If you don’t have anything nice to say, shut up! The seemingly harsh words of a woman I called mother echoed in my head as I sat staring at the woman who I was made to believe held my fate in her hands. In front of me was a supposed harmless being born of a woman; her little pieces strung by the careful act of a man. The corn rows on her head couldn’t be missed for they kept getting in the way of her pen as she scribbled holy knows what even after I had explained my purpose for being there.
Her hazelnut eyes batted like one of those characters right out of a children’s book distinctly highlighted by eyelashes that appeared not hers. Her long claws for a nail annoyingly tapped on the glass table as her mouth yapped away. Her fine tailored suit appeared expensive or could be #MadeInNigeria as social media has gone crazy about #BuyAba.
All that didn’t matter to me now as I smiled sheepishly wishing she had a sneak peek into the melodrama slowly playing out in my head. Then, she would have found out she was the only active character none befitting of a ‘Juliet’.
At this point, I had to ask myself, why should I speak only when I have something nice to say? How do I even determine what is nice when my fair lady was cruel to me: not a chance to yet again explain the purpose of sitting in front of her. Why can’t I speak when I don’t like the way I’m being treated? Why can’t I say not so nice things when I’m angry? Why can’t I express my true feelings and give my candid opinion in every situation I find myself? Why can’t I give advice, solicited and unsolicited whenever it pleases me? Why… ‘Madam, you may leave now’. Those words brought me back to reality as I briskly got up and headed for the door with a deep sense of relief I didn’t have to go through some more torture!
‘Madam’, I turned with fire in my eyes, about to lash out and give her a piece of my mind. Is it a crime I came to look for a job in her company? ‘When will you like to start work?’ The words I heard sounded ridiculous and unreal. ‘Did you ask when I can…?’ ‘I did’, she cut me off and the rest is history.
This morning in my office I sit again and rock the chair as my usual ritual which I have been doing for the past two years. This time, I remember my mother’s words and laugh at a question I posed in my head that ‘evil’ day; waiting for the perfect moment to unleash. One that could have changed the course of my destiny: Shall I speak now Madame?
Image Credit: Maplewood Library
I dare say that you are mad!!!…Yes YOU!!!
Cast not a look at the man beside you for he too is mad. Who says a prodigal son is a saint because he returned to his father on bended knees? Who says Adam was evil because he had no control of the hunger pangs that threatened to re-define his very essence; a mere mortal?
Will you dare to mock David who got weary of battle fields and sought for a little amusement somewhat a bit cruel ending? Or is it Samson who unforgivably, wrapped in the arms of a pretty mermaid paid a price for his locks more expensive than the so called ‘Human Hair’.
When shall human kind see that in life, everything is defined with a clear purpose; some glaring and others daring?
So, we justify Esther for saving her tribe unaware of the incomplete truth told to the king of her true identity. Likewise, Abraham who for the love of safety denied knowledge of his wife and you hate when I say life is madness?
Pray, you do know that you agree with what seems transparent and discredit what is opaque. Does this then in its true meaning mean that that which you disregard is evil? Does it mean that you absorb only that which concerns you; uphold it and ridicule other things, the society and even family?
Life is for the rich I hear. In my perplexed state I wonder: what then is the heritage of the poor. Where then is their place in life when we care not for matters which war against their very existence? Wait a second, I see something!!!… What is that look in your eye kind sir? Why is your chestnut colored pupil turning a sudden pale? Have I upset your soul? Have I made you rethink life over again? Did I make you realize the rottenness of the society caused by poor judgments and selfish tendencies?
I deeply apologize kind sir, for I had no intention to do these; only to trouble the waters a bit, for now you agree that life itself is madness after all.
Image Credit: Pa Life
Fancy that! I wish I was a lady; a very pretty lady. Fancy that I was a sexy lady; a very sexy lady. I would swing my hips like a pendulum in my old grandfather’s clock. I would tease all the men that come by and make them pay hard currency to gaze at my rare beauty. I would make kings fall at my feet and beckon on princes to stroke my hair. I would make their servants bathe me with the best of ointments and oil my skin with Monoi Oil. They would rub my feet and brush my hair then, shall they know that I am the fairest of them all.
Fancy that! I wish I was a lady; a very pretty lady. I would walk the streets during the day for other women to see. Fancy that I was a sexy lady; a very sexy lady. I would be in no form of competition with them for I alone shall possess all the qualities of a desirous woman for Delilah would only have learnt from me. Women from far and near would come to ask for advice and beauty tips; jealous of how I stand out as the ‘Beauty’ only that they are the ‘Beast’.
Fancy that! I wish I was a lady; a very pretty lady. I would sleep at night for I shall not want my beauty to fade away in the morning. I shall have servants feed me with Kiwi, pomegranate and berries to keep my skin fresh for another day. Fancy that I was a sexy lady; a very sexy lady. I would have breakfast in El Celler De Can Roca, Spain, lunch in Le Cinq, Paris, brunch in Pikayo, Puerto Rico and dinner in La Pecora Nera Ristorante, Costa Rica then go to bed in Banyan Tree, Seychelles.
But I am not a sexy lady, I am only a guy from Nsim Utong village in Akwa Ibom State and no wonder I was born a man and not a lady for then I would have made grown men shed tears; tears for the price of pleasure.
Image Credit: Beauty Guide