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1826

It was his turn to check in, I looked at his boxes, I am jealous of those boxes. I had thought of so many ways I could fold myself into the biggest one. Even if I could squeeze myself into the box, I wouldn’t get past security.
I watched the way they went through John’s luggage like he was a criminal. I don’t blame them though; this is only happening because of the international reputation of my country. I wish things could be different, lately I believe all my wishes fall on deaf ears.
This is way harder than I thought it would be. I remember the last time we talked about it. John was brave and optimistic; two of the many qualities I admire in him. He went on and on about the internet and how smart phones make communication faster and easier. ‘’It wouldn’t be the same’’ I wanted to say but the look in his eyes told me he already knew. On the up side, we were at an ice cream shop and ice cream always makes everything better.
Gallons of ice cream wouldn’t make me feel better today, he was walking towards me and I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I wanted to drink in his essence, I am not sure what that means but it feels appropriate considering the circumstance. ‘’Do you want to get something to eat?’’ he asked and my accounting mind kicked into gear immediately. We were at the airport and everything is always overpriced there, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about all the other things I could spend the money on.
‘’Or not’’ the sound of his voice brought my mind back to the events of the day. My friend always says you couldn’t take the accountant out of a person. I am sure my face had gone all tense the way it does when my accounting mind kicks in and in John’s usual fashion; I am sure he didn’t miss the change in my facial expression.
I need to make today memorable, not think of the price, I thought to myself. ‘’Or we could look for a place near the airport?” I said. I was making the moment more unbearable than it already was. ‘’I still have 4 hours before my flight leaves’’ he replied. I knew that, but I decided not to point it out. I gathered all the strength in me to sound enthusiastic ‘’we should leave the airport’’ I said. John agreed and held my hands very tightly in his as we made our way out of the airport. It was 6:30pm that Friday evening and the view provided a wonderful backdrop for a picture.
I liked the feel of my hand in his and most importantly how he’d learned to accept me because I know I am really difficult to understand and a tad dramatic. We walked for a while, we both refused to take the car. In our minds, we guessed that walking elongated the number of hours we had left with each other.
We arrived at a restaurant on Airport Road; it was quite, a good place to talk. John didn’t waste time he drove head first into the matter at hand.   ‘’ Have you given any thought to the suggestions I made?’’ John asked. I really didn’t know how to break it to him, I love him but planning my life around him, his actions and decisions wasn’t an option. I am allowed to be selfish and take decisions because they are the best choices for me and there is no self-help book that teaches you how to break such news to a person. ‘’I have thought about it but I still haven’t decided’’ I lied; sometimes lies were easier to handle than the truth. ‘’You would be the first to know when I have made up my mind’’ I was over compensating when I added that last part. I didn’t want him to see my lie. The journey to selflessness I am learning, is a long one and it starts with me taking that leap of faith to be selfless.
I have mastered the art of changing the topic of a conversation. I comfortably switch to lighter topics any time he tried to discuss the future. We talked about food, how he was going to miss having Eba and Vegetable soup and, an endless list of more mundane things.
The restaurant started to fill up, it was about 9:30 pm and some 45 minutes away from departure time. ‘’We should head back’’ John said. I picked up my hand bag and followed him without speaking. I noticed a couple as we walked out, and envied the fact that they had time to hold each other’s hands.
The traffic was building up and we made our way through the steaming cars in silence. Talking wasn’t important at this point. Everyone had said all there was to say. We had laid all our cards on the table and it was completely up to us how we decide to play the next hand.
I really didn’t want this to end but five years is such a long time to be apart and the length of time left no room for faith and where there is no faith there is always a truck load of doubt and fear. I wasn’t going beyond the doors into the departure lounge of the airport with him; I knew I couldn’t handle that. We already elongated the goodbye and I wasn’t ready to deal with the armed police men that guarded the doors. He knew what I was thinking, reached into his laptop bag and handed me a hard covered notebook. ‘’It would be really nice if you kept a journal, help you keep track and sort out your thoughts’’ John said. It was a thick black leather book that had capital letter ‘’T’’ engraved on it.
I collected it, and tucked it safely into my hand bag. He pulled me in for one final hug, kissed me goodbye and walked in. I was looking at his retreating figure for about half a minute, admiring the slight limp to his walk. He turned and waved again, I waved back and with that I turned to leave.
I couldn’t sit around missing him and wondering what day exactly in all the 1826 days he would call and tell me he met someone and give a long speech on how sorry he was and how life goes on for both of us. The speech would be good because he is exceptional when making speeches.
I walked around the airport, I thought again about my resolve, one cold hearted email in a few weeks and the following radio silence. It wasn’t one of my best ideas but, it would have to do.
Departure and arrival are not on the same floor at the airport but I found I had wandered on to the arrival floor; my legs were aching from all the walking so I rested on one of the rails. A bright eyed woman was next to me and I could see the excitement oozing from her.
She couldn’t contain herself as she turned and said to me ‘’I am waiting for John’’ it just had to be that name I thought to myself. ‘’I haven’t seen him in 5 years’’ she said and then, looking at her more closely,  she looked very much like me. ‘’It wasn’t easy’’ she said walking towards the gate. She turned mid-way in her walk and added ‘’have a little faith, it goes a long way.’’
I tried to find her in the sea of people but, her face had disappeared into the crowd. 
 Photo Credit: Mr Tobi Johnson. 

February 1, 2016
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The Ore Mobile

It was a few days to Passing out Parade (POP) from NYSC. We were driving down pipeline road in Ilorin, Kwara State, coming from the mall we just saw the movie Pan and enjoyed it not because of the fine acting but the shared joy of being together, Moyo, Tofu, Rayo and I.
We wanted the night to last longer so we walked from store to store window shopping and pretending like we didn’t know what each store had to offer. We all settled down at one of the wooden tables with ice cream cones, all talking at the same time and laughing hysterically.
On our ride home Moyo called shot gun with that came the role of DJ for the ride. I got into the driver’s seat, Tofu and Rayo in the back; I took in the view of the mall at night. I have always believed that places looked better at night with all the different colour lights from various stores lighting up the mall.
Moyo decided it was love night, so we started the ride home with John Legend’s ‘’All of me’’ then moved on to the A Great Big World’s ‘’Say Something’’ next was      Ed Sheeran’s ‘’Give Me Love’’. All four of us sang along, the windows were up so we didn’t bother the rest of the world with our loud singing.
When we arrived at Pipeline Road, ‘’All We Are’’ by One Republic was playing and over the blaring speakers, Rayo was shouting ‘’I don’t know this one’’.
‘’We have to listen to this one’’ I said ‘’be patient with the song; you would know why soon enough’’ I finished.
When we got to the chorus, I sang more loudly
‘’we wouldn’t say our goodbyes because it’s better that way’’
The chorus gave words to all the things going on in my head and heart. I didn’t want the song to end. We arrived home and I refused to drop Moyo off at the junction to his house because I was milking the last moments our unit of four had left together, to the very last drop.
********
This is one of my best moments in my dear blue golf with its cracked side mirror that I have refused to fix, because in my mind it’s a perfect metaphor of what life is, broken but beautiful. It also had that dent on the left side of the fender from that time I drove it into the wall; and let me not forget the bonnet of the car that doesn’t close totally because I was half asleep and drove into the gate of my dad’s office but I am happy to report that I only almost hit a person and in my books that is a huge accomplishment.
I cleaned out the car yesterday. It had a lot of used plastic bottles, it housed my high heels, my colourful throw pillows, movie ticket stubs, receipts from toll gates and more importantly my best memories from the last one year I am happy to say that these are safely catalogued in my memory. 
My first road trip in the car was to a place called ARMIT some 30 minutes’ drive away from Ilorin town, Mo, Pemi and I went to see Mr Mayor. It was the most exciting ride for me at the time, I liked that I was in control and of course the perks of chin chin at the end of the trip was rewarding.
Many more road trips followed but one stands out for me from a few Saturdays ago. Ife, Miss B and I went for a wedding in Abeokuta. It was amusing how people looked into the car smiling and wondering what I was doing behind the wheels. I have long since learnt that the looks come with the me driving a car, so I waved back at on-lookers and kept going. This made Ife laugh a lot harder.
A few life lessons though. One, a car is very unpredictable; it can just up and not start or decide to start making funny sounds. In my books it is like a high maintenance wife who needs constant care, love and a ready listening ear. Oh and gifts which range from a new kick, to new gaskets, engine oil every three months, a new key starter among other things. All in all, once it is treated right, it would always love you and more importantly, keep moving.
My first drive in Lagos was terrifying. After months of driving around Ilorin, I couldn’t get the image of almost driving under a truck out of my head from months earlier but I am happy Jide was there to help me, with his jokes and wicked muttley laugh that distracted me from my fear and gradually helped me overcome it all together.
I got the car as a graduation present last year and I was more than eager to start driving, till I drove my mum’s car into the wall (I have stopped driving into walls, to the Glory of God) one Saturday evening. My eagerness was replaced with fear of the road and a new found love for public transportation. So the car was packed for 6 months gathering dust, except for the occasional driving lessons after long hours of compliant from Mr. Abidoye.
Mr Abidoye gave me an ultimatum at the start of NYSC to drive the car or he would take it away. We found a new instructor in Ilorin, Uncle Tope, who in my books is the world’s best driving instructor. He shouts only when necessary, makes the most interesting jokes and he taught me to listen to a car, among other things. Oh before I forget we fasted together for road confidence because I was terrified of trucks and I used to drive off the road once I saw one approaching.
Tofu, thank you for trusting me with your life, sitting beside me when my ‘’L’’ plates were a badge of honour. Mama for endless supply of fuel money without the help from both of you, Miss Olaoluwa would not be able to have me as a personal driver today.
Last week Mr Abidoye decided it was time for a change, I always knew that I wouldn’t use the car forever but I wasn’t prepared for a change. I realised how attached I had become to the car, an extension of my bed room in many ways, all the many conversations it had absorbed and near misses. In that moment of realisation, I decided to do write a tribute to my dear ‘’blue golf’’ immortalize it the only way I know how.  
You would be greatly missed and you hold a special place in my heart.
January 19, 2016
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The End Where I Begin

It was 11:50pm on the 8th of July 2015. I needed time to reflect and be grateful. I switched off the phone I was sure many people would call me on and left the other on.
I lay down thinking over one of the many life-changing events of the year. A major heart desire to live alone had come to be.
It was interesting having my own space. I enjoyed the process of decorating my apartment, buying new art pieces for the walls, having a photography wall, colour coordinating my kitchen utensils- that bit was really tricky, finding purple bottom pans was next to impossible.
On the other hand, realistically, it wasn’t fun and excitement at every turn. The constant hassle of planning meals, keeping the apartment clean and all the other stuff was a bit daunting but, this didn’t damper the overall experience.
Mid reflection, my phone rang. It was my friend Ifeoluwa.
‘’Ore mi’’ Ife said when I answered,
‘’Bawo Ni’’ she continued, she didn’t give me the opportunity to respond, very typical of her.
‘’Our ICAN result is out” she said. There was a slight pause before she added “I didn’t pass, have you checked yours?”
I shook my head, forgetting to speak; I had quickly plunged into a journey of fear to a dark place.
‘’Are you there?’’ those words brought me back.
‘’I haven’t seen mine, I will check now’’ I hurriedly said.
‘’Okay!! Check and let me know’’ with that, the call ended.
I turned my phone on with shaking hands, and watched it come to life. It vibrated, indicating messages coming in. I opened the one that read ‘’ICAN PROFESSIONAL,” it read in block letters ‘’YOU FAILED’’. My heart dropped and my eyes misted. It was 12:02am July 9th, 2015 my 23rd birthday.








November 14, 2015
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Echoes of Love

July 10th2009, this is the first time I remember my father hugging me. It was the day of my graduation from Trinity  International College Ofada, Ogun state. My father dropped my mum and siblings off at the event and went to secure my admission into Babcock University.
I waited till the last minute to inform anyone about the deadline for the admission. I was holding out a fast dying touch and keeping my fingers crossed that my father would let me pick up the scholarship offer and travel to school in America.
I arrived at school a few days to the graduation. We had a number of activities leading up to the actual ceremony. We had ‘’leavers night’’, an event organised by our juniors for us. I wore a black and white dress and I didn’t smile in any of my photographs because I didn’t know how to.
I called my dad from school that first night a little worried and still holding out my touch for my scholarship. My classmates were talking about moving on, the school they applied to and got in, what A-level they were going to start in September, but I couldn’t contribute to the conversation.
In order to join the conversation I called my father, and told him about the deadline. I expected him to shout at me and I waited to hear the disappointment in his voice instead he spoke softly and reassured me that all will be well.
The next day was the graduation lecture and my 17th birthday. I wore a pink blouse with ruffles and a back pinafore with huge buttons over the blouse. I didn’t feel pretty. The boil-like looking pimples on my face and next to no self-love didn’t help matters. In my head that day everyone was better dressed than me.
I paid very little attention to the lecture as I was counting the number of people who remembered and wished me happy birthday. In the moment when they did, my joy meter shot-up, but just for the moment, because immediately my heart wondered back to all the people that didn’t. I had no clue how to accept the love offered to me let alone kindness.
That night we had a “cocktail” dinner with the administration of the school, students leaders(prefects) and teachers. It was a cultural themed dinner so I wore a short full skirt  and a sleeveless blouse made out of purple and gold Ankara with my younger brother’s gold cap to complete the outfit. One of the two photos I love from this point in my life was taken that night. It is a photograph of me and my brother. I am all smiles, he is holding me and I am holding on to him and he just whispered happy birthday to me. He did that all day long, whispering lovely things to me at intervals.
One thing I do regret is not having a photograph with my whole family to remember the next day with. I cried a lot during the graduation ceremony because I was unsure of my future and because all of who I was at the time was wrapped up in my classmates acceptance of me and who would accept me. I thought to myself when I tell them I am attending Babcock University and not jetting off to some foreign place and making lofty plans of reunions. My already dimming torch died that morning when my father told me he was going to secure my admission and I will start the process of enrollment the following Monday. That day my tears were easily explained by hiding under the guise that I was going to miss my classmates.   
There are many things I wish I could tell 17 year old Fola but, if the opportunity ever presented itself, I will choose only to send her this photograph. It was taken over a year ago at my graduation from Babcock University. In the photograph I am in the middle, dressed in my cap and gown, high heeled shoes I can barely walk in, my sister and mother standing to my right side dressed in iro and buba made out of blue lace material and my brother and father are standing to my left dressed in Agbada made out the same blue lace material wearing matching red caps. We are all smiles, standing close to each other, radiating love, the same love I doubted I could ever feel.
November 3, 2015
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Through the eyes of Carrie Bradshaw

In my years of playing dress up as a child
I understood that what you wore can help define you
But in this store I realized that you might even be able to change who you are
Maybe you could walk in here one person
A kid from Agege and walk out as Lisa Folawiyo
Or the next day you could walk out as 
Scarlett J.
The choice is all yours
Staring at the mannequins
I wanted to be them
They wanted to be me I presumed
At least I get to walk out the door either way
Clothes in hand
A life to live
But in that moment we were one
We both chose to be Rita Dominic
Cos I would have it no other way
In a place filled with clothes I might never get to see
Rita Dominic would be the best alter ego
Or her fashion stylist
It was euphoria just thinking about it
I found a sequin buba blouse
It was staring at me with immense sadness
I stared back in awe
We were both lost in opposite worlds
She wanting to be loved
Me wanting to be shiny
It was a typical tale of the grass is greener on the other side
We exchanged glances again
And we both knew
I had to be Rita Dominic if only for an hour
Cos we both knew the only place I could afford these clothes was inside the mirror
And I was willing to take my chances
But then there was a problem
There was nothing suitable to pair with the blouse
And it hits me
The eternal struggle to find the one
Is it a myth
Is it real
As I struggle with the answer
I find the most perfect pants ever
Yes it is    
Do the math
I walk out the store feeling 100 years wiser
Confused girl with sweaty palms.
By Onomesan Oyo

June 24, 2015
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