Nephews.

"You can't let life dictate to you. You have to set a new standard for your happiness" he would say.

You tried to be strong like him but you couldn't. The world judged you more than it did him and before long you began to question his love for you. 

What if he too got tired? What if he left you?

As your insecurity grew, your faith and confidence waned and you began to lose yourself.

In your quest for a baby, you met other women in the same predicament.

You visited churches, herbal homes and fertility specialists. You chewed leaves that you never knew existed, drank concoctions of all kinds and even carried out rituals but it was all an effort in futility.

You still remember the day you were told to buy a pregnant Monkey. You were to care for the Monkey till it delivered and when the infant was born, you would strap it to your back, a few hours for seven days chanting incantations.

You bought the Monkey and got a farmer to nurse it till it delivered. You were there on the day it delivered and as you watched the newly born Monkey suckle its mother's breast you pictured it on your back and you realized that you were going crazy.

You left the farm on that day crying. You wondered what Kore who had no idea what you had been doing would say if he knew half of what you had done.

That was the day you decided to dictate to life.

You vowed never to stress over a baby and focused on your relationship with God. You took courses for your business and made peace with Kore's Mum. She was still hostile but you didn't let her attitude bother you.

You began to work with organizations that support girls looking to sell their children because of poverty, neglect/abscondment by their partners or because of the circumstances surrounding their pregnancy like rape. You joined in counselling them and setting them up with businesses and jobs.

It was in the 7th year of your marriage that you became pregnant for the first time. You still recall the day you held Makashe in your arms, her little fingers curled around yours as she breathed gently against your skin. You cried so much as you watched her, and called her Makashe an Urhobo name meaning 'Angel'. She is the gift you could never have paid for.

Aside the girls, you also started a group for other couples trying to conceive. Everyone shares their story, encouraging one another and praying with each other because a couple with the right information and a strong support system will have an easy journey.

Like you, they too learned to dictate to life and not waste their pain. Some members of the group also started to have their babies.

Today, you are pregnant again and as you watch Makashe play with Kore, tears fill your eyes because more than anyone you understand that children are priceless gifts that can never be earned. The only thing a recipient can do with their gift is VALUE and NURTURE it the best way possible.

You have learned that Motherhood is a gift that can't always be purchased.

Surviving Abuse, Today The Caged Bird Sings

You look at the young lady sharing her story of rape and your mind flash back to that day, many years ago.

"Kiss me." He had said the words calmly.

You stood dazed, unsure of what to do. 

As you stared at him, you could tell that he wasn't joking. You felt your palms getting warm and moist but you did not move.

He sat down, then he pulled you unto his laps. You followed like a dummy, almost as though a spell had been cast on you. 

You who would mince no words in telling any guy off, sat still on his laps, his hands groping your body. He moved from your waist to your breasts, but you cringed and he stopped. 

He waited for about thirty seconds and moved up to your shoulder.

He tried to massage your shoulders, maybe in a bid to calm your nerves but you just sat still. Then he turned your head and tried to kiss you. You were uncomfortable, your neck hurt because of your sitting position and every part of your body screamed "NO!", but you said nothing. 

You did not respond to his kisses either, but he continued and kissed you for about a minute.

Then he stopped.

As you sat on him, you could feel his erection building and your feet curled in irritation. He was breathing heavily, you could feel his heart beating fast. You wanted to tell him off, but you couldn't. You just sat still and when he tried to pull you in for another kiss, you wrigled out of his arms, shaking your head. You couldn't stand up and it was as though a force kept you down. You simply shook your head and fought back tears.

Then he turned you to himself and whispered the words he had said many times before. The words that made him earn your trust, enough to get you in a hotel room alone with him.

"You are like a daughter to me, and I always have your best interest at heart. I'll never hurt you."

You believed those words and even though his present actions negated his promises, you couldn't react.

How could you? He was the one you confided in about almost anything and even your parents had come to trust him.

You imagine what their reaction would be if you told them what just happened.

"Chief Lucky? No, he wouldn't do that."

Even your friends would ask "are you sure of what you are saying?" 

He was your hero and your faith in him had earned him the respect of the people in your life. He probably was a hero in their eyes as well.

Chief Lucky.

Those who had not met him had read about him on the news. He was an overachiever, a pioneer in the field of Engineering, a doting father and loving husband.

He was a quintessential gentleman. Refined and elegant. He spoke about everything with aplomb, from international politics to local politics, cars, sports, music, culture, dance, books, fashion, food and wine. He loved his wine and had them delivered from different parts of the world.

You still remember when he invited you on a trip to Paris. You wondered aloud what you'd be doing with him on such a trip and he had joked about wanting you to drink Champagne in Paris and to see 'high fashion, real Couture'.

You declined politely noting that you had exams coming up and he gave a half hearted laugh saying "what would be my excuse to my staff for travelling with you? I was just teasing and I'm impressed that you said no, just as I expected. Not many young ladies would say no to such an offer, I'm proud of you."

He had pulled you in for a hug that day and you suspected that he wasn't teasing but you shrugged it off.

He was someone you looked up to and he had consistently been a pillar of support from the first day you met him, a meeting you had termed as divinely orchestrated.

You had gone to his company to seek Internship placement.

As you sat at the reception waiting to see the HR officer, he walked in. He was seeing off a guest whom you later found out was the Speaker of the House of Assembly.

He glanced in your direction briefly and before you could mutter any greeting, walked out with his guest.

The HR officer later said they had accepted the maximum number of Interns for the year and politely turned down your application. As you walked out of the premises, in low spirits, you saw him again, standing at the drop off area as he waited for his driver. He asked what you wanted and you told him. He gave you his card and asked that you call later as he was in a hurry.

When you spoke that evening, he said that even if he could give you an Internship opportunity or even a job, he wouldn't, as he was a man of integrity and loved to follow due process.

He referred you to another company in the Oil and Gas sector where his friend was General Manager. He said you'd have to earn the position there as a referral was all he would give - he was a man of integrity.

You were accepted as an Intern and for one year, you learned the practical aspects of Petrochemical engineering. You also developed a relationship with Chief Lucky.

He monitored your progress, offering advice, opened you up to training opportunities and chastised you where necessary. He never gave money and you never asked but he always reminded you that you were meant to do great things and had the potential to be great.

It was the weekend your Internship ended, that he joked about taking you to Paris.

Weeks after that, after you returned to school, he called to say he had returned from his trip and was in your town for a business meeting.

You had gone to his hotel room with excitement and as usual spoke to him about everything, all that had happened since as well as your plans after school, seeking advice.

He had offered advice and called up a friend who was the General Manager of a multinational company in the Petroleum industry. He put the phone on speaker and you were excited as you heard him extol your virtues and qualities. You knew with his influence, you would easily get a job after graduation. You were in awe of him.

So minutes later when he asked you to kiss him, you were too petrified to tell him off.

As he reminded you "You are like a daughter to me, and I always have your best interest at heart. I'll never hurt you", you were not sure what to do, how to respond because you trusted him too much and never saw this coming.

As you left his hotel room, you didn't know whether to be angry but you felt desecrated and weak.

After graduation, you got a job - not in his friend's company nor through his influence, but you shared the news with him excitedly. 

As you progressed through your career, he was always on hand with advice and counsel. Everyone in your life including the men you dated, knew and respected him as your mentor. What they didn't know was that he tried to make you kiss him many times after that first day but you were never bold enough to confront him.

Sometimes you simply stayed rigid in his arms and at other times you stood up to sit away from him. But you kept going back even though you were no longer the naive young girl that sought validation and support from him. 

You kept going back even after he pleaded with you to have sex with him saying he had been 'inexplicably drawn to you' from the first day he set eyes on you. He cried so much that day, saying no woman ever made him feel so weak and you still wonder how you were able to resist him.

Years later, you sit on a Panel discussing 'Power Dynamic: Abuse In the Workplace and the Various Forms It Takes', you had been invited to share your success story and help other young women navigate a male dominated industry. 
As you listen to participants share their stories, you recall your experiences with Chief Lucky and for the first time, it dawns on you that you too have been a victim of abuse.

You recall the time he begged you to spend the night with him, you agreed because you couldn't bear to see him cry the way he did. You felt pity for him even though you knew it was wrong and you thought he was helpless. 

The next morning you were thankful that he didn't force himself on you but today you realize that he did force his will on you. You realize now that he abused the power he wielded over you, took advantage of the fact that you were hungry for success and broke the trust of a girl who held him in awe.

You had read stories of abuse and you never considered yourself a victim but sitting in this room full of women who had faced abuse in various forms took the scales off your eyes.

You too are a survivor. 

But unlike many of the women, you are still attached to your abuser. He is still in your life occupying the space of Mentor, his name is still tatooed on your heart.

As you watch the women brave enough to share their story, you realize that all along, you had been a caged bird bearing the agony of an untold story inside of you.

Today, you will tell your story! Today, you will sing! Today, you will EXHALE!

Sugarcane...Friendship...Him

You still remember the first time you told a colleague you didn't like Sugarcane.

She had a bewildered look as she raised her head from her computer to look at you.

"Really? What woman doesn't like Sugarcane?" She asked.

"I prefer Bananas", you said. "They are easier to eat."

She gave a wry smile and said "now I see, you like them curvy and smooth instead of just straight and rough right?"

You let out a guffaw as you realized that she wasn't referring to the actual fruits. She had misconstrued your statement and sexualized the fruits.

You had to explain to her that you were referring to the fruits. You didn't like Sugarcanes because you didn't see the point in stressing oneself to bite into a fruit, suck out the juices and then spit out the stalk. Bananas were easier. Soft, easy to peel, sweet to the taste and you could swallow everything.

Weeks later, you had the same conversation with him. It was three days after you both met at the birthday party you attended. You didn't know the celebrant who had turned 60 but an older friend had invited you, so you went for it.

As expected, it was a gathering of big wigs. Drinks flowed so much that one would think all the drinks in the city had been purchased for the event.

You were on your third glass of Champagne when he walked up to your table.

"May I refill your glass?"

You looked up as you eyed him. And nodded.

He refilled your glass and sat on the chair next to yours. You both talked till you were set to leave. You liked the fact that he made you laugh.

And so when he asked for your number, you didn't hesistate. He became a regular caller, spending hours laughing on the phone with you.

But it wasn't just the laughter. It was the consistency of his calls and the depth of the conversations you had. He would spend hours xraying social issues like equal representation of women in politics and business, the role of the Nigerian civil war in defining nationalism or the lack of it today, lack of political will in making health care affordable and accessible, how globalization has redefined fashion and even simple things like funny memes.

3 days later, he noted that he was a nutrition enthusiast and as you both spoke about food and fruits, you stated your dislike for Sugarcane.

He then went on to reel out the health benefits - "it is good for the Liver", he said.

That weekend he dropped by with a pack of neatly cut Sugarcanes and Ice cubes. You admitted that those ice cold pieces, were the best you ever had.

Sugarcanes soon became a staple. He also brought the juice and you had it served with ice, sometimes he added Lime. And you grew to like it, alot.

You grew to like him alot too. The challenge though was that he was an unavailable man. He wore a wedding band on the day you first saw him and had it on a week later, when you had dinner together.

You ignored it as you reminded yourself that you would keep your emotions in check. You enjoyed the conversations and the friendship.

All was fine until that day he called to say he had something to tell you.

You still recall the look on his face as he spoke. He talked about his Fiancee that died in a car crash 3 weeks after their engagement, 3 years ago. The band he wore was a tribute to her - he didn't think he would be able to love another woman, but then you came along.

As he spoke he cried. You reached out to touch his face, cleaning the tears with your thumb.

He looked at you for a while and then revealed that he was dying. He had End Stage Liver Disease with a few months to live.

You laughed as you thought he was joking but the look on his face said he wasn't.

He went on to show you his medications. His condition made him love Sugarcanes as they are good for the Liver.

He took off the ring that day and that night you stayed over at his place.

You spent the following weeks reading to him, learning to play Badminton together, taking dance classes, doing Karaoke and painting abstract pictures in the name of art.

His health deteriorated and he spent the next months in and out of the hospital.

You were with him that morning at 5 am as he writhed in pain, you drove him to the hospital and was by his bedside when he died at about 3pm that day.

You wrote a Eulogy which you read at the service organised by his friends.

You picked the suit he was buried in and assisted in moving things from his house.

You spent the next months grieving him, the man who redefined friendship for you. He epitomized loyalty and loved you in simple ways.

Today as you stopped to get fruits from the market, you spot the man pushing a wheelbarrow full of Sugarcanes. They were evidently succulent but as you look at them, you feel a lump in your throat and you think of him.

As memories of him flood your mind, you realize that as long as you would never dance or laugh with him again, you would never eat Sugarcane again.