Some Rambling and the Bestfriends

Hi people…
It’s been a while.
I promise that I’ve been blogging in my mind, it’s just that ‘shit’ happens. The good news however is that I’m flushing down the shit through the toilet, Amen.
So, ‘yesterweeks’, my girl came to my rescue with this lovely post , and brought the crowd to the comment section.
Chizzy, abeg, make the traffic no end with that post o. Lol.
Anyway, I have a good read (if I may say so myself) today.

Best friends

‘I think it’s better we are just friends’, Tutu turned to a hopeful Max.
He was hopeful for a second chance with her. Even if it were for old times’ sake. It shouldn’t be that difficult; after all, they’ve always been best friends, he thought.
‘But, why?’ he asked, disappointed.
‘I don’t know… I‘m just not up to all of this…’ she shrugged, causing Max to drift into confusing thoughts of why she could ever think that way.
It was their love after all, even though he wooed her into agreeing with him on it. He remembered her warning that being best friends was better for them than being lovers, but he wouldn’t agree. He loved the fact that they were connected in many ways, and were each other’s “safe house”. For instance, he could comfortably tell her about his crushes without being judged. In fact, she would laugh and tease him when he acted shy around them. He loved the fact that they could fight and make up almost immediately. He didn’t have to wonder what she didn’t like about him because she would state them as plainly as possible. She was his buddy. They could hang out for ever and he would never be bored. In fact, she hadn’t stopped being his buddy, but she had suddenly become too sensitive for comfort. She wouldn’t tease him anymore about his crushes. She would rather not know about them. She wouldn’t be plain about her thoughts no more; she would rather hide them until there was nothing else to say. He began to feel frustrated, because he didn’t know how to correct his “mistakes”. Is this what she warned him against?
But he still loved her, even though she had become this new person. She had forgotten herself in trying to become the right “lover”, and he didn’t like it. He wanted to be in love with his best friend, not with a stranger.
‘I can’t do this… stuff anymore, I’m sorry’ she cut into his meandering mind.
‘I’m sorry, what?’ he stuttered.
‘Never mind…’ she began to say, but he reached for her hands across the table that separated them from each other.
‘Just say it as it is’ he encouraged.
‘I think this love is a little too much for me…In fact, I’m tired of longing for you almost all of the time. It’s driving me nuts!’ she heaved.
‘That’s progress’ he nodded to himself, urging her to continue.
‘I’m torn between being your safe house and being the jealous lover… you get?’ she squirmed.
‘No’ he replied. He wasn’t going to stop this truth from flowing smoothly. She was going to come clean with her thoughts today.
‘For example, the other day, you were crushing for that fine girl. If she wasn’t finer than me, no qualms… Then you’d now be telling me, “that face is damn pretty” “that skin is flawless”… and you’d be expecting me to be happy like that…’
His laughter stopped her babbles.
Then she joined him until she felt relieved.
‘But seriously though, you no try o. Sha, be careful with your next lover, cos seriously, this fine girl here is done with you’ she winked.
He beamed with a hopeful smile. A hope that would birth a new beginning for their love. He would fight for their friendship, and encourage her to talk more; to express her bitterness until she could laugh about it.
‘So, just friends abi?’ he coughed.
She nodded in the affirmative as she sipped her drink.
So he phoned her sister and activated the loudspeaker.
‘Please, there’s this friend of mine that I’d like you to encourage to give me a second chance. She’s beautiful, smart, fair complexioned, sweet, fun to be with, brown eyes, beautiful kinks, entrepreneur, the most charming laughter…’
As he described her, she blushed until she burst into laughter.
‘I think he should tell you why the girl dumped him in the first place’ she interrupted.
‘I should stay out of this’ her sister laughed as she ended the phone call.
He turned towards her in readiness for a speech when she hushed him.
‘Don’t just use the word “girl friend”’ she eyed him.
‘Friends-in-love then?’ he grinned.
‘That’s ridiculous… get creative and get back to me’ she teased and rose to leave.
‘Wait na! Best-friend-lovers?’ he yelled after her, more hopeful than when it all began.


Guest post: God Repay You

So, my friend, Chizzy, saved me from becoming ‘non-blogging blogger’
Abeg, enjoy her encouraging (unedited) post…

I checked the time for the umpteenth time in a space of 5 minutes. Dusk was speedily approaching and I still had a 2 hour journey to embark upon. With the gruesome stories I’ve heard about the Agbor-Benin road, I knew leaving Onitsha by that time of the day was not a wise thing to do. But my work schedule didn’t leave me with a better option.
Despite the fact that I had gone through that same route a couple of times in the past, I still had problems locating the garage. It was a huge relief for me when a ‘good Samaritan’ walked up to me. He offered to take me to the garage where I could board a bus to Benin. But before I could smile in gratitude, he demanded N100 for his services. Grudgingly, I gave him N50.
I observed the vehicle I was supposed to enter with caution before going in. I’d had terrible experiences in the past with the touts (Agberos) normally used to ‘load’ vehicles in the garage. The normal thing was for these touts to disguise as passengers so as to give other passengers the impression that the bus was almost full. I was just not ready to be taken for a fool again.
Even as I sat down, I was still looking suspiciously at the other passengers. Unknown me, they were equally suspicious. We all suspected one another to be decoys.
I sat by the window reading Napoleon Hill’s Master Key to Riches with my gala and Lacasera bottle. Shortly, a man approached our bus and started begging for alms. His appeals were unending and almost deafening. He had a funny way of speaking that made him sound as if he was singing.
I looked up from my book for a second to study the man. He was bent with age and wrinkled all over. It was difficult to ascertain if his looks was a result of the hard life he had seen or a true reflection of his age.
I had seen the likes of him a million times in the past. And for a few seconds, I reflected on the increasing poverty profile in Nigeria. It was a disheartening thought. You see, beggars are not a rare sight in Nigeria. They range from migrants from Chad to those merchandizing sick people for profit. It is also normal to see a lot of them in motor garages, begging for their daily bread.
I was quickly jarred back to reality by the man’s voice. He had just started singing. The song had a very sorrowful tone that is meant to to make the hearers pity him. Without further hesitation, I searched my wallet for some Naira notes and handed them over to him.
He clutched them so tightly as though his life depended on them. His countenance changed and he broke into a smile slightly exposing a broken tooth. Still smiling, he muttered a simple phrase ‘Chukwu kwughachi gi ugwo’ meaning ‘GOD REPAY YOU’. He went off almost immediately to find more benefactors, limping slightly.
I pondered on those words for the rest of my journey to the ancient city. I couldn’t help but think of the last time I did something which only God can pay me for.
Friends, what about you? When was the last time you did something for someone who you know can never pay you back? When was the last time you did a good deed without expecting a recompense of some sort from the recipient?
It doesn’t always have to be monetary you know. It could be providing shelter for a couple of days for someone writing Post-UME exams in your town. It could be helping a stranger push his car. Or it could still be a financial assistance.
True religion the Bible says, is to help the poor, widows and the orphans in the society. It may sound surprising when you think about it, but God will repay you for the very simple act of dropping your leftover notes with a beggar. I understand that you may never see that blind woman who begged you for help again. You may also forget the crippled who begged from you with tears in his eyes. However, God sees you, and he never forgets, because he holds all the records.
I pray that when next you see someone in need of any kind of help that you stop for a second and assist. Decide to give out a certain amount every day if possible. It could be N50, or even N500. For in so doing, be assured that it is only God who can repay you. His payment is worth much than what we can ever imagine and it is not ephemeral.
In my own case, I gave the man a very negligible percentage of my income. However, it was very reassuring to know that the Lord was going to pay me back.
Yours Beloved
Chizzy Odilinye.