Afrosays to me

…random excerpts from my communions with the AfroMuse

Making conversation October 28, 2011

Filed under: Scenic — afrosays @ 2:30 pm
Tags: , ,

Today. It’s a song we can all sing.
Join the chorus as AfroSays:


...a drink perhaps?

Dapper is mine.
I am Akilapa, local champion, beef head, jock and jester. The favorite of maidens, Oko Omoge; my distinct Aso Oke uniform introduces me as a member of the King’s strong men. My pounded yam mounds are as high as mountains and every planting morning, I build two hundred of these. In the evening I build three hundred more. I have never returned empty-handed from a visit to the forest – soars and their offspring weep once they hear my footfalls. They must have heard my stories from their fatherless and husbandless neighbours. I am the son of the son of Sango.

Would you join me for a drink now?”
”You spun me an impressive fictional resume all because I told you that I don’t talk to strangers?”
“Tell me your name”
“Okay you’ve earned it. Listen.
The sultry abomination. Psaltry like the song of Yemoja’s first heartbreak…
”Stop giggling like a girl and listen!”
“I’m listening oh!”
I am Enitan, the riddle, the desirable, the delectable, the disastrous. Daughter of the deep. My eyes would subdue your weak will and bring you to your knees. Virgin…
“Would you pay attention?”
“Ehen! Virgin evil; pure darkness; schemer… err, all the things you should be scared of! Look! I haven’t had much practice with this abeg! Can we go for that drink?”
“Only if you tell me your real name.”
“It’s really Enitan.”
“Really? Okay, I’m Deinde. By the way, I think I’ve seen all there is to see at this exhibition, and it looked like you had the same thing in mind when you took your eyes off the walls and started studying the people. Good art by the way.”
“Yea, particularly the silhouettes.”
“I think I preferred the landscape paintings though, especially the watery scenes, very peaceful. So… just off the lobby, we can have all the fun we want. Definitely more quality stuff than the cheap champagne we’re pretending to enjoy here.”
“What do you think about the hors d’oeuvres?”
“Too oily”
“I don’t like that look. Scary.”
“I don’t like that you don’t like my catering.”
“Err… I’m sorry. Okay, I thought the shrimp thing was quite delicious”
“Ha! I was just fucking with you. I just came for the art and it seems you’re here to pick up weak-willed women with your smooth tongue. You must do this often, Mr. Dapper?”
“I like a lady that swears”
“Now did I? Fuck! Oh Pardon me!”
“You look cute the way you do that”
“Oh? Now do I?”
“And she does it again!”
“Let’s get that drink already.”
“You’re as much the ‘teeto’ as I am, I see. Off to the lounge we go, no, off to the restaurant! I think you deserve more of my company. You’ve earned it.”
“Cocky are we? I’d order enough to make you humble. Believe me, I’m good.”
“I’d like to see you try and while you’re at it, I’d love to hear the story behind the name, Enitan”
“Be a gentleman, escort me properly you beef head!”
“You were warned.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Uh huh”
“But seriously, you don’t like my catering?”

Shadow Tail October 18, 2011

Filed under: The Trench — afrosays @ 3:29 pm
Tags: , , ,


This is the dawn of another night.
The night has long been abused, they call it a time of sorrow, a time of gnashing of teeth; they say the sun cometh in the morning…
May the sun never come!
I am of lunar soul, trenchant knucklehead, me. I love the night! All my neighbours, they have been eaten by the monster they call home and in the belly of the beast, they are silenced, even if for a while.
I am outside tonight. Shirt off!
The streets are clean. The air is clean. The internet is clean. More importantly, the dimension we call Thought Express, it is clean. Brain traffic is at a minimum and we need the scarce bandwidth to be who we are.
I stretch. I launch myself on the comet, ShadowTail, and we project.
Who am I?
Who are we?
Did you ever see a beam of joy, like a pulse, like the shadow of a comet, race down your streets three a.m. in the morning?
Slow down that vision.
Did you ever imagine that what you saw was a half-naked child with a head full of black fibers running down the road, his hands behind his back, holding a pulsing ball of brilliance? Did he have the most rapturous smile on his face? You dismissed that thought didn’t you?
I’d be around where you are if it is somewhere to be around. I’d be seeking that quintessential, picking up coins like dear Nintendo’s Mr Mario, leaping into the air for gold rings like Sega’s Mr. Sonic; If I ever crash, I’d be sure to remember that this existence is no PlayStation. I run parallel to what I aim to discover, it’s close but it’s perpetually inaccessible. I keep running however, hoping that these parallel lines cross at some point in the future and then the big ‘why?’ becomes an ‘oh really?’
One day I’d cover most of the world but I know I’d never cover all of it for these medals I pick up along the way, they weigh me down; these gold medals, they are excerpts of worldly wisdom. With each new coin or ring that I put in my purse, I lose some grab on the comet I ride on.
Pretty soon I might be walking on the road like those few old people I see on the sidewalks. They don’t look extremely happy but they seem content. Maybe I’d have enough coins and rings to buy me common sense, and my breakneck travel on Thought Express would be abandoned. Maybe some other kid, maybe my kid would hop on that comet and try to discover why the world is the way it is. Maybe I’d be the one telling him to take the world as it is, tempting him with a meager bag of coins.
I doubt it!
Why? ShadowTail and I are not the only ones that travel these parallel lines. If you’ve read this far with a smile on your face, the kind that betrays recognition, you’re with me, and company, even your company, makes even the most arduous journey sufferable.
Give PinkBeam a caress, or is he DarkWave? BlackBolt? WhiteFire? RedSpark? Is she PurpleStream? IndigoSea? ‘ColeurWing?
Count your coins, your rings, and let there be a chorus of cling-clangs in this fresh night air as we throw away the faulty wisdom we have discovered. Keep the trusty gold medals, you might eventually find enough to retire.
Hold your comet, your catalyst, your propellant with arms outstretched behind you.
Ahoy! Launch and run free!
And don’t forget to take your shirt off if you feel like it.

Death and all his friends October 14, 2011

Filed under: Spooky Fridays — afrosays @ 10:00 pm

Gather round! Gather round! Dear @NateOblivion sings a dark tale tonight, the burden of the gong is his to bear. Come all. He speaks:

I, Nate Oblivion, beat the gong in the dark of night, here at the border of Insanity and Genius, to resound through your heart and soul, to awaken your nightmares and chill your bones. Listen.



There was complete silence in the cinema hall, the light from the giant screen providing the only illumination. The air was tense, and the crowd held their breaths. The movie had reached its anticipated climax. After watching various characters suffer the most gruesome and unimaginable deaths, only the two lead characters remained. She was clinging to his arm and squeezing it tight, and his body resonated with the vibrations from hers. She gazed at him, and spoke in a barely audible voice.
“Aren’t you scared at all?”
He looked at her and smiled. “It’s just a movie darling, with actors and scripts. There’s a director behind that set who would laugh buckets at your reactions”
She said nothing, and turned her attention back to the movie. The male lead was standing in the middle of a wide road, looking around for something in panic. All of a sudden, an electric line overhead snapped and swung towards the man, throwing him backwards a few meters. He was broken and bruised, but still alive. The ground started to vibrate, and he sat up with great effort. He looked to his left just in time to see the vehicle, which trampled him and sent blood flying.
The audience screamed and a few people started to leave, obviously too terrified to watch any more. She remained in her seat, but was shaking feverishly and muttering to herself. Her boyfriend pulled her closer to himself and put his arm around her.
“It’s okay” he said. “It’ll soon be over. Or do you want us to leave now?” She shook her head defiantly and faced the screen. The female lead was standing on the sidewalk, about to cross a busy road. She looked left and right, making sure the road was clear. She had only taken a step forward before she trod into a crack in the road, and the stiletto of her shoe twisted and broke. She lost her footing and was already wobbling when she heard a loud horn and turned to the right to see a bus heading for her at break neck speed. She fell backwards, and the bus flew past in a gust of wind. She was trembling as she stood up, dusted herself off and crossed the street, entering into a tall building. She opened the door to her apartment and entered, tossing her ruined shoes in a corner. She entered her bedroom and sat on the bed. She fanned herself with her hands and took off her jacket. She heard a loud creaking sound and looked up to see that the fan was swinging wildly and almost loose from the ceiling. Before she could scream, the fan came loose and landed on her with tremendous force, the squelching sound resounding throughout the cinema. The blood splattered across the screen and spelled out the title of the movie, “DEATH AND ALL HIS FRIENDS” The screen went black and the end credits started rolling. The crowd rose and left at once, as if in a hurry.
Outside the cinema, they stood hand in hand in the rain, while he tried to hail her a cab. Before long, a cab came along and she got in. they said their final goodbyes and shared a quick kiss before the cab sped off. He set off for his bus stop, kicking up muddy water from the puddles that had collected on the ground. He wiped his brow and increased his pace, almost running now. He entered a side street, taking a shortcut he rarely used so he could arrive faster and find shelter from the heavy rain. As he walked, he heard a loud snap and spun around to see a live wire crash into his chest. The pain numbed him and the shock sent him flying backwards, landing with a thud in the middle of the road. He had barely registered what just happened when he heard a car horn and saw a bright light drawing closer. He turned his head towards it, and the last he saw was the big wheels of a truck before it ran him over, crushing him to bits and leaving behind nothing but brains, guts and blood.
She alighted the cab and stood on the sidewalk. She was still a bit shaken by the horror movie, but the fear was had begun to wear off. Her mind replaying scenes of horror and gore, she began to cross the road, when the sound of a horn jarred her from her thoughts. Purely on instinct, she jumped backwards and fell to the sidewalk. A large bus flew past at breakneck speed and the pedestrians were already shooting her disapproving looks while an old woman started to rant about how people never paid attention the road. She shrugged it off, crossed the street and entered her apartment, turning on the lights and finding no one around. She sat on her bed and removed her shoes. For some reason, the room was sweltering hot, even though the ceiling fan was on. It was old and had recently become squeaky, but she would get it fixed tomorrow. She fanned herself with a card and looked around. Was it just her or was the fan’s squeaking louder than usual? And why did it all seem so familiar? Her eyes widened as she realized why, and her breath got caught in her throat.
She looked up.
@NateOblivion shares his art as a member of the very excitingly paranormal circle, the Pass The Salt band, here
“The trees went forth on a time to anoint a king over them; and they said unto the olive-tree, Reign thou over us. But the olive-tree said unto them, Should I leave my fatness, wherewith by me they honor God and man, and go to wave to and fro over the trees?” (Biblical quote)

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