Apologies

Hello, everyone who is kind enough to make me part of their day.
Sorry I have been away for soooo long :)
its school work, it is unbelievable how busy my final year is, but I guess it is called 'Final' year for a reason.

I am still very much around and still have stories to share. Please, don't X me :)

P.S the next post will be a note on the theme Rejection which is connected to Marisa's story. And that will be soon.
Love
Tischioni Moore

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Marisa's story Part 3

I moved out of town for some months to do a course. My cousin the one that was Keke’s friend would come and visit me with ‘gifts’ and messages from Keke. I hated Keke and I did not want to have anything to do with him. I did not care that he was doing ‘the right thing’ as everyone seemed to think, I hated that he would rather be without me… call me stupid, or whatever, I hoped he would stay.

Almost two years past, and no contact directly or indirectly with Keke ‘good’ I thought, feigning bravado. In every other thing I was coping well, but when it came to thoughts of him, I would just fall apart. I had the admirers but I maintained my single status; I had just gotten a job as an accountant at a firm, and I was focused on climbing the corporate ladder, so work came first.

I thought the past the past, and it could not hurt me anymore. I did not hate Keke but I knew it still hurt to talk about him or think about him.

I had to talk to you today and relive all this, because earlier on today I saw him… from afar, he was coming out of a black sedan, I knew it was him, his height made him too obvious. Then I saw her, the woman he opened the passenger door for so she could come out, I caught my breath as I looked at her mid-section and saw the bump, I felt the grocery bag in my hand slipping, I held onto it tightly telling myself it could be a friend, I willed it to just be a friend, because Keke still was ‘my Keke’ and I was still his, it dawned on me so strongly in that moment that in my head neither he nor I were free to move on.

She kissed him or he kissed her, I can’t remember who did what but I remember seeing his hand rub her tummy affectionately, and in that I knew all I needed to know; Keke was a husband and a soon to be father.

He saw me, he looked my way, and seemed to linger on me for a while, he was happy, and I did not want him to feel guilty for that…
I smiled warmly at him, he smiled back at me as his wife put her arms around his waist oblivious to what was happening between him and I, and within seconds as though I had imagined them, they were gone.

And my heart sighed ‘I wish you well Keke, I wish you well’. And for the first time since the engagement fell through, I really meant it.”

(C) Tischioni Moore
2009


This is the final part of this story, a short note would follow duly. Thank's for reading.

marisa's story Part 2

Everyone was surprised and happy for us, I was to get married before my friends who had been dating long before me, some despised me openly for beating them to it, and others asked ‘how did you get him to pop the question?’ to the latter I say ‘when a man knows what he wants, he knows what he wants, it is that simple, it has nothing to do with all the other things like money, job and all that we have assumed it to be about. Plus when you are a good thing, and when it is for you-it just works out, no stress.’

Wedding preparations got hot and heavy, church counseling and dress fittings, then came the news. Keke had been having headaches, and I insisted he got it checked, so if it was malaria we could begin to treat it. I did not want my groom sick on our day. Keke went to the hospital, and did a blood test, the good news was it was not malaria, the headaches were probably related to stress; the bad news was discovering that Keke’s genotype was AS, just like me.

Why didn’t we talk about this before hand? Why didn’t it matter to us before we got here, a month to our wedding? On hearing this, my father immediately refused to go any further with wedding plans, I was heart broken. My mother asked me to see reason, that to go on was to be selfish and not consider the future of my children, then she asked me ‘don’t you want to have healthy children?’ of course I did, what sort of question was that?

On Keke’s end, it was not easy either; his parents were also on his case. The wedding everyone was excited about, preparing for, the one that had made me the envy of all was now threatened to not exist at all.

I prayed like never before, begging God to do a miracle change his blood type, change mine, or better we get married and none of our kids the victim’s of our love.

Keke and I would meet in secret, as now our love was a taboo; word went out to our invited guests that the wedding had been ‘postpone’.

‘How are you holding up?’ Keke asked me minutes after I got into his car, on one of those evenings we met at Yumi’s place.
I said nothing; I did not even look at him I simply stared at my engagement ring.

‘they have a point you know, we won’t be happy… you could hate me for what our children will go through, I could hate you… or worse our children could hate us. I love you Marissa but…’ Keke was saying.

I could not believe what I was hearing, three weeks and they had finally gotten him to cave in, Keke wanted out, he wanted out but did not want to be ‘the bad guy’.

“fine.” I said holding back my tears as I pulled my engagement ring off my finger.

“Have it…” I said. My palms were open where the ring sat beautifully my arm outstretched, my tears now falling… silently.

“Do not be like this, Marissa this hurts me too but what can we do? I can’t stand this over our heads, like a dark cloud. We deserve to be happy completely and build a family of healthy happy children… now that we know, it won’t be right to go on, it just won’t…” Keke said and quickly wiped his eyes, I knew he was crying I heard it in his voice.

“Take your damn ring!” I cried as I tossed it at him and before he could stop me or say anything I walked out of the car into Yumi’s apartment and bolted the door.

Keke knocked on the front door, rang the door bell, Yumi begged me to hear him out
‘To hell with him! ’ I screamed.
(c) Tischioni Moore
2010

Marisa's story Part 1

*The stories in this series cover different themes, and are all told in first person*


Five minutes with Marissa: 12-02-1998

“Like every other day, today was no different or so I thought. It was another day at the office, pulling the back-breaking, mind numbing and soul daunting 9-5, then what, the long drive home; to an empty apartment… it feels like not too long ago that I had Keke in my life, by my side.

Goke would tell me time and again ‘it is time to let go’ (and embrace him?) he does not add this part but I know what he is thinking. But it is never easy to let go of your first love, it is not something that happens without a conscious effort and commitment on your part.

I met Keke at a night club, a cousin had just come in from the United States, and he was going all out to celebrate his return to Nigeria. What he was celebrating is beyond me, we all knew the poor thing had been deported. Yumi another cousin and I went for the ‘party’. Yumi forced me into going because except I the ‘responsible’ one was going her parents were not going to let her pull an all night some where that was not a church gathering. I would have preferred staying home, and being my boring self; in hindsight I wish I suggested this to Yumi, maybe I would like to think that.

Anyway, Keke, a tall, strappingly handsome man, with the deepest of voice and the most tender smile, walked up to where I was sitting with some friends and asked if he could get ‘five minutes’, I was curt and told him I was with friends, and quickly my friends began to laugh and scream ‘take her, take her jo.’ I knew they were tired of my ‘spinster ways’, I began to wonder rather briefly if Keke coming up to me was a set up.

Five minutes became, close to an hour; and you know what? I did not care, he was the first guy who could have me laughing so hard with reckless abandon, he would impersonate television personalities or someone from his place of work and I will just laugh, his stories were wild and comedic, ‘I like the way you laugh’ he said to me by the time Yumi and the others were ready to leave the venue.

We saw a lot after then, since Keke was a close friend of my deported cousin, Keke would come around with my cousin to visit, or we would all meet at some venue or event to hang out.

I have always laughed at people who claim to ‘have fallen in love’; I would tell them after laughing real good that love does not creep up on us, we choose it. But With Keke, I knew how it felt to wake up one day and to have fallen in love; because I can not tell you when I knew I loved him, or when I chose to love him, but I know one day I heard myself telling him ‘I love you.’ He could tell I had never said that to anyone before, and he kissed me and said ‘marry me’; this was barely a year into our being official couples, me a young twenty-something, he in his early thirties, knowing what he wanted… who he wanted. I said ‘yes’, because though young I knew there will be no one else but him.

Note:

The idea for Meet Uloma came to me on a windy weekday morning as I walked to school, I saw this beautiful lady all covered up as Moslem women do, and I instantly wondered about her. Who is she? What does she do? What is her story? She was on the phone and I wondered Who is she talking to? And my creative mind began to take over.
A number of women world over have fallen for guys who turned out to be nothing but bad news. Someone who makes promises and then fails to deliver. Do you remember the pain in your heart when you realized you had been lied to, been betrayed been abandoned? Some of us in searching for something to fulfil us, to validate us we go after an array of things, material and superficial things and we come out still hungry. What can satisfy? What can satisfy?
Uloma is left feeling shameful and hurt about her past. Would her husband love her? What would be the outcome when the ‘word’ gets out? A lot of us hold things back because we know how easy it is for people to quit on us, we know how conditional the love of man and woman really is.

Women at the Well, is about everyday women who share with us, things they probably have not told anyone in their own lives. in the world we live in, it is so easy to cast a stone, to label someone negatively because of something they did. What I am trying to do is introduce COMPASSION, when Jesus met with the Samaritan woman at the well, a woman who had moved from man to man, he did not condemn her instead he reached out to what her true issue was, she was thirsty for something, and Jesus told her simply ‘I am what you are searching for.’

If you are like Uloma with a past you wish you can run away from, filled with a fear of what people will think of you once they know the truth. I can’t promise you that all the people in your life will stand beside you or see you the same way, but I can assure you that Jesus loves you and what man can not handle he can handle. Don’t let shame and self-condemnation keep you away come to the Well where He awaits you, to give you just what you need.


TISCHIONI MOORE
(c) 2009

Meet Uloma 4

Thursday, the day before Ajuru’s departure came, that day I felt sick, so sick I did not go to school. My mother thought I was pretending it was not until I made myself throw-up that she began to show compassion and make a fuss over me.

I was thinking of how much I was going to miss Ajuru, and how long two years would be. I would start to cry as I thought about this, and then my mother would come into the room.

“Is it hurting you Nne?” she would ask worriedly.

I would nod, it was hurting me, not my stomach as I had told my mother, but the thought of being without Ajuru was hurting me.

Later in the day, not feeling any better, I told my mother I was, she asked me over and over:

“Are you sure? It was really bad earlier today.”

I would nod each time, I was off to see Udoka and get the assignments from school, that is what I told my mother, in truth I was off to see Ajuru, he would be leaving for the city this evening and from the city tomorrow, he would be off to England.


I got to Father Patrick’s house and made it undetected to Ajuru’s side of the house. I knocked on the door.

“My wife, I was worried. I heard you were not in school today? Are you okay?” Ajuru asked worriedly as soon as he opened the door and saw me.

I smiled at him and embraced him “I am much better now.” I said.

I walked into his room and it was bare, he had packed everything up. On the wall was an ironed white shirt and khaki trousers on a hanger, his outfit for later that evening.

“You can’t wait to leave me.” I brooded as I sat on the bed.

Ajuru knelt down before me and took my hand in his “Do not say a thing like that to me, when all I could think about as I packed my things was how to fit you into my suitcase.”

I looked at him and smiled, he laughed and sat next to me, my hand still in his.

“I love you Uloma, and I am coming back for you.” He spoke lovingly.

“I love you too Ajuru. I love you so much.” I said tears now in my eyes.

He held me and as I took in the scent of him for the last time in a long time, I began to cry, I could not remember a day without him, and I knew it would be hard for the next two years.

It happened that evening, I lost my virginity to him. As I walked home that evening, I suddenly had a scary thought, what if Ajuru does not come back? What then? What happens to me?

I stopped mid way on my journey home, and for a second I wanted to run back to Ajuru’s place and make him swear, to make him take an oath declaring he would come back to me.

I began to run towards his house, a smile on my face, yes, I would make him swear and he would and then he would have to come back. I ran as fast as my feet could carry me. I got to Ajuru’s place, I knocked on the door, called his name as loud as I could knowing Father Patrick would be home, but there was no answer.

I tried to open the door, and it did but Ajuru was not there. I had missed him. I slumped to the floor crying into my hands.



Ajuru never came back, never wrote a letter, never sent a picture, never! Years were passing by; no suitor was coming around as was previously assumed. My mother was worried, and I was worried for a different reason. I waited for Ajuru, I went to visit Father Patrick to find out about Ajuru, if he had heard from him, this was after the two years apart was becoming three. Alas, Father Patrick had become Father Donald, the new successor of the school, and he did not know of any Ajuru.




There was a knock on my father’s bedroom door. I immediately wiped my tears; I looked at my hand and saw that I had smeared the paint on my face.

My father walked into the room and on seeing me he smiled happily.

“Today is the day my daughter.” My father said cheerily.

I nodded. Today was the day indeed, the day when my secret relationship with Ajuru became known. As my aunties came into the room for me I wondered when was a good time to tell my husband about Ajuru, or was he better finding out on his own when I lay next to him later that night.

*This is the final part of Uloma's story. My notes on this story would be in the next post*

Thank You Myne for reading and leaving comments.

Meet Uloma 3

I helped Ajuru as he put the things he had brought from the market away; some went into the freezer others into the large spaced storage room. The kitchen was so immaculate, pots and pans stored in the locker above the stove, glasses and cups stacked nicely at a corner, everything was orderly and impressive.

“Come, let me show you where I stay.” Ajuru smiled after the tour of the house.

I was reluctant “won’t Father Patrick be home soon?” I asked.

“No, its just half-past two, he does not come home till four o’clock.” Ajuru said leaning against the kitchen door. He looked tired, his tie now draped over his shoulder, he looked tired but still handsome enough to make me nervous.

“Okay, okay, we can hang out here instead.” Ajuru said smiling.
The silence had gone on too long, it was until he spoke I realized that no one… that I had not said anything in almost a full minute.

Ajuru and I began to prepare Father Patrick’s meal; apparently Father Patrick liked yam pepper-soup with fresh fish. Ajuru and I worked together as a team, chopping up, stirring interchangeably.

“So why do you want to be a priest? Have you always wanted to be a priest?” I asked Ajuru as I watched him cut the yam into tiny pieces.

Ajuru paused and looked at me, that same coy smile returned. He walked over to me and said into my ears.

“I don’t want to be a priest.” He then smiled at me as he returned to what he was doing.

“So why are you…” I was saying a bit too loud, I moved towards him, and standing next to him I said in a whisper.

“So why are you training to be one?” I asked confused.

Ajuru smiled at me; he turned the pieces of yam into boiling water and covered the pot.

“Let’s not talk about this anymore… the wall has ears, and my ticket would be coming through any second now.” Ajuru said easily as he washed his hands in the sink.

“Take me with you!” I blurted out desperately.

“What?” Ajuru queried stunned, he stared at me perplexed.

I moved closer to him, my eyes pleading, “I don’t want to die in this village, I don’t want to live in my father’s tiny house all my life. I don’t want to be a village girl, I want to see England, I want what you want from life. I want an advantage.” I said not knowing when I took his hands in mine. Realizing this, I let it go.

Ajuru just stared at me for a good long second “Uloma, you are just a child.” He said.

“No! No I am fifteen years old you can marry me. My mother would be happy to be rid of me.” I said close to tears.

Ajuru smiled kindly at me and took hold of both my hands “Uloma…” he began.

“I thought you liked me. Don’t you like me Ajuru?” I asked.

Ajuru bowed his head before nodding.

“So, marry me, marry me… take me with you.” I pleaded.

“Uloma it does not work like that! I can not take you with me, I have to get there first, find my feet… meaning settle down, then, send for you, and that could take months, years even.” Ajuru said looking at me now, his eyes sad.

“How many months? How many years?” I queried.

“I don’t know.” Ajuru replied forlorn.

“Guess.” I said.

Ajuru stared at me, he let go of my left hand, as he stroked my face, he smiled.

“It may take two years at worst.” He said, pulling me closer to him.

“Can you wait two years for me? You are a beautiful girl you know, all this village men would want you, your parents may want to marry you off.” Ajuru said.

And I thought, he is right, two years is a long time, I would be seventeen, and my parents especially my mother would be worried and suspicious if I was always turning suitors away. But if Ajuru came back for me in two years, it would be worth it, my mother would not be so angry anymore in fact she would celebrate my choice and ‘wisdom’ at declining all those men, for this wonderful one that lives in England.

“Well?” Ajuru asked, bringing me back to earth.

“I would handle my parents, but in two years time come back for me.” I said suddenly feeling the urge to touch his face, but being too scared to.

“Two years is just a guess Uloma.” Ajuru reminded me.

“In two years Ajuru come back for me, settled or not, come back for me and make me your wife, and the rest would follow.” I replied touching his face now.

Ajuru smiled and kissed the back of my hand “I promise, I will come back for you and make you my wife.” He said and kissed the tip of my nose.

I could feel something was about to happen, the air in the room suddenly changed, we were both silent we just stood there inches apart staring at each other, and then we heard the horn of Father Patrick’s car.

“He is back!!” I squealed terrified.

“It is okay, we will go through my room at the back, there is a short cut to the road from there.

Ajuru took me by the hand and we made our way out of the house without being seen successfully.


So everyday after school for the next month was like this. We meet at the school compound, sometimes we go to the market, or the shoe repair man whatever errand Ajuru has for the day, we would go together and then return to Father Patrick’s house; although, after the first incident, we stayed at Ajuru’s side of the house which was small in comparison, but it had a kitchenette, a toilet and bathroom, and bedroom that had two plastic chairs up against the wall, and a mattress on the floor. Sometimes we would sit on the chair or lie next to each other on the bed talking about our future, we would day dream about where we would leave in England, the kind of money we would earn, how our children would start speaking ‘spree-spree’ like the White people. We would laugh out loud together as we talked about the future, I grew more in love with him, he had plans for his life, I never thought he was so ambitious; his ambition impressed and challenged me at the same time. Ajuru kissed me one day, just for half a second his lips touched mine, and it was his first as well as mine. We looked at each other awkwardly after that, I laughed first and he followed suit.

The first Friday of the new month came, I waited for Ajuru as usual, it was getting late it was past four in the evening. I was getting worried, and then I saw him, running towards me, waving a white envelope in his hand. I immediately knew what it was, and I began to jump up and down in excitement.

“My wife, this is it. Father Patrick just gave it to me!!” Ajuru said breathlessly.

He had begun calling me ‘my wife’ for the past three weeks; I liked the sound of it. Who wouldn’t?

“Let me see! Let me see!” I demanded giggling.

Ajuru nodded with trembling hands he opened the envelope and gave me the letter to read. I read the letter over twice, then embraced him and kissed him forgetting where I was.

Ajuru laughed as he pulled away looking around as though to ensure no one saw. Thankfully no one did.

“I am sorry. I am so excited my love.” I said smiling.

“I am too. I have to start packing my things together, I just have a week.” Ajuru said taking the letter from me.

“I will love to help you with your packing.” I said.

Ajuru nodded distractedly “I have to travel to see my parents to tell them.” He said more to himself than to me.

“Can I come, when are you thinking of going, make it a weekend.” I said excitedly as we began to walk towards Father Patrick’s house.

Ajuru looked at me “Uloma, you can’t come with me to see my parents.” He said gently.

“I can’t, why not? We are soon to be married right?” I queried.

“Only you and I know that because right now, I am still planning to be a priest. You know what that means right.” Ajuru said sounding peeved.

“Don’t use that tone with me. I am not stupid.” I said sulking now.

Ajuru looked out to be sure no one was around; he took hold of my hand and smiled at me.

“I am sorry. My wife forgive me, you know I would love for you to see my parents but not now, not when things are still like this.” He explained.

I smiled and nodded “I can’t wait for that day to come.” I said.