FIRST LOVE...

The first time I saw her face, she wore a smile,
Coming to this world she gave me the life,
All my world she got, I just hope I'm right,
She's making my dreams true,she got my back.

My first love, my rare Gem, my one and only,
Son! U need a lot of patience, that's what she taught me,
Life is not a bed of roses, believe you'll make it,
Impatience only leads to the 6ft valley.

Her prayers, her tutors, and everything she is,
the reason, for my season and the point of my peace,
You are a crank my dear son and you need to believe in it,
Stop dreaming in reality, and make your dreams real.

Ghetto was the home, mat was the foam,
She has never stop believing in me and calls me her own,
 War was so fierce with no battle line drawn,
The time is now, making it real, wondering where I'm from?

Her Silence brings the loudest voice,
Falling off the right path, she's the only one I trust,
Gentle voice of advice, but sounds like a gong,
Mother you are forever here, for you I'll write my songs.

Teach my son the courage to be impatience,
Give him the reason to be wise even among the rest,
Give him fun, give him time and reasons to be first,
I know him a great future, that my mother said.

The greatest obstacle to you is the victims mentality,
Even to the future, don't make this a reality,
Your thinking with this reason brings abnormality,
Don't ever think you can't do it, take up the responsibility

The world out there is ugly and trusting someone is death,
Don't ever rest until your good become best,
Until time to say I made it and beat up your chest,
Trust no one, only on God you should put your rest.

The best mother in the world is the one I got,
Even with all my Gold, her price I can't afford,
Thinking of her word, worries over board,
She gave me the love I can never afford.

THE CLOUDS ARE GATHERING 2(TWO)

He drove into my hostel around noon in his black Peugeot, the car was painted black and its glasses were darkly tainted. He was just as dark with mushy moustache; he was tall with a gentle pointed nose and a feminine body frame; slimmed and trimmed like a female model. No wonder he sounded epicene on phone. ‘Yeah I look a lot like my Mother.’ He spoke as I stood and looked at him with apparent amazement.

‘No wonder the mushy moustache, something must stand you out as a man.’ I felt so close and familiar with him and sat comfortably in his car. I didn’t even ask where he was taking me to.

As much as I dread downfall, I cannot deny its striking amazement, the seeming wonder of strokes of water and the wetness the earth would soak up in due time. Bright, dark or murky, rain is not a respecter of time or events and it strikes when it pleases. But life isn’t a stream of coincidences; it is actions that breed reactions and reactions actions. The clouds that now gathered to fall were dense of water, synthesized from my dryness and made to form into concrete strokes of scary drops.

I knew when he drove me into a bar and ordered drinks for me, when he kept pouring the tasty liquid into my glass and I kept drinking, I knew it tasted sweet, sour and itchy and my throat consequently thirst for more. I knew I felt liberated and said things I never thought I could utter, I even flirted with him and it all seemed too easy. He took me to dance and I danced and laughed as if I never existed before that moment, before I lost consciousness I knew I had known fun and it was wild, crazy and exciting but that was all I knew till I woke up in my bed naked and dizzy and Sanda was just gone.

Everything seemed normal and my skin felt cold as if I had just bathed. I stood and managed myself into the bathroom and found the clothes I wore yester night soaked inside a bucket with detergent. I tried to clean up but I was already cleaned except my mouth that still seriously smelled of alcohol. So I brushed and decided to call Sanda but I was shocked to death by what I heard. ‘The number you are trying to call does not exist, please check…’ I hung up and tried again and again but the result was the same so I decided to check him on Facebook and leave him a message but the account does not exist and even the chat history was gone. Now I was confident it was all a dream, but I was torn between what part was reality and was part was the dream, because Sanda seemed so real and how did I wake up naked on my bed on Sunday the 15^th. Maybe I had just dreamed the whole thing throughout valentine. But what about the soaked cloth in the bathroom, the smell of alcohol in my mouth, and the number saved as Sanda on my phone. This must be madness, I need a psychologist.

                                               

Every day I wake up with a thought of Sanda, and then I had no thought of him at all because he had existed neither in my dream nor in my reality, because Stephen Sanda does not exist anywhere. I took up my average life of sleeping, waking up and schooling till the semester was over and I went back home to my parents. Mum called me into her room on my third day at home. ‘Jennifer, when was the last time you saw your period? She asked mildly as if I may be afraid to answer but I was simply perplexed. My mother had never spoken about period or no period with me since I was 10.

‘Huh? My period?’

‘Yes, your menstruation!’ now her voice was slightly raised and I wondered what for?

‘I’m even on my period right now. What’s the question about period for mummy?’ I was getting curios too.

‘Have you started having sex?’ Sex? I had never heard my mother uttered that word, at least not with such bareness.

‘Mum, I’m still a virgin. What’s up with all this questions?’

‘You are pregnant Jennifer. I’m your mother; don’t dare lie to me again.’

‘Pregnant!!!’ I shouted. I meant it as a question but my word was emphatic. I wished I could just fall down and faint but that was another thing I had never done.

It was four months and yet my period came every month and stopped the month my Mum discovered I was pregnant. Stephen Sanda was gone, or he never existed but he was present within me and I bear the testimony of his existence. The clouds gathered and yet shall soon fall, but there are consequences for every downfall, for the earth will have to soak up the waters and prepare for germinations. No one will believe my story, not even the Sanda within me and so earth shall be dry again and the memory of the gathered clouds and the downfall will fade in expectance of another. Maybe I’ve dreamt it all and I dread nothing, not even the impending rain.

THE CLOUDS ARE GATHERING

THE CLOUDS ARE GATHERING

The clouds are gathering! Now I hear rumbles from within me, quakes of water, warring and warning of an impending downfall. I hear it at night; the kicks and movement of gathered water, threatening to break the membrane of soft cells that holds it at bay, the warnings come at noon, eve and even before day breaks. It looms like an inevitable gong of impending war, and I dread it; like a child fears the sight of sprinkling blood. I fear the heaviness of the rain, the portals of strong strokes falling rapidly in succession, the eaves and breaths of the sky descending uncontrollably down the earth and the eventual wetness that slumps red earth into slums, and drain the soil of all its dryness. I dread many things and every thing about the rain, but nothing more like the gathered cloud, the terrestrial rumbles from above, rambling through portals and causing shivers, the wind of gathered cloud, splashing in lightening and thundering thunders. But the downpour I now fear threatens from within me and soon it will rain.

It all started with dryness on a valentine day, every downpour begins with one. I woke up with a sudden thirst, a drive and cravings for excitement. The day was young but I felt bored, like my entire existence had been clouded with dryness, and I had been shrink and compressed into an average soul within myself. I was still in bed, gradually rising into consciousness, but I had nothing to look forward to in a day that should have been promising, I couldn’t start wondering why I had lived such an uneventful life but I laid down and sunk deeper into the comforts of my pillow and remembered Sanda, he was the reason for all this negative feelings I was now feeling.

Stephen Sanda! I met him on Facebook on Friday the 13^th as he termed it, a day that should have been filled with excitement and fun for him if not for the election that was supposed to be on the 14^th. He wanted to throw a party on the night before val but couldn’t due to the planned election, and when the election was postponed, it was too late to start organizing a party so he laid down on his bed that night and decided to open a Facebook account, and the first damsel he would see on the social network was me. At least that was the story he told me, and it was too flattering for me to pass up as a lie or joke.

I wasn’t a social network addict, or a Facebook fan for that matter, I was the type of person that could lie comfortably in bed all day and refuse to go online talk less of replying messages or accepting friend requests on Facebook. But Friday the 13^th was different; I decided to go through my Facebook wall, read posts and comments and even reply some messages, then I saw a new request coming in to join the endless stream of requests that I had simply ignored.But Sanda??? I thought the person must have meant to type Sandra and out of curiosity and perplexity I accepted the request and then found out the account belongs to a guy and I was his only Facebook friend. He looked cute though.

‘So your name is Sanda and I am your only friend here. Are you stalking me?’ I wrote on his wall and he replied almost immediately. ‘Yeah bae! Every beauty deserves a stalker.’ I chuckled loudly and replied ‘Well I don’t need sanda as my first stalker. Sanda???’

‘But my name is Sanda! At least thatwas the name my parent chose for me.’ He messaged me and that was how we started chatting. From random courtesies to personal experiences; we chatted deep into the night and eventually conversed about plans for Val and our lustful Val wishes, but I had none. I was a big time novice without any sexual or lustful experiences, and that was when he started making me feel boring and average, like I’ve lived but never lived, as fun and excitement had simply eluded me.

I had never stayed awake beyond 10pm before Friday the 13^th, I may be able to dance but I’ve never tried so I don’t even know if my body can move in rhythms with music, I don’t 0have any close friend; at least close enough to know the things I had never done, I had never tasted any alcoholic substance, I had never gone to visit a guy; talk less of having a boyfriend or kissing, I had never done anything that was beyond average and I had never confessed all this to anyone apart from Sanda. He seemed close and wild with a seeming sense of understanding and adventure as he began to make me feel like there may be more to me than this me, or there may be more to life than sleeping, waking up and schooling. I eventually slept off on the chats, but my mind kept pondering on how dry my life had all been and I craved wetness with an intensity that I never knew existed in me.

 I was still ruminating on my miseries on valentine day when my phone rang. ‘Hey it’s Sanda, happy Val and how was your night damsel?’ He sounded epicene; I couldn’t place the voice as either masculine or feminine. ‘Did I give you my number?’ I was curious and it was another thing I had never done before; dish out my number to an absolute stranger. ‘Yeah you did! You said you were sleepy and I should call you in the morning.’ Of course I did and I knew I did.

‘But Sanda, who the hell are you?’

‘Your stalker Simi, I thought we established that.’ He sounded so close and familiar and I began to crave him too.

‘Will you be my Val?’I asked before I knew it.

                                                *****