If only it was that easy...

[For a moment, I longed for the years gone by, thinking up things that could have happened if I had lived in those times when this cooked-up tale could have occurred. But the reality is that I am living in the present. Despite that I will share with you this write up from my journal (not on a paper-journal but in Microsoft word originally saved as ‘Untitled)… Just trying to distract myself from the thoughts that overwhelm me right now...read on]

Here’s a preview into the world I have created…
I awoke up this morning almost blinded by the light that permeated through the cracks in the wall of the mud house, where I lived with my aunt. Sitting up on the mat, I could not help but laugh silently as I heard my aunt snoring away the rest of the morning. I wished uncle was around to catch the guilty party in the act. And if only there was a National contest for ‘Who-could-snore-the-most?’ then my aunt would have won with no rival to contest with her.
So it was a Saturday and my uncle (as usual) had set out early to hunt for some antelope. I smiled then stood up, walking towards the little green shuttle window that separated our tiny bed room from the reality

“LOVE works in ways that are wondrous and strange, There is nothing in life that
LOVE cannot Change” - Helen Steiner Rice

of what the morning had to offer an ordinary woman like me. Thinking to myself; I could not believe I had slept through the crowing of my uncle’s disrespectful cock (it just never had the decency to ask for permission before it boasts into usual ‘cockoo-roo-koo’) but I was ready for the new day.

The window squeaked as I tried to push it to open. I glanced over my shoulder at my aunt to see if I had disturbed her beauty sleep. ‘Thank God’, I said silently…not that she would have woken up; I just did not want to get her chatting this early morning.

I gently reach out and retrieved the half-cut mirror I had placed on the cupboard top beside her bed last night, almost knocking over the pile of clothes on it. Rearranging them, I faced the back and sat down on the mat (I slept on) beside the window as I admired my new hair-do (‘Suku’ hairstyle which is usually worn by some orisa priest) in the half cut mirror. Mama Jumoke had a talent of changing even the ugliest woman in the village to a queen. I was barely able to get a broad view of my face but I felt beautiful.

I made my face up by applying some native powder and some of my aunt’s dark pencil. The excitement of what I was going to do this morning almost ruptured from within.

I was going to be meeting, Tunji, on my way to the stream to fetch water. Tunji was the sanitation officer’s son who rode around town in his bicycle. Every lady had been admiring him and would give anything to have a moment with him but he had turned down their invitations. For a while, my friend, Ronke had been teasing me about him stealing a look of me while he rode pass us on the way to the stream each morning. I had waved the whole thing until one morning when we were approaching the stream, I saw he standing under a tree. I had wondered to my friend, Ronke, what he could be doing there when he walked up to us introducing himself (like I didn’t know)…

Not to be rude, I gave him an audience and listened while he spoke…
© 2009 Miss Ónàihré All Rights Reserved

Credits:Digital source: iStockphoto.com