Loving Farouk

“Dee, what do you think? Isn’t she beautiful?”

I looked up from my book and took Farouk’s phone with a slight smile. I already knew what I was going to see: some slender size 2 beauty with large luminous eyes,  and reflective fair skin. Farouk had a type. A slim, light-skinned, large eyed, type; that somehow never liked him as much as he liked her or somehow couldn’t keep his interest as longer than a month.

That I understood.  That I was glad about. As long as Farouk didn’t find anyone that kept his attention, as long as it was just a shallow physical attraction I had a chance.

A slim, stunted, gnarled chance but a chance still.

As I looked at the phone I realised that my chance was about to vapourise. I was about to lose Farouk for good unless I did something.
The problem was: I had no idea what to do.

“She is gorgeous.” I heard myself say. And it was true. The lady in the selfie couldn’t be more than 22. She was a dark shade of chocolate, curvy and her small eyes twinkled behind her cute glasses.

On cue my inner alarm rang. This wasn’t gorgeous. This was gorgeous trouble. Farouk was breaking from the mold–that meant he had found something. Something special.

With a wider smile I handed the phone back. “So what’s her name?”

“Her name is Zukaida,” he replied, “I hope to goodness that she is the one.”

The drive back from class was a quiet one. Farouk hummed along to some Yanni playing in the car while I stared into the darkness and tried to imagine life without him.

We had been classmates for just a year but it felt like we had known ourselves for a lifetime. We had so much in common: a love for cats, an interest in chunky novels,an aversion for onions, an addiction to chocolate cake.

Being around him was like being hooked to a giant cylinder of joy but now my tubes were about to be pulled.

I knew he didn’t feel the same way but that didn’t stop me from hoping or at worst enjoying what I had while it lasted.
Now all that was coming to an end.

He drove to my doorstep and waited for me to alight.  I stayed in the cat staring into the night then I turned, closed my eyes and kissed him on the lips.

He froze.
I opened my eyes and I knew I had made a mistake. His eyes were open and in them I saw shock, pain, disbelief and something uglier–pity.

I pulled away and dashed out of the car and into my house. Shame swallowed me whole. I was still sobbing when sleep came.

The next five days passed in a whirl. I avoided Farouk and braced myself for whatever was coming next. An engagement party. A wedding announcement.  A baby shower.

A week later I was making my way to the taxi park when someone grabbed my arm.
“Dee, we need to talk.”
My belly flipped and cold sweat trickled down my back.  Could it be? Was he going to say he felt the same way? Were the feelings mutual? Was love going to have a chance?

Of course not.
He wanted me to know that he understood how I felt and while he couldn’t consider us being more than friends he still respected me as a friend. Still wanted our friendship to continue. He recounted the great times we’d had together. He was till talking when I walked away.

I couldn’t bear to hear anymore.  I was a drift on a sea of needles and all of them pricked at once. I needed to get away, as far
away from him as possible.

I must have walked past the car park and on to the main road but I can’t remember that.

All I remember is the screeching  of tyres as the bus driver tried in vain to dodge me and the blissful darkness that followed.

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Second Chances 1

We shuffled into the house in silence. It had been a long drive from his mom’s place to mine. Shaq had stayed glued to his novel all through the trip. My efforts at drawing him into a conversation felt clumsy, like a string of paper balls that couldn’t find the trash can.

“Welcome home.” I said, putting on the lights.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“I fixed you a room, I hope you like it. Let’s have a look.”

I prayed he would like it. I lived alone in the 3 bed-room apartment but I wanted him to feel wanted here, so I had made one of the rooms into what I thought was a male teenager’s dream. I had the walls repainted in gentle blue and brown stripes. Matching curtains, a persian rug, a small bookshelf and an abstract painting helped to complete the picture. As I showed him in, I couldn’t help smiling to myself.

My teen years had been spent on a naked mattress on the floor shared with three brothers. My bookshelf was a piece of trampoline spread out in a corner. My abstract, the patterns of clouds and stars that danced far above me through missing window panes. Even now, soft beds made uncomfortable, in many hotels I just spread a towel on the floor and went to sleep. But this wasn’t about me, it was about Shaq.

He walked in and dropped his Ghana-Must-Go bag by the bed. I winced at the sight. There was so much I had to make up for. So much I had to undo in my relationship with my son. I wished things were different. I wished I hadn’t abandoned his mom fifteen years ago when I heard she was pregnant.

“See you at dinner, in an hour,” I said, as I closed the door and strode away. I didn’t listen for his reply, I was too busy trying to escape my thoughts. My shame. But they embraced me and soon I was back in Utoke, fifteen years ago….

Splinters Of Glass In A Bleeding Heart.

Hmmmmggh!

Where do I begin? With an apology, I haven’t posted as often as I should. I have a bag of excuses for this:

  • 1. The Westgate attacks shocked my fingers to stone.

    2. Prof Kofi Awoonor’s Death shot me into mourning.

    3. My Samsung Tab has gone into coma (read possible death).

    4. I missed another set of deadlines (Again?! Yes. Again).

    5. Unforeseen emergencies arrived and scrambled my budget.

    6. I have been scouting for 1M votes for my clients.

    7. I lost an election.

    8. I lost a friend.

    So there, it hasn’t been as easy as it usually is. It has been rough and tough and challenging. But all through you have been on my mind. And I know that often it is grief, not glee that brings out the best in us.

    I hope I’ll get to write about all these things, one after the other, and share my writing with you.

    In any case, I thank God for being there for me through it all.

    I thank Him for

    1. The hostages that made it out alive and. Eliot Prior the brave four year old boy that stood up to a bad man with a gun. He got a bar of chocolate and freedom.

    2. Afetsi Awoonor, that he is hurt but alive and recovering. My prayers are with you.

    3. My new laptop, Sam. (Though I can’t quite remember how to type on a keyboard and sometimes I touch and tap the screen. (x_x)

    4. The new opportunities emerging everyday and the painful lesson learnt.

    5. That I could give towards the emergency, and I have gotten a third of the money back already. *Azonto*

    6. I am just doing the vote scouting once, some people do thing for a living. Phew!

    7. I learnt never to jump into a tging unprepared.

    8. I have gained many new friends and followers and fans.

    9. I am still here; and where there is life, there is hope. Hallelu!

    Going forward, I hope to be more faithful, +/- return to the 3 posts a week thing. I don’t know for certain, yet. What I do know is that I truly appreciate you and you are the best blog readers in the galaxy. Thank you for choosing to read me.

    ^

    ^

    ^
    🙂 How have you been? What has been on your mind? Please share with us in the comments (or privately email/Twitter).

    And please share this as widely as you can. Thank you. God bless you.

  • Splinters Of Glass In A Bleeding Heart.

    Hmmmmggh!

    Where do I begin? With an apology, I haven’t posted as often as I should. I have a bag of excuses for this:

  • 1. The Westgate attacks shocked my fingers to stone.

    2. Prof Kofi Awoonor’s Death shot me into mourning.

    3. My Samsung Tab has gone into coma (read possible death).

    4. I missed another set of deadlines (Again?! Yes. Again).

    5. Unforeseen emergencies arrived and scrambled my budget.

    6. I have been scouting for 1M votes for my clients.

    7. I lost an election.

    8. I lost a friend.

    So there, it hasn’t been as easy as it usually is. It has been rough and tough and challenging. But all through you have been on my mind. And I know that often it is grief, not glee that brings out the best in us.

    I hope I’ll get to write about all these things, one after the other, and share my writing with you.

    In any case, I thank God for being there for me through it all.

    I thank Him for

    1. The hostages that made it out alive and. Eliot Prior the brave four year old boy that stood up to a bad man with a gun. He got a bar of chocolate and was let go .

    2. Afetsi Awoonor, that he is hurt but alive and recovering. My prayers are with you.

    3. My new laptop, Sam. (Though I can’t quite remember how to type on a keyboard and sometimes I touch and tap the screen. (x_x)

    4. The new opportunities emerging everyday and the painful lesson learnt.

    5. That I could give towards the emergency, and I have gotten a third of the money back already. *Azonto*

    6. I am just doing the vote scouting once, some people do thing for a living. Phew!

    7. I learnt never to jump into a tging unprepared.

    8. I have gained many new friends and followers and fans.

    9. I am still here; and where there is life, there is hope. Hallelu!

    Going forward, I hope to be more faithful, +/- return to the 3 posts a week thing. I don’t know for certain, yet. What I do know is that I truly appreciate you and you are the best blog readers in the galaxy. Thank you for choosing to read me.

    ^

    ^

    ^
    🙂 How have you been? What has been on your mind? Please share with us in the comments (or privately email/Twitter).

    And please share this as widely as you can. Thank you. God bless you.

  • Reasons Why I Left You.

    I found out that the distance between my house and yours is the same from both ends.
    I realised that love can not be earned.
    I discovered that while insults can sound cute, they did nothing for my self esteem and I deserve better.
    I don’t like sushi.

    I saw the text you sent to your ex and the way you ogled that guy at the store.

    I am tired of having you forget my birthday.

    I need a companion not a trophy.

    I refuse to compete with your imaginary perfect dates.

    I am not perfect but I deserve to be treated like I am.

    Animal Kingdom

    Carnivores
    Animals that eat each other,
    Senseless and barbaric,
    But what name do we give
    To humans that grind other
    Humans like millet and use the
    Powder for a jewels?
    Ah! They are leaders,
    They lash out against the weak
    And run from the strong,
    Fill their pockets with
    Stolen loot,
    And make anti-corruption laws
    That sit around like cobwebs
    Catching ants and flies
    While hawks, snakes and vultures
    Run merry, greedy and wild,
    Where will the masses
    Sleep?
    When you’ve demolished all their homes?
    You speak of building mega cities
    But all I see is little tombs,
    Why do we build from sky down?
    Isn’t that for graves?
    As everyday our people become
    Casualties of the cruelty of their
    Own?
    Democratically elected
    Now in autocratic rule,
    Alas, we have been fooled.

    No Excuses

    You carry rocks in your belly
    And the weight
    Drags you lower
    Than you know,
    The saddest thing
    About you
    Are your eyes
    Cold and hard
    From heartbreak,
    Mistakes…
    Being left out.

    I believe I can
    Turn the rocks into honey
    Soften the hardness
    In your belly
    Till it is
    Soft, sweet and mushy
    I am going to turn
    Your vinegar into wine
    I will make the agony
    You feel inside
    Vacate
    And make room for the
    Joy and ecstacy I bring.

    I can not do everything
    But
    I will make you
    Fall in love again.