Afrosays to me

…random excerpts from my communions with the AfroMuse

I want to belong October 26, 2010

Filed under: Scenic — afrosays @ 6:38 pm
Tags: ,

The goddess and I are nearing hiatus. I feel like we just got married and our honeymoon would be over in two days. The days of hardwork and mechanical love shall soon be upon us.

I’m scared and I’m hoping we would pull through. I do not want to lose her.

I’d be beating a yellow Craig David tune on my gong, hoping for the best as AfroSays:

New comer treatment

The thin slice of light slashed perfectly through my brain like a surgical knife. I didn’t know which was more blinding, the pain or the light.
My perception of the world was topsy-turvy. Everything was coming to me in a distorted angular fashion. Was I dreaming? Was I drunk again? Was it my brother’s cheap grass? God, Give me a memory!
It wasn’t drink. It wasn’t Subomi’s cheap grass. The last thing I remember is that we had been at church together.
Something sounded like footsteps and that something was making progress towards me. Was I meant to panic? I was trying to remember how to talk…
I swung back and forth in a myriad of beautiful lights. In the middle of the somewhat unreal pain I reasoned that I was hanging by my legs and I had been set in motion by a blow to the head.
I was coming to. I was swinging back from one end and then I saw the shining nose of a military boot making for my forehead.
I screamed.
I swung.
I fell.
I saw paradise. I felt pain. I hadn’t stopped screaming so I turned it up five notches because as I opened my eyes, I saw the light reflected off my punisher’s footwear.
“Who sent you?”
My lungs were still ferociously pumping out scream fuel and he promptly cut off the supply. The kick to my neck sobered me.
“Who do you work for?”
I was sincerely willing to cooperate but I wasn’t sure how to.
I feebly attempted to raise a hand. “I… I…”
“…. I …Daily Times … I … vendor”
“Really?” The boot was coming close.
“Then why are you investigating us?”
I started crying. Investigation? I didn’t know anything about that. I am not that smart; I had failed the traffic warden examinations and this man was asking me about an investigation? Investigation? What the hell ? How did I get here?
“Who… who are you?” I asked meekly, “Where is Subomi?” I remembered leaving him as I went for the first timers/new converts alter call for the hundredth time.
“Mister investigator, don’t pretend here, tell us all you know and we might let you die in peace” he replied calmly. “We have noticed your operations, visiting all our parishes, asking questions, snooping around.”
“Oga please! Please!!!”
“You want to talk?”
“I only wanted to eat, Oga, I am just a poor man”
This time the pain was vivid. Whatever drug they had slipped in my drink wasn’t protecting me anymore.
Sniff, sob “Oga, please”
Subomi had warned me. He didn’t feel these ‘Church of Sodom Saints’ people were real Christians, they gave new converts too much quality food and served vodka mixtures during communion. Hell! I didn’t even know what Vodka was till I started attending their churches. He had warned me not to go out to the altar for ‘Super Salvation’ this time. He had noticed all the funny movements that my hungry stomach refused to let me see.
I had been stupid, making hunger rounds every Sunday, frequenting their various branches all over the city, always getting ‘Superbly saved’ and eating their fancy food. I had given up touring conventional churches because I was tired of eating the biscuits and sachet water that the miserly lot served first timers. C.S.S. had assured this poor man of at least one good meal every week.
“Oga I swear! Oga! I only came here for the food but now I want to belong, Oga!”
“I want to belong!”

My childhood and theirs October 18, 2010

Filed under: Abstract — afrosays @ 10:17 am
Tags: , ,

The goddess didn’t give me a break as I had hoped. In fact she demanded that I dispatch this script ASAP.

It’s my birthday and my Facebook wall is already complaining. Friends, why can’t we convert all that goodwill to somehow make my bank account complain? That’d be thoroughly appreciated.

As for the goddess, I’m still mad at her because she always feels this egoistical need to impose herself – Dominatrix witch!

I’d only be forgiving her because she somehow managed to feature an abstract me in this piece. I kind of understand her pretend aloofness though, she doesn’t have a birthday so she’d probably be confused as to how to feel. I’m sure there’d be a nice box of jealousy, though, in her emotional variety pack.

May I get this over with? beating the gong like a disgruntled employee, because on my birthday, AfroSays:


I have always wondered why we’ve got so many confused kids today and I recently discovered why.
In our days, we had The Beauty and The Beast, The Lion King, The Jungle Book and a collection of other delightful pictures that entertained us and taught us good moral lessons. For example:
– The Lion King taught that if someone kills your father and marries your mother, get revenge
– The Hunchback of Notre Dame taught that when you’re ugly and poor, chics won’t dig you so it’s better you stay in church.
– I learnt from the Alladin that there’s always idiots trying to get your chic and no matter how many times you mitigate the threat, they just won’t stay away.
– Mulan taught us that it’s okay to dress like the opposite sex and we shouldn’t discriminate.
Several stories also taught us that when we’re rich and handsome and born in a palace, we can marry any girl we want and the #houseGirl / #maid is eligible too.
Those are all good lessons that help a young mind cope with the wicked world but what do the modern kids learn?
What the hell are the kids meant to do with that perverted knowledge? Isn’t there something better to teach the kids?

The curse of the beautiful October 16, 2010

Filed under: Scenic — afrosays @ 5:37 pm
Tags: , , , ,

I’d be a year older in a few days from now and I’d be having a party a few days from then.

I hope to God that the goddess isn’t going to send me on an errand on my special day so I’m getting my ‘Apronquo’ on, trying to impress her by working this weekend.

I’ve still got more tricks up my sleeve that might convince her to let me off on my special day but this would have to do for now.

In case you’re wondering too, new friend met the AfroMuse and they got off well enough to enjoy each others’ company without me.

I’d be beating a hurried ‘over-sabi’ melody on my gong, lobbying for an Afro-holiday, hearing AfroSay:

Cursed Beautiful

Cursed beauty

I got home early to rest and I did – beauty sleep.
Two hours later, I stood up.
I got dressed. I was stunning – as usual.
I got there.
People had arrived.
I hooked up with my friends – useless girls.
We all checked each other out before we went into the party, the boys were all too shy to look at me – useless boys.
The party started.
Every useless girl got a useless boy.
I am actually useful.
I wanted me a useless boy, there were two cute ones remaining, though, the idiots preferred to get drunk and dance with themselves than to make a move at the hottest piece of ass in this building. I had given up hope that the alcohol would help their confidence after an hour of watching them clumsily try to get my attention with last year’s moves. It’s just that the drunker they got, the more stupid they looked. I didn’t care if they danced like MC Hammer in 2010, my thumb was hurting from eleven completed games of Brick Breaker on my Blackberry and I wasn’t about to score a dozen.
I was jealous of my friends. They were pretty too but they were attainable. I wanted to be attainable too. The idiots should stop looking at me already and come over to make something happen.
I let another favourite song of mine play to waste. I was mad. I decided that if mountain wasn’t going to come to Moni, Moni might as well go to mountain.
I approached the cuter of the two drunk leftovers and before I could complete my dance invitation, the clumsy idiot busted a spin move and spilled his drink on my dress.
Who the hell did spin moves at a party?
Why the hell was the bastard spinning?
Did he see any other normal human beings spinning to Wande Coal?
All I want is a frigging dance partner, is all! Is that too much to ask for?
I started crying.
He started crying.
His partner started crying.
Everyone else started crying.
I woke up.

Solomon’s Mathematics October 11, 2010

Filed under: Scenic — afrosays @ 9:41 pm
Tags: , , ,

The goddess thought to alleviate me of some measure of my loneliness and sent me a new friend.

The good thing about new friends is that you don’t get to fight till further notice which is usually a long time away.

The other good thing is that both of you are still curious about each others’ company – That rocks.

Lemme beat this gong SHARP SHARP so i can get back to my friend who’d listen honestly when AfroSays:

I can't remember 7x6

“Honey, slow down!!!”
I revved up the engine and hastily encouraged the four wheel drive straight towards the massive pool of water. I created a five feet high splash more beautiful than a hummer advertisement. I then laughed out loud in capital letters.
Stella was furious. She was torn between giving me a brutal tongue lashing and giving me a brutal tongue lashing and she was having a hard time summoning her floetry.
“Daddy, why did you splash water on that man?”
Crap! I had forgotten my teenagers were in the car. I looked back to find my son with a questioning look in his eyes. I shouldn’t have named him Goody. I quickly shifted my gaze to the left to find his more sinister sister looking through the windshield and laughing at the victim of my joy trip. She reminded me of me.
If I explained to her, she definitely would understand.
She wasn’t as great at school work as my holy-holy, Goody-two-shoes of a son so she would most definitely understand.
She would understand why I was excessively mean to anyone who brought back the memory of Mr Solomon’s arithmetic classes.
She would understand my childish bitterness at a man that had served cruelty to me in take-home Ghana-must-go bags of pain everyday simply because I could not get past the five times table.
She would understand why I never caned her or her brother, even when I caught her smoking behind the house, why I always had Stella mete out the judgment.
She would understand why I would never will get over the memory of Mr Solomon becoming my home lesson tutor at his own suggestion, how I hated the sight of his bald head shining under the sun as he approached ominously from a distance, how he wore the same black uniform everyday to establish his absolute ‘evilness’, how I hated his Hitler-like facial rag, how he made sure to replenish my Ghana-must-go bags of pain at home if I forgot to act twisted in remembrance of the caning sessions from school.
How I hated his svelte sidekick, the black-taped, cigarette-thin, Pankere-specie, weapon of maths destruction, Mrs Pepper, the love of his life.
I think she’d understand how I couldn’t let the all-black everything, cane-carrying, bald man on the sidewalk continue his life in peace. Even though I don’t know him, I’d have run over him if I could, I’d have been to happy to spare some kids the nightmares I’m still paying a shrink to cure me of.
No, she goes to a fancy private school, she won’t understand, No one would.
Maybe I might need to see my shrink immediately after this episode, but screw everyone else, I’m reversing!
I’m coming for you again, similar Mr. Solomon!

I’m sorry Moni October 3, 2010

Filed under: Poetry — afrosays @ 10:12 pm
Tags: , , ,

Hello world,
She’s in great spirits and so am I. The past week was quite engaging and coming weeks promise to be more so but I’d make sure to make time to deliver her dispatches because I’m too scared to consider the consequences on not doing so.

By the way, my country just turned fifty and would soon become a grandma.

Thanks to high spirits, I’d be beating the gong like a fruity loops synthesizer and delivering her message via vocoder because AfroSays:

I'm sorry Moni


I’m sorry, Moni
I’ve begged and you wouldn’t listen
I’m not sure what I did wrong
Your friends now seem to despise me
They never used to before
Tough luck
I just wanted to show you love, Moni
I just wanted to show how much I care
Tell me my sin, Moni
Tell me where I erred
Because I don’t care that you are Nigerian
Even though I am French
And I’m sure you don’t care either
Because you’ve traveled the world
So why did you turn me out on your birthday?
It can’t be because I bought you flowers in a jade vase?
I was only trying to be romantic
Give me an hour, I’d be back with a real gift.

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