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I only become myself when ever i see you

in my heart

you have taken over me

in such a way there is no space for dreams

and for other desires

this feelings in the heart

this heart full of love

this love of mine

desire you alone

this desire to meet with you

can only make my life livable

if i get to create myself

I’d created myself as tears

trapped in your eyes


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each time i see those eyes

i see my paradise

and my heart will be at peace

i am nothing except when i have you

with you i become meaningful

i have just one request

allow me grace the pleasure

a moment to gaze

into your paradise just once

to know what this lonely heart feels

i am without a shelter

i have a refuge only but in you

why is there so much distance

we kept escaping each other’s sight

i asked the moon for your blissful gaze

now come into my life

this heart is like a planted crop

make it sprout….


Growing up as a kid we were made to believe one terrible thing, something no one really had a clear cut understanding of, until age and little intelligence caught up with some of us. I must admit I am one of such kids whose life had been dragged up and down in the mud of life riddles. 

It was just last two month ago that the real deceit of life caught up with me. I sat under the mango tree close to the road and I was counting every one of the cars, motorcycles even bicycles that pass me by. Don’t ask me why, because I will tell you before you do. 

I happened to be the third born of my mother. My father died before I could even learn how to walk. I was just six months old when he died and left us in the crazy world. Mum didn’t have the opportunity of continue her secondary education before she got married to dad. Unlike other families dad refused to sponsor her higher education after marriage. The reason was visibly clear like the sky is even in the thickest dark night. 

Mum was extremely beautiful and young when dad married her. The fear of other men snatching his angel from him made him not to send her to further her education instead he setup a business for her.

Dad worked with a Lebanese construction company and never had much time to spend with the family as the nature of their work was such that they hardly spend up to three months in a place, so I never had the opportunity of knowing him.

Two months after I was born, my elder sister, the second was admitted in the clinic. It was confirmed she had pneumonia. According to hear say that was when dad was rushing home to meet his only daughter and had the unexpected accident that took away his life. It was a devastating situation for mum as her life came crumbling down. Her hope and future was shattered. 

Few days later, to make the situation worse, my beautiful sister died even though I never knew her, I was very sure she was beautiful. Most people say she was the exact copy of mum.
Even though mum was young she refused to remarry but took a hard decision which was to give us a better life through her petty trading business. She struggle and cry just to make sure we were happy and ever smiling. 
When went to private schools, both primary and secondary school and one thing that made her not lose hope was the fact that we were always in the top five every of the sessions.

It was after secondary school that everything changed for us. Mum made a decision that we were all happy about because we understood our conditions. I was made to wait for my big brother to finish university before I start mine. May be he might be lucky and get a job immediately after school and therefore reduce the stress mum had to go through to provide money for two of us. I was just 17 years old when I finished secondary school, so it was a good thing that age was on my side. At least starting university education at age of 21-22 wasn’t too bad.  I learnt so many things such computer graphic design, electronic repairs and other minor things. 

It was a great news that big brother had finished school after four years with a first class in Economics. We were overjoyed and celebrated him like a king. Mum looked straight into my eyes and I already knew what she wanted to say.
“you better do more than him when you start soon” 
“haba mum what is better than first class”

We joked and laughed at them. That night it was as if we had no problem at all.
About five months later, big brother went to camp for his NYSC in the far northern part of the country. I couldn’t wait for him to come home for Sallah break that November. 
Preparations were made as big brother told us he was coming home for Sallah. Our hero was coming home and we couldn’t wait a bit as we call him every hour to ask about his journey. 

Towards evening that day we received a call from big brother but the voice was a deep cracking one. 
“am I speaking with Muhammad?”
He asked and my heart was already beating against my chest heavily as though people were pounding inside of it. 
“Please what is wrong” 

-you may be required to come to Federal Medical Centre Lokoja for identification please. 

“Identification of what?” I asked but this time no reply came through.
In my mind I already knew something terrible had occurred but how do I break the news to my hypertensive mum! I mustered the courage and lied to mum that big brother was at FMC doing medical checkup as directed by the NYSC officials.
“Mum we may be require to meet him there”

-but why can’t we wait for him to come home? She said as I search my head for another lie. 
In midst of our argument another call came through mum phone but this time they broke the news in black and white. 
“madam we are sorry we lost him” was the last statement I heard from the call on speaker phone. 
Like a dream mum fell to the ground too and she too never woke up, and that was how life gambled with my destiny.

Sitting under the tree remembering all these from the fountain of memory I became devastated and not minding the road I crossed without looking and got collide with a car. The car passed over my left hand.
“am sorry we will have to cut it off” 

The doctor said as though I were some sorts of a tree in a lonely forest. I cried to stupor as I watched my destiny being cut off. I didn’t finished education and the handiwork I learnt also had become irrelevant. 
Mum used to say everyone’s destiny was in their hands and now the doctor has chop off and buried my destiny…. 

​Today mark another beginning of my pathetic life. I was just on my own when the unexpected started. It was like a gust of wind but having been used to it, it didn’t have much effect on me. By being used to it, I mean I was no longer new to the stigmatic condition of loneliness and boredom in my life. My life, my story has every reason for me to reject most of the things that people see as an enjoyment or perhaps the pillars of enjoyment, which to me happens to be WOMEN, DRUGS, PARTYING, AND THE LIKES. 

I remember few years back and recently too, when someone or some people asked me concerning my life story, I mean I was constantly asked the question “tell me about yourself” being smart as I am (sorry I really are smart in that aspect) I dodged the questions without much ado on most occasions. Maybe I was scared or perhaps I was not ready to accept who I really are, but what does it matter? I am the worst and dullest in public. My mind and brain only think of one thing each and every moment I breathe in and out the oxygen and carbon dioxide that has kept me alive. 

Not many people will understand what I am trying to convey but for the few, who really understands, please explain to your neighbors the matter and issue about people like me. This is so, because they are countless of young adults male and female whose life has never known definition, dimension, volume and area in terms of what path their trotting on exactly.

Lets I forget, I started with what happened today. Yes! Today brought back to me the memory I tried to forget even though it has become impossible. Night mares and daydreaming about this memory and the fantasy of how I wish I could turn back the hands of time, no doubt thrown me off balance. 

Today was a birthday celebration of a neighbor. You know what happens when touts have a birthday celebration, the mode and pattern in which it is celebrated is always in a blasé. 

Ok!  To the reason why I choose to write on this issue today, I sat about 4 o’clock to my door, I guess mathematics student will understand what 4o’clock means, and the birthday celebration started like a joke. Girls flooding in their skimpy and micro-mini-skirts and some wore clothes that show all that their mama had given them. I just kept staring like a young innocent kid watching cartoons. All that wasn’t my business, after all everyone has his or her own life to live. It was almost an hour that the birthday had started and believe you me; everyone had become drunk and to my biggest surprise one of the mothers of generations (lady) came towards where I sat and thrown herself upon my body and I became startled. why? 

Isco? (the name of the celebrant) I shouted. When he finally came, he apologized and escorted her back to his room and the party continues. Few minutes later, Isco came out again but this time with a small bottle which he titled HIGH. 

Young man am sorry I don’t drink or get high as you called it. As if that wasn’t enough, he still went back and brought something wrapped in a paper and lit the head with a liter and handed it over to me. My eyes became red (don’t ask me how I saw my own eyes).

I don’t smoke as well bro. I shouted.  Amazed, he sat beside me on the bench and asked me a question that am going to answer here now. 

Hey bro! You don’t smoke, you don’t drink, you don’t womanize, please are you a human being? 

I wasn’t angry as the question only made me laugh uncontrollably. Does it mean a normal human being must belong to one of this group? Many thoughts ran riot in my clouded mind and I began to recall the predicament of my Papa.


My papa belongs to the three groups Isco mentioned earlier. He drinks, smoke, and as well womanize. Each time he returns back from his beer parlour, we were his victims as he flogs, and beat the hell out of our lives. I was small and I could still remember vividly how my mum would sleep with tears all over her pillow early in the morning. Because I was just five years old, I sleep behind my mum and that was paradise for me. I could never go near the monster of a man I called my papa. 

Very early in the morning, the only way he brushed his tooth were with cigarette and alcohol, the cigarette for his brush and the alcohol for his water. No one could get nearer to him early in the morning. I was no doubt the victim of the suffering my mum was going through. Every little thing, she transfers her anger and pain on the helpless five year old boy (me). My dad on the other hand was nothing to write home about as she beats both me and mum at a time. As young as I was, I could feel the pain of homelessness.  

About his womanizing, he was not an inch ashamed of any of it. He brings in women in the house even in my mama’s presence. She bears every of it like a prisoner on a death roll.

 The fear that I may end up like him made me leave home as early as five year old. It was not long after that he contracted HIV and later infected my mum. He died few years later of kidney failure and my mum too a year later. What could be more sorrowful than this? By this I don’t drink, smoke nor womanize and I am happy about it. 


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