The Rising sphinx

With his itchy and picky fingers to touch the right spots, wandering eyes to illuminate every pore of the hairy brown and spotless skin and lecherous mind to ravish the poor and excited dame who lay on his high density mattress waiting to be devoured, the world can go take a hike in the Himalayas, a certain Asiedu can wear a corset and the economy of Ghana can crumble into shambles and he doesn’t care.

It was their first time and they have both looked forward to a time like this.  A beginning of a time that will transcend time itself; and a lingering memory thereof. Time, so right like the Republicans, mood on point like a nipple and psyche, so hyped and sustained to last as many bouts as they are willing to go. 

If there was anything called love at first sight, theirs would be one of the prototypes. The aura around them, so entrusting that no word has yet been scrutinized nor subjected to an iota of doubt. Suffice it to say, there were no trust issues. Love, so strong and binding like an adhesive, erases all forms of abuse and hardships when one falls in one. All he is preoccupied with is how to make her happy – maybe, just make himself happy.

He inched closer and breathed down her neck, exuding a warmth they will later talk about when this budding hot and sizzling ménage a deux is done and over with. It was time to give this whole tease a closure. A time to please.

With a renewed desire, he traces her lobes with a couple of fingers, down her nape to the region of her turgid and filled breasts. He cups the handful mound into his sizeable hand and slowly tightens his grip until it did not make any more sense just because he could. Just because he had to, so he can be sure it was really happening. He did because he wanted to find out the boundaries of his limitations; how far he could explore on before she asks him to stop or even asks him to intensify his antics and her feelings thereof.

He props up and slips his other hand up her thighs into the silky fabric of the lady and goes straight to her triangle in-between which sends a tingling sensation through her. She further entrusts herself into his bosom for more of his magical touches. Contrary to the awkwardness she thought, she finds herself enjoying the moment, the intense desire, his touches and fact that she feels fulfilled. To hell with those who say life is not good.

For him, it is yet another moment to revise his stance on the womenfolk. Somebody is about to rate women yet again and he is cocksure of his feelings. He was sure it was love at work. He did not even want to think that it was the cloud nine factors. His ego won’t allow him to think in that vein even though the thought brought shame to his face indicating a flash of truth. The bolting rush was so negating that his surety just went limp in an instant, probably in the same manner it arose. 

He went blank and with a sudden uncontrollable contraction of his muscles, he squeezed the breasts tighter which sent a painful spasm through her. She feels her body rip apart, opens her eyes and dies emotionally from the look she saw on his face and fact that his essential limb has suddenly gone limp.

Big deal? 

Yeah! They say it casts a daunting feeling on the psyche of women – gives them an impression of undesirableness but this couldn’t be same. He loves her and she knows that. And whoever says sustaining a hard on for a lady is the only way they can feel loved anyway. He was only fighting his own devils. He was seeing things – reel of images that are so vivid as though he was reliving them. All his escapades playing on a giant screen before his eyes; in his mind, maybe.

He was even engulfed more with the realization that his feelings for her won’t endure. He knew that too well because this is how he felt towards Bomba, Annabel, Stella, Flora, Dzifa and all the other ones before her. For once, he thought his feelings for her were different and real but it was a lie; a façade. 

Would he ever love?

*raps on the door*

The rap was so loud, untimely and intruding that it made him cringe.

Is it death himself at the door?

As much as he would love to act dumb to the raps on the door, he also needed some respite, coupled with the fact that loud music was playing from the room, indicating that someone was inside, so, he quickly wore his boxer shorts which he pulled from the pile of clothes on the bed, musters courage and answers to the unending raps on the door.

“Who dat?” He asked like the boss as he fidgets with the door only to find out it was a man and a woman clutching bags in the hollow of their shoulders.

“Excuse me Sir, do you have some time to talk about Jesus Christ. We are from the Kingdom hall of the Jehovah’s Witness”

 The writer tweets @vilejah

When the Sun sets...

Ever since you went out of my life giving me my much needed but unwanted freedom, things have never been the same again. I may not know what I want but I am sure that I don’t want peace of mind. There has been a palpable air of calm around me which is killing me by the minutes. 

I leave things around only to come back to find them there…

My choice of food has been limited because I can’t go about thinking menus I am not willing to and can’t prepare and you know how much I dislike eating outside.

I admit I never went out with you on so many occasions but I was always hopeful of coming home to you. I always knew drama will brew from your ever creative mind; be it a delight to behold or a dismal eyesore. The tension in the air when we mount our bed, only for it to eventually dissipate into thin air as we dip fingers into each other’s skin in an effort to please and be pleased. The magical love sessions that follow after these tense moments which has become a recipe to giving it our all and how it became a norm is all I’ve missed.

Perfect takes so much time and doesn’t work. In extreme situations, it even feels like a compulsion; a quest to changing the you I met and loved, the you that gave me a chance at companionship and love. 

Why is it very difficult to know people’s worth ahead of time while we still have them? I miss you so much.  

Nothing much has changed about me except that I hardly make use of the freedom I craved for. I no longer go out even though I don’t have to sneak out. I no longer go after other ladies even though it was a delight cheating on you. Maybe having them doesn’t come with the thrill anymore and I miss the escapades and the adrenaline that rushes when you confront me. 

Like I told you the night you slammed the door behind you and in my face, I won’t be dating any

longer in anticipation that you will walk back into my life again. I believed in you and miracles until that fateful night. The slaps and battering you meted out to me and the drama that erupted afterwards just took me by surprise and has ever since left me in shock but I am willing to believe in you once again. You are human, so let’s just say you erred by not giving your actions a thought.

I don’t want perfect, I want you. I want your incorrigible imperfect self. There is too much calm in my life which sometimes makes me feel like my life has been staged. Nothing makes sense anymore. Truth is I can’t seem to believe that you have also become one of life’s evanescence – because you were real.

You said I made you cry…

 But, no! You just stopped loving me because I know you cry for him too…

What is love if it does not thrive on pain?

Incidentally, I have also tried to move on from where you left me, but sadly memories will not leave me. They follow me everywhere, and I mean the ominous lurking bitch lingers everywhere I go and even lives with me.  You lied to me because you asked me to believe you. You even asked me to believe in you. You became my religion and literally made me worship you. You said we were always going to be here. You even said forever and this; I can’t distinguish any further because like I said, nothing makes sense anymore. All I know is both transcends into time.

If only I knew your time was bound…

Thoughts of your giving self in another man’s arms and your giggles that used to warm my heart… 

However, I’d like to categorically state that this communiqué is not a call to commune. It is just to serve as a reminder that you betrayed what we had that night you walked away. It is also to serve as a notice that I might be popping in from time to time to find out if you have finally found the happyness you set out to find.

I could say more but damn the present. I have to go now. 

Take care of yourself.

Jinni.

The Writer tweets @vilejah

The Storyteller

Things have never really been the same again. He went up North and she went down South. According to her, he has lost it. He has lost what she wants; the very thing that energizes her and brings her alive. She doesn't remember when they last had any quality time in a world where everything was quantified.

He was jarred and getting lost in his world; dealing with his devils. He was up against everything, except himself. He hasn't lost the magic that fixates her and hasn't lost the charm befitting a Prince, only, no one had told her that reality is harsh. She has shut her eyes to the occurrences around her and given up on life. However, she clung and became friends with hope; an attribute she needed so badly in that dire moment.

Hope will come around anytime, even uninvited. Hope tells her it was going to be alright. It also tells her to take it easy and hang in there. Lastly, hope assured her that, her man has not lost the magic of loving her the way she wanted, neither has he lost the art of telling her stories. Even though, she didn't believe, she smiled at the insight.

The insight energized her and brought back fond memories, so she reached out for her backpack and stuffed it with a Walkman, a pen and a paper, a couple of assorted fruit bonbons from the dining table  and her phone she had switched off all day. She was headed for their favorite spot at the beach to have a quiet time. For a change, she was going to do what she hasn't done before. She wants her man, and she is going to do everything, maybe, just something to have him.

She is going to try her hands at penning down her feelings in simple terms. She is no award winning writer. She is just a lover who wants things better than they were.

Just before she set out to write a sestet for him, she felt some eyes boring into her. She frantically looked around, but saw nothing, so she began writing.

My bony ebony
If only I could see u 
I would not be this blue
And we might just sail through 
just as wishes will not be horses 
I can never get over your kisses

As soon as she dotted the last sentence, the apparent feeling manifested. He has come looking for her, after calling her phone all day. He hugged her from behind and a combination of fear and a clout of mixed feelings of whether to be indifferent or hug back came to the fore. But before she could actually think, her body, spirit and soul has taken over reasoning, and she hugged back. He then pulled a mail envelope from the back pocket of his branded Akademiks denim Jeans, while the moment was still tensed up and he gently shoved it into her already opened hand.  "Here", and he started to walk away.

She quickly opened the envelope and shakily removed the pad  but it was tightly folded. She unfold,ed the first one and it was blank. Second one, and it was the same. These, coupled with the fact that the distance between them was widening was not amusing, she was becoming apprehensive. The suspense heightened till the fifth, which was coincidentally the last one and this had something scribbled on it.

I haven't lost my story telling abilities to u and I'm still your man. i will forever be your Prince Charming, and I want you to now and always be mine. Call me when you are ready and let's make up. Come see me and let's change the world!

And now, with her lit eyes, she didn't even know if she should just jolly after him or sit back and refine her poem for him.

Sex: the controlling factor

Yes! Sex controls you and I. It dictates our feelings and by extension, where we go, what we do, which dress and fashion sense we wear. My mom is probably stuck with my Dad simply because they had sex, no, most likely because they gave birth to me, no, it possibly could be, because they got married. Sometimes, we don’t even know which one comes first, but unlike what pertains in our modern dispensation; I am cocksure, they did not jump the gun. 

Maybe these days of being online does not give anyone the luxury to really care anymore. Things have changed, but how long have they been like this? Perhaps, I have been oblivious of the fact that it has been same way since the days of Adam, but, thanks to whoever threw me the curve ball, I have finally arrived.

If you have noticed the sharp and radical contrast that characterizes a relationship when it transits into intimacy, then you probably may have had a firsthand experience with the context and situation I am trying to depict here. Even though, it is not always accompanied by a rude awakening we realize that, we are either being audited or queried or find ourselves doing same to our partners.

They ask us where we are and even deem it their preserve to know. Sometimes, we have to tell them our plans ahead of its implementation. We even feel less important in their lives when they don’t involve us in decision making processes, simply because of the sex factor. Either their fashion and sixth sense rubs on us or they subtly influence us to pick it up or in rare cases, allow us to be.  in the case of religiosity, their degree of inclination and how we fit into it generally becomes a warfare.

And to think that, these hitherto sex partners were meek, tolerant, understanding, self-sufficient, accommodating and probably independent thinkers before sex only makes it unintelligible. When people have sex, they become emotionally attached to their partners except in handful cases where they detach. We try to subconsciously demarcate our space in their lives and vice versa. We assume a partial sense of ownership which is why we become territorial and do not allow others to come around.

We have a propensity to think that, our partners are answerable to our sometimes miserable questions just to satisfy our ego which we don’t let go, even if the writings on the wall seem so legible for our comprehension. As conflicting as it can be, we subconsciously find ourselves wearing and choosing their favorite colors, appreciating and singing the songs they listen to and also conforming to their ideal definition of what their ideal man or woman should be – as we take a long hike into what their predispositions were.

I really do not care what you are thinking or which category you may have classified yourself to be in, but we all become stressed towards people we have sexual relationships with, several times before the sun sets, sometimes over petty issues like jealousy, their commitment or lack of it, simple dis-agreements over what to eat, wear, who to associate with or even where to do the association. Then, you would turn to yourself and ask, why all these unnecessary drama?

Dear reader, the answer herein may seem oversimplified but it is simply because you guys have had sex or still having a sexual relationship and if you are wondering why these drama and attitude of yours does not extend to your other friends you are yet to experience intimacy with or even in extreme cases, your Ex, then we are on the verge of discovering the answer together.  We may almost be concluding this article by agreeing that, sex controls our lives, so be careful who you initiate intimacy with.

Big Brother is Fake!

Big brother is supposed to be a reality show, staged in a large comfortable house, furnished with Jacuzzi, Steam bath, large furniture, running water, enough food, alcohol, VIP suite, other luxuries and lots of surveillance cameras to monitor every single movement made by the housemates. Currently ranked as the number one ‘reality show’ in Africa, Big Brother is premised on a group of people who have been handpicked from various African Countries after series of auditions, to mingle and foster relationships in a house where they are isolated and barred from having any interaction whatsoever with the outside world.

The show which runs for almost three months features mostly housemates who are upbeat about fame and how to make it in life by scheming all kind of strategies and plots to outwit each other for the grand prize. Whilst the real objective of the reality show is yet to be known, speculation holds that, it serves as a platform to watch people closely through the lenses of Big Brother’s all-seeing-eye as housemates live their lives.

Apart from the fact that it is a game and sometimes entertaining, most people are wondering what’s in for them since all the fun starts and ends there in the marooned house. Undisputedly, the game if played well, presents a platform for some of the housemates to sell their brands in all African homes and abroad, whiles, some are about finding love by taking their chances. Others are about the fame while some are purposely there for the grand prize which reminds us of choices and preferences.

However, my motivation to write this piece is to dispute the fact that BIG BROTHER is a reality show because whereas the ‘show’ holds true, same cannot be said about the ‘reality’. You don’t congregate a bunch of young men and women in a house and dictate how they should live by telling them what they should do at appreciable time intervals and still call it reality.

Big Brother practically tells them what to wear, where to go and sometimes, what to eat. It tells them when to engage in a task or bath whilst showing their nudity to anyone who cares to watch and I don’t see how these constitute being real with one’s self. 

Reality show is what you see when you enter Makola and Ikeja markets in Ghana and Nigeria respectively. It is what you see when you observe from the corner of the road and see people struggling and shoving each other just to board vehicles that will convey them to their places of work while the snake of private cars honk all through the traffic jam to work.

Reality is waking up in the morning and planning what to do or how to add value to one’s self, not just gossip, chit-chat about everything and anything or saunter around a demarcated perimeter to which anything contrary attracts a stroke and probably sends you packing home. 

I understand people are really living very luxurious lives where they just relax at home and watch the globe turn around without a tinge of a worry about how to feed, but it is different when you camp a group of people with an objective, by feeding, clothing and offering them almost anything basic a person requires to live a healthy and a clean life should at most be a ‘live show’ but not a reality show because we watch live football matches every time but do not refer to them as reality shows.

Fool's Paradise

Trying to demystify why ‘fools fall in love” is one of the endless pursuit a man can indulge himself in, which begs the question, why amorous love has so many negative inferences and connotations, among which are “love is blind”,  “at the touch of love, every man becomes a poet”, “love is not for the faint-hearted".

This makes me wonder if the supposed wise people do not have emotions that are aroused by the attractiveness of the opposite sex and the need to copulate or perhaps, they have a way of going about it, which does not have effect on their senses, because it looks like the more I do, the more I get lost and at this point, I can only rescind my fate and choose between being a fool or a wise person.

Sometimes, the import of all these negative inferences makes meaning when you look at it from a different perspective, which makes you smile and nod your head to these age old truisms as a form of approval. 

A fool according to an unknown source can be someone who lacks commonsense and intelligence and mostly, it is what we display any time love comes knocking on our door. It is very easy to appear a fool or actually do relatively foolish things for the one you love and in worse cases, defy all beliefs which hitherto were sacred to you, just to please that one special person.

Being a fool in the context of love is not necessarily acting up in the circus or has nothing to do with comedy. What it simply means is to be thinking with your heart which is sometimes referred to as following one’s heart.

The head is physical and logical and tries to put things in its right perspective according to the bearer’s level of intelligence and expectations while the heart is illogical and can only be felt. The heart does not think and cannot think. It doesn’t know what is right or not and does not conform to norms. All it exudes is emotions and lots of it. 

How often have you not been lost at sea when asked to explain why you love the one in your life?

Have often have you not rationalized why the one you are with is the best thing that has ever happened to you even though you know parts or the whole of your explanation is false?

How about the lies you discovered s/he told you and still you found a way to make her/him stay with that big heart of yours, not to talk about the physical abuse?

How often have you not asked friends and family to mind their own businesses because it’s your life and you could choose whom to love against all odds?

So, why did you lie to your friends and Employer about the bruises and scars s/he left on your skin if you were actually in your senses and thinking right?

Can these aforementioned and a lot more rhetoric of this nature be considered as someone in their right senses?

Unfortunately, the mind and heart fails to coordinate when an issue of love arises and each in its own right chooses a different path. It is also convenient to state that no one in his right senses can love because loving is for fools who suppresses or discard some of their right thoughts just to be with the one they meant to be with.

The head with a fanciful brain, sits up in its quietude to prepare a checklist as to who should own its heart but the heart just chances upon someone and tasks the fellow to own its head, thus betraying the head-heart relationship. The heart does not mind any other stimuli apart from what it perceives and further blinds its eye to all the reasoning his mind and that of others will give it. It is the heart that beats at the sight of our captors, and it is the heart that breaks when that person does something awful against us or exits out of our life.

Furthermore, love is one thing no one has monopoly over and can barely control, unless they retreat from that pursuit, because it reins everyone in and makes them fools at one point or the other and I am sure you can readily attest to letting go of some ideals and terribly compromising on some commonsense, just to ensure that something was done right.

Additionally, knowing that love relationship is a paradise for fools, can make most of us relax and make things work by not being rigid and too logical because love in itself does not make sense and you can bear out to my assertion if you probably have asked yourself once or twice in the past, why some people end up as couples whom in your opinion do not belong at all and the most familiar one by asking yourself, why you ever dated that Ex of yours.

Finally, it is prudent to follow your heart and make a fool of yourself by falling in love and possibly staying on than trying to find logic in everything your lover does to the extent of separating every two months you fall in love, because in such instances, it will be convenient to say that, the wise has rather become a fool by not dwelling in the fool’s paradise.