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JANUARY


Calllaris

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January, normally is my holiday month. Its very tail holds my birth date too. An unconventional era, as seen in every thing or anyone associated 'within' that period. So don't be dismayed that I usher in my new year Feb.1 - unconventionally but religiously so and for over a decade too, with all who have come to know me that long. Couple that with the fact that December till early January in my career industry is a 'wrap up and presentation period', after which there's a few weeks of the 'dry' period, before the new year's arts calender springs forth.. All these makes it conveniently so that January is 'already' my holiday month.

 

January. I could holiday anywhere, my home, home or abroad the only consistency being January. So, every January, from the first day till I wrap it up with a 'symbolic' on that GIGANTIC tail - 31st, I'm on Felicity.

 

January 31st in itself as a date, publicized or no is filled with surprises. From sombre to loud to reconciliatory phone calls from the past, and various individuals seemingly aiming to beat each other to win the best well-wishing text message of the day or seemingly vying to clinch the first-to-call-in record.. that day holds a lot.

 

Last year's Jan 31st surprised with a rich baritone calling in at 6am to sing for me after he introduced himself as a Musician, then some pastor who I don't know but 'was directed by the Holy Spirit' through a close friend to come pray for me, then..my gf topped me. You wish. All I'm saying is that day can hold anything.

 

February 1 of every year celebrates my new year. It has been so nineteen years, it will be so forever.

 

February. After the first few days as it is in everyone's new year celebration, life resumes. Calenders are planned and work starts. The year is in full swing again.

 

Well, this year's January, I'm still on holiday and since I was handed my meal ticket by my folks some decades ago to become an Applied Sociologist, holiday to me means research. Life in itself is research to every Sociologist. So? I simply start by having 'friends' from all walks of life, there are no stratifications. In research, there shouldn't be. Moreover humans are the surest and easiest transmitters and custodians of history and culture.

 

My choice of vacation this year is my country home. Its solitude at that time of the year is ideal for me after every family member have returned to base following the traditional yuletide and newyear's 'migration'. I'm solitary like single.

 

The tarred road status and good road network of its town are excellent too, you could drive blind folded. The locals refer to the roads as 'Ute', interpreted as 'sleeping mat' because of its smoothness - be careful for the bumps though if your aim is to see if you can drive around with a gag over your eyes, they were put there to check speeding.

 

The delicacies are like the roads, excellent but natural. When presented with a plate, you'd be sure you saw all the seven colours of the rainbow in it. Seven or eight?

 

Then, the 'all year' harmattan weather is one of my favourite things. By default, the terrain topography of the town is lower than normal. If you are in an helicopter and hovering above the town, you'd think it was a mere vegetation without knowing a town is buried underneath. During the civil war, history records that residents from neighboring towns fled to this town to escape shells. And when from above opponent-spies hovered, it was a mere green vegetation they saw. All these ensures an all year cool weather. I had no regrets when the location came top at the list of my probable vacation spots.

The town is quite an architectural edifice.

 

Every day of my holiday starts with running the steep and hilly tarred roads, plucking and picking up nobody's fruits randomly as I ran, eating the fruits after my run, and rehydrating with water. I then read and reply some mails, indulge in some bath and groom time - ordinarily my approximate bathe and dress time is four minutes but I can afford those 'groom times' when on hols. Then I may call up friends (mostly politicians) to see if there are any official visits to pay like condolences, grassroot political meetings, prominent federal characters to courtesy-call upon (there will be a gubernatorial election this year so most Key towns like mine are politically busy) or show up unannounced at any youth's converge - for those youths who aren't interested in urban migration.

 

After the days job (more like no job) and lunch, its 4pm so I go for some palmwine and fresh air knowing some loyal youths are awaiting my appearance.

 

So, I'm having some palmwine with a mid-aged friend; Pasa who is my loyalist. Whatsoever I say, Pasa will do. I know he's loyal to me because I'm loyal to him but other times I wonder if his loyalty is because he believes in my political intention. I may have little of it, after all grassroot popularity is key to every intending political career and in this town, I could own popularity votes.

 

"Pasa, Jump"

"Ok Ada, how high?"

That's our relationship.

 

Everyday, he tells me every singular thing that happend in the past, is happening and things that will probably happen about the town. He tells me stories and events his grandfather and father told him about our town and I gallantly tuck them away for future use. He knows everyone and everyone knows him. Married with *** children, Pasa once lived abroad but is back home for good and making daily income as a building technician. He is my informant while I supply his needs from building contracts to drinks till cash and call recharge cards, even clothes and other memorables from my travels for him and his family. I like his loyalty and I think he may be a friend.

 

This particular day the story he feeds me with centers around another young man from the town whom he had driven round all day in his taxi to the neighbouring town in search of 'solution'. Pasa doubles as a part taxi driver with his black car. I know this young man and courtesy of Pasa, I know how about a year ago he had sold the two pieces of land he inherited from his father for the sum of 6.7 million leaving him now with just a room in his late fathers house as his 'heritage' and only abode. I also got to know how he refused to give his kinsmen their percentage from the sale and how they have now decided that he either left their kindred, - as was tradition of the land in certain cases - or send his wife away since none of them officially accompanied him to perform her marriage rites. Mind you this man is broke again, he has no cash to refund his kinsmen and his only achievement from the land sale apart from the memories of all the various kinds of beer he had drunk, is this woman he married whom they now want out. He was in deep mire.

 

So he had gone with Pasa to the next town in search of solution. Don't ask me what kind. But quote me here; whatsoever you do in Igbo land, don't fight with your kinsmen, don't let them estrange you. Its best you live no more than that.

 

You see, when I listen to these stories from Pasa and his likes, I'm reading in undertones, the culture, the attitude, mentality, belief, tradition and change behind the acts. That's Sociology.

 

Pasa then told me another story from there to the tall young man who owns the garden we were lounging at. He was seating two tables away from us. Four years ago he had returned from his sojourn abroad, is now based somewhere in the city but has invested in this flourishing bush bar business here at home. Of snail, palmwine, grass-cutter, bush fowl and all things white meat and 'bushy' as delicacies. Hunters suffocated him in the mornings with their wares and by evening the wares had become healthy and neatly prepared palatables inviting visitors from as far away towns as 50 kms.

 

As much as I live organic, that wasn't the interesting thing to the man. My interest was that he had three women seating by him. I watched at him and these women. Somewhat I knew he had a relationship with each of them but I couldn't understand how. One was black in complexion - as coal, the other was fair as milk and the other was chocolatey complexioned as brown.The one was to his left, while the other sat by his right and the one other was just getting up to leave the vicinity, with a kid.

 

Pasa's glass was almost downed. I signaled the aproned hostess to refill it and a story ensued.

 

The man in question has a wife in the city but had married a woman from Cyprus in a bid to get his immigrant documents from over there. He has a daughter with the woman of Cyprus already. His wife in the city has four children for him and hails from the neighbouring village. Back here in the village, he is a sexual surrogate to the woman who just left with the kid because her husband is impotent though the said husband still lives under a roof with her and is in-the-know of this arrangement between his wife and this man. He has fathered two children for her as it is. His 'fair lady' seated to his left is his younger brother's widow whom he had inherited upon his death and the one to his right is his concubine who bears children for him too. She oversees the management of the bush bar business.

 

I couldn't sink it in, what's wrong with this place?

 

"Pasa! How do you know these things?, I'm not going to believe you". I couldn't hide my irritation.

 

"Adaide, this is no secret you can confirm from anyone including your bike man. I mean the man has his money and.."

 

"This is not of money, my friend.." I cut him off

 

"...this is madness from these women"

 

The two women both sat silently by him while he intermittently switched attention from either one to the other after a short interval of making conversation with each one - I'm sure that was attention enough for them.

 

I couldn't help pondering at the many women this man has, five and counting? Officially they were five and who says he cannot have more than that, girl friends, side kicks.. He looked nothing above forty eight years old .. all things being equal he still had twenty two more years to gallivant with ladies. Ladies.. I thought about his choice of women, he truly liked them in different shades, there's the black, and yellow and brown, I wondered what hue his wife in the city is? Gray? Gray from stress. She was the one bearing his name and living in his house so he could turn her into gray or ash. After all he has gifted her his last name and now he owns her. I scoffed out loud, some culture! Then I knew the woman of Cyprus must be pink in complexion or red, after all she was from another continent. No, its white. I now remember. She must be so, white. This man likes colours. If I wasn't somewhat disgusted by him, I'd have termed him 'rainbow man'. No, the rainbow is sacred. No, I shouldnt be mad at him, he did me no wrong, he's just a victim of culture. Culture. Rainbow. Rainbow culture. I had flown away in my thoughts again.

 

It was about ten minutes later, when the man who Pasa had 'gist' me earlier about, the one who had sold his land inheritance walked in. We exchanged a second of greetings and very quickly he sat beside Pasa and in hushed tones began to recount his matrimonial ordeal to the him again. Unbeknownst to him, his friend Pasa had told me all about his predicament.

 

I let them be and began to fiddle with my phone.

 

The young man soon took a call from his wife and was screaming at her over the phone. As he ends the call, he exclaims exasperatedly "Hay, women! This woman can never kiri (kill) me, no she can't!". He shook his head vehemently from side to side as he spoke.

 

I refused to give ear, I continued with my phone pretending I was engrossed.

 

Pasa asked, "what has she done this time?"

 

I couldnt care less at the recount he gave to Pasa but all I sensed is that his wife has asked him to come take her to her father's house since his kinsmen were determined to send her packing. He on the other hand is asking her to ignore them. He will handle it. Remember he had gone for solution. Yes?

 

Pasa obviously thinks the same of women as does his friend or he was just being loyal like the loyality whore I'm begining to sense him as because he said "Well, thats women for you, I cant understand them either. All I know is that when I was is in elementary six, my uncle gave me a book which I read and since then I have come to understand a little of women and what they are. In that book, God, after creating the world and all the animals and even man, he rested. But after creating the woman, he never rested"

 

I looked at him firstly with a confused frown, then with indifference and back to my phone 'was this all he can come up with?' I mentally shrugged my shoulders, as much as Im begining to understand his need to be loyal to all, I couldn't care less his other opinions.

 

 

I just wanted to write again.

 

 

He wasn't done anyway "God created man, he rested. Animals, he rested. Everyone, He rested. But ever since He created woman, He didn't rest. God hasn't rested! The bible never said it anywhere that God rested after creating woman, did it?"

 

He was not asking rhetorically though because he was suddenly looking my way. To him this was scholarly logic 'God has never rested since He created women therefore how can man rest'? I remained silent but took in every word. I will write this.

 

 

Isnt this the funniest thing you heard?

 

 

His friend, amidst his predicament began gigling at what Pasa was saying and after about four more secs of listening to Pasa's deranged logic, seemed to catch the infection:

 

"Its true o. All my troubles are because of this woman, rook (look) at me, since morning, I've been on my feet, all because of this woman.. I've told her ignore my brothers, she won't listen. That's a woman for you, she' ll do the exact opposite of whatever you tell her to do"

 

As Pasa took over the rant again, I knew I have been here before. This was one of those push-the-blame-on-women broken record that I didnt care that almost all men played! Pasa was saying still "Look at Samson in the bible he told 'that woman' not to tell his opponent's of the secret to his strength, she did exactly what he asked her not to do, and they killed him...na wa..Look at Eve? Women are just trouble"

 

I know the story of Eve, I know Delilah too! In my bible story book as a kid, she was always unnecessarily fair and heavily made-up. I didn't like her makeup. I only know Samson tore away a lion.. didn't know how or when he died. I continued to dub, who knows what one can learn at these stupid street schools? I refused to lecture these people on anything though.

 

Moreover, what would I say that they weren't double sure about? That they had no right to tell a woman what to do? When the man 10 metres from me is married to five women and they are all kumbayaying together? Or that they needed the women more then they pretend if not they should have remained as Eunuchs? That he was greedy by not giving his kinsmen a common 300k from the almost 7m? And now his wife bears the brunt? The inequality?

 

Inequality! Is it that of gender? Or of marriage? that I'm never gonna be allowed to marry the ONE (just one) whom I choose? But someone else less decent than I am (please allow me a second on my horse, I deserve it) is ignored to marry five? I wanted to go all activist in my head again but I remembered it was all a game that people played, the push the blame game. I'll play it with them but differently this time. I also remembered my holiday, Im here to rest. So I smiled within me, I won't talk.

 

My silence was thick, almost deafening. Deep in my thoughts, I could still hear their banter in the background and it seemed they were truly expecting my voice, but I had managed to remove myself from them. It was all part of my new year's resolution, LET GO. When I came to, I was becoming more amused that this silly episode may be the lift to my writing block when I heard Pasa's voice

 

"Adaide, Adaide, isn't it true?" They were determined to hear from me. Pasa was calling me out. He was over 100% convinced he was making sense with his logic.

 

"What is?" I asked. Im sure I had a weary squint in my eyes, my lips were pursed to a side as I cocked my chin askingly sideways to look forward their way, questioningly.

 

"About women, we are saying, women are difficult."

 

With same speed of light, my thoughts nestled upon a certain woman and the Phone episode I just had with her 2hours ago. She knew I am on hols too, I should rest but she was gonna read all sorts of meaning to every singular act

 

Certain woman: who picked your call as I called you now?

 

Me: (I knew where this was going already) its that girl at that cafe I told you about.

 

CW: what is she doing with your phone?

 

Me: she was booking my flight on the phone, you know how I'm sloppy with those things. Im paying them for printing the ticket though, not data. (I had to say something smart but I dont think I sounded smart. But its the truth)

 

CW: ok (she didnt believe me, mood change wham! Like the weather)

 

And this recount above was Just one of those episodes. I meet like ten of them a day.

 

Could Pasa and crew be right? ..This girl won't bulge, yet she won't let go. She won't take a single blame either. Then how stubborn and petty and vain she gets and attention seeking and mind games. She is entitled to everything! And her paranoia, her mood swings, jeez! sometimes all these made her all the more predictable and femme to me, all the more different from me and attractive - sometimes. Only sometimes... The drama. 'Girls do love their drama' I remembered, that's who they are. Its tiring but you take it or leave 'them'.

 

'Take it or leave it', that was the first time I'm comprehending what that popular phrase meant. So Im suddenly smiling. Everyone is looking at me. Then I remember I'd been asked a question. So I idly answered:

 

"He who brings in to his compound, the ant infested firewood has invited the lizards to hangout"

 

They both burst in laughter at once, laughter and more laughter. Thats another of my new year's resolution, I will be speaking more of parables, after all that's what old people do. I knew they were laughing not just for the parable nor from the attitude I delivered it with. They also laughed at the truth my reply captured.

 

They laughed long and hard while I, though silently bemused refused to join them. I pretended I didnt know what much they were laughing for. When they could come up with words from their laughing fIt, Pasa wasnt done yet "Adaide you mean?" He was expecting me to repeat myself, he wanted to laugh some more but I seldom repeat myself, and not this year.

 

He was cleaning out the tears of laughter from his eyes, still recovering from the reverie, seeing I had no intention to repeat myself, he spoke within shortened breathes from laughing

 

"Women are just some thing else. In fact I think I stand with that man of the USA.. err..what's his name again?..Barrack Obama. Let women marry themselves and men marry each other, so women can deal better with their kind. It may be best that way"

 

None of these people knew I was gay, that I face what they face. Drama from women. Perhaps their thought is women give out drama only to men? I was typing this story unto my phone already, still pretending to be indifferent to the whole discussion when the second question from Pasa was thrown at me.

 

"Eh, Adaide, oburo ya (isn't it?), what do you say?"

 

I looked up from my phone with that squint again, feigning aloofness, both men were steadily looking at me.

"Say to what again please?" I pretentiously asked again

 

"That women should marry each other, so they can handle each other while men marry themselves, may be its fit that way right?" both echoed the question.

 

I knew they were joking but ..every opportunity..

 

"Yes it is, it is befitting and better that way. Infact that will be the best. Let women marry each other" I said with a mixture of nonchallance and feigned thoughtfullness. I'm sure I was noding my head althrough too

 

And this time the laughing was more hysterical than the first, with or without any gay under tones. They were practically holding their sides from laughing. This time I couldn't really tell if they were laughing at me or my hair or my mundane funny or the the feigned naive assertions. I just knew my answer made them crazy with laughter. I also knew I was messing with their heads, that's Sociology.

 

(I've never had these gender convos with Pasa, it was always events and people we discussed. Im glad for the indifference I handled such sensitive discussion with. I wasn't defensive of women at all, yet I defended them and I loved every wet moment of it. You may not understand this part and its totally OK).

 

They were still slightly twerking from the embers of laughter, when I rose, shook hands with them, payed my bills, and signalled my bike driver. I left with a smile on my face.

 

This gay word is spreading and this block may be on it way to..lifted.

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Well, hello fellow Sociologist! That was a long one, but seeing Sociology made me read on. Lol @ "I knew I was messing with their heads, that's Sociology"

 

Was that a real life story?

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Well the last piece of my puzzle is now laid, kindred spirit.

 

'this gay word is spreading (guess who came out of her Nigerian closet yesterday?) ... and this block may be on its way to... Lifted'

 

 

Remembering Jackie Collins

October 4 1937 - September 19, 2015.

 

"I and my stories are about real people.. If anything, my characters are toned down. The truth is much more Graven.

It is only expected that reality is much more bizarre, yes?"

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