Toto Series: That’s Your Problem
Isn’t it funny that no matter what you are going through life is happening? Like you can be in the deepest of shits and someone is pissing the champagne they got drunk on celebrating all over you. Life is always happening.
I sat in the front seat still strapped waiting for Angela to get back. She had left the key in the ignition and left the stereo on so that I won’t be bored but instead the music kept annoying me with each new song. Do people really listen to the garbage this singers spew? And it’s played on radio? Even though I admit that my anger wasn’t entirely because of the music, I reached for the knob to turn it off. Maybe my mind would have some quiet to sieve through its own noise.
“We interrupt regular broadcast…”
the voice of the announcer rough and untidy interrupted the song and my action.
“… Listen to this. Following the fresh wave of the new virus, federal government is pressed to announce with immediate effect the closing down of all schools, public and private. All places of worship and leisure. Interstate travel will also be restricted to only personal on essential duty; our security forces, medical personnel and the media. These measures are necessary to ensure the safety of lives of every Nigerian and government is deeply saddened by any inconvenience this may cause. States are advice to follow the safety guidelines in establishing their containment strategies. God bless the… ”
” hope I didn’t take too long? The queue was something else” Angela burst into the car interrupting the rest of the announcement. She put the takeaway packs and other items in the back seat.
“Are you okay?”
She queried and I nodded. Another lock down? This is the type of material nightmares are made of.
“Are you sure you are okay?”
” Dude, just drive okay! ”
” you don’t have to yell at me. Be a sour puss all you want but that attitude better be fixed by the time we arrive Tim’s place.”
Another lock down? With immediate effect? Did this fuckers ever think anything through before making these pronouncements? Could this country survive another round of lock downs? This was some real bullshit. I needed out of here!
“why da fuck is this happening?” I cursed under my breath.
“You said?”
“Nothing.”
“I heard you say something. Spit it”
“If you heard then why da fuck are you now asking me”?
“I didn’t hear the words and what exactly is wrong with you? Why are you acting like I drowned your cat???”
“I am so not in the mood for this okay… Just drive. Mtcheeew… In fact what did you get for lunch?”
“Are you doing this on purpose? Are you acting mad because it turns me on? If you want some of this… Just say so! She took her hand off the steering wheel to demonstrate her whole body. She knew how to make my frown turn upside down.
“You dey ment. Maifren what did you get for lunch?”
I smiled as I searched the backseat where she dropped the takeaway packs, choosing spaghetti and turkey wings.
Angela and I had shared a total of ten words during our first three years of school. She was a “chirpy-the-day-is-always-sunny-and I’m a pretty yellow flower girl and I kept away from her lot. I was a loner and it served me well.
We actually got to know each other during a school field trip. We had all been paired, two to a room to save cost and we ended up in the same room. I only slept in the room at night to avoid her and her brainless lot. She always had people drawn to her. Like some queen bee. Urgh!
On the day we were to visit the palace of the Ewi of Ado Ekiti, a day before our departure that is, we both woke up by 10am, the bus left since 8:30 am. We then had the grand idea, well actually she had the idea to follow them even though none of us knew the place or knew a word of Yoruba in case we needed directions. The taxi we hired took us to the Ejeye Oka Ere Shrine and left even before we could confirm if the location was correct.
After plenty fails at describing where we needed to be, a good Samaritan offered to take us there. That Samaritan would end up robbing us and leaving us on the side of the road, where we thinking the day couldn’t possibly get worst got drenched by the hardest rain I’ve ever felt. It was like we were being flogged by an unseen old woman for missing the bus.
By this time I was too angry for words. My anger swelled and spilled over my wet cheeks merging with the large strokes pelting my head and back. Angela on the other hand was laughing and talking about looking at the bright side of things.
Even though we had spent the last 3 hours getting fucked, she was all giddy and sunny. That made me even angrier. While we contemplated our next line of action, the bus we missed just happened to pass us. We rode the bus in silence while our lecturer saw it as a teachable moment and went on a tirade of why we should utilize all opportunities or end up miserable like Angela and Edidiong. By the time we reached the hotel I was ready to carve my brains out with a blunt rusty knife. I went up to our room while our lecturer gave Angela orders on whatever. I wasn’t going to stick around longer for the over twenty pairs of eyes judging, pitying and gloating at my predicament. Fuck them all.
I sat at the edge of the bathtub and let my tears fall unhindered. The monies I lost wasn’t even my problem, it’s the fact that I was taken for a fool. Growing in Asaba, you learn quickly that the difference between life and death is gullibility. Person wey fit make you believe am fit kill you. And such an easy con?
Like!
It was all Angela’s fault. I actually got caught up in her optimistic spirit and see where it landed me. The door creak interrupted my hiss. And just like the devil being summoned; Angela was inside the bathroom with me. Naked and muddy with that godforsaken smile on her face.
“Can’t you see the bathroom is occupied? ”
She entered the bathtub with me and turned on the shower head. She squealed as the water cold as ice sprayed us. Her squeal tuned into a giggle and full blown laugher while my body shook in anger. That’s when she kissed me. It was a collusion of her lips against mine. That jolted me out of the bathtub, out of the bathroom and almost out of the hotel room. She followed me dripping wet and laughing.
“Don’t evert try that shit!” I shouted. My voice sounding strangely thinner than usual.
“Why? I saw the way you’ve been looking at me throughout today. Don’t tell me…”
“You’re very mad. Who was looking at you? I no dey play this kain game so if this is a joke you better stop it.”
She walked up to me. Stood until our nose touched then lifted my left hand and placed on her breasts. I jerked at the feel of her skin against my palm. But she held it There. I swallowed hard. What was suddenly stuck in my throat? And why was I panting? What was happening to me??
She moved my palm over her breasts in an up down motion. My eyes fluttered closed. I swallowed. I felt her lips. Soft and moist brush over my lips. I tried to open my eyes, I tried to speak, to push her away but I couldn’t move. It was like I was in a trance, awake to every sensation coursing through my body but unable to move. My lips parted and her tongue gained entrance. She played with my lower lip, allowing her lips and teeth and tongue gain familiarity of my mouth as she pressed harder on my palms.
She left my hands to wonder over the marvel of her anatomy while she touched on mine. Her cold hands sent a shiver down my entire body. She rolled her tongue over mine and tugged on my nipple simultaneously eliciting a deep throaty moan from me. Her tongue was on my neck while her hands were rubbing my breasts showing me places to also touch on her body. It was too much, there was too much happening at once. I pulled back panting like I’d just escaped being mauled by a cheetah.
“I’ve never done this before.”
She gave me a knowing node and led me to the bed.
“Just let go of everything. Follow the flow.”
“You are not hearing me. I said I’ve never been with a woman before. This is so wrong.”
She looked me deep into my eyes before kissing my lips.
“Does this feel wrong?”
She kissed my neck and whispered into my ear.
“Does this feel wrong to you?”
She sucked on my nipple drawing me deep into her mouth before giving me the lightest bite.
“Does this feel wrong.”
She rubbed on the mouth of my vagina lightly before pressing her Index and forefinger into my moist opening. The moan escaped even before I knew there was a buildup. I shut my eyes and swallowed.
“Does this feel wrong to you?”
She asked in the most ethereal voice as her fingers worked me. My body was on fire yet I wanted more. My throat was patched and no matter how much I swallowed I still needed more. My legs couldn’t hold my weight anymore but it didn’t matter because I was floating. I was weightless as her stroking intensified. There I was in a swanky hotel room being pleasured by a woman who was making me feel things I’d never Felt. My orgasm hit me. Fast and hard. I’d never had an orgasm so there was no anticipating It. I felt a jolt like sensation that spread from the back of my head to every single part of my body. It was like I was being fed with electric current low enough to survive and high enough to force screaming from me. She held on to me until the spasms had run its course.
The next day as soon as we arrived campus, I shaved my hair into a mowhawk.
That was seven years ago. We hadn’t been in the same city since after graduation and lost all communications until the first lock down saw us quarantined together in Melbourne. She was running a course that I was facilitating. I’d moved to Sidney to avoid Nigerians and their small mindedness after I’d come out to my mum and she in turn told my dad who arranged for me to be married to his old friend’s son who funny enough was a closet gay. He was willing to go ahead with the union to end months of bullying and threats. I wasn’t. My dad gave me an ultimatum. Be married or disowned. I chose the latter. I left home, Nigeria and everything in it with the intention of never returning until I walked into the lecture hall that faithful winter morning and saw Angela in all her giddiness. She had grown from the girl in Ekiti to a sophisticated woman. She’d been sent by her company which according to her was going to be headed by her in the fall. She had moved up and it showed on her. She’d replaced her jeans with pencil skirts braids with a bob complete with rich hues. Her makeup was subtle and accentuated her high cheekbones and brown eyes.
After the lecture she came to introduce herself. I’d acted like she was just another post graduate foreign student and didn’t allow my gaze linger beyond seconds. I feigned ignorance then surprise then anger. She was all apologies and laughter. She was staying at the Atlantis and wouldn’t mind if we meet up sometime for drinks. I told her it was against school policy to frolic with students.
“Even old friends?”
“First of all there is nothing old about you, and secondly sadly even old friends.”
For the next three months we shared the same space and built up so much tension. We could’ve powered a village for weeks. It was always there; the undercurrent of desire. Being in the same room and acting like strangers took every single strength I could master. I became irritable and curt with my students. My normal mild Gothic brooding turned into full darkened skies. The more angry I got, the more turned on she became, the more she tried to get me the more I acted. A full circle of intense fucking without any of the pleasure.
After a particularly fucked up day, I called her up in the evening and invited her to my place for drinks. As soon she stepped into the room I pounced on her. She was still giddy and mischievous but I was a grown woman who had tore through women in three countries. This time around I was in charge and I wanted to fuck through the tension of the past three months. I wanted to fuck her smile off her face. She’d taught me a few tricks back in uni, I was about to show her new international tricks.
Her lips were still as soft as I remembered. We were both in a rush to familiarize our lips, hands, bodies. Our clothes left a trail from the living room door to the bed. I made her sit on my fingers. Spreading wide, jutting her juiced big butt filling my grateful palms. Her grind was rhythmic. Deep deep.. Round deep… Low curl deep… Deep deep. I followed her tempo moving to her grind. Giving her room to drive us there. Before long, her head fell to the side in the way I knew her eruption was near.
Not so fast.
I stood up lifting her with her butt to my face. I dropped her on the top of my drawers and went in. She tasted soft like hot marshmellows melting in my mouth. Her nails dug into my back sending me deeper. I could feel her thighs squeeze in as the night was rendered by her moans. She cames in gusts.. Her breath and juices erupted staccato like. She smiled at me as I took her to the bed.
You ain’t seen nothing yet.
I wore Hercules. All my straps had names. Hercules was my 7 inch pink dildo. I hovered above her, guiding hercules like à taunt arrow.
“I want to have you in the shower. That’s where I got my first taste of your lips, it’s only right I give you a taste of the monster you made there”
She giggled as she caressed the side of my face. She paused as though an unpleasant thought reached out to steal her joy.
“Is that what you think of yourself? A monster?”
“I’d let you be the judge of that. ”
I’ve not been with anyone else. I couldn’t bring myself to be with someone else after you left.”
“After I left? You and I remember what happened differently. It doesn’t even matter now, we are here. We should be fucking not talking.”
“It matters to me. Do you know what you did? How I felt when you left? No word, no explanation, just silence.”
WHAT! How was she spread in my bed in the glow of her cum fresh and poignant and saying I left her? She must have bumped her head on the wall while I gave her head. Maybe instead of cum she’d orgasmed brain matter.
“That’s your problem”
She knew better than to continue any conversation after I’d said those words. She knew that was me checking out.
She reached out with both hands and pinched my nipples, hard ! My groan was a throaty broken AHhhh.. Hh!
I thrust in ferociously. She spread open welcoming my deep assault. I was like a hell hound following a faint scent. She was my gateway yet I was doomed to always remain imprisoned. I thrust deeper burying her betrayal. Enveloping myself in the softness of her insides where the sting of her throwing away my love pure and fierce couldn’t reach.
Watching her in the throes of passion drove me mad with desire. She didn’t hold anything back. She gave and received in equal measure. I flipped her over and she provided the perfect arch.
Ahh… Hhha!
I went in!
I tasted of her offering.
She was flowing with molten necter. She was swollen with pleasure and I sucked and teased and drew sounds of music from her.
When her whimpering grew deeper I thrust into her again..driving her to platforms she’d never been on, taking her through dark alleys of desire she’d never knew existed.
I felt my jerking and knew the inevitable was near. Holding on for dear life I exploded in to tiny fragments of nothingness.
“Still think I’m not a monster?”
she insisted we take a shower but we ended up fucking again. After a dinner of Chinese takeout we were back in my bed. I never allowed any woman sleep in my bed. But here she was all comfortable and shit in my sweatshirt and socks.
“You’re sweet. I don’t know why you think you need to hide behind your clothes and hair and all this..
“Anger? That seems to be your Achilles no?”
The giggle was back.
“I don’t even know how even after all these years you still have a hold on me. Mehn. And the way you fuck? Omo! I almost passed out! That thing you did in the bathroom, I’ve never experienced sensations like that ever. I mean, even if I want to; I can’t claim to have made this monster as you say.”
You were the first woman I was ever with. And it’s not like I wanted to be with a woman before. Sometimes I remember Ekiti and I wonder if we hadn’t gotten lost and duped and drenched, if you hadn’t walked into the bathroom or kissed me, I’d probably be in Ikorodu with two children and a husband stuck in the madness of that city. With no one this wiser. Even if you don’t claim it, you actually made me come to terms with who I am.”
She’d moved into my apartment three days later and a week after that the first quarantine measures where invoked. She was always calling home. The protests in various cities, the warehouse looting she kept tabs on it all. That was also when I knew about Tim. She’d met Tim during our final exams and they’d been together ever since. They were clearly in love. The way she became animated when she talked about him. The way she’d cry silently on nights she spoke to him. That was who she had chosen over me.
She’d introduced me as her best friend and I smiled and waved into the camera when they FaceTimed. As soon as travel restrictions were eased she was on the next available flight back to Nigeria leaving me with a broken heart for the same man again.
Four months ago she faced timed me to show me her ring. Tim had proposed and they were getting married. It was going to be a small wedding with mostly family and a few friends. She wanted me to be her made of honor. I’d cried that night. This woman that had been my first lover, that had made me realize what loving someone totally was, was asking me to come and bear witness as she gave of herself to another man. And somehow I’d agreed? The tears wouldn’t stop flowing. I called the twins and even that couldn’t stop my broken river banks.
It’s been two weeks since I arrived Lagos and the tension between us had already peaked. My consolation was that in two more weeks this will all be over and I’d call up Boirj to exorcise Angela’s memory. That was until the announcement over the radio of another lock down with immediate effect.
****** ****** ***** **** **** **** ****
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Featured Stories
Simi.
by SoniaDash, published 2 years, 8 months ago
Disclaimer
All characters portrayed here are a work of fiction and bear no resemblance to any person living or dead. Any coincidences are just that. Regretful coincidences.
Certain times are described as pivotal moments to one knowing who they are or their purpose in life. Some say they knew they would be preachers because they got a summons from God, others to be doctors because they killed little animals growing up. For Simi, it had nothing to do with any of that.
Simi was raised to be seen and not heard, to follow the rules with her head to the ground lest her eyes meet that of a man. She was born to follow the rules. And the rules said she learnt to cook clean and cater for the household. The rules said she got an education, enough to increase her brideprice but not too much so that she became a burden to her family, and that is exactly what she did.
Simi was an enigma. She was meek but full of courage, beautiful and regal yet humble and straightforward. She was fiercely intelligent yet pride was far from her heart. After she graduated from standard six her parents decided she was ripe for marriage. She was 15.
In her time it was quite normal to be shipped off to a man trice her age. It was an honour to get suitors to flock a Dara's compound once his daughters crossed the age of 10.
And so the process began for her journey to her second home.
A woman has only two homes. Her father's compound, her husband's compound and if she was a dutiful daughter, wife and mother, she earned a resting place with her ancestors.
That was the way it was.
Out of the many suitors that came for her hand, her parents chose Badung. Badung was the first and only son of the 5th wife of the newly crowned Da Manjei of Vwai. His mother, a beautiful fair woman, a thank you the Da Manjei had brought back as a child after the great Vandebong war from the neighbouring Afizere stronghold.
He was a man to be feared the Da Manjei. He was large and black with arms the sizes of large Quanpaan yams complete with spiky hair. Before he became Da Manjei, he was called Chwei! The man whose roar was frightening and whose bite was deadly. Badung grew up under his tutelage and soon enough began making a name for himself. He wasn't as large or as frightening as his father, but he was nonetheless formidable.
He was a farmer only because of peace. Some say he had more thirst for blood than any other warrior his age, even more than his father but his kind won wars and that was alright.
That was the way it was.
At 33 he was a force to reckon with.
For Simi, she had come to terms with her lot. Nobody asked her of her desires, and she never mentioned them.
That was the way it was.
She was to be married off to Badung even though the innocent stirrings of love had been awakened by Izam the 17-year-old from Jwahr, the neighbouring Afizere stronghold. He was a gentle spoken boy who wanted to become a painter but since that was unheard of he was becoming a doctor. That was the way it was. See, back then, you were what your parents decided. It was non-negotiable. If they said you become a doctor, a farmer or a palm-wine tapper, you became a doctor, a farmer and a palm-wine tapper.
That was the way it was.
Izam who was in standard seven had written the yearly scholarship examination and was going to London at the end of harvest. When he heard the news, he cornered her at the marketplace and poured out his heart to her. He begged and cajoled and promised and yet nothing. She stood unmoved to his pleas. She was going to marry Badung and that was it.
Simi had accepted her lot and so would he, or so she thought. But that was not his fate and he knew it. He knew he couldn't live without her. His nights were plagued with her smile, the heat emanating from her skin whenever they walked together. His waking moments were filled with charting their lives together.
He was going to become a doctor by day and a painter by night while she was going to become a teacher and a mother to his children. He knew nothing else.
It happened so fast. She had lifted the earthen pot filled with water on her head and was headed home when she heard footsteps. Before she turned to search the owner of the feet, she was floating. A hand clamped hard over her mouth preventing her from screaming, and even the pot somehow didn't smash. One moment she was there, and just like in ghost stories, she disappeared.
At dinner time, her mother had gone beyond fretful. Simi was nowhere to be found. She had watched the road leading to the stream as if by sheer will she could conjure her daughter. Knowing she couldn't keep it away from her husband any longer, she placed one foot now replaced with concrete in front of the other.
As she approached where he was resting under the Dinya tree, she heard the voice of Badung. Her heart did a triple somersault. Surely she couldn't tell her husband that their daughter was missing in front of her betrothed. His fiery anger was not one to trifle with. Moreover, she told herself Simi could at this very moment be finding her way back armed with a logical explanation for her whereabouts.
But what if something had indeed befallen her daughter? Her mind poked at her. Wouldn't she want Badung to lead the search for her? But instead, she approached them and inquired if they were ready to be served. It would be well by sunrise she mused. Everything has a way of setting aright by morning.
When he woke covered in sweat from a dream he had no recollection of, he knew the sunrise had come pregnant. He quickly prepared himself and went to his farms to check what was amiss. There was nothing out of place, nothing wrong at his new structures or even at his barn that was easy prey to rodents and the village's riff-raff. The nagging feeling of impending doom had persisted into late morning. Even as he sat to enjoy the food presented to him, he couldn't stop his mind from wondering. As he devoured the tuwo'n dawa and miya'n gyeda his wife set before him, his visitors arrived.
It was not uncommon in Berom land for lovers to run away when faced with adversity. It was also not uncommon for a young man to plan together with his friends to *steal* his beloved and place her under arrest. Once the sun rose to meet a young maiden under the roof of a man, she was considered defiled. It was a common practice people got accustomed to and is still practised today. So much so that it was jokingly referred to as jut tele literally translated to steal her. That was the way it was.
So as Dara Simi worked up an apatite with each mouthful he swallowed, in walked Izam in the company of his father, two elder brothers and best friend. They had come to inform their new in-law that their daughter was safe and that they were ready and willing to proceed with the customary rights to make Simi an official wife.
He went to Badung's place after he dismissed them as quickly as his legs could carry him. Badung was uncharacteristically calm as Dara Simi recounted the events of the day. His jaw was clenched as he listened intently to the events that transpired. When Dara Simi finished his tale, Badung called on Ladi his slave to bring palm wine for his father-in-law. When the wine was brought and libation observed he excused himself and went to the inner chamber.
Simi woke to a shrill voice and as the mist from her induced sleep ebbed, she recognized the voice as hers. Strange, it seemed the scream she had been denied had finally found a way out. Even though she was still heavily sedated she struggled to find a way out of her captivity.
Her mind even though too weak from the poison in her body, the urge to survive propelled her forward. She found an opening through the darkness and in one desperate last move busted into brightness.
The bright sun perched in the middle of the sky, the noise of children playing, goats bleating, metals scraping, all sounded 20 decimals louder than usual., Humanity assaulted her. She pressed on her ears, hoping to block out the torture as her voice, shrill and ragged joined the cacophony.
Izam, his father Atsi, two elder brothers and best friend arrived to find a growing crowd in their compound. Navigating through the maze of sweaty, chattering onlookers and feverish talkers, they saw Simi sprawled on the ground like a discarded rag doll, with her hands clasped to her ears as if to shut the world out. Atsi, a renowned medicine man dispersed the crowd and ordered his sons to bring her to his chamber. Izam's best friend Azi was sent off to the forest to gather much-needed herbs. The potion used during the jut tele was so strong that it had drained the strength from her small frame. The battle for her life was now in the hands of the gods.
Izam could feel his father's anger towards him even as he worked to bring Simi back from the clutch of death. His father was a man of few words and today his words were fewer still. He had never seen his father this apprehensive or angry before.
Even in the face of what would normally send a man to the deepest trenches of madness, his father passed over with little irritation. today was different. As they sat silent under the night in the courtyard, his heart began to grow cold. He should have known better than to steal from his father but fear is as potent a drug as love.
He was afraid his father would advise him against his plan to steal Simi using the medicine. He was scared his father upon hearing she belonged to another would order his steps in a different direction. And so he snuck into his father's inner chamber and stole a sleeping potion.
Administered properly, it was used to calm a being troubled by dark spirits so his father could perform the necessary exorcism. For if the person was to be awake when it happened, the chances of survival become minimal. What he didn't know was administered on a person who wasn't troubled by dark spirits, was an open invitation for possession. And so, in his quest to steal a love he felt had been wrongly taken from him, he had handed her over to spirits yet unnamed, yet unknown.
In the night, the sound of drumming filled Vwai! The horns followed shortly and the night was awake.
War had come!
Atsi had seen the beckoning of war. For Bubrukah the eye; had warned him of impending doom but because he was still clouded by grief, didn't sense the whole picture. His vision had never been what it used to be since the death of his wife 5 years ago. But when Izam told him on the morning of Simi's capture what he had done, he grew anxious. The people of Vwai and Jwahr had brokered a peace deal after years and years of intense turmoil. The deal signed a long time ago however had deteriorated over the years. Border disputes were commonplace now and even though they shared many similarities there was also a deep enmity buried just underneath the surface.
Atsi had quickly rushed to the house of Dara Simi to perform the rites as expected to prevent an escalation of events but discovered a new dimension to the tale, one his son had forgotten to mention. Badung. He knew Chwei's lust for bloodshed first hand during the great Vendabong war. He also knew he had had his eyes on Jwahr for a long time but because of the peace accord, was held in check.
Now his son had provided the best opportunity for invasion. He set foot with his sons and Azi in tow for the Da Manjai's house, hoping that age and domestication would make him more approachable to reason. He was wrong. Very very wrong. Even his sister's cries, who merely a child was given as a thank you after the Vendabong war fell on deaf ears.
Back in Jwahr, he went straight to the Agwom with the news. To prevent the coming doom he had been warned about, Simi had to be returned untouched by the Agwom himself to the Da Manjei. He pleaded with the Agwom to send emissaries to Vwai immediately with the news of her coming, together with a King's apology. However, even before the emissaries set foot, that night, a neighbouring settlement was burnt down. No survivors.
Young love is bold yet impatient, adventurous yet unwise. Young love has led many a man to his doom, but most often though, it has led many a man to his purpose. Young love needs guidance to grow, to escape the many loopholes that have bedevilled it.
And so the drums of war were struck in the middle of the night. Young men and boys alike quickly said their goodbyes to their wives and mothers. The old and grey rounded up the children and marched to the ancestral cave of covering. The warriors came to Atsi for fortification and to each, he gave a mark in accordance to his spirit, all the warriors including his three sons.
Simi saw the arrow aglow and black as it coursed through the night and found its resting place, deep in Azi's heart. She heard the dying wail of Arum, the first son of Atsi. She searched through the scene of the massacre but couldn't find Izam. He wasn't standing on the field of battle. Her body began to tremble with foam forming in her mouth. Then she saw him. Frail and afraid beneath the heel of Badung, the man she was to call husband.
She screamed and ran as quickly as her two legs could carry her but she knew she would never reach him in time. She could not save the one who had stirred up feelings in her tender heart. Her body began to convulse and Atsi knew the time of possession was inevitable. During a battle, too many evil spirits run amok. And so he stood at ready, sword in hand, divine words heavy on his tongue. For if she became possessed, he would have no choice but to kill her.
Certain times are described as pivotal moments to one knowing who they are or what their purpose in life is but for Simi, duty, love and war brought her to her purpose. She died that night, a thousand deaths she had and each one, a warrior faced death with calm. Nobody knows her because only the dying truly sees her, but she is there. To those who know her, she is known as She traverses the worlds of the living and the dead with a single purpose as true as her name. Love. So with love, she follows an aged mother home, with love she renews and replenishes the land. And with love, she brought a people who for long even though one, had sought to exploit their differences instead of celebrating them. Nothing indeed is greater than love.
WHILE I WAIT.
by Joy Okwori, published 2 years, 11 months ago
I was once imprisoned by words whose aura is darkness. I was held down in this prison by unfriendly forces, so I sat on a stool of uncertainty as I held the moon.
I crawled through the night with gritted teeth, like one with no hope. And I couldn't dance because shackles held my feet.
Yesterday was once, today doesn't make it twice. I breakout, I don't belong to prison; the Judge said so. I smelt like rotten tomatoes, frail from tireless torture.
The Judge beckoned with open arms, and I ran with the speed of light. My accusers didn't know what crime to nail me with. The Judge knew what currency to bail me with; the blood.
Broad smiles.
Heartfelt laughter.
I dance.
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