Broken vases, broken china, broken bone china, broken glass, broken glasses, broken mirrors, broken nose, broken tooth, broken bones, if this was the end of the list of things that got broken, wouldn’t life be so splendid?
No, hearts have to get broken, memories, promises, emotions, marriages, relationships, friendships, love, spirits, people, dreams, these also get broken.
Why are all the beautiful things of life dainty, why not the ugly things? I haven’t ever heard of broken hatred, broken greed and broken selfishness. The things that break ‘dainty us’ the most, mostly come from within and they are abstract.
I once saw an old man cry, and I cried with him, not knowing why he was crying, it tugged at my heart, because I thought it was unheard of for some category of people to cry. But it isn’t, grown men cry.
I was sad to realize that we are not the mighty Igor’s we pride ourselves at being, a broken chair can be repaired the instant it goes kaput, but a broken heart takes a longer time to heal, in most cases even a broken neck heals faster!
In this regard, it won’t be out of place to say for instance, that a broken chair has one up over ‘dainty us’, or physical things over abstract things.
Why will a bride-to-be not smile and be cool, when her groom and chief bride’s maid walk up to her a day before her wedding and say ‘we have been having the hots for each other, please give us your blessing.’
When a woman finds her husband in bed with another man, why doesn’t she just say ‘honey when you are don,e call me’? She cannot because the heart is fragile; you place such weight on it at her detriment. First she has to deal with her husband’s infidelity then the fact that he is bi-sexual, too much for one person I dare say.
‘Dainty us’ had to entangle ourselves in such broken, broken everyday life. I can hear someone telling me, ‘my life is not broken!’ Yes I agree wholeheartedly with you, mine neither, but it breaks my heart to hear that a Palestinian man got killed while crossing the Gaza strip, a little girl got kidnapped in the Niger-delta, a man poured acid on his fiancée, a six year old girl is raped by her forty year old neighbour, a man walks out on his wife and children.
Endless list, I could go on and on, doesn’t it break your heart; can these occurrences not result in broken people? Check out this scenario, the broken little girl grew up and declared a vendetta on the group that kidnapped her many years ago, the group members are changed people. Possibly?
This is a call for caution in stoking the fires that trigger encounters that result in broken people.
Pessimistic is what I am not, a recognition that we all are actually vulnerable at some point is very essential; it helps in dealing with others, whenever I am about to launch an attack on a person, I suddenly remember that I do not know what the person is going through, that this person is actually fragile underneath all the veneer, skirmishes, grins, underneath a person is a delicate piece, of very delicate lace. You concur?
There are too many broken people around and ‘daintier us’ (please don’t go breaking them), so say to yourself; whatever I can do to alleviate the brokenness of life, I will do and when I am dealing with the abstract, I will handle with extreme care.
My verdict: TDH - dainty him, slim hourglass figure – dainty her, fat, tall, black, white, slim, short; whatever category you find yourself we are all “dainty us” so please handle with extreme care!
Friday, September 18, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Have a Taste!
First day, as a blogger. Serving a sample of what i was cooking, help yourselves...
Tattered skirts of mist shadowed the evening as Loye approached the sleepy hamlet of Nmiri. When Loye left Onu camp that afternoon for his post, he half expected his primary assignment to be in a place that looked almost as good as Onu.
Onu was not really the type of place you would wish on your worst enemy. Electricity was erratic in Onu, few villagers understood English thus communicating was an ordeal. To get service on your mobile phone, you had to be proficient at the tango. Okoro the barber was the proud owner of the only Television in Onu. Water isn’t a colourless liquid, in Onu it was brownish with a hint of green. The weather was cool at night and scorching hot at noon. Everyday items like soap and toothpaste sold at triple their price. “No, no place could be worse than Onu.” Loye thought.
Little did he know that Onu was a land of milk and honey in comparison to the dim village that lay ahead.
The path that was an excuse for a road which led to Nmiri was strewn with leaves and all sort of rocks.
The villages was dark, Loye prayed silently for them to have electricity. He couldn’t cope without electricity he thought to himself. As he mused over that thought in his mind, something leapt on his foot.
“Help!” He exclaimed in fright, he tried to shake whatever it was off and ran straight into the village without pausing to see what had frightened him. “What a way to be welcomed.” he said aloud.
Why did he have to get here at night, how would he get a place to lay his head for the night? He wondered. It was the fault of that driver, the driver had set off for the journey, knowing that the fuel in his vehicle would not take them far, Loye’s sixth sense had warned him from the moment he read the inscription on the vehicle “perfect motors”. The name triggered off an alarm in Loye’s head, he ignored it because perfect motors was the only available vehicle.
Half way into the journey when the vehicle went kpuf, kpuf… And stopped in the middle of nowhere, Loye’s premonition was confirmed.
The driver hitched a ride back into town to get fuel. The driver is a wicked man, how can you not check the fuel in your car.” A lady lamented.
“This is dejavu to me, I experienced this the last time I came here.” a young man complained.
“Careless driver.” someone noted.
“He has no regard for time.” Someone else contributed. Everybody had something to say against the driver, he came back two hours later and it took them another two hours to get to Nmiri village, which was the last bus stop.
Loye was the last passenger to alight, Nmiri village bus stop looked like a dead end at a glance but with a more careful look, Loye discovered a rutted path that led into the village. After Loye’s scary welcome, during his long walk into the village, he did not encounter anybody, the village looked deserted. Crickets sang in the bushes along the path, while frogs drummed with their croaky voices and electric flies dazzled all around him, Loye wished he was comfortable enough to glory in nature’s night life that bubbled all around him but trepidation ate him. Everywhere was quiet it made the crickets and frogs sound like a performing orchestra, as he finished that thought he almost bumped into a girl that appeared from nowhere, on her head sat a bucket of water.
“Watch where you are going.” the girl called out.
“I am sorry.” Loye apologized to the girl.
“Who are you, did you not see that I was carrying water?” The girl queried as she put her water down.
“My name is Loye, I am a youth corper. I just got into this village now. I am a little confused, and I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I did not see you coming.” He explained to her.
“My name is Chioma, are you sure of what are saying?” Chioma asked.
Yes I am very sure, my place of primary assignment is Onward primary school.
“Why did you come this late?” Chioma wanted to know.
“Please why this twenty questions? I need a place to sleep, tell me where I can get an accommodation.” Loye requested anxiously.
Chioma ignored his question. “Don’t you know it is not safe to walk about at night in a strange place.” She berated.
“Please will you help or not?” Loye asked calmly.
“You don’t know the type of soup you have landed in. Listen to what I will tell you carefully.” Chioma said in a tone of voice that made the hair on Loye’s back stand.
“The only place you can stay in is the church, but the vicar is not around. You might not be safe there, the other option is Elder Okeke’s house, you will have to pas through the village square and ‘they’ will see you.
“Who are they?” Loye interrupted.
“It seems you don’t know that this is Nmiri village.” Chioma said.
“I know.” Loye answered.
“Let us not waste anymore time, before ‘they’ see you. I am worried about your safety.”
“What has my safety got to do with an accommdation?” Loye asked in frustration.
Chioma picked up her bucket and walked away. Loye followed her, “I know you mean well but please stop scaring me.” Loye implored.
“You are in grave danger is all I can tell you for now, your bag is a tell tale sign that you are just arrived this village. You have the cover of the night to shield you but it could also be your deadliest enemy because you might just fall into the hands of a wrong person…”
“Chioma, Chioma, Chioma.” a shout rent the air.
“That’s my mother, I have no time to take you to Elder Okeke’s house. You have to go to the church yourself, it’s closer. Walk straight down the first path you see on your right, keep to the left I beg you. Avoid light, the church building is very prominent and it is on your left for no reason should you cross the path. Enter the church quietly, if you have a flashlight do not use it. You have to be as quiet as a mouse while in the church. You will be alone in the church; lay on any pew you see and pray for daylight to come fast.” Chioma said solemnly.
“You have scared me enough, please let me just come and spend the night at your house.” Loye requested hopefully.
“My dad will only be too happy to receive you, his long awaited ‘ram’, go before someone sees us together. Chioma said tersely.
“Chioma, Chioma.” her mother called out again.
Loye you are now on your own, remember my instructions. Chioma said and hurried away.
Tattered skirts of mist shadowed the evening as Loye approached the sleepy hamlet of Nmiri. When Loye left Onu camp that afternoon for his post, he half expected his primary assignment to be in a place that looked almost as good as Onu.
Onu was not really the type of place you would wish on your worst enemy. Electricity was erratic in Onu, few villagers understood English thus communicating was an ordeal. To get service on your mobile phone, you had to be proficient at the tango. Okoro the barber was the proud owner of the only Television in Onu. Water isn’t a colourless liquid, in Onu it was brownish with a hint of green. The weather was cool at night and scorching hot at noon. Everyday items like soap and toothpaste sold at triple their price. “No, no place could be worse than Onu.” Loye thought.
Little did he know that Onu was a land of milk and honey in comparison to the dim village that lay ahead.
The path that was an excuse for a road which led to Nmiri was strewn with leaves and all sort of rocks.
The villages was dark, Loye prayed silently for them to have electricity. He couldn’t cope without electricity he thought to himself. As he mused over that thought in his mind, something leapt on his foot.
“Help!” He exclaimed in fright, he tried to shake whatever it was off and ran straight into the village without pausing to see what had frightened him. “What a way to be welcomed.” he said aloud.
Why did he have to get here at night, how would he get a place to lay his head for the night? He wondered. It was the fault of that driver, the driver had set off for the journey, knowing that the fuel in his vehicle would not take them far, Loye’s sixth sense had warned him from the moment he read the inscription on the vehicle “perfect motors”. The name triggered off an alarm in Loye’s head, he ignored it because perfect motors was the only available vehicle.
Half way into the journey when the vehicle went kpuf, kpuf… And stopped in the middle of nowhere, Loye’s premonition was confirmed.
The driver hitched a ride back into town to get fuel. The driver is a wicked man, how can you not check the fuel in your car.” A lady lamented.
“This is dejavu to me, I experienced this the last time I came here.” a young man complained.
“Careless driver.” someone noted.
“He has no regard for time.” Someone else contributed. Everybody had something to say against the driver, he came back two hours later and it took them another two hours to get to Nmiri village, which was the last bus stop.
Loye was the last passenger to alight, Nmiri village bus stop looked like a dead end at a glance but with a more careful look, Loye discovered a rutted path that led into the village. After Loye’s scary welcome, during his long walk into the village, he did not encounter anybody, the village looked deserted. Crickets sang in the bushes along the path, while frogs drummed with their croaky voices and electric flies dazzled all around him, Loye wished he was comfortable enough to glory in nature’s night life that bubbled all around him but trepidation ate him. Everywhere was quiet it made the crickets and frogs sound like a performing orchestra, as he finished that thought he almost bumped into a girl that appeared from nowhere, on her head sat a bucket of water.
“Watch where you are going.” the girl called out.
“I am sorry.” Loye apologized to the girl.
“Who are you, did you not see that I was carrying water?” The girl queried as she put her water down.
“My name is Loye, I am a youth corper. I just got into this village now. I am a little confused, and I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I did not see you coming.” He explained to her.
“My name is Chioma, are you sure of what are saying?” Chioma asked.
Yes I am very sure, my place of primary assignment is Onward primary school.
“Why did you come this late?” Chioma wanted to know.
“Please why this twenty questions? I need a place to sleep, tell me where I can get an accommodation.” Loye requested anxiously.
Chioma ignored his question. “Don’t you know it is not safe to walk about at night in a strange place.” She berated.
“Please will you help or not?” Loye asked calmly.
“You don’t know the type of soup you have landed in. Listen to what I will tell you carefully.” Chioma said in a tone of voice that made the hair on Loye’s back stand.
“The only place you can stay in is the church, but the vicar is not around. You might not be safe there, the other option is Elder Okeke’s house, you will have to pas through the village square and ‘they’ will see you.
“Who are they?” Loye interrupted.
“It seems you don’t know that this is Nmiri village.” Chioma said.
“I know.” Loye answered.
“Let us not waste anymore time, before ‘they’ see you. I am worried about your safety.”
“What has my safety got to do with an accommdation?” Loye asked in frustration.
Chioma picked up her bucket and walked away. Loye followed her, “I know you mean well but please stop scaring me.” Loye implored.
“You are in grave danger is all I can tell you for now, your bag is a tell tale sign that you are just arrived this village. You have the cover of the night to shield you but it could also be your deadliest enemy because you might just fall into the hands of a wrong person…”
“Chioma, Chioma, Chioma.” a shout rent the air.
“That’s my mother, I have no time to take you to Elder Okeke’s house. You have to go to the church yourself, it’s closer. Walk straight down the first path you see on your right, keep to the left I beg you. Avoid light, the church building is very prominent and it is on your left for no reason should you cross the path. Enter the church quietly, if you have a flashlight do not use it. You have to be as quiet as a mouse while in the church. You will be alone in the church; lay on any pew you see and pray for daylight to come fast.” Chioma said solemnly.
“You have scared me enough, please let me just come and spend the night at your house.” Loye requested hopefully.
“My dad will only be too happy to receive you, his long awaited ‘ram’, go before someone sees us together. Chioma said tersely.
“Chioma, Chioma.” her mother called out again.
Loye you are now on your own, remember my instructions. Chioma said and hurried away.
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