Letters To Aunty Jane...( II )

The House on the left

 No. 5 Oakwood crescent

Memory Lane...

Dear Aunty Jane,

The days & nights seem to be in a haste these days. It feels like yesterday that we were together, laughing and making merry, oblivious to the realities of life. It's the festive season once again, the air is cooler, I can feel the abundance of kindness as the harshness of life is being briefly forgotten. It feels like yesterday that I stood with you at the edge of last year as we scribbled down our hopes and dreams. With smiles & our fingers crossed in anticipation of the surprises a new chance can bring, embraced the new year.

I've had a fair share of hard knocks and I've unearthed some pretty darn good friendships & opportunities. I cremated some memories and threw thier ashes to the river, I've also through concentrating on getting back things I could do without, let some good memories fade. I wasted valuable time striving for a non-existent reality. That was till I discovered the essence of life lies in decoding it's cryptic messages. Forging ahead and turning around the negative to boundless joy.

I think about you everyday, and I haven't written not because I didn't desire to but because anytime I tried, words eluded me. You are the best part of me and I almost lost you where I was chasing invisible geese in various directions.

While I'm curious about what I may experience in these final days leading up to a new beginning, I can't resist thinking that maybe things don't have to change so much.

I must also confess that while I'm not overly excited about the festivities this year, I'm grateful for a chance to kick my heels off, breathe deeply & reminisce with family and a few friends.

I've been thinking about what I should get you but I can't shake off the feeling that whatever I decide on would be inadequate as you seem to have changed so much. I'm glad you're being patient with your dreams. I know they would eventually become sweet reality. I also took a big step. I gave trust a chance. I'm on my way to vanquishing those ghosts of feelings past.

Maybe I would face my fear of committment. Ill start from the little details which make the foundation. The little issues.

Dear Aunty Jane, I'm a work in progress. I think we all are. I doubt if we ever reach our peak. We keep filling up with beautiful things to share. We keep changing & evolving.

I may be ready for an adventure. I have this sugar sweet sensation of clarity that passed me by yesterday (last year).

I also wanted to tell you how much I admire you for your strength, but, it's alright to be scared sometimes.

May you be granted a miracle this season. Any may you recieve all that you heart desires and so much more..

Ps: I attached Brandy's album 'Human' to this letter. I have learnt a few great lessons from her lyrics, especially for thier simplicity.

I know you love her voice, and besides, you're such a sucker for a great beat. A little something to give you a fresh insight to a new chapter.

Happy Holidays!

'Ho-ho-ho' which absolutely by the way, I gather is Santa's catchphrase. I think I may restle a gift or two out of the ol' guy.

Signing out for '09!

He Killed Me.

I ran as fast as my legs could go. And faster. My speed was remarkable and surprised me, even as I ceased to feel my legs. Still, I ran. I heard the rustling of leaves behind me, he was approaching. I can't explain how it all began, I can only say that it was at the moment I saw the shine of the newly sharpened blade as it mated with the moonlight that I knew I had to act swiftly unless I wanted to be transformed to the past tense.

The trees and shrubs stretched for miles ahead, I had been running for a while, dehydrated and parched, I settled at the stump of a tree. The manner in which the tree had been cleanly sliced from it's stump sent cold shivers racing through my body. Questions sailed through my mind. Who was he?, Was he human?, I heard a growl. Instantly, I knew what was going to become of me. Without further ado, I yanked myself up and raced northward. I then stumbled on a peice of wood and crashed to the hot ground.

He pulled me by my hair, his nails digging into my scalp, I lost consciousness. I bet that irked him silly, that I kept fainting because I did again when after regaining my sense, I found I was bound to a wooden chair. Poorly constructed, heavy and ready and willing to disintegrate, and I was gagged with a peice of cloth soaked in hot water. When I slid back into existence, I heard the unique scrape of metal against sand.

He was digging.

I wriggled and kicked in vain, because there was no escape. It was obvious the act had been carried out by experienced hands. I fell, the weight of the chair heavy on my back. My ankles and wrists swollen, bleeding where the ropes cut into my flesh. I saw him mischievously grinning behind me. A doomsday trumpet might have sounded. I couldn't speak. I had drowned numerous times on the cloth in my mouth. A salty after-taste was all that remained.

Untying the cloth which bruised the corner of my lips, he slapped me three times in quick succession to ensure my silence. I couldn't scream. My life flashed before me, I fainted again. When I awoke, I was kneeling at the side of a pit, profusely sweating, I knew I was finished.

He slit both my wrists and threw me into the dark hole. Sand rained down on me, I closed my eyes and acknowledged that this is far from the end. For all those like me who had been tortured and suffered the same fate at the hands of this sadistic killer, it was just the beginning.

...memory Avenue.

Dear blog,

I have been going back and forth on quite a number of issues in my life, of which you are one of them. When I first supplied my e-mail address, I was prepared to write on and about any and everything. But here we are, 10 months down the road, and I'm thinking of closing the chapter that I have come to embrace as you.

It is safe to say you are not my first experience with pouring out my thoughts. I have attempted keeping a virtual diary before, which just like my reknowned wild schemes which have a knack for crashing and burning, ended in me jumping ships. I have tried as much as I can to reveal me unadulterated. But, I soon came to realize that things aren't always what they seem.

It pains me deeply that this should happen 2 and a half  months shy of your first birthday. I hope you'll understand. I'm glad that I was able to keep you happy thus far as that's a lesson in consistency for me.
I may be gone till November, I may be gone forever.

I may return someday when it's least expected, to chronicle my adventures in far away lands.
...and maybe when I do so, I would have learnt to express myself coherently, and not just play with words because, words are to be treasured.

...when lost, cannot be found.

...till then,

Tigwo na wega...

Rose.  

Drifting...

...I remember vividly, whispering a prayer for a light drizzle. That was three hours ago when the heat proved to be unbearable.

       These past few days have sauntered by with not so scrumptious packages in hand. I have a terrible cold. I'm still trying to hold down the exact moment when I fiercely tore open two packs of tissue paper in quick succession. Indecision between that strawberry flavoured ice cream I gulped down as breakfast early Tuesday morning and the recent, alarmingly frequent mood swings of the skies have abandoned me with no such luck.
I digress. You see, between four mouthfuls of plum, the weather swerves from bearing some semblance of sunshine to the clouds wailing thunderously, whilst lightning applauds in the background. I often wonder what saddens them so. I suppose that should be filed away as one of the numerous mysteries of the heavens.

Anyways, attempts at ensuring my nasal passage is well drained only heighten the ache in my joints, and seem to ignite a pulsating headache at an awkward corner of my head. As if the aforementioned aren't accurate symptoms enough, I keep gasping for air because despite my efforts, my nostrils still get stuffed at will.

It's of no help either that I hardly grab any shut-eye before the voice of my alarm clock howls out " It's time to get up" at such an early and sensitive hour as 4:00 am, with its red neon light trying to take my eyes hostage! When I was absolutely convinced I laid my head to rest approximately five hours prior to this awakening. Those Mexican soaps I can't resist are partly to blame I assume.

       I now digress again. How about that sharp individual that tried to covert my seat for his sack of stockfish after snuggling unto the seat beside mine, whilst I sneezed and sniffled. Who abducted neighbourly love? I thought to myself as I let him bask in the joy of having two seats to himself.

He gave me a look that screamed " Get far away from my stockfish"

Not to be outdone, I gave him a mockingly friendly smile and settled unto another seat, muttering with due disgust. I have always wondered what it was with people stretching another person's patience, thereby forcing it to race past its limits. Throughout the journey, he was preoccupied with inhaling and reveling in the scent of his stockfish, whilst sliding off into la-la land. 


"Isi-uku" I thought to myself numerous times.

Needless to say, this feeling of tiredness is boundless, as is an extreme feeling of lousiness. They both resemble the feeling of being suspended in a glass tank loaded with ice cubes. I'm yet to experience that mind you.

                 I'm drifting. It feels as  though I'm on a magic carpet ride. A problem persists though, and that is the missing-in-action status of Aladdin. Let's face it; he is probably trying to price those elegant  Ankara materials he wants to buy for me.
I might soon collapse into sweet slumber!
Rose.