Afrosays to me

…random excerpts from my communions with the AfroMuse

The Truth Teller February 28, 2012

Filed under: Scenic — Betty @ 11:24 am
Tags: , , , , , ,

thatdarkBetty: Today, I beat the gong of non-absolutes.. Listen.
 
THE TRUTH TELLER

 
The problem she had with Joshua was that he told the truth.
 
She met him through her cousin and when after their first date, he had pulled her close and kissed her and said he wanted her for himself; she had come gushing to me. “He’s not like the others, no fronting whatsoever.” I was only glad she’d stopped being so finicky about men. She grinned wide and laughed a lot; her eyes glinting with hope and liquid adoration.
 
When she strode into my house and plopped down on my couch, her forehead in furrows; I had immediately assumed it to be a familiar end to a short story. But she began to speak of how he cradled both her hands in his and looked into her eyes- her soul, she corrected- and said vehemently how he could not and would not live without her. She had looked up from her storytelling and I saw tears glisten in her eyes; she seemed perplexed and when she described him as ‘desperately honest’, I had thought it was an odd combination. Desperately honest? But it was then a strange smile lit up her face. I have never seen her that happy; she practically beamed as though a light bulb had been switched on inside of her.
 
“Do you know what it’s like?” She asked me after she had relayed how he’d spent the previous night telling her all the brave and horrible things he had ever done. “To find a man who tells you the truth… About everything?” He was candid and sincere she said; he made her want to uproot her puny morals and start again.
 
So when she came back to my green couch and curled into a ball, shivering with fears that stemmed from underneath her lacey blouse. I was more than slightly taken aback. Explain it to me, I pleaded. What went wrong?
 
“Nothing,” she said.
 
And quoting her words back to her, I reminded her of his honesty; how pure and rare he was; how happy he made her. But she only flinched with each word, as though I was punching her belly. She raised a palm to stop my flow of words.
 
And then she said- “That’s the problem. When the love dies, will he hesitate to tell me he feels no more for me?” I moved to speak but she stopped me. She had never said she knew his love was eternal, she had said his honesty was. And so, she was afraid. She was scared that he wouldn’t do her the favour of being quiet when he no longer loved her so passionately. She was scared he would tell her when she was no longer attractive and when he would sleep with his secretary. And when he would take a bribe and then share all of his fears and doubts and worries and that it would overwhelm her. That his honesty would crush her with its startling clarity and piercing starkness.
 
And looking in her eyes, there was no shaking this terror. So, I poured us red wine in huge mugs and snuggled in beside her and said nothing. She took a long sip and said to me, “Don’t we all need to be lied to? A little? I think so.”

 
 

Advertisements
 

Love and truth August 31, 2010

Filed under: Scenic — afrosays @ 1:32 pm
Tags: , , , ,

However topsy-turvy life has been lately, I’ve got the goddess to hang on to.

I’m learning form her that truth is what most people say it is, what we were told and what we would tell our children.

I’ve been saving to buy a bicycle so that I can get around faster when I’m beating the gong, in case AfroSays:

LOVE AND TRUTH

LOVE AND TRUTH

LOVE IS +CARNAL

I listened half-attentively to the grayed pastor as he described his convictions about pure love between a man and a woman.
“Any love that is tainted with carnality is of the devil”, he bellowed as he wiped torrents of sweat from his forehead. I always marveled at how he managed to keep up perspiration when the frigid temperature in the church almost formed icicles on the ceiling. Most of the congregation was clothed in suits and sweaters.
“Ladies, any man that wants to have sex with you is from the pits of hell”, he continued, “Men, there must be no hugging or kissing or staying together in private places. Flee from every appearance of evil!”.
“Amen!”, chorused the older members of the church in unison with our pastor’s spiritual ideologies. I was humored at how most of them had consummated their marriages with a foetus under the wedding dress, later subscribing to spirituality to protect their daughters from celebrating their youth under the lewd influence of Aphrodite.
The pastor had enjoyed his youth, the beautiful lady sitting next to me was evidence. I had helped her to enjoy hers as well. She was sitting next to me, keeping the other half of my attention at carnal consciousness with her legs brushing against mine. Earlier on in our relationship, we both had chosen not to devour the forbidden fruit but we had put a hole in it and sucked its nectar to our satisfaction. It is however unfortunate that nectar never seemed to really satisfy one, it only caused an increasing addiction.
Of course, we overgrew nectar with time and started nibbling at the fruit itself. It had been itsy, little incissor teeth cuts at first but before we knew it, we were planning deliberate camping trips under the forbidden tree, preparing fruit dishes with every kind of recipe book we could find.
Her companionship transcended fruit and nectar. We blended so perfectly in every thing else that our carnal sessions could only prove testament. I don’t believe in the First Corinthians thirteen kind of love because I’ve never seen it, but pastor’s kid and I? Friendship? Naa! our relationship or whatever it was, I just figured it was something cool enough to have around as I grew older.
I didn’t surprise me when I married the pastor’s kid twenty years ago. I only winked at her as I watched her eventually turn to our daughter and mumble something about remaining a virgin in Christ, whatever that was.

Share

 

The Black Hole August 3, 2010

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

The goddess was held me in her arms as I wept.

My world was crashing all around me.

She reminded me that old civilizations always had to give way to new; I’m just hoping Jerusalem isn’t coming down for Babylon.

She sang me a lullaby, I slept.

I’m now awake and I shall sing it to you all only because Afrosays:

THE BLACK HOLE

The Black hole

The Black hole

“Beep… beep… beep”

The seconds of my life were being counted by one of the several boxes of wire that kept me alive.
I wasn’t sure I was ready for the extremely long beep that would signal the end of my life but according to what the doctors had said, that sound was two days late and it would be here anytime soon.
It’s not that I wasn’t prepared; I’d settled grievances, seen my lawyer and put my house in order. Heck! I’d even told Cecilia that she could marry that moron that had been the centre of our family trouble for the past two years since she finished college. I was desperately trying to use these last moments to buy inner peace but I still wasn’t sure I had the right currency.
Freddy told me that the idiot across the room holding my daughter’s hand. Freddy said he looked like the angel of death that was responsible for all the recent motor accidents along the Benin-Ore Express way with all the scrap metal coming in and out of his disgustingly tattooed skin. The first day I saw him, I wished the London Arts School scholarship hadn’t come through for Cecilia, six years ago. I never seemed to understand the fact that her boyfriend was a successful musician somewhere in Europe, Cecilia deserved better.
But she wasn’t my burden at the moment, I was. These past few years had been my most successful; I had taken a lot from the world and given it gifts in return. I was sure my name would be remembered for my outstanding contributions to health science. I had been a good man, but was that ever enough? Freddy said my wife’s pastor was still in the room and according to the religious rituals we’d gone through together the few weeks before I blacked out, I was cool with God and ready to go, but deep inside me I wasn’t sure if there was a place to go to. The pastor had once mentioned that the just shall live by faith, but it was too late to ask him what the just was meant to die by?
My eyes were closed.  My body was on shut down. I could only depend on my ever reliable brain. It had a nickname, Freddy I called it. I had developed Freddy so much that he was two hundred years older than I was and had a mind of his own. I didn’t deserve any of those accolades the world lavished on me, Freddy did. He deserved everything from the national honour to the Nobel price, yet, he couldn’t help me out this time. He hadn’t been able to come up with a sensible explanation for eternity, re-incarnation or two thousand virgins. All Freddy knew was limited to this sphere.
I had searched through my childhood memories of Sunday school till my early years of marriage, before the call of humanitarianism took me away and all I found were contradictions. The only problem was that no one had been honest enough to admit they didn’t have the answers. They were all too scared to think for themselves and relied on any man who was bold enough to pretend he understood the great mystery of life. Those kinds of men got too many with time and the contradictions became more evident. Eventually the bright left in search for the real truth.
I still haven’t found it. I used Google till Microsoft bought it over and messed it up and it wasn’t in any of the two trillion web pages on their index. There was no truth in hedonism or even in excessive piety either. All my experiments led to one single fact: No matter how long man tried to pretend, his true nature always surfaced. No one was perfect. No one could uphold whatever dogma they put forth without falling short. They could only pretend in hypocrisy and that was my dilemma, the fact that no one could live up to any paradigms, even basic laws they set up themselves. If we cannot live up to our own standards, how much more that of some perfect deity?  We’re all doomed to incompetence and low self esteem!
“Beeeeeeeeep!  Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep! Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!”
Suddenly, Freddy came through, just when I’d lost hope. He seldom failed me.
“Doctor! Doctor!!!”
Pandemonium.
I didn’t care.
My soul smiled.
And then I laughed – I opened my eyes and laughed real hard.
They were shocked because Freddy had put me in a coma for two weeks so he could work.
I’d finally found the answer!
Being human was the joke of the millennium!
“Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!”

Share

 

 
%d bloggers like this: