HER HAUNTED SPIRIT

My haunted spirit..

I stand, yet i fall.
I feel strong yet my health
fails..

My heart is heavy
and i can't carry anymore

I feel destroyed
but my secret is shut inside.
Dark, gory, scary and lovely.

I sip my last liquor.
I taste my last blood.

My tongue is so redded out
but in a few minutes,
I'll pink it back.

My head screams
each time i hear your name.
My heart loves it.
My mind isn't sure.

I have trekked into the woods
and before me lies this:
I saw Mandy's body.
He had ripped off every slime
of life in her.

Her head was gone
but i know her figure too well.
I couldn't help her.
I should have.

Blood stuck it's red
self out of her neck.
I love those blue jeans
she died with.

i would have killed her to get them.
But i didn't.
now he did.
He pulled her head away with
a slice from his knife....

i remember her.
I remember him
I'll never forget them.

I want to stop now....
-Chizitere.

Sweet Escape

After three months of hardwork and laziness, I have finally reached the last stage of my Novel 'Sour Libation'.

Its not been easy at all and living in lagos made both writing and thinking difficult. I had to run away and resume school early for the fist time in my life. I really hope all my sacrfices for this book will not be in vain.

I have to go now so i can look around school to see all i have missed. I'll keep updating my blog about how life is around here as much as I can. Please keep reading this blog and watch this space cos i'll be posting clips from my novel here as well. Thank you all for your support. You are in my heart.

ALONE IN OUR CUBICLE

I cuddled Gozie in my arms and rocked him like a new born baby he wasn’t, as he struggled to breath. I fought hard to hold back my tears while I watched him scramble for air. At that moment, I tried to imagine what he would have looked like then in his mother’s arms as a baby.

I sat beside Gozie, still and without any movements. He fought helplessly to live, yet the best I could do was wave some rumpled pieces of old newspaper- which I barely managed to stretch and flatten well enough to serve as a hand fan- in his face. He was already drenched in sweat by now.

In the midst of his struggle, I noticed he was trying to say something to me. Amidst short gasps for breath he voiced some words which I had a hard time understanding
“aaahhh... tttaakk... thaaa.. thaa.. bbbaaggg...” He said.
I guessed he was referring to his small black knap sack which was a few meters away from where we sat. I stretched over as much as I could to where the bag was and pulled it closer. That bag was the only major property I knew Gozie owned and it had a few of his other belonging suffocated into it.

Gozie was practically in love with this bag. The love they both shared was so strong that on some days he would hug the bag up to his nose and sniff the material of the bag in like a flower. He would smile almost immediately like he had just perceived a sweet scent for this flower. He used to say the bag was a gift from his mother on his twelfth birthday. It was the last gift he ever got from her so he cherished it so much. Gozie and his “sacred knap sack” shared such a relationship that made me think of him as weird, but I was happy that the bag made him smile at least.

As soon as the bag was close enough, he signalled to me to open the bag. I dropped the pieces of paper I clutched in my right palm and unzipped the bag with the same hand. I hoped somehow that the bag contained his source of redemption or salvation. A hard cover note book which was blue in colour stared right at my face as I stared at its surface as well. I took the book out and flipped haste fully through a few pages. I did not have the patience to look through gently, but from the few pages I saw it seemed like the book was a storybook.
“Has Gozie been writing a story?” I asked myself as I looked back at him and our eyes met.

Gozie was still gasping for breath and his light complexion skin was already turning pale. His eye balls were red and sunken, while bags were formed below his lower eyelids.
“Taahhkk... it” he said in what sounded like a whisper but I heard him clearly this time.
I nodded in agreement and patted him on his chest to calm down.
“Don’t worry Gozie you won’t die... you can’t die... you won’t die... please don’t leave me yet...” I said crying profusely like a little child who had just been spanked.
A light liquid ran down my nostrils and dropped on Gozie’s upper lip. I wiped it away with the back of my right palm, sipped the rest on my face into my mouth and continued crying.

I remembered Gozie had some ventolin tablets which he kept anywhere in the room. Gozie’s carelessness was far too annoying. He just could not keep anything properly and it would take him only a few seconds to scatter the whole- little- room, no matter how arranged it is. Gozie knew how to get on my nerves pretty well but I was used to his nuisance already.

Gozie and I lived in one of the small rooms in an uncompleted building. Neighbours who have lived in the area for a longer time said the house belongs to a young man who became mad a few years after he came back from Italy where he used to work. Rumour had it that he was involved in drugs and blood money, people just say all sorts of things to gain attention or have other people listen to them. I cared very little about what they said.

Searching the room for the tablets did not seem like a task at all considering the size of the room. There was no bed, foam, chair, table or any form of furniture so there was nothing to lift up. I placed Gozie’s head down on the floor and crawled away to look for the drugs. I sought for the drugs amongst our few clothes which were tied together in an old faded wrapper that was kept adjacent to the entrance. It took me more time than I thought to scatter the clothes in search of the drugs so i prayed silently to find it because i was afraid of wasting any more time. I search around some more; this time i turned the whole place upside down and i didn’t care about orderliness. “Ah! There it is!” i exclaimed when a drug envelop fell out of the clothes i was holding up.

I clutched the envelop in my hands which had started to shake at that time and raced back to where i had laid Gozie. He was still keeping the fight up as much as he could. I lifted his head up from the ground and cuddled him in my arms again. I placed two of the ventolin tablets in his mouth and fed him with some of my saliva to help make swallowing the pills easier. There was no water in the house at that time and i could not go out to get any either. He gulped the solution quickly and continued his feat.

The episode was barely ten minutes old but Gozie’s body had suddenly grown cold and stiff. I got scared so i held his left palm in mine and made an unvoiced prayer to God to let Gozie survive this. I did not believe God existed but the urge to trust and confine in anyone then made me pray all the same. I needed something to believe in at that time.

Take a minute... Take two...

Think wit me a while.
Deeply. Shut shallowness out
Stick with me
Tenderly. Dont get too stuck.

Lets leave now.
We will return soon.
One day. Not today.
Not tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow

Lets entwine thoughts
and merge hearts.
No words.
No speech.
Just thoughts.

I'm waiting so hurry.
I won't let you down
but you can and i won't forgive.

Take a minute...
Take two...
Leave the third for me.
I'll wait.

Not for so long.

-Chizitere.

Em... What do you think?

I find it rather difficult to concentrate these days.

Seems like my head is a jungle of ideas, most of them wierd to the normal human being. I've been workng on the same book for over two months now and I'm still stuck at the same place. It feels like i have been cursed to always end my stories at chapter four or five. I want to know if its the same for every writer or if my case is different, because i need to get out of the situation real quick.

Recently, I've been through one wahala, heartache, market, something or another. I know we are bound to have switches in life but it seems like mine have become too frequent and 'switchy'. More or less like a member of my personal family.

I'm not writing this to find pity, but I hope to find answers with this here.
A lot of good things have come too and i always wish they could just last forever.
*gimme a minute let me take this call....

Oh back to what we were hearing and I was saying. I dont know what else to say. I guess the phone call took some of my memory with it.*Jumoke help!!! I need memory!!! Lol! sick joke!

Let me end with a short poem then.

Peace can't chop me into pieces
War wore me once.
I had to forget myself for a while,
still i forgot you.

Judge me but don't pass a verdict
I'm slimy and uneasy to predict
so you might just be wrong.

Even if i fit into your dreams
you're still not in control.
*Is this makng sense?
Hold it!
Don't tell me i think it is.

Scribble me away...
I'll scribble you down
Thats my kind of exchange
so deal with it!

My eyes are wide open,
tears have even began to fall
out of them.
I won't close them till
you fade away.

I leave you in peaceful
pieces!
I count no loss.

-Chizitere.

You dont always have to find a connection or meaning for my poems. The words always disturb my head so i just spit them like they are. If you get something out of my poems, then its good. Good for you... Good for me...

For Roots Sake!

This is not christmas.
This time is different.

The land is now bare and pleads for company.
They'll find their way back here soon,
but only for roots sake!

You'll see them soon...
Just wait and you'll see.
You'll see the effizy.
You'll feel the swagga.
Don't worry you'll see what I've been telling you all the while.

The atmosphere is at peace now right?
You'll see what it will be in december.

Our illustrious sons will be back by then,
and they'll pollute the air with noise, fumes, perfumes and pride.

They'll make us wish.
They'll make a few aspire.
They'll make many jealous.
What will they make you do?

In december,
they'll be back for roots sake!
Oh ye city dwellers!
Don't come home and pretend again.

Oh ye city dwellers!
With your fine dresses,
good make up, sweet accent
and stories about the city.

Life in the city is hard,
and life in the village is boring.
We village dwellers love it here,
so don't trouble us again,
for roots sake!

-Chizitere.

BUILDING WITH MTN.

I almost lost my teeth a few days ago.

Dont get it twisted but it was for a good reason. I was out with some of my friends from MTN on thursday and friday. I did not expect so much considering the fact that it was an outing with people i am oviously far younger than, but it was a wonderful experience in the end. The idea behind the hang out was for members of staff to relax and get to relate with eachother on a level ground. They call it team build, and it holds once every year.

Ok let me tell you how it went down...
We arrived La Campgne Tropicana, an exclusive resort which I had only heard stories about until that day. I wont be running an advert for them here but i must confess that the place is beautiful. I was totally stunded by its exquisite make up.

It was raining when we arrived so we had to run into the resort taxis from the bus we arrived in under the rain. My back pack weighed heavy but i still had to race with it.

I won't bore you with a step by step analysis of how everything went, I'll just go straight. We got in and were shown to our rooms. I had to share a room with my elder sister who is also an MTN staff. It was actually an outing for members of staff but they were allowed to invite a few family members and friends.

As soon as we settled in, we came out for breakfast. I tell you, that breakfast was just right for me. After breakfast, the GM Alhaji/Mr (i'm not sure of which) Mohamed Rufai gave an opening speech. His speech is the shortest and most straight forward I have ever heard.

We hit the main activities after that, and Lolo of wazobia fm who was the mc did a really good job. She made our stomachs burst open with her jokes, and coordinated the games as well. The games were funny because they made me feel like a child again and i felt really happy expresing myself around my new company.

We played beach football, which was where i almost lost my teeth, volleyball, we went canoeing, played snooker, table soccer, etc and drank a lot as well. It was mad fun! I made a couple of new friends too numerous to mention, who are really cool. I was overwhelmed by the beauty of the beach at night. The view was so cool i did not want to stop looking. I was really inspired.

As usual i was a star: the only female that played football, the most energetic and fit, the best dancer, and so much more. I just stole the show that day. In summary, the concept is good and the aim was achieved, but above all, i had fun.
I'll post pictures soon.

Listen to my mind. (PLEASE!!!)

For a while now, so many things have been going wrong in Nigeria. The funny truth is that all that a lot of us like me have done is sit (or stand... or sleep...) and talk against the country. I wrote this poem after a hard thought about the future of this nation (which scares me). I'm not sure of where we are heading, but i know its somewhere. It's up to us to decide where we want the destination to be. I'm guilty your honor...
The title of the poem is in Igbo and means help me when translated to English

NYERE M AKA...

I know what is wrong,
So I will give right a change.
Don’t ask me how I know,
I just know.

I might have lived around
Wrong for too long,
But I can tell the difference.

If you make me a judge,
I might judge wrongly
But when I sit in the crowd,
I judge right.

So many things are not right
And I can’t do anything to
Correct them unless you help me.

I’m decaying, someone please
Help me!
Everything in my system is wrong
And my children suffer for this.

Don’t stand there and just
Yell at me.
Help me if you can.

Even if you detach
And run away, you would
Still come home soon.

You call me all sorts,
But don’t forget it is
You that make me and
I that give you your identity.

We are inseparable.
I only have hope when you
Give it to me so stop taking it away.
I am what you make of me.

You are my creator,
The only reason I still exist.
I am your body, your group,
your identity.

Turn back to me.
See how profusely I bleed.
I’ll keep bleeding till you
heal me.

You know I won’t die.
Of course I won’t
I shall die only when you do
No matter how far you run,
We’ll still die together.

I am not tarred, in darkness,
Hungry, kidnapped, thirsty,
Uneducated, cheated on, insulted,
Corrupt and suffering

You have let me be all this.
You haven’t done anything
To help me.

How long shall I stand here and bleed?
How long will you let them mock me?
How long will you ignore me?
Please do something quick!

I’m tired of waiting…
-Chizitere.

For my brother and brothers

Jason did not return that night. Two weeks passed, and even as you all hoped he would, he still didn't. You searched every where you could- hospitals, police stations, friends' houses and even moutuaries. You did not give up.

Some one told your mother she had seen him somewhere in Lagos roaming the streets. You thought she was just blabbing and her information lacked facts. You ignored her yet you prayed and kept on hoping. A large part of you believed he was alive, but your feelings betrayed you because they could not tell you where he was.

Your mother cried everytime and this pissed you off. You wanted her to just shut up! You were tired of holding back your tears to comfort her. You go bored with giving her hope, you were tired of acting up strong for her.

That day she looked at you and said, 'you are all I have now Ekene.' you cursed Jason for leaving you alone and making your parents sad. You cursed that day he left home and what ever had happened to him. You cursed and cursed till you had no more curses to curse.

As hard as you tried to fight it, you knew missed him very much. No matter how much you tried to peel that feeling away, it was still stuck hard to you. Forgetting him was the hardest thing for you.

Your mother's desparation to find Jason was begining to tear her apart. She got so depressed and bitter that she shouted at you for every mistake you made. Her eyes became permanently red and swollen and her mood swings got worse.

Some how you were happy. Your happiness was because of the closeness that begun to exist between you and your father since Jason went missing. You both joked and laughed about things you saw or talked about. You tried to forget the sorrow that tore your hearts apart. Although you both missed Jason, you did not talk about it. You were afraid that any pessimistic word you say would jinx him never to return again. You kept your words away.

Time went by a little and you got used to his absence. While your parents and everyone resolved that he was dead, you fought hard to keep your hope alive. You were sure he was alive.

One day they found a body somewhere around Cele. The body laid still and lifeless like a corpse. Everyone overlooked it and went about thier business. They left the body to rot away. Shola ran to your house that morning and said she had news for you. 'I saw jason's body at Cele' she said. Her words struck you like a heavy blow which left its welt in your brain. You told your parents and in a short while, you were all at Cele. Hot tears slid down your face when you saw his body. You threw away all the hope you had kept right there because you thought he was dead. A mental video of his burial played in your head. You were sure you would die after it. You could not bear the pain of the loss. You stood aside and cried out all the 'cries' you had. You lost all your faith and your heart was crushed.

You were shocked when you heard someone exclaim, 'Thank God he is alive!'. You could not believe your ears, but you did any way. Your hope was not in vain after all. You were all happy about this. Jasom came back into your lives, and you swore that this time you would never loose him again.
-Chizitere.

Let Go...

Piece by piece
pieces of peace.
You think its protection
but look what you did.

You bought yourself extra
life with hers which you sold.
Why? Why did you?

Look! See! She is living
your future now.
When will she live hers?

She has dreams,
dont you think?
Her destiny is different,
dont you know?

Come on! Let her be.
She is your child.
She has a life to live too.
She is a part of your life,
not a piece of it.

You are a part of her life,
not the whole of it.
Its not cowardice to let her live
its the right thing.
Just let her be her

-Chizitere.