Sunday, June 23, 2013

Le Voyage_2

(Read Part 1 here.)

As I walked down the cobblestone path to the car, I looked back at the house. I had the funny feeling of deja vu and I shivered involuntarily. For a moment there, I thought I’d caught a glimpse of a face at the window.
"Come on Liam!" Nan called out to me from the car. "You don't want to be late to your own wedding do you?!"
I turned back and walked briskly to the car. Matt got down from the driver's seat in a suit identical to mine and clapped me on the back.
"This is it man!" he said beaming at me. "It all begins now!" he said, embracing me.
"Thanks Matt, for everything." I said after we pulled apart.
"Come on, let's go and get you married!" he said getting back into the car.
"About time!" Nan mumbled from the back seat.
I got into the car and as it pulled away, I took another look at the house and the funny feeling washed over me again.
Half an hour later, I stood before my friends and family with Matt at my side as the wedding march started to pump out of the pipe organ. I had been baptised in this church, had taken my first holy Communion on this very alter, then returned here to get baptised again when I understood what it really meant, so it was fitting that I would be married here as well. On the first row, I saw mum dab at her eyes with a hankie and I smiled back at her. Dad stood beside her beaming proudly at me. Nan was on his other side and with a pang, I wished Grandpa could have been here too. Natalie was in the next row with the kids. Next to her were Adele and Bella in their bride’s maid’s dresses.
My reminiscing was cut short as she came into view. She looked like a shimmering mirage, all sheathed in white lace and satin, gliding towards me. My breath got caught in my throat and my heart started to thud. Looking at her as she came closer on her father's arm, I felt weightless, like I didn't have a care in the world. A feeling of serenity and contentment settled over me and I knew deep down in the core of me that I had come home.  I knew that there was nowhere else on the face of the earth I would rather have been at that moment and she was the one I’d waited for all my life.  That was why it hit me like a blow when I realised I had no idea who was walking down the aisle towards me!
She gave her father a quick hug and then turned to smile up at me through her veil. I stared at the veiled face intently, willing myself to remember, but nothing came to me. Reverend Harvey, who had baptised me both times, was going on with the ceremony but I scarcely heard a word of what he was saying. Even as I realised that I'd never met this woman before, the feeling of serenity didn't leave me, instead it grew stronger.
When I lifted the veil, honey-brown eyes looked up at me from a face perfectly sculpted from ebony. I studied her exquisite face, committing each detail to memory. The high cheek bones, the slightly large, rounded nose, full lips and dimpled chin. Even the pimple that sat just underneath her right eye. I took in every detail, as if I feared she would soon be taken from me and I would have to search real hard find her again.
            “William Auguste Harding…” She said and gave a little laugh. She knew how much I hated my silly middle name. “I almost can’t believe I’m standing here with you. It feels like a dream, my perfect dream come true. Today, I will become one with my best friend, my mate of heart and soul, my brother.”
Who are you?! Why can’t I remember you?!
            “I promise you my darling, that I'll be your confidant, companion and help, God helping me. I promise to see through your eyes to your dreams, to fly with you as you fly with them.”
Am I losing my mind?! Why then does it feel so…right…
“I promise to share every moment and challenge and victory and struggle and triumph with you, and to grow old and silly with you…”
Her voice became husky with emotion and her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. Smiling, she slipped the simple gold band unto my finger.
            *                                  *                                  *                                  *
I woke up with her vows echoing in my mind. I switched on the bed-side lamp and sat up in bed. Absently, I picked up the gold band that lay beside the lamp and turned it over and over in my hand. It had been Grandpa’s ring and after he passed, Nan had insisted I have it for some reason best known to her. I’d told her matter-of-factly that if that was her way of hinting that I was getting old, she could think again. What I hadn’t told her, or anyone else, was that the ring spooked me out badly, and that was because I’d had a very funny dream the night before Nan gave it to me. Tonight, it had been the very same dream all over again. The wedding. The un-veiling. The beautiful stranger. The same weird dream. Only this time, I'd finally met the stranger. She was Nan's new tenant.

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Le Voyage

I remember my very first day in Edmonton. It was also the first day I saw him. Well, in real life that is. I was trying to put on a brave face though deep down I was terrified. I couldn’t help the feeling, despite being very excited at the same time. I’d packed up my whole life into two large suitcases and a back pack, said good bye to my family and travelled half way across the world into the unknown. It was what I’d always wanted to do, even before I realised it. It was what I’d needed to do. A part of me had yearned for this breakaway from the life I’d lived. A part of me had craved something new, a part of me had hoped there was more to life than what I knew, more than the norm. So, when I applied to University of Alberta for the research program, it had felt more like heeding a call than an academic move. I’d told no one about it, and when I’d received the offer, it came as a shock to my family. My parents were lost as to why I would want to go so far away from home and the family. They couldn’t understand why I would apply in the first place and hard as I tried, I couldn’t explain it to them! They wanted to know if I was leaving cos I was unhappy or if it was that they had missed something. I didn’t know what to tell them, couldn’t explain the deep need for something more, the need to be by myself, so I didn’t. I just packed up and left a month later.
Straight from the airport, I got a cab to the address. I’d found the ad on the internet and had corresponded via mail with a Mr Williams. It was supposed to be a studio apartment above an old couple’s home, so I guessed Mr Williams was the home owner. We’d agreed on a price I thought was reasonable and I’d paid the deposit via bank transfer. For all I knew, the address didn’t exist and it was all a hoax and I would find myself homeless on my very first day in my new life!
The cab dropped me off in front of an old house that looked pretty much deserted.
I stood for a moment on the cobblestone side walk, looking up at it. Despite the fact that it was old and looked lonely, I sort of liked it instantly. It had this elegant feel to it, like an old dignified lady who had been a real beaut in her prime. It sort of had this aura about it that seemed to welcome me, beckoned to me. The house was two stories high with an attic of sorts on the east side. I reckoned the attic was the ‘’studio apartment’’ that was to be home from now on. I went round the back and searched for the set of keys Mr Williams had promised would be under a loose stone in the foot path. I saw that the house had a nice little garden that looked like it could use a bit of weeding. Despite the weeds, it still managed to look cheerful and I could imagine what it would look like in summer when it was in full bloom. I bent down to pry the stone loose and the weight of my back pack shifted suddenly, almost sending me into a somersault! I straightened up quickly and the weight sent me reeling backwards this time, into a solid wall behind me. Arms appeared out of nowhere, pinning me o the wall and I yelped.
            “Whoa! Steady!” the wall said from behind me.
I swivelled as fast as the back pack and the arms which were still around me would allow and my mouth dropped open in shock. I stood there frozen in time, my face inches away from one that mirrored my shock and bewilderment.
Okay, if this is a dream, it is a really, really good one!
I was staring into the face of Mark Petersburg, my all-time favourite actor and my lifelong crush! Finally, he seemed to collect himself and took a step away from me dropping his arms, his face a bewildered mask.
            “Sorry to startle you.” He said smiling to cover up the awkward moment.
That smile! My heart melted like it had done a million times while seeing him on TV. Fancy seeing him here in my new landlord’s backyard, of all places!
            “You must be Francesca.” He said extending his hand.
Huh?! I took his proffered hand in a daze. How on earth did Mark Petersburg know my name?!!!
            “William Harding. We corresponded via e-mail and I wasn’t expecting you till much later.” He continued when I didn’t say anything.
Wait! William what?!
I’ve often been told that I’m smart but at that moment, I felt far from smart! My brain was finding it hard to process all the info it was receiving. First off, what on earth was Mark Petersburg doing here, all the way in Edmonton and why was he referring to himself as William Harding? And why would he dye his beautiful glorious blonde hair brown?!!!
Oh shoot! William?!
            “You are Mr Williams?!” I finally managed to squeak. He smiled again.
            “William Harding, not Mr Williams. There must have been a miss-understanding.”
I really felt stupid right then.
            “Here, let me help you with that.” He said taking my back pack off of my shoulders. He started to walk towards the front of the house and I followed him, still trying to work things out in my head. He produced a bunch of keys and opened the front door.
            “I…so you are my new landlord!” I said for lack of anything better to say.
He looked at me over his shoulder and he did another double take, like he couldn’t believe his eyes.
            “Well, not really. My grandmother is. I’m just here to show you around.”
Blank, blank, double-blank!!
He dropped my back pack in the entry way and went back out to bring in the suitcases I had forgotten all about.
            “Thanks!” I said. Stupidly. Very stupidly.
            “No worries.” He said. “Your place is this way.”
He led me up a flight of stairs which led to a landing that looked over the whole of the ground floor. I couldn’t help stopping to look down at the beautiful sight. The ground floor was an open plan which consisted of a living area and a large kitchen and dining area. The living area was warmly furnished in warm tones that just begged you to come in and cuddle up on a cold day. There were frames and frames of pictures scattered across the room and sitting by the bay windows was a shrouded figure which looked so much like a piano. My fingers started to itch just looking at it.
            “Frankie?” William called from the flight of stairs above me. I started and went after him, feeling like I’d been caught snooping.
            “You can call me Chesca. Everyone else does.” I said going up after him.
            “Great! That means Frankie will stay just between the two of us!”
As much as I loved the idea of going exclusive with a Mark Petersburg look-alike, I sure didn’t fancy a boy-sounding-name!
            “Thanks, but Chesca will do!”
“Here you go!” he said throwing the door to the attic open.
I stepped into the empty space and I knew immediately that I had come home. I forgot all about Mark Petersburg and the entire world for that matter as I wandered around the space. I didn’t see the bare floor or the fading paint work. Instead, I saw lovely pink wall paper with pretty blue and yellow flower patterns. I saw book shelves filled with my paper backs. I saw an old stuffed arm chair by the window. I saw potted plants lazing in the bright sunshine, a warm rug under my feet, my guitar sitting in the corner…
            “So, what do you think?” he broke into my thoughts and I finally remembered that I was standing two feet away from my dream man.
“I love it!” I said breathlessly, knowing somehow that the journey across the world was going to be the very best thing that ever happened to me. William smiled at me like he knew just how I felt at that moment, like he understood, like he felt it too.
            “I’ll help you bring your things up.” He said turning to leave.
            “Thanks! I’ll come with you.” I said, hating to break the moment.
            “Can I ask you a question?” he said, pausing at the door to look back at me.
            “Sure!” I said.
            “Have we met before somewhere?!” he asked and I laughed nervously.
            “Believe me, if we have, I would remember!”
He gave me a little smile and he had the look of someone who was missing out on a big secret.
            “Why is that?!” he asked and I laughed again.
            “Hello! Have you looked in the mirror lately?! Just dye your hair blonde and you’re Mark Petersburg!”
His face went blank.
            “Are you kidding me?! Mark Petersburg! Double revolt! Ricochet! Dying days! Angels’ Peak! 7 Oscars, 9 nominations! You seriously can’t be serious!!!”
He just shook his head, laughing softly and my insides turned to mush. It was exactly the same warm one Mark had used to capture hearts over and over! I fished my mobile out of my pocket and went to my pictures gallery.
            “Here!” I said thrusting it in his face. “Look familiar?!”
            “Whao, I have to say the resemblance is corny!”
            “Resemblance?! This guy could as well be your twin!”
            “Well, in that case, we know who the better looking twin is, don’t we?!”
I scoffed and we both laughed.
            “You really haven’t heard about this guy?!” I asked again, wondering how anyone wouldn’t know Mark Petersburg!
            “Nope!” he said. “Never been much into the Hollywood scene.”
            “Are you for real?!”
            “Yes ma’am!” he said going out the door and I followed.
            “Let me tell you something you might actually not find real.” He said.
            “What? You’ve never heard of Brangelina?!” He laughed at that.
            “I think I’ve met you before, or at least, your twin.”
            “I hope she was a gorgeous model or actress! Let’s see, Kelly Rowland will do just fine!”
He hefted my back pack onto his shoulder and grabbed one of the suitcases.
            “Nope, sorry to disappoint you.” He said.
I grabbed the second suitcase.
            “So, who was she?”
            “She was my wife.” He said simply.
Then I kinda woke up!
            “Nope, sorry to disappoint you.” He said.
I grabbed the second suitcase and shook my head to clear it.
            “Err...so who was she?” I asked, wondering if I was beginning to lose my marbles.
            “Dunno really. I saw her in this weird dream I had and I swear she looked just like you!”
I expected to wake up then but I didn’t.
            “Huh?!”
            “Yep! I almost freaked out when I saw you out back.”
 Didn’t have a reply to that so I just stood there staring at him. He adjusted the weight of the back pack on his shoulder before starting up the first flight of stairs. That was when I caught a glimpse of the simple gold band on his left hand.
Damn! Just when I meet a Mark Petersburg look-alike, he has to be married!
 I followed him up the stairs, hoping he wasn’t married to my look-alike.

Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Fan Mail



Dear Mr Club Manager,

You might find it hard to believe, but I’m your biggest and most loyal fan, the best you’ll ever get, despite the fact that I hate football with a passion. Did you ask why? Well, you can be damn sure I’ll tell you why.
My house is a shrine in honour of the deity that is your club. The TV, laptop and smartphones have become your altars of worship. I’m sure I have more paraphernalia in my house than you have on your grounds. I have at least 16 jerseys that go through my weekly wash and I would probably earn more than your club’s dry-cleaners if I’m ever lucky enough to get paid for my services. I should start up a merchandise shop from my backyard. I have signed footballs, jerseys, pictures and even a foul-smelling boot. I have banners, beanies, wrist-bands, towels, mugs and everything imaginable emblazoned with your club’s insignia. Very soon, Chief-Oga, the Little-Ogas and Little-madam will decide to paint it all over the walls.

I’m a walking encyclopaedia of club history and stats and I can recite in my sleep all your match fixtures for the rest of the season. I can give a history lesson on all your home and away colours for at least the last five seasons and I calculate point-aggregates and goal-differences the way other women calculate how to save money on their shopping. I know every single one of your players, and unlike most of your female fans, it’s not just the good-looking ones. I know how much each is worth and the rival clubs that secretly and openly covet them. Oh, and by the way, Little-Oga number-three thinks loaning out number 27 was a dumb move. If it’s any consolation, the others practically bit his head off for that.

I’ve been a diligent and faithful follower of your gospel all my life without as much as a peep of complaint. First, I learned at the feet of my father who also served as a priest at your altar. Growing up, I missed all the soaps on TV because he always had to watch the footy. Now, I’ve up-graded to raising my very own mini-football team.  I’ve been “blessed” with five boys, one tom-boy and their father who is no more than a 185-pound sack of hormones and adrenaline when it comes to football. Oh yes, I’m a very patient woman. Each time your club has slapped me on one cheek, I’ve turned the other one and received a blow in the face. This time however, you’ve gone one bloody step too far! Today is my birthday and my football-crazed family forgot about it and it’s your entire fault.

Usually, they get my not-so-subtle hints just in time to buy a single card and scrawl all seven of their names on it. But this year, what do I get? Nada! They all woke up this morning pumped up with excitement, not because it was mommie’s special day, no sir! Today’s date has been marked on the calendar for weeks and I stupidly thought it was because of my birthday. Instead, it was in anticipation of your big match today. And to add insult to injury, Chief-Oga didn’t even bother to get me a ticket. Who else is more entitled to a ticket than me ehn? After breakfast, I got them all dressed in the typical pre-match chaos, straightening jerseys, finding matching socks, pulling beanies over cold ears, wrapping necks in the infuriating red and yellow mufflers, fishing miss-matched shoelaces out of the crevices between the sofa-seats, the twins fighting over who to wear the number 10 jersey and Little-Madam demanding that oldest-Little-Oga let her ride in the front seat. In all of that madness, not a single word to yours-truly, not to talk of the Birthday song.
I fumed all day as I cleaned up the mess they left behind. Then when their devilish-behinds got flogged on the pitch, they came home sulking. Was I even allowed the satisfaction of saying “God catch una”? Iró o! Soon as they got in, Chief-Oga snagged the laptop to re-watch the game online. Little-Ogas tuned the TV to Sky Sports for match highlights. Did anyone ask me if I was done consoling myself with Africa Magic Yoruba before changing channels? Kò joó mehn!
Then the analysis started.
            “…he should have been in the box…”
            “…the defence had holes in it…”
            “…why did he wait so long to substitute…”
            “But you guys scored now!” I said exasperated, watching the replay on the TV. Seven pairs of eyes turned to look at me like I’d said the dumbest thing in the entire universe.
            “Mum, it was off-side.” My seven year old son said slowly, like he was an adult trying to explain something to a very stupid child. Egbàmí!
Little-madam sighed and rolled her eyes. “Seriously mum, how many times do we have to explain the off-side rule to you?”  
ÃŒyen èmi náà! In their minds now, I’m just an ignorant woman àbí?

Was I allowed to lick my wounds in peace on facebook and twitter? Even that was too much to ask for. Instead of Birthday messages, my news feed was clogged with posts from the fan-war that had started out on facebook. Twitter was no better. BBM nko? Láí-láí! Seriously, if I have to endure anymore of these cyber-space fights or if I hear another word about the Messiless player who Arsenalized Chelshit or about the club that is the “PDP” of the Premier League, I’m buying a shot-gun. The only thing I’m not sure of just yet is who I’ll be shooting: you, the crazy fans or myself! After a life-time of devotion, the least this woman could ask for is one football-free minute on her birthday.

So Mr Manager, you’ve been warned. Watch out because one day, Madam here might just jump at you out of nowhere and scratch out your eyes ÃŒsàlè-Èkó-style. You’ve really had it coming. And God help the Little-Ogas if at-least one of them doesn’t become a footballer and buy this faithful fan her very own ‘Beckingham’ Palace. Hian!

Yours’ Truly-Tipsy,
  
Your biggest Fan.


Tuesday, April 2, 2013

The Fairest In The Land




We have gazed upon your face
We have beheld your beauty
Your love and devotion be our duty
We covet, and we want, and we crave

A single kiss from your lips
Will put to flight a million woes
And a touch from your hand
Will put to shame our foes

Our children will sing and dance
While upon wheels of steel we ride
Our danshikis we will spread out in pride
And the damsels will be entranced

For you, many a-lie have been spun
With no shame or remorse have we cheated
And fuelled by your passion, our fists have swung
 Alas, dreams and hopes and lives have ended

O fairest of all dames
Whose beauty is widely famed
From lands far and near Knights have trailed
All in hopes to have you tamed!

Riding upon the wings of the storms
Came the Strong, Self-assured One
With his fists of iron and will of steel
He sought to bring you to your knees

“I have subdued many-a wench!” He roars
“With my skill, my schemes and my force
Your charging Bear will I slay!
And then over you, my Bull will reign!”

His dark stallion you have made but a pup
And his robes lay in tatters amidst his sobs
Oh, how pride has gone before a great fall,
And cunning become but the low mimic of wisdom!

Pale as the dusk, the Holder came,
Seeking your favour not just for a season
Eyelids you batted, he wanted your kisses
You offered a smile, he wanted a missus!

His obsession his own ruin has wrought
The tighter he gripped, the faster you slipped
Acid in his belly, fire in his arteries
You burst his bubble and he with depression filled

Through catastrophic loss, to him is revealed
That you, fair maiden are like the wind
To no- one you answer, to no-man you belong
Temporary custodians we are, as you choose, so you love

Upon a horse blazing like the sun,
The Dazzling One arrived all a-bling!
Brandishing you upon his arm, his trophy to be
That far and near, all will see and shout ka-ching!

But you fairest of all, are no man’s show-case
You sing no man’s praises, all except yours’
Your pretty robes of green and pink and copper and gold
Are yours to flaunt, you won’t deign to share

The Tranquil One no sonnets or war-cries sing
He seeks not to subdue and neither to cling
From a distance he beholds your beauty
And accords respect as he sees due

He duffs his hat and walks on by
Content to have you in his sights and not his heart
For he wisely knows you’re a charming friend to meet
But without warning, a treacherous mistress to follow

And to the one who grabs not
You have freely given all
Because you desire to be attracted
Rather than pursued

Oh what a lesson for us all!
Worldly goods and treasures should not enthral
And wisely choose to what we give our lives’ worth
Because truly all things that glitter, gold are not!


*
Who is rich? He that is content. Who is that? Nobody!
- Benjamin Franklin


Money is like love; it kills slowly and painfully the one who withholds it, and enlivens the other who turns it on his fellow man.

- Kahlil Gibran