MY Addiction

Tuesday, 26 February 2008

AND so.. IT began.

Dad has ten kids, a total of five women, my mum, the last and the legal one. You see the rest of the women, call them concubines. The first had five boys, the second had a boy and a girl, the third had a boy, forth one a girl, and my mother had me.
As far as I can remember, mum was the only wife and the only one who lived in our house with all the kids. We grew up in a twin duplet with my dad and his twin brother who has eleven kids combined with my nine siblings.

It happened on a Sunday, dad was to go to his farm filled with animals of all kinds and aside from his farm he also had a sculpturing company he managed with his brother. My mum, sister and nephew were to go with him. I had just come for the holidays having always been in boarding school, I remember it was the Easter break. We set off to the farm an hour from home, I was thirteen. Getting there the state of the farm was a sight and dad was not happy, the grasses over grown with weed everywhere. Dad decided to take the job upon him to clear up the place because he was so angry the workers had not done their job. I, excited to do the job with dad joined in but dad said not to bother he would do it himself, his excuse; I was too young. Twenty minutes into the job, he started complaining of a headache and my mum told him to take a seat but he felt worse and we had to leave, he got cranky and started to argue with mum and whenever this happens I cry making this day no different. We got home watched the football match that was on and went to bed.

That was the last I saw of dad that day. I woke up the following morning to go see dad but the door was locked I went round the back to peek through his windows but saw no one except red stains all over dad’s white vest hanging on the door handle so I ran to my siblings to ask what had happened and if they had seen dad and mum but no one had.
Mum came home around mid-day to get dad a change of clothes apparently he had been coughing blood all night however unfortunately I couldn’t visit dad at the hospital because I was due to go back to boarding school.

It was on a bright Sunday after, day of good food in school, jollof rice and the rest. Yummy I was looking forward, skipping away to the dinner hall with friends a can of sardine in my hand, when someone ran up with news that my family was waiting for me at my guardian’s house, a surprise to me as I wasn’t expecting anybody so soon having barely just left home a week ago, I decided to think the worst. Getting to my guardian's house I saw her outside her door talking to one of my uncles and in the process wiping what I thought was tears off her eyes as I approach she composed herself like it was nothing. My uncle made me relieved by saying I was to go home for a thanksgiving for dad’s recovery, I was told to pack up my school uniform because I was coming back to school the following morning. Excited as I was, I gave the can of sardine I was holding to a friend.

In the car were two of my cousins, Remi whose school was thirty minutes away from mine and Tola her older sister. Remi told me she had seen Tola cut up a black string attached to her wrist when she was approaching, a traditional form of mourning. I thought to myself what I would do if dad were to be dead, I thought I would cry my eyes out but there was a voice that said to me I would have to take it as a man. The thought quickly left my head and suddenly I couldn’t wait to give dad a big fat huge happy for his recovery. The journey on the other hand was too artificial; too much to eat, too much to drink, extremely unusual coupled with an awkward atmosphere. We got closer to home and drove in high speed past dad’s sculpturing company, I found that very peculiar because I could see posters and dad being into politics my question was why dad was already contesting when he has just recovered. My mission was to take it up with him when I get home.

We got to the house and I could see some relatives I hadn’t seen in what seemed like forever standing on the balcony, I turned to Remi and told to her that we only see these relatives when there was a party going on, how come they never visit on a normal day?
I looked up towards the gate and on it was a huge obituary poster of my dad on the right and R.I.P written in bold on the left, just then Remi burst into tears, I; was in shock, Tola held me tight in tears but told me not to cry. We came out of the car; I went past the crying relatives and made my way straight into my mother’s room. She was dressed in black, all black. She gave me a big huge and whispered into my ears; don’t worry my son, God be with us.

It occurred to me then that dad was dead and every other thing added up. This seem to be the true start of my life, a passageway to the man I have become today.

N.B: This is neither fiction nor imaginary, it is the biography of a friend who is not into writing but have long wanted to share his experiences with the help of someone who would take up the assignment. Hence it being on my blog.
So in between my post, this might come up, just so you are aware. Hopefully I dont get carried away with writing his story.

Wednesday, 20 February 2008


So am sitting here, in the library trying to do some work for my dissertation, bored as hell because the electronic journal system is not responding and tired too. For some reason the back of my body is throbbing, all the way from the back of my neck to the back of my ankles. Strange because I cannot remember exercising but then MIMI was thinking it might be because I was brisk walking 2days ago, anyway that be that.
Sitting here just looking for what to do got me thinking on my educational life, isn’t it coincidental that most lessons learned in life are actually learned in school? You learnt to be smart, lie, be moral, be conniving, bitchy, selfish, delirious, hilarious, hardworking, good citizen and that some people are just messed up in the brain.

Talking about people being messed up in the brain, it’s just a pity that Nigeria allows that, I mean it’s totally safe to be a downright paedophile. I remember once in primary school, primary 2 precisely I had just changed schools because I moved from the south of Nigerian to the east I think. If my geography is correct of which I doubt but that’s beside the point. So it was new environment, new school, new uniform and new I don’t care attitude. I hate not knowing people, it could be really daunting for me, it weighs me down and turns me into a complete shy rabbit of which amongst friends I am not. Problem is I don’t make friends easy, I would say am too picky when it comes to friends, one of my flaws, call me shallow I sincerely agree. Sorry.

Well I noticed that a group of girls always rally round the teacher’s desk and I noticed they were the beautiful girls in class; all of them had something in common; maturing at 160kph speed rate. I was about 7 and am sure most of them were about the same age as me. Thing is everyone in class somehow knew what was going on although I was oblivious to whatever it was. I just could not wait for closing time each day, for the first year in that school that is the whole of primary 2, I had no friends, not one. Lol, how sad, I just couldn’t be bothered.

Well so there was this maths test we had and the books as normal were supposed to be distributed by either the class captain or the teacher, every1 got their books back except me. I lifted up my hand to alert the teacher of this strange happening his response was for me to come over he would like for me to go through the test with him
Already the peculiar girls were batting their eyelashes at me but like I always do I totally pushed them to the back of my mind, I just could not be bothered. There I was with the teacher, he was marking my maths test with me of which I considered weird. Next thing I knew I felt his fingers slide my panties to one side. I was shocked. 1) Because I couldn’t comprehend how he raised up my skirt without me being aware and 2) I was confused about why his fingers would be sliding my panties. This was primary 2 remember? I was 7 and he was my class teacher. I quickly slapped on his hand, pushed my skirt down, left my book and ran to my sit. Guess what he had to say? He looked at the peculiar girls with a smirk on his face and said isn’t she strange? They all nodded in accordance to his statement.

When I got back to my sit, the girl beside me patted me on the shoulder and told me I did well, he does that to all the girls round his table, in her particular words, ‘they are all silly girls’
I did not report the issue; I was too scared and shy. He didn’t try it with me after that time but the other peculiar girls still rallied round his table. The psychotic bastard!

Primary school lesson learned: some men are extremely messed up in the brain and would go to any length to satisfy their sexual orgies. What a lesson to learn at such a young age even though it was equivocal then, it was still something to ponder on.

Ah ha. The electronic journal thingy is working now, am going back to work. Will be back with school experiences. Laterz.

Friday, 8 February 2008

My Apologies...

Yes! i know i know, i have been a terrible blogger lately, but ive got a good excuse. my laptop is pissing me off so much i dont even want to touch it, i cant even be bothered to take it for repair and i want no computer other than the vaio cr series. so am saving.

that stupid laptop of mine has problems, the thing goes off just like that while am using it, it runs serious temperature as well forcing me to do my dissertation at the library and go on the internet on my phone even when i am at home, which is really annoying. so bear with me lovely people. ill be with you soon as can be.

love u lot loads.
signed LIGHTY.(100%).