Wednesday, 18 April 2012

ENEMIES AT WORK




Eno was in a fix. The holy water Prophet Methuselah had given her to sprinkle around the house had proven either too weak to fight the devil or totally impotent.
 “Lord, why me? Why has the devil decided to plant his seeds in my household?”
 Eno wailed.
Frimpomaa, her neighbor and friend who looked even sadder than Eno took a deep breath and sighed…
“My sister, the last time the devil tried playing such tricks on me, I fought him with his own poison. That’s how to go about it these days, you know. And so I did just that! I tell you, that juju man is the best in this area. He gave me instant results. You must go to him quickly before the evil enters your last daughter too. Leave that good for nothing prophet alone.”
“That will mean all three of them! No, I won’t be able to handle that! Oh how I wish my husband was here to support me. Kwabena, why did you have to die and leave me to swallow such bitter medicine?”
A few minutes later, when both ladies had settled down considerably, in walked a young man of about 24 years, dressed sharply in white slacks, and a matching white shirt. He was tall and skinny and carried a bright pink backpack. The moment Eno set eyes on him she started to lament.
“God She is at it again!”
The young man whispered to himself and greeted his wailing mother and her rather angry looking friend.
“Today of all days, young man, why do you decide to come in and remind me of my pain? Why do you have to even walk in here wearing that? Reminding me yet again what the devil is busily working out in my life.”
The young man laughed softly and cleared his throat.
“Mother, how many times do you want me to explain to you that this is exactly what I want to be and the devil has no hand in it? Nobody forced me into this. It was my personal choice to become a nurse!”
Eno jumped up suddenly and started pacing.
 “Oh no, he has mentioned it again! Oh gods of my native land! My ancestors! Why are you slumbering in your graves while my enemies take control of my son’s brain?”
The young was man was shifitng his balance from one foot the other, clearly getting uncomfortable.
“Mom, I am not mad!”
His mother rushed towards him and stopped abruptly directly in front of him, looking him straight in the eye.
“Oh, but you are, because I don’t understand you and your choice!”
She looked ready to cry, her lips quivering and eyes darting from the house, to the young man to Frimpomaa.
 “Why couldn’t you become doctor? Why a nurse? Why do you choose to be a woman? Is it because I had a daughter before and after you?”
She settled both hands on her hips and sighed.
“No! That is not the reason. It is the work of my enemies! If it were not so, my firstborn will not be off on…what do they call it?”
She turned to Frimpomaa as if asking for help
“Aha! Peacekeeping! My daughter will not be off keeping peace in some war-torn faraway land while her mates are exactly where they should be, in their husband’s homes, making babies! She’s out there balancing guns in those hands that should be knitting sweaters for my grandchildren! So I know, my enemies, I know you are seriously after me. But you will not get hold of my last child! No, she will have a nice gentleman, who surely will not be a nurse, come ask for her hand in marriage. Yes, you won’t have it all, devil…you won’t have it all!”
The young man, who could not stand any more of the drama, picked up his bag and left.
“Eno, this is a sign of darker things to come! Tomorrow morning, be prepared, I will go with you to the man I talked to you about. This will surely come to an end!”

Some months and several visits to the jujuman later, the last born, Gifty was on the porch with the young man, Anthony, who was a nurse.
“Tony, it has been 3 weeks since mother left to the village and I have not heard a word from her. I’m beginning to get worried”
The young man tried to hide his amusement.
“Worried? My dear, she said she was going to consult the gods and her ancestors, right? Only God knows exactly where she is right now. And if she is there because of my being a nurse or our elder sister being an army officer, then it might take a while”
“I wonder what will happen when she comes back to find out what I’ve decided to do to raise money for medical school.”
Gifty added with a downcast look on her face.
“Haha, Great! Now you are going to have mother thinking the devil switched our souls! Your idea is brilliant. If I had time on my hands like you have, I would have done the same thing to raise money for myself too. Just be careful because you know you’ll be virtually the only female out there.”
They walked back into the house laughing and ready for dinner.

Meanwhile, somewhere in some war-torn faraway land, the first daughter, Agnes,  who was off keeping peace had just finished reading a letter from her nurse brother Anthony and Gifty her Kid sister.
“Mother started going crazy when I turned down the seventh and last suitor that came knocking on our door and broke the news that I had joined the military and was going off to camp in a week. She cried and begged me to rethink my decision. She called in her prophet to pray, she sprinkled holy water on my pillow and did all she could to stop me but here I am.”
The peace keeping daughter was talking to one of the guys who was lying next to her. She and the rest of the troops were all in a tent, resting their tired limbs…it was evening, and peace had almost been restored so the region was quite calm.
The first daughter continued.
“A couple of years later, my brother borrowed money from me, got forms from a nursing school, had me help him fill them, and got enrolled in nursing school. For about two weeks my mother made herself believe we were pulling a practical joke on her. Then after she realized it wasn’t a joke, she got the prophet to come live at home with us for about three days for thorough cleansing of our home and souls. Eventually, she begged my brother to move out so she wouldn’t go mad and I also moved out soon after. Now I have news that my sister is up to something that I’m sure mother will suffer cardiac arrest from when she finds out, and I’m not exaggerating.”
By then, the tent was quiet. The men were all asleep.
First daughter straightened up in her sleeping bag and went off to sleep too.

Also, in the village where the gods and ancestors were being consulted, Eno was on her way back home.
            “Who did you say you are gain?”
She had wrapped her head tightly with a red scarf, a sign that all was not well with her.
The middle-aged man, dressed in a caramel colored shirt and khaki trousers replied, looking up above his glasses that was resting on the tip of his big nose.
“I’m the head teacher”
“And what did you just tell me?”
Eno asked again.
“I said I’m glad you’ve decided to go home now. You’ve been here too long, and that fetish priest is just draining you of your money. I have heard why you are here and I just want to tell you that there is nothing spiritual at work. It’s perfectly normal for a man to be a nurse and a woman a soldier.”
The wrinkles on Eno’s face deepened.
“I will go, but know that I have eyes watching you. I know now that you’re one of my enemies. My stay here is hindering your works isn’t it? I am going so don’t worry, just beware.”
With that, she walked off towards the main road, carrying her luggage.

After a long journey back to the city from the village where the jujuman was being consulted, Eno walked out of the lorry station to the roadside and hailed a taxi. The taxi stopped and she got in.
It took a while for Gifty to realise she had picked up her own mother after she had taken a closer look in her rear mirror. She turned sharply.
“Mother! You’re finally back!”
Eno, looked up into her lastborn’s eyes, clutched her chest and collapsed onto the seat.
Gifty’s body shook with sobs as she sped to the nearest hospital.
Mother was barely moving. She was barely breathing.
After two weeks she was discharged. The doctors had said she had had a mild heart attack. She was in bed and had refused to talk to any of her children who had all gathered in the sitting room, with the pastor who had arrived that morning on Eno’s demand. He was younger than all the others and had just recovered from a fit of laughter after the children had filled him in on exactly what the problem with their mother was. In between all that, Agnes couldn’t keep her eyes off him. He wore no ring either, she had noted.
“Wow!”
He exclaimed, trying to hold back more laughter.
“Your mother sure has serious enemies at work in her backyard”
The sound of their laughter got to Eno in her bed. She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling and whispered,
“The Devil is a liar!”

Thursday, 5 April 2012

My village, AFRICA.


With each heart beat
 I see visions…
Faces…
Of kinsmen from next door
Burning in domestic flames
Screaming out in mortal pain!

With each drum beat
I see…
The Bloodshot eyes of young people like me
Balancing guns
In their premature hands

I watch in horror
As they spray bullets into the thoraxes of others

Familiar tunes play in my head
Of songs continually sang
By my mothers…

I hear them whisper to themselves;
“Was it better for our babies to be born alive?
…Or…”

I hear too, the soul of the stillborn child rejoicing…
“Freedom!” he cries!

I know how that unblemished soul…
Feels…

No need…
To grow up and fight brothers
No need…
To end up with nothing
Struggling to live…
No need…
To die with arms stretched out…
Mere inches away…
From freedom!
And in the afterlife only say;
“I was almost there”

That is not good enough for me!!!

If I could change hearts
I would touch the icy replicas
Of those
Ones who set fire to my neighbors’ roofs
And look away!
Those vipers who hang up lies
Defiling the skies
Who present poison in tinted vials
As doses of truths
We are forced to take after each meal

We are one community
One nation
With one history
 Why these differences then?

I look into the compound of another
And what do I see?
What do I hear?
What do I smell?
 I see Bloodshed
I hear Curses from sons’ mouths to fathers’ ears!
I smell decaying flesh partly ravaged by;
Vultures…
Dogs…
Those that once roamed our village
As harmless birds
As pets even!
They stood watching…waiting
For the people to slaughter each other
And afterwards...fight over lifeless flesh
The cowards they are!!!

I will not console myself with lies
That…
“Things are getting better”
NO!
At the hands of our own,
My neighbors still suffer!!

Tuesday, 20 March 2012

GREY AREA

Drip...drip...drip...
From the tip of the knife, blood drips
As it hangs loose from my fingertips
...
I will not let go...I will not hold on
I will not be here...I can't be there...
Grey is my favorite color.

Metal to flesh...look into my eyes
I will not...I cannot slash your throat
Or drive this...deep...deep
into...flesh...fresh, human...man...
I love to drive things into things...

Acid in bottle...tilted, glass... bottle
I will not...I cannot tip it further upon features
Calm facials...sweet in sleep...only
Or force this...down...down
inner tubes..changing states as it flows
Watching liquids flow...calms me greatly

A presence lingers...a shadow hovers
around my bed...hands grab me
Reality catapults me out from my nightmare
And again I'm here...drenched in sweat

So I will not be here...I can't be there...
Grey is my favorite color.

Sunday, 18 March 2012

LAST SCENE...LAST ACT

Let's go waltz on your grave, my beast
All through our steps, recalling
Those nights you spent with me

You played next to me on that common stage
You danced with me…then laughed with me
Soon you cried with me…then...
We drank poison together

Bitter-sweet poison together

Dying was inevitable with you, my dear beast


Well, the curtain has been lowered now

Let's step forward and proudly take a bow

We're left alone after the final act
All other players are gone at last
So let's do that dance again..

Let's waltz on your shiny marble grave.

Thursday, 15 March 2012

SLIDESHOW (Disposable Brains)



If I could give something 
Of mine 
Away
I would not hesitate
 To take
My brain 
Out 
Wrap it up 
In soft gauze
Pack it up 
In an old 
Brown box
And in red ink
In block letters
Scribble 
‘FRAGILE’ 
On all faces




If I could ask 
A favour 
From the most high
I’d say this prayer 
With a sigh 

‘Dear Lord
 I need mercy
I need you 
To take away 
My memory 


Take the anger
Take the bitterness


They leave me tired
Stressed




Tonight 
It's just gray thoughts


Tears 
Memories 
That smell brought


A familiar pain 
That seems to seep 
Through me 


I am numb


Take this sense 
As well

This spiteful sense 
Of smell




What my eyes have seen
My hands touched


What my ears have heard
My body felt


Where my feet 
Have led me, 
My knees crouched


Have been elements
Pieces 
Of the jig-saw


Undo them
Undo them ALL
And throw them out




This slideshow
This slideshow keeps running


I can’t find 
The stop button


I’m chilled 
To the bones…
My blood 
Is freezing


Fear 
Keeps me up 
Fighting


Screaming out 
To whoever cares 
To listen


“What you keep doing 
To me 
Is so 
Not 
Fair


I can't keep 
Reliving 
This nightmare


You have to understand 


It’s time
Understand
It's time 
To be set free


So help me

Help me lose my memory

Monday, 27 February 2012

BROKEN

I think of the trouble you put me through
And all the pain that leaves me blue
I think of the time I waste to grieve
And all the love you failed to give

I think of her; she stood aloof
She was too scared to tell the truth
I think of me in that dark, stinky room
Cold wind sweeping concrete floor like a broom

The rage in your eyes; who were you mad at?
Yourself, your destiny or this damned earth?
Do I help ease your pain when you see me cry
After I drag myself out from the dark corners of that sty?

The nightmares wake us up...
Yours not too  different from mine
We both rest on the devil's lap
We survive on bloody grime

It didn't have to be this way
Why didn't you let yourself stay sane?
No, you let them get to you...
And now I have gone crazy too

They sent you here, those ones, didn't they?
You spat on my sunlight and made it less gay
You uprooted them all...roses, blue bells
Violets, lavender, their comforting smells

You stripped me down to tears
Crimson tears laden with hell-inspired fears
And you danced around my fate
Making fun of my heart, laid in state

You took them all...all the sweetness, all the spice
You took them all...all the laughter, all the smiles
And now I have your eyes, filled with that rage
Like a wild animal, I should be caged

For I have this urge to strangle you
Slowly to death, yes that would do
Or I'd just damage a nerve or two
For all the trouble you put me through

SCARS




I must be brave
When tomorrow comes
Those long gone
Were in my place once
I cannot doubt
I will not run
I must not cry
When tomorrow comes
Three moons ago,
I was on the other side
I watched...
Proud blossoming buds stood in line
Tears of joy were mingled with silent fears
"Customs do not die"
Say the ORACLES and SEERS
I must not tremble when tomorrow comes
This mirror resting between my thighs
Will no longer tell me
This blissful lie
Then, I'll be a woman...
I'll sit with the others
And their scars
I must be prepared when tomorrow comes
Mother, did you ever hide 
In your rooms and dream?
Dreading...
Those sharp dark blades...
Old wrinkled hands
Did you ever think of the loss?
Did you think of the pain?
Oh I must forget this nightmare
When tomorrow comes
When the cock crows,
I'll be first in line
I will adorn my waist
With the heaviest of beads
Rub scented Shea butter down 
Beyond my knees
I'll hold my head high
And as i lay down, legs apart
My heart will be full of joy
And my eyes, dry
I'd bless those old wrinkled hands

But for now just let me...
Let me look in this mirror one last time
Let me gaze at this beauty I see

When tomorrow comes, 
It will be another scar
My beauty will be nothing
Nothing
But a scar.


Thursday, 23 February 2012

MY DAY-LONG LOVE




This blessed dew-filled morning
Butterflies stopped to watch my heart step-dancing


Deep breaths filled my eager lungs
As my mind flew up to higher ranks

It's cause you rose with the sun...
And you shone so hot and bright
I felt no need to go out and run


...Not till sunset came in sight

The day is ending, tell me what now?
When it's done, where do we go?
My sweat feels heavy on my brow
I find myself wanting to scream out; 'NO!'

Will l run home and look through the peep hole?
Look through, into your tear-filled eyes?
Boring into...reading the letters of my soul?


Will i break down and cry again? 

Knowing....
We're both sad...sad to watch as our day dies...?

Thursday, 16 February 2012

HE HAS ME


Once upon a time, I stood before my one true love
And spat in his face
That heart-breaking cliche
..."It's over between us"...
Yet in that moment, he loved me.

Many turns back when I packed up my bags
And moved out of that Mansion he gave me
Acting out in ways worse than words
Saying..."I met someone else"...
All through it, he loved me.

Tracing back tears long past
Tears he shed when on that bed
He once laid in...deep in my heart
He found another, with a face too familiar...
In all that pain, he loved me.

With the knowledge that there was another
Once his right-hand man, now a traitor
With hot burning coals now in the picture
And I, openly playing with fire
He wrung his hands in agony, yes he loved me.

...

Once upon a time, lust drew me away
Images of pleasure caused my heart to sway
Was almost real, watching from a distance
An almost pleasant lie...a mirage, in fact
Yet one thing among all stood true; he loved me

But then a spot in my soul could still remember
The rhythm our hearts composed back when they beat together
He knows my heart inside, out and under
Each drop of blood that runs red through my veins
In this life he gave me, his love solely reigns.

So in this moment I say never again
Leaving him only caused me too much pain
I can breathe while he's in his rightful place
Here in my heart, safely seated on his golden throne
I'd shout with joy that He has me...
He has me and my entire soul

Saturday, 4 February 2012

VENTING!!!


I'm not here to produce poetry
It's time for random venting

Like brown paper bag threatening to burst with heat
I need to slide open the bag and let out the steam

Like microwaved extra butter and caramel popcorn
I need to let the steam carry the tempting smell that's born

Away from me...miles away into heaven
Into the nostrils of someone more deserving

Who will get up and pursue that which I let out
And when he finds it...will dip his hands and scout

Into caramel-glazed popcorn and have a fill...

Of my microwaved sweetness
While I stand back and be the witness

So this probably makes no sense at all
Doesn't have to, it's the law

Of venting...it has to be crap
I need to let out before i snap!

Tonight I'm not in the mood
To sit behind my loom

And weave jumbled-up words...
All throughout, hoping it takes away my hurt

I'm in the mood to vent
......and this is how far I went

Wednesday, 25 January 2012

POLKA-DOTTED OVERALLS


As we lay there
With our plain white overalls in swine filth
As we lay there 
Wave-beaten hearts, turned cold with guilt

As we lay there 
There in our wretched past
There 
There where we were to breathe our last

And die to death… 
We were dying  
Deep into death

Out from there we spotted a lone feather fall
The feather of a dove 
White and pure

In our hands blackened
…with dog-living

We cradled that seemingly inanimate hope

Now we say we will lay there no more
…no more will we lay there

We come to you
Faith-deficient, love-forgotten, peace in flames

We come to you
Heart-broken, mind battered, soul-shackled

And trace that evidence of purity back
…back to the height from which it fell

And we find you…
With the dove in your hands

We bring the filth-coated feather back
Our discoloured clothing back

For we know, when we stretch out from there
And step into the light
…You will look upon our now polka-dotted overalls

Take us into you arms 
...and smile

Tuesday, 27 December 2011

WHY I WRITE TONIGHT...


I wonder what my mood wants
Or why my heart flaunts
Its hidden sorrows and tears
Of long forgotten years
This lonely night
My spirit cries
And I simply can’t tell why
What else can I possibly do?
When away from me sleep moves
But to sit through this languid night
And do nothing, but write
Not much will it give
...Just a relief
....so I can sleep.

Monday, 26 December 2011

ENEMIES OF OURSELVES



Where is the peace?
No one can tell
How about bliss?
Not in this hell
Not in this state
Nor at this rate
Not with such turmoil
No, not at all.

So from our hearts these questions flow
Oh where did our souls go?
Like birds they did fly
Into the angry grey sky
Up into the nothingness
Of nature’s awesome existence

People see! There goes our magic
A big loss, so tragic
Life has turned a darker shade
Great expectations, all fade
The cheetah has lost its spots
Our identities are far gone

Days are full of night
We are filled with such fright
Our strength has been drained
Our hearts have gone faint
No more, masters! No more pain!

Open up and let us in
We, with our sweat-beaded skin
Let us in through the freedom gate
We, with memory-loads of ever-increasing weight
The memories of bitter nectar and sweet bile
Of joyous weeping and sad smiles
Balanced in our self-inflicted wounded hands

We cry out; set free the sacred dove
Oh masters of our lands
Set free our souls….sick, tired souls,
Yet ones, that still know…                                             
Of yesterday’s peace...and tomorrow’s love.

Sunday, 25 December 2011

MY LOST AND FOUND CHRISTMAS


It was a wretched season for me. A time when I wanted to drill a pit deep in some rain forest and bury myself till it passed. Human beings appeared from nowhere onto streets in town. Were they ghosts? Spirits? gods? Who were also joining the mortals to make merry? Prices of goods…very basic goods like rice, tomatoes shot up…no sky-rocketed! It was outrageous, the price of a fowl. The poor were bound to starve to death before the New Year arrived. Then there was the advertisements on TV, radio, those huge billboards that never seemed strong to me (after every heavy rain, a couple fell and caused whatever damage it could cause) about church crusades, end-of-year watchnight services, New Year motivational phrases and mottos that made me wonder how the lives of those people who always ripped the old year’s ‘MY YEAR OF PROSPERITY’ to gingerly paste on the butt of their cars, a boldly written, ‘MY YEAR OF TRANSFORMATION’ really were. Were those things sold to the entire congregation? What about those who had no cars? Where did they paste those? In their room?...In front of their mirrors? No, no one would see it if they hid it in their rooms. It was designed for people to see…that those enthusiastic ‘church-goers’ were going to have a year of transformation, from grass to grace, obviously. Their enemies were being warned, I guess. Whatever happened to peace and quiet in that last month of a long, depressing year was something worth investigating! The whole world seemed to shoot up in a frenzy of indiscriminate noise-making euphemized as merry-making, caroling, name them. Kids would spill out onto streets in various neighborhoods to light fire crackers…’knock-outs’ that managed to scare the hell out of me each time I heard one go off close to me. The season jumped up into a mill, got itself milled to fine grains and sprinkled itself all over my every nerve…getting into it without warning…making me want to throw up, vanish from the earth temporarily until further notice, or better still, drop dead! What was it about Christmas that got people so crazy, I asked myself every year when the craze began. And each year I stayed indoors and got no answer.
You ask why I was so bitter about the season? Well, I wasn’t just bitter people, I loathed the season with every breath I had in me. Each year was the same…damned routine! Teaching in senior high was a nightmare throughout the year. But I needed the income for bare survival so I had to live through the year. It was a miracle I hadn’t murdered one of my insolent students yet..the brats they were! I will take you down memory lane so sit tight while I make you understand how I lost my Christmas and why the loss had left me as I was…bitter, and alone.
December 1995…
I had completed my first semester of my first year in the University…I was 19 years old. Throughout that semester I had looked forward to Christmas…waited for it with bated breath. I had my suitcase, my ‘Ghana-must-go’ tarpaulin bag and my bucket, with my pillow stuffed in it. My teddy bear was grandly seated atop my suitcase and I waited rather impatiently for him to come for me…and take me home. It was late morning, I remember…and I waited, and waited, and waited…and I’m still waiting, for him to come for me. I’m still waiting for daddy to walk into my life and yank me awake, hold me in those huge military arms and tell me it was all a bad dream. I was angry with him that day; it’s still fresh in my mind. He had broken another promise, was all I could think of. He promised to come for me and it was past 3 in the afternoon and he had not showed up. I had given up; was about to find myself a taxi when one stopped inches away from me, and out stepped my aunt, whom I hadn’t seen in ages. Nothing registered…all I could think of was getting home and enjoying Christmas with my family…go to church with them…share the traditions of the season with the ones I loved. So she took me home. And there was a welcome party for me…okay; it wasn’t a welcome party…something directly opposite that. Family members whose faces I hadn’t seen in years and some I had never seen were in my house, in my sitting room, in my kitchen, on my porch, on the lawn. Mother? Where was mother? She was upstairs being consoled by other women who needed to be consoled themselves. I asked no question, it simply dawned on me…my father, the army officer…my favorite commander…my hero, had passed away without giving me any notice whatsoever! He had died when I was in the middle of my end-of-semester examinations, so they had hidden it from me; afraid the news will affect my concentration. What did it matter? The one I was working to make proud, had left without saying goodbye. Folks, that was just the beginning.

December 1996…
A year after his passing, we had all healed considerably. I still held the hope that he would come back, deep somewhere in my heart. That year, there had been a lot of changes. I had found God, on a whole new level. I was a Christian before the year 1996, but something about that year made me a better Christian. The bible had more meaning to me. Christianity became more exciting. I was eager to learn. That still small voice comforted me like never before. God had healed me. I suppose, it was ‘MY YEAR OF HEALING’. The birth of Christ was then a very important occasion for me. So I was home for Christmas again…happy that God had healed my family from the shock. It was morning…25th day of the month. I was on my knees, beside my bed…thanking Him for keeping us safe…blessing His name for he had comforted us when we were in mourning and had given us hope that all was not lost…praising Him abundantly for making that year’s Christmas more bright. I was right in the middle of that prayer…the very last I remember praying, when I heard…the explosion…I ran…downstairs, outside…and there, before my eyes, our kitchen, which was separated from the main house, was on fire…and I was the only one standing out there. Why wasn’t; mother coming out to check what had happened, I had been thinking, as I screamed for help; having no clue what to do. Where was my kid brother? Was he sleeping through that much noise? The rest was a blur…neighbours came in, tried quenching the fire…the fire engine came moments later and got it under control. It seemed like years later, the kitchen was down to the ground…and my mother and brother had been thoroughly roasted…their bodies were locked in an embrace when we found them…had they embraced before or after the explosion? I could never know.

December 2006
Ten years, after I was orphaned…I was 30 years old…and I was married. Yes, I was married to someone I wonder now, why I loved in the first place. It was my third year of marriage and we had no children yet. Bruce understood, or so I thought. That year, I remember patting myself on the shoulder; congratulating myself for making it without God. I had left him behind in that fire that took away my mother and brother the very moment I was asking Him to protect them! If that was the luck He brought with Him, then I was sure not interested in serving Him. Those ten years had gradually turned me against the whole idea about His birth. Christmas could be anything else but the birth of one who took away my family when I knew Him. It felt like being stabbed in the back by a close friend. The betrayal one felt in such cases could not be compared with the level of betrayal I felt. I had to forget God, and I did. After forgetting him, bad things had stopped happening to me. They had stopped until that day…when I decided to do some last-minute shopping. The season had become more of a season of shopping and gift-giving and partying, than a season of God’s blessing and remembrance of Jesus’ birth. I had finished shopping…the mall was packed full with people like me who loved the holiday rush…I had nothing to do in that baby shop…I only wanted to window-shop…who knew, I was going to be a mother one day, eventually. My first reaction when I saw them was to turn back and leave; pretend I hadn’t seen him with her. But something about her caught my attention; something I was trying hard not to believe. He had his hands around her. That hand was resting on her belly…the lady was extremely pregnant, I was sure she was in her eighth month or even the ninth. And my husband was shopping with her; his hands all over her…they looked happy. I felt out of place…but I had to confront him there and then. I had braced myself for a fight but what I got was worse than that. It was a slap in the face! My husband did not deny anything. He had been having an affair with that lady, she had got pregnant; the one thing i had failed at. Divorce was the only thing in mind at that moment and I didn’t need to ask. He was actually begging me to give him one. Three months into 2007, we were single individuals again. He got married to his bitch who had given him a son, and they moved to the UK. That stole the rest of my holiday season. The Decembers in my life were bad news…bad dreams…bad times. The season was an enemy. I wished I could skip that last month of every year. Let those who had cause to make merry do so, while I started my January without them…they could catch up later.
So that’s what happened between me and Christmas. I lost it. In between losing my parents and my only sibling and years later my husband, to another woman, I lost the joy of Christmas. I lost the meaning, the miracle, the spirit and the message of Christmas. I gave up God in the process too. But someone up there, if not God, had not given up on me yet…

I think it was sometime time in April of 2008. He was new…a chemistry teacher for our science department. I had been the only one teaching chemistry for a long time..I needed that relieve he brought as an add-on. It happened that he wasn’t only there to teach but to change my life. At first I didn’t want to be friendly with him, but he is the kind of person one would automatically warm up to. So by the end of that year, we were best friends. I had told him about my Decembers and lost Christmas. ‘I will help you find it’ was what he always told me. He was set on helping me find it. Christmas that year was quiet for me, as usual. I stayed indoors; no shopping, no church-going, no partying. But something different happened. There used to be no visitors as well but that year he visited me. He came with food, and drinks and smiles. How could I have resisted. We talked for hours, finished the food and a couple of drinks. Then he begged me to escort him to a place he called home, and I did; it was his church. It wasn’t Sunday…there was no one there save an organist, behind the organ; he was probably practicing. But he played such lovely tunes. Christmas tunes I had long forgotten. The cords in my heart seemed to be attached to that in the organ. Every key he played struck hidden cords in my heart. But I was determined to keep the wall I had built around it intact. I remember asking him why he had brought me there and he said we were there to start looking for my Christmas. We sat there for an hour, I think…listening to the organist who played endlessly, those carols. By the time we left that church, my defense wall was half down. Something had nibbled away at it in that church as that organist played those tunes. The chemistry teacher, my best friend, was going to stop at nothing to get me back my Christmas.
2009 was ‘MY YEAR OF TRANSFORMATION’ if I have permission to put it that way. Safo, my best friend, had managed to get me to go to church with him every Sunday of that year. And on the last Sunday of 2009, I was at church with him, a day after our wedding...Safo was my better half.
 On my wedding day, my wall was no longer there. That wedding was different…it was a marriage with God as its foundation. I had married Bruce, my first husband without God involved and I had paid the price. Safo held my hand and guided me back to Christ…he built the strong foundation and together with me, we set up a home on it. On my wedding day that December…the altar before which I stood with him was that ‘lost and found’ shelf we have back in the school I teach in. In my new God-sent husband’s heart was my personal ‘lost-and-found’ cubicle…where my lost Christmas was. In the heart of Safo, I found God, I found love, I found the joy of Christmas. And it has never been the same…

December 2011…
I’m seated on a hospital bed…my mother-in-law just left to go get me more chicken light soup. God sent me a gift this Christmas; a son. I went into labor yesternight…Christmas eve. And my boy arrived on Christmas day…a loud package he is! It’s boxing day today, and my husband is seated here by my bed, with our gift wrapped in a blanket…reminding me of Christ’s birth…and more...in the face of my boy I see a face I have dreamt of for so many years…a face I have prayed to see just one more time…to say goodbye. But the face is here to stay…it is the face of my father…the face of my father present in that of my son…a carbon copy of my favorite commander. My December couldn’t get any better!
2012….MY YEAR OF LOVE AND OF PEACE…