I could hear them arguing beside me, she had tears in her eyes but beyound that she seemed confident. She spoke little and cried alot. He did nothing to soothe her "pain". At some point she was absent-minded, he stood there just staring at her. Finally she spoke, "am not doing this with you". He grabbed her hand almost immediately and she yanked it free so hard that the bench shook. She pulled a huge piece of rock from her third finger and threw it at him while his kness kissed the ground.
Culled from "tales at the motor park" by #girlfromthesouth

His shirt was ruffled, his hair held traces of the old mattress he had laid on the previous night. The back of his shirt had frayed edges that told his story. Despite his neatly trimmed nails he had his hand under his chin and leaned carefully on his bag.
His bag had obviously been packed by a woman. Next she touched his cheeks gently, looking intently into his eyes as if she  were noting the "heartbeat" of his soul and said, "Stay safe,I Love you!!!"
Culled from "tales at the motorpark" by #girlfromthesouth

TALES FROM THE MOTO-PARK

Tales from the motorpark is a collection of brief moments between travellers and the people they leave behind. This collection captures very short conversations I eavesdropped on or practically read the lips of the conversationists. Please take a glass of lemonade and enjoy the ride.

PRAY FOR ME

I woke up one sunday morning and told my daddy......
Just as I turned on my bed despite the harmattan cold I found some comfort in the knowledge that I had washed the dishes the previous night so I didn't have to go through the torture of the icy water.
As I was about to close my eyelids hoping to find some sleep, perhaps I may have the luxury of seeing my prince charming. I heard our Landlady's voice nagging as usual just that today it was my father's turn.
"Ete Emem, ulauka ukpe rent?"
(papa, Emem, won't you pay your rent)
Before my father could answer she had slapped him, by this time I was standing by my wretched father. My father took the Battery  in good faith and apologised quickly by going on his knees.
After our landlady had left, my father turned to met the disappointment in my eyes. I could not speak a word but he could read me like a book, with a look of reassurance he left me standing there in my faded night gown.

Meet my family, we afford three meals a day. You know the groundnut and garri snack saving Nigerians since the 50's.
My father had been a merchant who lost his merchandise to some good samaritan mission he undertook against my mother's warning.
My mother had been a teacher who had to stop work because of the health condition she developed after my father's loss.
Am not an only child but rather than bore you with tales and descriptions of my pot bellied and "tiny bone" siblings let me tell you about myself and what has led me to this dungeon from where am writing these words hoping my father never reads it else he will "kick a jerrican".

"One sunday morning I told my daddy am leaving home, am going to the city tomorrow even though I don't know where to go".
My Dad had warned that I could get broken but I was adamant. Its been four years eleven months since I left home, it's been such a lonely journey. Like my father had said life in the city is not rosy. Seated in my room I keep my gaze fixed on the box of clothes and gifts I had bought to take back to my family. I HAD MADE IT.
I had become a night worker, life had gone on smoothly, I was getting paid and my clients were respectful. Little did I know that the Old women in my mother's village had held a meeting on behalf the previous night, the next day was my last day on this job.
It was going smoothly, he had just paid me, he was my favourite client and he had asked to be my last bus stop. After the marathon I was tucking my cheque of 3million into my box. There was a knock on the door _I was not expecting anyone so I hesitated. I looked at Chief my client and he had gone all white. I moved slowly towards him and asked him what was wrong before his lips could finally let the words hit my ear drums_ the his heart had stopped. He had been pumped with bullets that came through the door.
Soon the police will be here and my life has ended officially. Who will believe me?
"Hello daddy how u doing?
Hope mama is doing ok,
It's bee n 4yrs n 11mths now.
It was true what you said to me,
Life in the city is unbelievable,
I had to struggle to get by everyday.
Daddy pray for me,
Pray I find my way,
Forgive  me father......"
DAREY

#girlfromthesouth

Bad things happen to good people

An attempt at mirroring the woes of a syrian family caught in the middle with ISIS. some details are gotten from Humans of new york.


BAD THINGS HAPPEN TO GOOD PEOPLE.

It's a sunny morning, the TV is blaring with more tragedy. The tragedy seems like just stories months before now. Bad things happen to only bad people.
In the comfort of my mansion I sit quietly overlooking the terrace indulging in the most reliable source of vitamin "D". My small family sit around me helping themselves to breakfast. I pour out tea for my husband and parents who had come to our house for a few days. My youngest daughter is seated beside me, she does not want tea this morning she wants orange juice.
I was the lady of the mansion, in command of so many servants, money and fame could have been said to be the reason for my marriage, howbeit it was not. We had come along way together from sharing one plate of food to sharing a thousand exqusite dinners.

The door bell rings , in split seconds the breakfast table is overturned the tea has streaks of blood in it, recovering from the shock I look up and they are standing before me! "You there", they point to my husband come with us, I can hear them asking him questions about his beard, he tried to explain he had just returned from holidays abroad. They shake their head and disbelief and take him away. Just when it seemed the ordeal was over one of the men returned and takes my daughter with them, some liquid runs down my face it turned out to be blood.
For some reasons I did not cry, my heart was gripped with fear. The next day a mail man arrives at the mansion and delivers a package. I rushed to open it hoping it will be some phone or a letter asking for ransom. In that package was blood and my daughter's head, I screamed alerting the  rest of family who came to my rescue. I scream again, I try explaining to my father but he looks at me, his eyes swelling with tears, he rushes and holds me and whispers in my ear, daughter-mine please be calm, do not scream you have lost your voice, do not lose your mind.

#girlfromthesouth

8th SEPTEMBER

It was such a bright day the love of my life had justreturned to Nigeria hopefully to make me his bride.
I had quit my habit to ensure I had cute nails when he would put the precious gem on my finger. I had started working out prior to this , I was perfect for a groom.
 I kept glancing at my phone, pacing my room. I was not shy to call him I just had no means of reaching him.
Few hours past two my "Bae" called he said I should come over to his house which I was glad to.The thought of meeting with my future in-laws made it increasingly difficult for me to find clothes to wear. After what seemed to be a war I found a beautiful gown to wear and I hopped onto a motorcycle and raced down to his house.
 The gate was not locked and I walked in nervous expecting to see my in-laws but I soon disvovered we were "home alone". Calm your nerves  there was no kind of abuse.
I sat patiently while he served me snacks, we spoke at length and I didnt see anywhere the discussion was headed, being a share girl i edged closer and began to show him pictures of some brides hoping he will get the message.
He began to say to me.....

"B, you know how i feel about you. I really love you but the thing is... "
I looked closely at him, his silence seemed to last eternity.
He continued,
"You must get pregnant first before we can take this relationship seriously"
I didnt know what to say to him, I was dumb founded. I got uo slowly and carried my bag set to go,just then I did the unbelievable, I went on my knees I begged him to please change his mind and he simply pushed me away.

It began to rain and he asked that I leave before his parents got back. The entire road was flooded and the flood had gotten up to my knees but in my pain i didnt realise that I only wanted to get home and get high on "PEPSI" .

The pain of what he said to me hurt like hell. Years later I meet him at the mall and for some reason I want the mall to burn with him in it.

#girlfromthesouth

Dear KEN-SARO,
I never met you in person but you inspired my project topic.
I wish I had something to dedicate to your memory bit I have got none.
I only pray that in the midst of all this chaos you spirit strengthens the freedom fighters. You loved the earth and spoke against its constant degr

adation, you have given the Ogoni's something to hold onto and thats your unrelenting efforts. Its gradual but they will get there. I only wish you were alive to advise our brother GEJ am sure he would have listened to you.
#freeogonibus

#girlfromthesouth