Tuesday, 30 May 2017

Scars to my beautiful.

Wisps of condense white smoke floated beautifully in the air around in the living room, saturating the atmosphere with a rich sweet smell of Arabian incense emanating from the dipping red glow end of a stick of burning incense stuck in wax as the pitch of bass male voices of Islamic clerics undulated rhythmically in high and low tones while reciting Quranic verses for the repose of our late father.

It is Dad's annual remembrance and it's amazing to know that it's been over two decades already since his demise and how rather unconsciously, time has really healed us as we had  taken solace in God's love and protection over us through the years.

Earlier in the morning while having a light breakfast, Hamz had asked why Mom wasn't crying as she was now accustomed to doing almost every year, shockingly,  she scoffed and said there was no need to as a lot of years had passed and she has been healed over time as it isn't so fresh in her mind again. Hamz asked if she still loves Dad to which she affirmed with rapids nods while taking a sip of tea then she responded with a question, asking us to be honest that if the tables were turned and she was the one who had transited to the great beyond, would our Dad still be single to this day, to which we all gave a knowing smile of what the answer definitely would be which is an outright no, although I couldn't help but assume in my mind that the many hurts and disappointments Dad had put Mom through from beyond the grave with Karl's existence, issues about his shares' dividends and how it should be shared amongst other ugly surprises had contributed immensely to her gradually becoming emotionally numb to his remembrance.

Thursday, 23 March 2017

The murmur of pearls (Season Premiere)

There is only one thing worse than being talked about and that is not being talked about. The only people who are not the subject of gossip are those at the very bottom of their social world. Gossip is self perpetuating... the more people talk about you, the more important you become and the more important you become, the more people talk about you.

 - IMAM- "Teqbir!"

 - CONGREGATION- "Allahu Akbar!"

- IMAM- "Teqbir!"

- CONGREGATION- "Allahu Akbar!"

-IMAM- We thank Allah, Subhanahu Wa Ta Allah, for adding to our fold another illustrious lady, hardworking woman, a dedicated servant of Allah, Hajiya Adagiri, we are indeed happy to welcome you to our As'alatu and may God accept our Ibadah

- CONGREGATION- (In a chorus)- Amin

- MOM- Salam Alaikum Warahmatulahi Wabarakatuh.

-CONGREGATION- Walaikum Salam Warahmatulahi Wabarakatuh.

MOM- Thank you all for the warm welcome, I really am grateful and may Allah continue to hear our prayers, amin. Mom quickly joined the rest of the women in a chorus of religious praising hymns and after an hour and half, the meeting came to an end for the week.

On getting home, Mom kept exclaiming with glee  how spiritually uplifting the Islamic women group was and how she has to not miss a single meeting from then on.

The week went by pretty fast and it was another Sunday again, the day of their weekly meeting. Being a meeting of professional and business women, "religious" socialites, wives of influential men, etc who as women of substance and caliber that they are who are wont to look good and not being looked upon as crass, Mom naturally decided to meet them at the middle fashion wise. Cladded in a beige crocheted gown with a flamboyantly embroided decolletage with a black, shiny and delicately soft undergarment underneath to protect her modesty which covered her entire torso down to below her knee, her fair, almost olive skintone shone luminous through her dress, seen from her arms which were visible through her crocheted dress and of course her face, hands and feet. She accessorized her outfit with a long band of shiny, milky pearl necklace, a vintage Patek Phillipe wristwatch gifted to her by our late dad, lovely Jimmy Choo heels and topping it all by throwing a sparsely sequined cream shawl over her head. Mom was the picture of perfection and I gave her the thumbs up that she was ready to slay.

What we didn't realise was the envy her ensemble would generate because unknown to Mom, most of the rich women "checked out" each other by doing a weekly mental calculation of what each woman was worth based on her sartorial choices, jewelry and...wait for it... How smooth and even her skintone is and while Mom is amongst the youngest of them all, I'd been for ages literally piling her with collagen, green smoothies, infused water, vitamins and also taking care of her skin with shea butter, almond oil... In short, just generally making sure she leads a healthy lifestyle like I do, so no wonder she looks like ten years was knocked off her age.

 On arriving at the prayer center, her entrance generated a rather subtle coos from a section of the room, keeping it subtle apparently so as not to get the attention of the presiding Imam who might rebuke them for being vain and shallow, reminding them that the vanities of life won't save them on judgement day and that however much they pamper their skin, it would end up been feasted upon by maggots.

Wednesday, 28 December 2016

Bday! (Season Finale)

I was still feeling a little down in the dumps after what transpired in the last episode as read in STUCK IN A DAYDREAM? A seemingly wiry tangled knots of confusion, unexplained tiredness and a sense of feeling lost felt like a negative anchor pulling me down, leaving my soul hungry for freedom and a sense of spiritual upliftment and direction.

 Upon fearing a possible breakdown, I decided to call a friend for moral support and after patiently listening to my cry of woes, heaved a deep sigh and tried encouraging me never to give in to my mood, instead, he dared me to dream and strive to achieve it, going on to task me to branch out of writing for just #Kuwda but also write a work of fiction for sale,

"...You can do this Maj, you're an incredible writer and you've been writing about your day to day life on Keeping Up With D Adagiris and it is such a beautiful write up but why not  task yourself to write a work of fiction for publication, either as a hard copy publication or online for sale? It would go further in cementing yourself as a writer and get people to take you more seriously plus you get to make some bucks from it... Kuwda is dope but people don't want to know just about your family issues, a lot is going on in the world, stories abound that needs telling, write on themes of new issues arising in the world like terrorism, feminism, sexuality, a lot of themes to pick from....think about it Maj, you can do this but unless you try".

The last words of his statement echoed through my brain, tingling my pores and left me ruminating over the idea of writing a book. Several times in the past, I have thought about writing a fictitious story but writing as a craft isn't exactly a walk in the park as other writers would agree and I had gotten way too comfortable writing strictly for #Kuwda that the thought of branching out scares me but I knew in my heart that my friend was right, if I need to get people to take me seriously as a writer, I have to show them my work, not just my work writing a reality blog series so I swore to myself I was going to get to work and prove to myself that indeed, I am a grounded and balanced writer besides I realised that part of the reason why I was in such emotional turmoil as stated above was because I needed money badly and felt like, as a family, we need to have multiple income stream with the recession biting harder and our expenses getting higher and this angered me a lot most especially as my birthday was approaching and from the look of things, nothing yum seems to be in the offing, no whispers amongst my brothers, no secret meetings between my Mom and siblings, their body language lately had suggested no secret plans is being hatched and Mom had been particularly moody lately all because of the gloomy financial state sweeping through the country in the form of recession. I might come off as quite spoilt for saying this but It felt quite scary to spend my birthday with everyone just mouthing a "happy birthday" phrase and nothing more which even added to my woes, leading me to sink further in my angst against everything and everyone thus naturally getting me into spells of throwing tantrums unnecessarily and at the slightest provocation from feeling exhausted and foggy in the brain.

Thursday, 8 December 2016

Stuck in a daydream?

- "Give up already...enough of this charade" 

- "What is this? A Kardashian-like show? You can't be serious are you?"

- "You paint a fairy tale with your stories, you are not realistic, no one would be interested"

- " Keeping up with d Adagiris? What the hell? Lol, Maj, please get a job".

 I sat on the bare floor at one corner of my room, looking straight ahead with a pout, dejected and forlorn from being heavily weighed down by depression and worry as I contemplated over my reality blog "Keeping up with d Adagiris" and why I had started it sometime in 2009 as negative reactions I had gotten over time resurrected and blended with new ones people recently hurled at me, all floating freely around my head which were pulling me down, sapping my energy, stealing my joy and igniting feeling of inadequacies towards my posts as I began to dislike my write ups, thinking they weren't good enough despite a few friends calling to assure me they were all amazing and I should rather work on snapping out of my depressive mood fast.

Naturally, I thought they were being nice because they were my friends and turned to my siblings who although love me to bits, would most likely give me their frank assessment of my posts and luckily, they did which gave me some morale boost. "Luckily" because even though my brothers have being generally supportive, their support can be fickle, on and off depending on their mood, especially "off" when we have a fight wherein they give a scathing review of the blog in which sometimes lie a bit of truth but overall, they have been pretty frank and truthful of their appraisal of the blog which leaves me dealing with the haters and gloom predictors whose words sometimes cut deep like a knife and on one of such occasion left me crying in the shower after an online troll made fun of me and the KUWDA blog of being a wannabe and struggling to be a hit since 2009.

Monday, 21 November 2016

A hand of fellowship

A handshake is a greeting, an expression of trust, a mutual guarantee by two people that at least in one hand, they carry no weapon but it can also ensure a measure of distance and convey an articulation of reserve as if its participants are thinking, thus far and no further...in one short sentence, a handshake is not a hug.

The new Matriarch of the Adagiri extended family had come visiting us with the proverbial olive branch in hand to commiserate with us over the loss of our home as read in TSUNAMI but of course, we knew better than to take such words to heart but chose to quietly listen anyway. She prevailed on us to be patient with the family as regards inheritance, knowing now was a crucial time we needed money. Mom was quite surprised as she was typically expecting the Matriarch to rain fire and brimstone on her for daring to get a loan using her late brother's house as collateral, the non-payment leading to the loss of the house even though the house is legally Mom's after Dad's demise. Mom simply nodded and thanked the Matriarch for her concern, she thereafter settled down and engaged us in a bit of chitchat where she learned it was going to be QT's birthday the next day and we had no idea what to do for him...actually, I was the one who let that slip with the hope she would sponsor a treat for him, I blurted out after she asked what we were up to,

"Well, ma'am, we are quite well, obviously trying to cope in light of recent events...we had even made plans way ahead of time to celebrate Qatari's birthday which is  tomorrow but now....it's all gone to cinders with our home gone"

Monday, 7 November 2016

Spine of steel

I was busy with the preparation of food for dinner, chopping vegetables, onions, et al when Karl walked briskly into the kitchen where I was, held me from behind by ringing his arms around my waist, grinding his bulge against my thighs and giving me a peck behind my earlobe as I swiftly turned to look at him, wondering if he was high. His hair tousled beautifully in a bed mess, he retreated from me and asked if I liked it,

"What? Karl? Are you alright? Ofcourse not I didn't like that, you sure you okay?"

Friday, 28 October 2016

Jupiter's cock!

Peter is a rather ubiquitous young lad who's spontaneous and quite fun to be with and a friend of Hamz's.

One chilly saturday morning, after a heavy downpour with droplets of rain still drizzling, Mom went out with QT and Karl to inspect a plot of land which she plans to cultivate into a farmland leaving just myself and Hamz alone at home when Peter, in company of a group of other young guys who are also friends of Hamz came visiting.

 Even though I'm noted amongst my siblings not to get chatty with my siblings' friends, the guys somehow roped me into their conversations and I found my stone cold facial appearance that morning gradually thawing into a cheerful face as I flowed with their conversations and after about thirty minutes of non-stop banter, we all decided to play a game of truth and dare with Peter drafting the game's rules with penalties attached to each rule which were meant to be awkward, uncomfortable and outright embarrassing... Apparently, this looks like it's going to be fun.

Wednesday, 19 October 2016

The enemy within

"You know...I spoke with my friend mama tahir this evening and she was pouring her heart out to me...about how her siblings and extended family despise her so much despite doing a lot for them, helping them with school fees for their kids, sending food supplies, living expenses, etc, she just can't believe this is happening to her"

Mom said in a conversation with Aunt Hubaida one early tuesday evening about her friend Raliat also known as Mama tahir who is a wealthy cloth merchant in Lagos, to which Aunt Hubaida scoffed almost with indignation and responded,

"Well, one couldn't say exactly what transpired between them as we both weren't present nor hear from the other parties, am sure her siblings must have their reasons"

Mom's eyes squinted, apparently puzzled and asked what Hubaida meant, she responded,

 "It's as I said it because from my own experience, I can tell that sometimes, it's the richer sibling that could be guilty, more often than not"

Mom's facial expression immediately changed from bewilderment to seething fire, she swiftly responded,

Tuesday, 6 September 2016

The solomon of settlement

Wayne Schubard is a close talker, a lawyer who represents *Dynamo corporations- a fledging  automobile company in the united states already doing quite well in the industry- and who doubles as the company's treasury department executive for compensation and accrued dividends payout, is a white, quite plumpy man in his mid 40s with a fast receding hairline preceding a sparse mop of straight black short hair with a sprinkling of grey locks with lines etched finely by the sides of his eyes and upper cheek bone who starts his sentences about 47 cm from your face and with a rather thick husky voice, leans in to make his point.

This is an unusual trait for a guy who has to deliver the type of news that most of us would prefer to dispense from across the room or better yet, by an email from a do-not-reply address as part of his duties is to fire members of their staff, buy out little company rivals and merge it with *Dynamo automobile as well as stated above, in charge of paying compensation and accrued dividends which is about the only nice part of his job.

"...Dollars are a surrogate for worth"

 He says to us, leaning in as usual, to end a long introductory speech which pretty much was advertising his own skills and expertise at what he does after dismissing a set of family before attending to us.

 "So, you're Habiba Adagiri, am I correct...with... um.. the pronunciation?"

 He said, referring to Mom as he raised his head from a paper he was reading from to look at her then pointing at Nicole, he says he reckons she's Nicole to which she affirms with an emphatic positive nod. Wayne cleared his throat, adjusted his grey jacket and sitting position as he got ready to go into business.

"So your late husband, made some.."

Wednesday, 24 August 2016

Skirmishes in persia!

It had been a rather tumultuous week for us all... Musa, the agent of the house where we are temporarily putting up in had been constantly harassing us for money, using us as his cash cow. He would smoke weed and get high then come with a group of thugs to harass us to either part with some money or leave the house and quite sadly and reluctantly, we always comply with his demands as Mom always sue for peace by preventing QT, Hamz and Karl from getting violent with them or calling his bluff, the times are hard and it's been pretty difficult having to dole out money to him virtually every week with our heartbeats sent racing as we always have to hurriedly hustle up some cash to meet his demand any time he comes calling.

Recently, Mom was able to get Musa to a sit down to draft an agreement on how much he wants to collect in bulk and for him never to show his face to harass us until the duration of the agreement had elapsed. Thankfully, Garba, our former gate man  arrived just in time to act as interpreter as Musa wasn't well versed in english language nor Mom in hausa. Garba had found it difficult living on his own and securing a steady job with a regular income to support his family in far away Sokoto state so he chose to come back and stay with us, as a mark of loyalty and having a sense of family in our home, despite our condition. Finally, Mom and Musa were able to reach an agreement for us to stay 3 months at a rather substantial amount of money but Mom, through the grace of God was able to pay and we were quite relieved we won't be seeing Musa's face for quite a while.

To blow off steam and let our hair down after a rough couple of weeks, QT had rather unusually suggested that we all go clubbing that night, this is unusually so as QT rarely suggests a fun day or night out and would rather pump steel in the gym. I declined going as I knew Mom won't buy the idea of all of us going out at night and leaving her alone at home... A home that outwardly looks deserted and almost dilapidated, furthermore, she hates the idea of night reveling, so mentioning "club" to her would mean them not  going altogether as she won't allow it. Hamz excitedly declared it was a good idea that I stay with Mom,

 "...After all, you're the sister we never had, so it would be cool that you stay at home with mummy"