THE HUNTING

THE HUNTING

THE HUNTING

It was the darkness in his stare, and the danger in his eyes, which made my heart skip a beat. Moreover, it was the slither in his walk, that made me cringe. As a matter of fact, it was his cold smile, that convinced me of the evil living in this decepticon, as if a serpentine entity had seeped through his body, and taken over his entire nature. But, why had I not noticed this phenomenon before? Perhaps his heedless charm had masked his psycho persona, or could it have been the imposter syndrome he had so cleverly cloaked? Indeed, this man was a class actor, always the victim, but never the villain. I am not so sure but something eerie about this fraud screamed danger inside my bones. In like manner, the dark cloud that hanged over his head, brought in the negative energy through him, that made him appear as if accursed. Yet, what mostly gave him away was how strangely silent he became, almost mute, never speaking, always mirroring, a manslayer, often bayed upon innocent souls, trying to snuff out their light, which irritated his demons.

Again, the devil was in the smallest of details of this fibster, an empty shell of a man, a brutish creep, hiding his true nature behind a myriad of masks, camouflaging his venomous nature inside a callous smile, an incessant charmer, disguising his covert affairs in plain view, a shape-shifter, a two-headed serpent, one way in the sun, and another under the moonlight. I tell you once more, that evil lurked in this villain, the kind of evil that could be only be unveiled through the vision of the third eye. A dangerous foe this phony was, like a snake hidden deep in the grass, he barely showed his dirty hand. Moreover, he seemed mentally distorted, continuously fighting the imaginary, and at times engaging with shadowy figures, as though he harbored malevolent entities, in the ways he worshipped danger and glorified death, in the times he smoked weed and popped pills, in the moments he was bent on hanging around the women of the night, and drunk himself to a stupor, as though he itched to soak in everything diabolic.

Yet, how did this cheat manage to have everybody fooled? Just like a smooth criminal, he knew how to cage one with his allure, chain another up with his lies and deceit, and play the other false with his devious games. Unfortunately for me, I was once a victim of this dark villain. Long before my fatal encounter with this rebel, I was a happy-go-lucky type of girl, with sunflowers and rainbows in my head, and daydreaming about a beautiful tomorrow. Little did I know that, I had both attracted this wretch into my sunny life. This foul barbarian unleashed the monster that was laying quietly inside of me, the moment he dug his killer fangs in me, as a result; took away my innocence, killed my virtue, and changed my persona, by conjuring up darkness that threatened to dim the light that was shining inside of me. All over sudden, the world did not seem so rosy anymore. Consequently, the pain and heartache made me slip into the realm of gloom, while the sorrow and shame dimmed the light in me, forcing me to sink further into obscurity, and deep into the edge of extinction.

As a consequence, I embarked on a witch hunt against this scammer, and in my quest for retribution, I switched into combat-mode, and morphed into a hellion. It was an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth, or nothing at all. He did not see me coming at all, on account of I did not let him see the bitter storm that was churning inside of me. The truth is that I was terribly scorned, and nothing could silence the harmful thoughts that screamed inside my head. On the contrary, I was all up in arms, ready to teach this imp a lesson, and finally put him in his rightful place, below my feet. At first, I played it cool, like the naïve girl that I once was, watching this fiend with keen intent, while he gave himself away bit by bit. I became intentional with every step I took, and every move I made, with a mission to bring down this marauder once and for all. Furthermore, I spied, and stalked this predator every single day, plotting, and planning behind his back, hoping to hit him where it hurt the most. Unbeknownst to him, the hunter had become the hunted.

What’s more, I could not help forming in the mouth, every time I came into contact with him. My ultimate desire was to put this devil on a stranglehold. Subsequently, I went too far with my revenge plan, which took the wrong turn for the worst. In a moment, somewhere between plotting and planning for his demise, I slipped in to the sunken place, where my sanity left me, as if something took a hold of me, as if another being had taken over me, as if there was an intruder inside my head, over-shadowing my will power, and ultimately causing me to bend to his will. Needless to say, the spirit of revenge had consumed me to the point of destruction, and in my quest for avengement, I let the devil in, and he began wreaking havoc in my life. All I felt was deep hate for everyone and everything, and I was not able to mask it, no matter how hard I tried to. Consequently, my visage drastically changed, from a brown glow to a black crow.

All in all, I continued to viciously stalk this selfish goon all over town, inadvertently mutated into his image, and by mirroring his motives, I had become him. Necessarily, I closed my eyes tight shut, to block the ugly realization from roaming in my head. Why would God not understand my intentions? All I wanted was to expose this man for all the terrible crimes he was guilty of. The more I obsessed about this rogue, the more I got traumatized by night terrors, even in broad daylight. A day in the wake of my miserable existence, I must have fallen into deep sleep, when the sight of an angel overpowered me. He was on flight, carrying my numb body away from the shadows, and towards the sun. I was confused, with many questions in my head, but before I could get to question him about anything, the rays of the sun soaked me to my core, cut the energetic chords, which tied me to this wretch, and for once in many months, I felt like myself again.

When I awoke from deep slumber, the throbbing pain in my head was gone, and so was my insatiable need to self-destruct. My mind became so clear, that I stifled the urge to burst into a song. In a word, the nightmare was over. All I needed was another peaceful night sleep. As for the grifter, I never saw him again. There was a wild rumor, that he had mysteriously vanished overnight. Nonetheless, I am fully convinced that karma took him far down the realm of justice.

 

TAMA ISLAND

 TAMA ISLAND

TAMA ISLAND

I have many vivid memories about the late Mama Joe, which are mostly preserved inside the faded pictures, taken by her on Tama Island, more than three decades ago. What I remember most about her, is that she was a skeptic to the core, doubting every news worthy information that emanated from her retro sixties antique ham radio. Forget the colourful rainbows that lit up the sky of Tama Island, all Mama Joe ever witnessed were grey skies, which spelled gloom and doom. As cynical as she was, you would have had to convince the aged crone that water is life, for she would not have believed it, not until she consulted her tarot cards or her effigy dolls, over the same. Consequently, it was inevitable that only her four worn-out raggedy dolls would dictate her every waking move. What’s more, Mama Joe had a murky shrine, dedicated to her four staffed juju dolls, for whom she conferred to about everything in the world.

As a fifteen-year-old, it was my very first moment in the twilight zone, the very day I stepped into Mama Joe's compound on Tama Island, where abnormal things happened so very often. At first, I thought that Mama Joe was somewhat strange, with her gothic demenour, and her love for all things spooky. Nonetheless, the known medium was at the time, a sexagenarian, who was not an ordinary person. As a matter of fact, being normal was not how I would describe Mama Joe's odd personality. Even her dress code gave out witchy vibes, like some sort of a shamanic priestess, one who resembles a witcheress, with an insatiable thirst for the underworld. Contrary to popular belief, Mama Joe was not a blood relative of mine. In truth, she was my uncle Fred’s next door neighbour, a forlorn widow, and an ever-grieving mother, who lost both her husband and her only son to a tragic boating accident, on the hermitic island. Perhaps that was the reason why the dowager was pessimistic about life.

Regrettably, Mama Joe was shunned by almost everyone on Tama Island, due to the fear of her rumoured cold sorcery. However, my uncle Fred did not buy into any gossip tales peddled on by the natives of the remote island. Instead, he dismissed the idle talk at the grapevine about the matriarch, as nothing but an old wives’ tales. Needless to say, I also ignored the rumour mills, on account of my innocence, and made an odd friendship with the famed widow, for the sole reason that I did not have any friend close to my age, to communicate with at the time. Moreover, Mama Joe was also a gifted seamstress, and a skillful weaver, who was known for crafting the most beautiful handbags to come from the tiny island. As a matter of fact, I credit her for teaching me the art of weaving rugs, delicately binding various threads with masterly precision, an artistry I could not master, no matter how hard I tried. Nonetheless, it was Mama Joe’s folk stories about ancient cultures, as well as the legends of old, are what I lived for most. Remarkably, Mama Joe could spin a tale, better than yarn, such that you would think that she existed during those dark ages. “How do you know of these primal cultures?", I asked Mama Joe, bewildered at her accuracy on the facts and figures of the ancient world, of which she brushed off my blatant skepticism, with a loud shrug. "Pfft! My visions and dreams of the ancient world, are as real, as you and I are alive, my dear", she offered proudly, leaving me more confused than ever before.

I was tolerant of Mama Joe's narratives, because they were to me a form of entertainment, in a remote-set island, where everything about the odd woman was more interesting, than the island itself. However, her constant communication with her four doe-eyed bantu dolls, was a cause for concern for me. It was as if the dolls were all in our conversations, where Mama Joe had a built miniature shrine for them in every room, inside her makuti house. “Do you not approve of these coloured sisal skirts I made for you my sisters?", she questioned the lulu dolls in my hearing, one of those awkward moments, while we were bonding over another folklore session. Suddenly, the hairs on my neck stood up, soon as I saw, at the corner of my eye, the khaki-made dolls seemed to have slightly moved. I could not say with certainty that I saw what I saw, but the flight reaction I experienced in that passing moment, was proof of what I thought I saw. "Mama Joe, your sisters moved!", I swiftly spoke, pointing to the stuffed dolls set on a shrine in front of me. At first, Mama Joe did not believe me, until she saw the paralyzed look at my face, and decided to quickly change the subject, in order to deflect from the topic at hand. "It is impossible for dolls to move my dear. Besides, you are tired, and it is getting late. Therefore, you should head home, before your uncle comes looking for you", she dismissed me with such finality, that I began to second-guess myself, and if what I had witnessed was just a figment of my own imagination.

Later that night, I could not help but wonder about Mama Joe and her four mystery dolls. Afterall, I was just an impressionable fifteen-year-old, with a curious mind, and a raw intuition. Moreover, I did not want the tattlers to get wind of Mama Joe’s poppet dolls, and hence find reason to attack her life all the more. Therefore, I kept Mama Joe’s secret to myself, with the hope that her dilly dolls were nothing more than just vintage dolls. The very next day, I was reluctant to visit Mama Joe, for fear of her bizarre dolls, yet I did not want to miss out on her wild goose-chase stories, because what other form of entertainment was there, besides her goofy adventures? As I arrived at her compound, she motioned me to follow her to her farm, which I did. "You are late today, Betty. A big girl like you, should not be given to much sleep, for it is not proper", she scoffed at me, while she hurriedly walked in front of me, while I ran, in order to catch up to her fast pace. “I am sorry Mama Joe, good morning, and I will not be late again", I replied, while out of breath, and ashamed of my lateness. We never spoke again, until we reached the farm. While walking behind her, I keenly watched, as she trotted ahead of me, and it became apparent that her attitude towards me had slightly changed, because of the yester incident with her four creepy dolls.

Nonetheless, I was determined not to let that chilling episode deter me from our budding relationship.  After hours of harvesting plantains from her farmland, we slowly headed back to her house, for another educational session. As usual, I learnt many things in the journey to antiquity, only this time, I was so tired from the day’s work, that I must have dozed off for a moment, only to wake up to a moonlit sky, and Mama Joe's house was as silent as a grave. I woke up with a start, from a short nap, as I struggled to stand up, in order to find Mama Joe, and perhaps apologize for sleeping on the job. As I staggered drowsily from room to room, while trying to find her, I heard voices chatting from a room, at the corner of her makuti house. At first, I did not think much of it, but when I peered into the room, I saw four figures, of four females, sat at the table beside a shrine, next to Mama Joe, speaking in hush tones, so as not to be heard. I saw in the full light of the moon, four silhouettes of feminine figures, alien in nature, like the four esoteric mystics, breaking bread with Mama Joe, while speaking in unison, as if they shared a voice, with four distinct tone variations.

As I approached the door the room, they all turned to look at me, all vivid, as if they were real life Martians. "Come my child, do not be afraid of my sisters", said Mama Joe calmly to me, with a plastered smile on her face, while the female version of the four eerie doll-like extraterrestrial beings stood up in unison, as if to welcome me, with big black oval eyes staring back at me. As you have guessed it, I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, back to my uncle’s house, screaming my lungs off, and scurried under my safari bed. That night, I left Tama Island, never to be seen again. As for Mama Joe, I recently heard that she had joined her ancestors, some years back, and that everything she owned, was buried under her makuti house, including her bantu dolls.

GET RICH OR DIE TRYING, AFRICAN STYLE!

 GET RICH OR DIE TRYING, AFRICAN STYLE!

GET RICH OR DIE TRYING, AFRICAN STYLE!

There are many ways to getting riches, and Africans have been scheming their way to wealth, since before the invention of the infamous get rich or die trying slogan. In order to get in, where you fit in, there are some crucial rules to follow. But before you make it to opulence, you have to know that being your authentic self is a dream killer, and anybody preaching to you of the same, either has not made it in life, or has given up on life. Anyway, you have to be both book smart and street smart, in order to attract the kind of wealth you desire. Similarly, it is not easy to cheat your way into riches, as there are many rivers to cross, to get to Richland. Nonetheless, if you are a brave heart, then there is nothing impossible for you to achieve in your lifetime. All you have to do is, follow the golden rabbit, into its rich nesting burrow. 

First and foremost, you need a good education, to match your new found title, as well as your killer moniker, should you wish to make it to Richville. Who in Africa, pray tell, does not respect a learned fellow, by the name of Barrister Koffi Mensa or Doctor Nina Okello? All you have to do is let all the clergy of your parent church, in on your budding achievements, while rubbing their influential hands with some gold butter, and watch how they break forth and sing your praises to their congregation, and the entire community. What’s more, if you need to go to the top right quick, then the Church is the place to go, for there is nothing more beneficial like free publicity, and we all could use the available connections out there. Secondly, you have to know how to blend in with all your connections. Here, charm and charisma are the tools of trade you put to use, in order to solidify your networks. Society says that flattery will get you anywhere, so therefore, flattery is the skill you must use to get into the hearts of your major networks. While flattery is one of the keys, which opens the door to wealthy places, on the other hand, charm and charisma are other keys that help you stay in those rich spaces.

Do you still want to get rich, or die trying? Well, the skills mentioned above, are the tricks of the trade you will need to master, in order get to the very core of that wealthy mine. Once you have access to some solid connections, the third most crucial thing to do is, to learn how to season your speeches. In other words, learn how to conversate like an aristocrat, and while you are at it, bourgie your way to Suburbia. What this means is that fake an accent, any accent, as long as it is foreign, preferably American, which is common, widespread, and much easier on the African tongue. However, do not go into far deep with it, as you may break into barriers, you cannot lift yourself from. You may not believe this, but here in Africa, people who have a western education, are perceived to be smart, well-cultured, and polished intellectuals. Therefore, in your quest to get rich or die trying, there is need to embellish all your credentials, in order to suit your new acquired accent.

Needless to say, do not attempt to adapt a British accent, as it is quite a challenge for Africans to master it correctly. That is the reason why the American accent is the go-to accent for any African who wants to fake it, to make it. Consequently, when your new found accent correlates with your credentials, then step three comes to play, where you chase for that gold mine job of your dreams. At this point, your connections come in handy, however do not pursue a top-level job position without the proper networks on the ground. In a word, you have to be strategic in how you manoeuvre your way to the top, and sheer luck does not get you where you need to go half of the time. In short, you need a straight connect, someone who will get you to the door, and into your dream destination. However, this is not an easy task to achieve, as you have to be street savvy, in order to get the breakthrough, you desire. But once your tricks and treats get you through the door, then you will have struck a gold mine, that will grant you access to a life full of endless possibilities.

Meanwhile, this is a word of caution for all you that are haggling for wealth and power, is that it is not easy to stay on top, once you get there. Hence, your benevolence will play a part in you staying at the top, and by benevolence, I do mean playing the charity card. To put it plainly, you have to give, in order to receive. This clearly means that you must publicize your good deeds, and particularly so on social media, in order to survive, as part of your get rich, or die trying quick scheme. Again, it is not easy to stay on top of your game by sheer luck. Consequently, you must use what you have, to get what you want, and stay where you are.

However, if all else fails, then the quickest way to the top is either marrying into wealth, or selling your soul for material wishes. Keep in mind that the devil does not care about your education, credentials, beauty, or fake accent. On the contrary, he wants your most precious possession, in order to grant you all your wishes, and make your dreams come true. Again, how badly do you want to get rich? Just know that through this devilish path, it will cost you everything, including your very life, just to make it to the top. Thus, remember that there is nothing for nothing, in the devil's lair, as you must pay heavily, in order to eat out of his pot.

Finally, there may be a better way to getting rich, without killing yourself in the process. However, this path does not include all the above shenanigans, for it is a long and winding process to get to the proverbial Canaan. Similarly, this path is narrow, and with deep lessons to learn from. Also, this path requires a close walk with God, one that is built on faith, patience, and a healthy prayer life. Needless to say, there are no short cuts, or cutting corners, when building lasting wealth. This is the reason why many people do not like this narrow path, for it is boring, tedious, and mostly time consuming. Nonetheless, this narrow path is one that ultimately leads one to great and lasting wealth.

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BREAK-UPS DECODED

 

BREAK-UPS DECODED

BREAK-UPS DECODED

There are so many reasons as to why ex-partners break up and part ways with their past significant others. Well, I have managed to decode a few of those logical thoughts, from a female perspective, and translate them into human form, for basic understanding, especially for the sake of the male folk. However, this does not mean that much of the rationale put forth in this creative piece, is the gospel truth. On the contrary, the ground reasons for break-ups shared on this write-up, are majorly based on practical experience of yours truly, on account of having been on the dating scene longer than most, and also being a social observer of the behavioral patterns of mankind. Needless to say, this is a Betty Baijun's still in the wood-works, exclusive female communicative translation manual. Therefore, do not knock it, until you try it.

To all you gentlemen of dating age, when a female tells you that the she decided to part ways amicably with her ex-partner, what she means is that she had long friend-zoned her ex-lover into the ‘let us just be friends with benefits’ box, long before he developed the guts to ask her out, and that the only reason why she complied with his romantic gesture, was simply for a temporary love tangle, which means that he was a safe bet for a rebound connection. That is why, there was no bad blood, or love lost in their short term situationship. As for her lover, well, the opportunity to date her was too good to pass, albeit short lived, yet it was worth his while. Similarly, another possibility for their break up would have been that both parties parted ways, particularly so when they got bored with one another, but were too diplomatic to use the term boring, as a description of their short-lived rendezvous.

Moreover, when you overhear a woman say of her ex-lover that, "He was not my type", what she means is that she dumped him, for the sole reason that her usual type is that tall, dark, and handsome money type, one who is filthy rich, and the kind who can afford her excesses, without a flinch, or batting an eyelid. Hence, her leaving him may have also been strategic, because she might have already bagged a wealthy guy, in the process of dating an average one, and hence was forced to jump ship mid-way, in order to secure the big fish. Another possibility of their break up, would have been that her ex did not do her bidding, and as long as she was not able to wrap that kind of man around her little finger, in a way to control him, then he was automatically disqualified from being her type.

Likewise, gentlemen, when a lady friend says to you concerning her previous partner that, “We did not click", what she means is that, he did not tickle her fancy at all, for the reason that he was as boring, as watching paint dry on a wall. Nonetheless, she did not want to break his heart by stating the obvious. Thus, she gave him a flimsy excuse as to why she was bailing out on him, by gradually bread-crumbing him, until he got the message loud and clear, and proceeded to the nearest exit. Another plausible reason for their break up was that, she did not click with her ex-lover, because she did not appreciate his dry sense of humour, or his constant need to talk in excruciating details, about his career as an Actuary. On the contrary, she would have clicked with someone else more interesting, hence the sudden disinterest in her former partner.

In like manner, when a woman says of her old flame that, "We did not agree on anything", what she means is that her ambitions must have driven her ex-lover up the wall, such that he felt emasculated, got extremely insecure, caved in and called the relationship quits. Indeed, this is a classic case of a hyper independent woman dating an insecure male, who constantly spied on her every move, and when he could not cope with her free spirit vibes, he was forced to dip out of the relationship pre-maturely, instead of sticking to his guns, in order to make their relationship work.  In the same way, when a woman says of her ex-partner that, "We did not see eye to eye", what she means is that their clash of egos was too volatile to be ignored, and since none of them was willing to back down for the other, the relationship died a natural death. This is a common phenomenon, of two alphas, who are batting heads, where dominance is their reward. However, when both mates refuse to compromise, then hell breaks loose, where both parties are forced to part ways, with no room for redemption.

Comparably, when a woman says of her former flame that, "We needed a break", she means she was suffocating inside the toxic relationship, because she could not catch a break to save her life, while she was busy slaving for his love and affection, and since he did not value her enough, to honour her with a ring, if not his love, she was forced to take a step back, allow him to miss her enough for him to come back to his senses, and wife her up immediately. Equivalently, when a woman says of her ex-partner that, "We parted ways, citing irreconcilable differences", what she means is that, if that man dared to come five inches of her face, she would blast him to smithereens. This phrase, irreconcilable differences, basically means, "Stay away from me, if you know what is good for you!" It is anger, mixed with rage, plus temporary insanity, which makes for a lethal weapon. Even legalists will quickly tell you that, that phrase is also for their own protection, just in case things, meaning court proceedings, go south, because of heated arguments and fights between former lovers, turned haters.

Lastly, I would like to reiterate that whatever information that I have shared with you, should not be considered as the gospel truth. As a matter of fact, I am just sharing my own sentiments, with regards to relationships. In other words, this is my own perspective, added to my own personal experience, to make a juicy mix of this subjective creative piece of writing. Therefore, read this article for entertainment purposes only.

 

 

CAMP FORTY

CAMP FORTY

CAMP FORTY

My childhood friends were once inseparable. We not only grew up together but we were constantly engaged in each other’s in lives. As a result, we thought it swell to have a weekend slumber party, and catch up with one another last Christmas. Moreover, we figured that we should embark on a camping trip for once in our lives, yet not into the woods like real campers do, but house camping, that was close to our beds. Thus, Bena was one of my longtime childhood friends, suggested a pajama party in her ginormous garage for an entire weekend, and since we were three single ladies, we found the freedom to set up tent, and dubbed the experience as Camp Forty, based on the fact that we were all in our forties. As one would expect, all was going well at our friendship camp, where we bonded in our Camp Forty adventure, while we reminisced of the old simple days. Needless to say, the pitch camp escapade was going so well, up until we started getting into each other's personal business, as women tend to do.

Consequently, our conversations turned sour, so much so that after twenty hours into the seventy-two hours of camping, all our claws were out, and ready for a cat fight, making the campsite unfit for habitation. I already knew that our back and forth bickering would happen, right after Bena and Flo went back in time, to the graveyard, to exhume dusty skeletons of their ex-factors, each time the bitter subject of their entanglements with those bad boys. In addition, I dreaded waiting for the mention of the names of some two hoodlums, who Bena and Flo dated eons ago, before a blood bath would ensue. In all honestly, these two hoodlums have always been a subject of controversy since our childhood, and their topic has always been raw and painful to our mouths. In that moment of conflict, time seemed to have frozen, as Bena and Flo's mood became so ice cold toward each other, that I had to call a time out, but before I could put my opinion across to these two rivals, pounced on me with vicious attacks.

At first, I thought that Bena would tear me to pieces and feed me to the wolves, with sheer ferocity. On the contrary, it was Flo who actually turned against me, by spitting venomous words against me. Firstly; she attacked my hair, then my sobriety, next she went for my singletude, before she made a mockery of my new found purpose of being a teacher, by harshly stating that, "At least Bena and I have tasted love and marriage, unlike you Aunty Betty, who is always giving your unsolicited advice to unsuspecting souls." This vile Flo was determined to cut me deep but thank God for my natural shock absorbers, that were matured by years of traumatic life experiences, skilled clap backs, expert come backs, and hardcore stoicism, Lucky for me, I was able to beautifully retaliate and hit back at the crude remarks rendered to me by Flo. As you can you imagine, this dear friend of mine, actually neglected her lucrative career, in order follow some strange fellow, a bohemian kind of a man living in utopia, on some wild goose chase, in the middle of nowhere, with the vision of nurturing wild horses! Are there even wild horses in sub-Sahara Africa? Yet, if there are any horses, I would bet on my new found purpose, that Flo had never seen any type of horse breed with her naked eyes, let alone rode on one.

Well, at least Aunty Betty is a darn near counsellor or teacher for humans. Nevertheless, what does Flo know about horses, except for the ones she has watched on the national geographic channel? Yet, I am very much convinced that Flo’s hipster lover, had brainwashed her into believing that she was some sort of a mystic horse whisperer, called on by the universe to help the endangered species. Perhaps there was a glimpse of the truth to her magical powers. Nonetheless, why could she not also find it in her big heart, to initiate a just cause of helping all the maltreated donkeys parading down her hometown, pulling water carts all day long? At any rate, Camp Forty had melted, became fiery hot, and thus was intolerable for habitancy.

Meanwhile, at that volatile moment, Flo and I had morphed into grim and evil, parading our dirty linen in public, while Bena was screamed at the top of her lungs, in order to stop our verbal fight. No sooner had Bena let out a loud shriek, than we stopped squabbling, perplexed by her thunderous voice, which carried harsh words of rebuke, that unfolded in this manner, “Both of you are worse than children! You Flo, are a sucker for love, and you Betty, are a lonely coward!" To put it briefly, Bena’s critical words to Flo and I were raw, uncensored, and cut deep like a knife. Nonetheless, what did she mean when she said that I was a coward?

However, before I got the chance to speak, Flo leaped on Bena like a savage, throwing shade and pouring all her tea on the ground, with such cruelty that I was taken aback by her mean streak, and derogatory words to poor Bena, which threatened to rip their friendship apart. "All you know to do Bena, is give birth to children, sit home, to watch Telemundo, and wait for your ex-husband to send your monthly support check. I mean, have you ever worked a day in your life?!" That statement directed to Bena by Flo, was a low blow that even Flo felt miserable, soon as the statement left her mouth. The truth was that with six children, Bena was forced by circumstances to become a stay home mother, while her former husband went to work. But soon enough, the very famous doctor fell in love with the house help, divorced Bena, and married the young uneducated lass, all to our shock. Since then, it had been over twelve years but still, who can ever easily forget being dumped by a rich man, for a village girl?

All in all, why is it that we females cannot behave like males do, forgetting about silly old grudges, and fist pumping to the new times? Instead, we women hold grudges for years, and always looking for any opportunity to bring them up every time our super egos are challenged. Dear God, sometimes I despise the company of women, for it draws me back to those high school days, whereby there has to be the leader of the pack, and everything else was a competition. Well, I guess after that wild exchange we had among us three, we were forced to decamp, went our separate ways, and slid back to our boring lives. So much for a lasting friendship. Perhaps the next time we do decide to talk to one another like human beings, it would be over drinks, when one of us loses their pride, and invites the rest of us for a healing soirée.

THE MURKY AFRICAN JOB MARKET

THE MURKY AFRICAN JOB MARKET

THE MURKY AFRICAN JOB MARKET

The employment market in Africa has always been a bleak sphere of stunted growth for any struggling African, and all because the entire African matrix system is severely skewed, and hence can never be a level playing field, especially so for the ordinary civilians. This fun fact I know, because I lived it, by spending all my child-bearing years, perpetually on a job hunt, pacing back and forth on route eleven, tarmacking really hard, in the hope of landing on any available position, and for what? At that rate, I felt I needed; an ancestor pass, ritual offerings, a warlock’s ring, anointing oil from a prophet’s wand, and ties to a mob, in order for me to magically qualify for anything jobwise. Nonetheless, before I could even get the mystical job connect, I had to first face a rigid panel of interviewers, who had the organization's authority to bombard me with cringe worthy questions, that make up for television entertainment.

A case in point is a job opportunity, which I applied for, once upon a wrinkle in time, within my locality. Sadly, for me, I had to face a body of queriers, the kind who make you wish you were born into royalty, so as not to face the kind of public scrutiny subjected to the have nots. The first question to the grave interview was, "What was the occupation of your great grand-mother, on your father's side?", some overzealous cuss in the team of quizmasters dared to ask me, as if he was planning on granting my late Nana the job instead of me. The truth is that I never my great grandmother, on account that she had already passed on, long before I even was born. Moreover, I had never really thought to inquire about her life. Consequently, did my lack of knowledge of the career of my ancestor, disqualify me from working in that particular local company? Actually, my late Nana and I are worlds apart, for we are of different generations. Therefore, what was the point of this question?

Another callous examinant in the board poked at my nearly perfect resumé and posed yet another irate question, leaving me feeling more vexed than I already was. “It says here in your CV that you only have five years’ experience, yet we are looking for one who has forty years of experience. So, how do you figure?" Perhaps I have exaggerated this second question, still it is not that far-fetched, particularly so when you have been a job seeker as long as I have been under the African sun, because this type of question is designed to knock one off the competition, for the job spot. Anyway, did you get to thoroughly read the question at hand? Can someone please call on all the available mathematicians, because the math is not mathing. As a result, I was so perplexed by this line of questioning, that I had to pose one for the inquisitors that went this way, “I am sorry sir, but did you mean forty years of age or forty years of work experience? Because clearly none of you who sit before me is a day over fifty years, thus how am I expected to have forty years of work experience, when I am only forty years old? Even your company has been in operation for a little over ten years, hence I do not understand this line of questioning you people have.” Ah! These African panelists darn near killed me with their dramatic questions.

By now, you all should be aware that all the above questions were set to debar one, so that the hiring company can fulfil their quota, while they help find their relatives find lucrative job positions. But before I could take a breather, this council of interrogators pelted me with another archaic question, which read like this, “Who was the first local Chief of this Ward?" Again, what is with all these ancestral questions? Honestly, I did not understand why these interviewers loved to go back in time, instead of forging ahead to embrace the future. Although, if I did not have the answer to this next question, then it meant that my chances of securing that job opportunity at hand, were close to none. Having said that, unless I had documented information about the local Chief in question, then there is no way I would have known who he was, if he ever existed. Regardless, where would I find information about the local Chief from, aside from a series of dilapidated photographs stemming from the colonial days? Perhaps the Chief in question is related to the owners of the company, hence the interviewers' prior knowledge of who the Chief was. Hence, why ask such an irrelevant question to a millennial? 

The next obvious question thrown at me was, “You’ve listed para-gliding, kayaking, and bungee-jumping, as your hobbies. Can you explain what these activities are in general?", glared the curious panelist in askance, at my resumé. Even I was not ready for the set question, since it was not my intention to provide them with my internationally-crafted resumé, as opposed to my locally-configured resumé, that suited the current job position. Anyway, the short answer was that these white-painted hobbies were sort of in my bucket list of futuristic plans. Thus, what I meant to list as my hobbies were the usual; reading books, writing journals, and watching informative documentaries. Needless to say, I was put on task, to explain my mystic hobbies, and as soon I did, the whole panel looked at me with contempt, like Joseph the dreamer, who told his brothers of his big dreams, and they all mocked him in ignorance. Anyhow, I was not offended at all by their silent judgements of my white hobbies, even though I was perturbed by their clueless demeanours.

Needless to say, there were so many malformed questions thrown at me but the wildest one, by the last panelist was, "Why are you not married at your age?" I guess this question was the very one that broke the camel's back, and thereby destroyed my chances at securing the coveted job position. In a word, my diplomatic response to their invasive marital question was, “I am not married, because I am waiting on God’s divine timing.” I would have stood up to leave at that juncture, yet good manners, coupled with a few ethical values did not allow my pride to get the best of me. I know that you too reading this could be offended on my behalf, but in Africa, this is the norm, and the unwritten rule to which your level of growth and maturity is measured by your marital status. I guess these rejective panelists would have gladly overlooked the many faults which they considered me to have including, the strange hobbies I listed on my resumé for their perusal, as well as my blasé attitude, with regards to my ancestry but for some harsh reasons, they would not wish to overlook my singletude.

Perhaps, these team of panelists mistook me for a free-spirited hippie, or a recluse battling an existential crisis, yet I believe that too much education, exposure, and a thirst for more knowledge, was what set me on the journey of self-discovery. Nevertheless, I did not blame these set of Africans for their skewed depiction of me, because in their world, I was a conundrum but, in my world, I was just Ms. Betty Baijun. All in all, if you are wondering, I did not get the job. Apparently, I was overqualified for it, and therefore, they thought it wise to award the next best person, and most probably one who did not threaten their worldly position. Oh, well, I went back to tarmacking, and yes, I had better luck in the next job hunt.

THE GODS ARE ANGRY

THE GODS ARE ANGRY

THE GODS ARE ANGRY

I am at loss as to why the gods have for ages been deemed to be an angry lot. Long time ago, possibly before Christ, our ancestors believed that nothing seemed to please the gods, not the numerous sacrifices that were rendered to them, nor the constant praises given to them by men. But why were these medieval gods always invariably angry? Long before the days of antiquity, the possibility of gratifying these ancient gods was close to none, yet these ancient gods were supposed to be a source of great help and protection. Is it not ironic that these deities were supposed to be divine, yet anger was their best-known emotion? Moreover, if the gods are known to be eternally angry, then what are we mortals supposed to do about it? Ever since I was a child, learning about my spiritual heritage, all I ever heard about these immortals, was their constant need to be appeased.

What’s more, these primeval gods often spoke through their oracles, who were also the high priests, commanding my ancestors to make major sacrifices, each and every single waking moment, to which I would have strongly objected to, had I been in existence at the time, to witness their tyrannical demands. Anyway, the gods would send a forlorn diviner, out the blue sky, and into the village square, with a sombre look, and a disturbing message at hand, which read something like this, "Our land has not received rain for close to a year, because the gods are angry at us. So therefore, let us quench their wrath, by giving them our newborns." My people, please forgive me for being too forward, but I do not understand what the correlation is, between ritual sacrifice and gratification of these pantheon of gods. I mean, must mortals forever lose their souls, in order for these amoral gods to be content?

You see, this is why I am also angry at these perennial spirits too, for their burdening requests for appeasement are outrageous. It could be true that the cultural gods helped us to overcome the desert sand storm, which devastated our harvest two hundred years ago. Therefore, must we always self-sacrifice, because the gods performed a righteous cause on our behalf? Moreover, are we obligated to pay through our noses, in order for the gods to help prosper our lives? At this rate, we humans might as well leave it to fate, to guide us wherever the wind blows, or is fate another one of these incautious gods? As a result, I made a point of consulting our resident oracle, one who is the mouthpiece for the gods, as to the reason why these deities were ever angry, because all I ever witnessed the stoic seer declare, were the laws of the gods, by which our tribal community was founded. Nonetheless, and by far, it is the inhumane taboos which annoyed me the most, but I digress.

In any case, this is the reason why the oracle does not like my rebellious nature, of questioning the status quo, with regards to the ways of the gods. This mystic seer once rebuked me for being overly inquisitive, and warned me that, “You do not know the forces you are messing with, by trying to defy the dictates of the gods. If you keep going against the set rules, the gods will unleash their wrath upon you.”, hissed the irate seer, to yours truly. Just like the oracle, the gods too were angry with me, for questioning their wisdom, but what is new? Whether I speak my mind or not, will their anger ever subside? According to the seer, I was authorized to offer a white hen, as a cleansing sacrifice, before I could purify myself down by the village pool, with special soap, in order that the indignation of the gods against me would diminish. Look my people, I did not mean to be rude to the seer, yet I felt the need to tell him off politely, because what he was suggesting for me to do, smelled like extortion.

Nevertheless, what do the gods need a white hen for anyway? Do they know just how much a hen costs, in these dire economic times? On the contrary, had they asked me to apologize for being oddly inquisitive, I would have gladly complied. However, for them to demand for an offering, because of my blatant curiosity, is a tad bit covetous. What’s more, do not also forget the unique soap for my supposed cleansing ritual costs money, and therefore, I would rather buy the hen to consume it, and the soap to wash my body with, rather than waste these precious items on some spiritual quest for an energy cleanse. Needless to say, I took chances with my new age opinions, stood my Christian ground, and let the moral chips fall where they did. Sometimes, I do envy the white man, particularly the one who considers himself an atheist, because unlike me, he does not care much for tradition or spirituality.

Further, the reason as to why I reference a white man, is because it is on a very rare occasion that you will ever encounter an African who publicly proclaimed themselves to be an atheist. Nevertheless, if you have met an atheist African, then best believe that he is an Alien breed. Anyhow, as a matter of fact, the white atheist does not believe in the traditional gods of this world, hence he does not care for any religious philosophies, which he deems them to be outdated, and therefore inconsequential to his budding life. In actuality, he is free to be who he wants to be, and choose to live as per his will. To most of us who have lived all our lives inside a religious bubble, know just how hard it is to spread our wings, and fly outside of the religious mindset we are bound to. Even if one should be so benevolent, as to emancipate us from this religious mental slavery, and then what? Are we then supposed to pray to ourselves? Should we then consider ourselves as gods? If so, then that would be outright a terrible abomination or sacrilege, at most. Even the thought of it, is somewhat unnerving. 

Either way, what we mortals need are devoted gods who will show a little compassion to the human race, for we already live in a cruel world, full of pain and sorrow. Thus, what good will it do to us, to have unsympathetic gods who are quick to punish us for every little thing? Needless to say, we humans are not perfect, and as a result, are prone to making mistakes. Hence, we need affectionate gods who will step in to help us, and not castigate us every chance they get. Ultimately, we do not need gods who are indifferent to the human race, but we need gods who are benevolent.

 

 

WOLVERINES

 WOLVERINES

Have you ever noticed just how tactical most predators are, as they appear from the shadows, to mercilessly devour a wounded defenseless animal? As soon as they smell blood on the raw flesh of the scarred prey, and sense fear in their heart, they immediately show their carnivorous nature, as they move with cold stealth against the weak herbivore, with a mission to kill. It is the same with humans with a werewolf persona, who creep in the dark, awaiting for the downfall of their targets of envy, before they can show, face and feed off the negativity, and trauma of those they loath. Be careful of the wolves in your vicinity, for in the light of day, they wear masks to hide their identity, but in the still of the night, they come out to slay naïve souls with a cold vengeance.

These veracious wolves are the very ones who would make blood vows and bind themselves to deathly oaths, just to see their pre-conceived enemies fall. They will even go so far as to conjure up spells that chain their imagined foes, so that they live lives full misery and servitude. The most unfortunate part of being a prey is that you do not see these ravening wolves coming, as they are most often veiled in charm, beauty, and deceit, which is paradoxical, because they hate beauty, and are disgusted by love. What's more, they see love as a form of weakness, and hate more particularly those that ooze it, for they are envious of the fact that they themselves are no capable of generating the same kind of love. In fact, they walk, talk, eat, and sleep like evil doers, always dabbling in sorcery, so that they may sabotage, and manipulate people, to fall from grace. Evidently, everything these depraved wolves think or do is evil continually. They never have anything good to say about others, and soon as they catch a ray of sunshine crowning a soul's head, they quickly jump to block it out. God forbid that they should sense a glimmer of hope in one's aura, because they will work quickly to try to snuff it out.

These savage wolves are demon seeds, the spawn of the devil, ferocious blood-sucking monsters, diabolical and overall bedeviled lycans, who eat out of the devil's pot, with no remorse, while they target to silence God's lambs, without batting an eyelid. Never mistake their kindness for goodness, or else you will become a victim of their devious schemes. Moreover, their words are malicious, as their souls are darkened by the cardinal sins, and one jab of their poisonous lies will destroy the faith of many men. These hell-infested wolves hate humanity but what they abhor more, is the divine light found in children of God. When they see God's sheep beam and shine, all they can do is obsess about how they can siphon that abundant glory onto themselves. Best believe that these killer wolves get no wink of sleep, constantly lying awake in the night, plotting and planning on how to dim the light of God from His chosen, for their light reminds them of how vile, conniving, and cold-hearted they really are, and how they can never be children of the light, because they gave themselves over to darkness.

Heavens forbid that any of God's children be at the mercy of these wolverines, depending on their generousity, and co-dependent upon their energy. They will for sure not hesitate to take away their power, damage their souls, silence their voice, and put out their light. As for you, blessed one, you have to know how to make strategic moves against your nemeses, lest they drive swords into your back, and slay you before your time. The very first cardinal rule is to have ample knowledge and wisdom about your enemy. It has been frequently said that knowledge is power. Hence, most battles are majorly won by wit, as opposed to strength. Further, when you engage with your enemy in full wisdom, then you have already won half the battle. The second most important rule is, to never show up in a fight all alone. This means that you need strong allies to aid you win a battle, and who better to back you up than God Almighty Himself? With God by your side, the battle is already won.

Wolves are always hidden in plain sight. How you spot them is, by tracing their parasitic ways and leeching mentality. The third and most crucial rule is, to never become friends, co-sign a business, or worse, marry a wolf, because it will be to your own detriment. Remember that wolverines have nothing worthwhile to give you but a life full of pain, and heartache. In fact, they will take everything from you but will give you nothing in return. Nevertheless, if you do happen to fall in love with a wolverine, then best know that they will use your love as an opportunity to entrap you. Moreover, should you decide to look out for a wolverine, and then best believe that they will only look out for themselves. Further, if you are a constant source of money supply for a wolverine, then best count on them to drive you into debt. What's more, if you give your heart to a wolverine, then best wait for your takedown, for they will sacrifice your life for their own life.

No battle has ever been won in weakness or cowardice. Even the kingdom of heaven suffered violence, and only the violent do take it by force. In a word, you always have to be battle ready, and when the situation requires of you to fight, just like your enemies morph into lycanthropes for an attack, you also have to transform into a lion, in order to defeat your enemies. Unlike the wolverines, your warfare is fought on your knees. That means you have to be solely dependent on God, for these battles are most often spiritual, and therefore you cannot solve a spiritual problem with a physical ideology, for you will always loose.

That is why, as a lamb, God Almighty is your shield and protector. Know this that the wolverines know and understand about the light of God, and what it does to their crude souls. Many before you have fought the wolverines, and lost the fight, while others joined in and became one with them. Yet, a few won against these wolves, turned their kingdom down, and lived to tell the great story of how they overcame. It is not an easy road to travel in life, where wolves are constantly lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce and take your life away. Hence, you must be vigilant, as the bible says that we should be as cunning as a serpent, while we remain as humble as a dove.

THE MAN OF YOUR DREAMS

THE MAN OF YOUR DREAMS

I have to start this creative piece, by being honest with all you my dear ladies. Many of us always claim that we desire Prince Charming to be the man of our dreams, when we darn well know that the Dark Knight is whom we mostly admire, and want to be with. The truth is that the Dark Knight can play us like a fiddle, and we will still gift him a mix tape of our favorite love songs. Come on ladies, you know that I am right. Prince Charming is safe and boring. Moreover, he is intentional, and loves you dearly, yet you cannot help yourself but crave for that non-committal player. Many times, you wish you would just infuse that rude boy's personality into the mind of your Prince Charming, just so that you can enjoy the best of both worlds. However, unfortunately for you, the choice is always of one, because you cannot have your cake and eat it, for Prince Charming has a good head on his shoulder, and therefore refuses to be juggled, or play the part of a substitute lover.

So, why then does Prince Charming have to be so terribly rigid? Why would he not just break character for once, and live a little? Yes, he is very respectful and stable, which is what you mostly admire about him. Nonetheless, he is so stiff such that if he became any stiffer, he would snap like a twig. Moreover, Prince Charming is your safety net, of which you cannot afford to lose, and therefore you must make it work with him, for the long-term benefits. You know that he is a man of law and order, and every step he takes or every move he makes, has to follow divine guidance. What's more, should you for a moment let him slip or slide from under you, you will find out that in no time, some Sunny Sue did snatch your Prince from under your nose. Nevertheless, the walk down the aisle with Prince Charming seems like a punishment, for when will you ever get the chance to play and live life, with Captain Stiff by your side?

Furthermore, when you think of longevity with Prince Charming, you feel a little cold, and cannot help but fantasize about your other option. At least the Dark Knight radiates fire, even though you are somewhat afraid of it burning you to ashes. It is obvious that you and your playboy are a complete mismatch, a bad idea, and an unsafe combination. You already know that the Dark Knight would very much like to cast you in the next tragic episode of fatal attraction, where you will the victim of a toxic love affair, and he will be the man that leaves you on red, who will also be on the run from the scene of crime, having backstabbed and betrayed you one too many times.

Yet, you are more willing to forgive him when he calls you out of the blue, three months after you had a mental breakdown, and despite of the red flags waving hard in your face, you will still go running back to his mouse trap, knowing very well that he will never change. Nevertheless, you like the thrill of the chase, and you are addicted to the pain and the drama, which keeps you in a trauma, worsened by the lies he feeds you. Further, you are obsessed with his pathological nature, and just when you think you can survive another emotional rollercoaster, you end up in that sunken place, but only this time, you drown from this crazy love affair. Deep within your heart, you hate the Dark Knight with the same intensity of love you have for him, and on goes, the sickening love-hate dynamic you both are chained to.

Nonetheless, when you are at depths of sorrow, crying over a man who has depleted you, and who does not care to love you the way you deserve, it is Prince Charming you always run back to for healing. It is the prince who is normally left in your corner, to mend the pieces of your broken heart. You know well that how you treat him is unfair, yet you always run to him, like Olive Oyl always does to Popeye, not only for his healing energy, but to also keep you safe from that barbaric Bluto. Yes, Prince Charming is the hero in your story, but he is dull and boring to you, and that fact does not seem to change, no matter how hard you wish upon a star, in order to change his personality, because you hold no such power. At this point, so many of those sad love songs come to mind, that make me wonder if this crazy love is a worldwide phenomenon.

Riddle me this my dear, exactly what do you see in that Dark Knight anyway? What is it about him that has had you stuck on stupid? Why would you want to risk your golden crown for a bad romance? Why would you want to jeopardize a lifetime of happiness, for fleeting moments of barbaric pleasure? Come on Princess, is this bad boy worth you risking your happily ever after? You know that I am asking you all the right questions, yet I am not sure whether or not you are hard of hearing, with your logic being stuck in the mud, while your emotions are hard bent on running wild.

To tell you the truth, it will take for you to loose Prince Charming for good, in order for you to come to your senses. After all, experience is the best teacher. To you, I am merely barking but when the universe finally steps in to take away your excellent opportunity, that is when you will wish to turn back the time, yet you already know that you can never bank upon wishes. Further, no amount of crying, chasing, and begging will let you out of that rut this time, once the door to Prince Charming's heart is completely shut for good. After all, you had excessively many chances to love him right but you did not, therefore, you snooze, you lose, dear sister.

Eventually, when you lose Prince Charming, due to immaturity on your part, I am afraid that the pain you will experience will be far worse compared to the pain that the Dark Knight put you through. As a result, your pain will turn into resentment, and then transform into sheer hatred, especially for the Dark Knight. However, this time round, you will finally see your wanderlust for who is really is, a bad omen, yet the damage will have already been done, and you, my dear princess, will have no one to blame but yourself.

Consider this, that when God finally lifts off your karma, after all your debts are paid in full, and all your hard knock life lessons are successfully learnt, He will perhaps send a King your way, the man of your dreams, as part of His redemption plan for your love life. Only this time, I am certain that you, my dear sister, will cherish the King better, and swear to never make the painful mistakes of the past, because you have finally grown to maturity, and gloriously transformed into a Queen.

A BLAST FROM THE PAST AND REBOUNDS

A BLAST FROM THE PAST AND REBOUNDS

After two divorces, six children, and two alimony payments, all over sudden Kunle, my soul kryptonite, has had an epiphany about us. He wants us to reconcile and relive our part-time love all over again. I guess rejection, is God's protection, right? Well, it is most definitely a rebound proposal on Kunle's part for sure. Of all his past ex-factors, he only thought to call me, for a reunion. Yet, once upon a time, Kunle was convinced that Mera, his first wife, was the one, his divine rib, until she viciously dragged him to court, wringed his pockets, and took him for all he had. Then he met Doro, who broke his heart, and left him struggling financially.

Now, he has become a nuisance, blowing up Betty Baijun's phone as if his life depended upon me. At this point, I am not sure whether to laugh at the irony, or cry at his selfish intent. Furthermore, Kunle is hoping that I will still be smitten enough to set myself on fire, in order to keep him warm. Nonetheless, I am still ignoring his never-ending calls for a reunion, as I do not wish to meddle in Kunle's emotional affairs. I also do not want to keep biting the poison apple, which keeps making me sick, to the point of losing my senses. Besides, I am trying to move on from my past, after twenty years of still trying to move on. I even turned into an ice queen, in order to wade off his advances, but unfortunately, for me, all the ice melted to water, with a simple hello on his part.

What can I say? I am seriously whipped, and totally sprung on Kunle. Yet, he insists that I am not being fair to him, by persistently rejecting his obvious attempts to bag me once again. Kunle is relentlessly trying to offer me his cup of love, yet the cup seems broken, and the love is non-existent. All his lies, fairy tales, and fallacies are still ringing loud in my head years on end. Thus, I am not trying to be anyone's rebound, even though Kunle is bent on forcing me into that sticky situation.

"Look Kunle, I have issues of my own, and therefore, I do not care to bear yours!” I told him off loudly inside my head, and deep within my thoughts. I obviously cannot voice out my reservations about him to his face, for the reasons that; I am too chicken to do so, and it is rude to do so, and that he is clearly in a pickle. The truth is that I cave every time I am in Kunle's presence, and after two long decades, this man still has a hold on me. In fact, it is because of him, that I cringe hard at love songs, and everything sentimental, for it is a cold reminder of unfulfilled love, which always leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

Fortunately, for me, I moved far away from my hometown, therefore, Kunle would not know how to locate me, no matter how hard he tried, that is, unless he went fishing for my private information amidst my siblings. Darn! This man wants me to flip and transform me into that naïve school girl once, again for his own barbaric pleasure. Nevertheless, I will not give in to his trappings. Rather, I must stay the cause, stand my ground, ignore his existence, until he gives up, and moves on to someone else. Strangely, I wonder why I am so tempted by this ex-factor. Why am I not able to let him down easy, by lying to him that I am happily committed in my non-existent relationship? "Kunle, I am sorry but I am seeing someone and we are very happy together!” is the set plan on my mind to lie to Kunle, in case we accidentally bump into each other.

The truth is that I do not wish to be the next ex-wife of Kunle, not that he has ever asked me to be his wife, though I am anticipating his next move, which is also a fantasy running through my head. Nevertheless, what is wrong with me? I am a well-bred, educated, and hyper-independent type of lass, therefore, I do not need Kunle to come and shake my kingdom down, by making me crumble at his handsome face and charming smile. On the contrary, I should in fact give other few good men a chance at my love, and stop daydreaming about this disheartened brother. What's more, it is bad enough that I have issues of vulnerability, and it is even worse that Kunle keeps swinging back at one, to poke at my wounds.

That is why I am constantly running away from him, putting up walls, and fortifying my boundaries, just in case of any possible triggers on my part. Hence, I really must emotionally move on from Kunle, and completely, and permanently end this cycle of an emotional roller coaster. Actually, I am well deserving of good loving, than breadcrumbs, with a sip of cheap ale. "I hate to do this to you Kunle, but I must move on, for my own sake", said I to Kunle deep within my thoughts. As a result, I am finally releasing myself from the friend zone, which Kunle had conveniently pushed me into for years, and taking all the benefits with me. No more playing nice, freely giving all of myself, and getting nothing in return.

Furthermore, it is high time that I google on how to take an eat, pray, love journey, for the sake of my future. As for Kunle, he has no choice but to lean on his other friends or family. I bet you that my girls will be proud of me, for finally taking a stand against my never-ending entanglement with Kunle. "You deserve better Betty Baijun. Leave that ungrateful man in the dust, where he belongs", spoke the voices of all my caring friends to me, inside my head. I am mostly proud of me, for finally learning how to love myself. It is a slow journey though, but I am taking it one day at a time. However, I am still afraid of reverting back to my old ways of being Kunle's backup plan but in case I do, please pray for me, or slap me senseless, whichever way you prefer, if only to bring me back to reality.

At this point, I could blame the devil for always dragging Kunle back into my life, every time I feel ready to walk on sunshine. Yet, just when I am at the brink of moving to better people, places, and things, Kunle re-appears into my life, like the ghost from the past. Yet, as soon as I am caught up again in the rapture of Kunle's unrequited love, he turns ghost on me again, and once again, I return to that sunken place, where I am left to pick up the pieces of my broken heart.

Well, it does not matter anymore, for this moment in time; I am determined to have my happy ending, now that I have learnt to love myself unconditionally, because I am a queen. "Goodbye Kunle, and I do wish you nothing but peace and happiness", I finally bid farewell to Kunle in my heart. Whoever said that freedom is coming tomorrow was right. My tomorrow begins today, with a happy smile and a merry heart. Therefore, perhaps I will be together with Kunle in the next lifetime. However, for now, I am ready for a new start, I am willing to go the distance, and I am definitely determined to ride this life, on my newfound wings!