Meena’s Diary#7

Reflections

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“He is taking the first flight out of Dubai,” I informed Hauwau triumphantly.
She rolled her eyes. “It means nothing to me. Let Atiku focus on his wife and family.”
“Isn’t that what we all want from our husbands, the happily ever after, a romance that won’t end with the wedding but continue in the life of the marriage,” I thought out loudly.
“Sadly, we don’t. Romance dies once the wedding gets consummated,” replied Hauwau.

“But you have it all?” I challenged her.
“You think so, my dear? Is it because I show you what you want to see?  A perfect husband and marriage?” She laughed bitterly.”Meena, I have learnt to live with the pain, smile through the hurts and betrayal and be content in the success I get from my career and love from friends and family.”
“What are you trying to tell me?” I asked shocked at what I was hearing but refusing to let the reality sink in.
“I have said it in plain English. You are naïve to the truths and ways of life. In your naivety, you have shielded yourself from harsh reality, so you live in the past because the present is far from what you wish and you have no idea what the future holds.”
The alarm on my phone went off reminding me I had to go and pick the kids from school.
“Don’t move,” I will be right back I commanded. “This heart to heart talk must continue.”

Hauwau’s words kept playing in my head. To think that I felt she had it all together. There she was struggling and hurting on her own. My thoughts moved to my present relationship with JK. We were okay in a sense we neither argued nor had disagreements but no longer connected the way we used to.

He called me at the start of work, lunch and just before leaving the office. Every call ended with the perfunctory “I love you” we talked about our day in the narratives without depth to our feelings. Our sex left me yearning for more than just a physical connection of our bodies but our hearts.

Many times I recollected telling him I sensed I no longer had his heart but he would reassure me of his faithfulness. I am and would be the only woman in his life. The words were what they were, mere words which did not connect to my heart.
I argued with myself severally that I had nothing to worry about and we were in a phase that would pass away with time. How long that would take, I did not know. Sometimes I stare at JK and wonder if we have not become two strangers connected by the kids and the four walls of our apartment.

Hauwau’s words have jolted me into reality. My marriage might even be over, and here I was downplaying a fire that has started slowly, the smokes giving the signs but ignored by me. Would it take an inferno to wake me up to how far I was from the kind of marriage I wanted and wasn’t it possible to have it all – romance and happily ever afters?

Meena’s Diary#6

Survivor

The doctors rushed in as I got a glimpse of Sa’a gasping for breath while the hospital staff shooed us out.An eerie feeling filled the air, I shivered with goose pimples, negotiating with the creator to spare her life. My thoughts went to her little twin girls. Who would take care of them if anything happened to her?

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I was pacing the length and breadth of the reception, too apprehensive to sit down.
” Meena,” Hawau called out to me.
“You should sit down. Let’s hope for the best.”

She looked more scared and subdued than she thought she was letting on but this was not the time or place to hassle her.

“Do you think she’ll make it?”
“I hope she does. If for anything for her girls
“Do you think Atiku would marry this new girl?”

“You might need to ask him that question Meena. I am not him, and for the life of me, I don’t know what he is thinking.”
I closed my eyes as the pain washed over me. I tried to imagine JK marrying someone else or maybe having an affair, and the mere thought was enough to kill me.I shook my head willing the idea out of my head.
“What would you have done if you were Sa’a?” asked Hauwau
“I don’t know. The thought just crossed my mind, and I don’t wish it upon my enemy. It will kill me. Sa’a might not have a choice since her culture allows it. Although we thought with Atiku being an educated man, it will be different, but with JK, polygamy is not an option.
“If polygamy is not an option. You are aware they could have affairs and mistresses outside ko bahaka ba?” said Hauwau emphasising her point in the Hausa language.
“JK would never do that. He loves me and the kids so much to toe that line.”
Hauwau laughed. “Oh my naïve friend. I am with you in your paradise of foolishness.”
I was on the verge of replying when the team of doctors and nurses who were with Sa’a came out.

We rushed out to them with hope in our eyes. The lead Doctor smiled at us and reassuring us “She pulled through but is resting now. She will be all right.”
We both heaved a sigh of relief.
“I have to go and pick the kids from school and would be back. I would spend the night with her. Shouldn’t we call Atiku?”I asked again.
“He should be here with his wife and not on some rendezvous with a God forsaken girl who sees no wrong in going after someone’s husband.”
“You have been itching to call him. Call him,” hissed Hauwau. She has been in a foul mood all day, and I was yet to get around asking her what the problem was.
I pulled my phone and dialled his number which he picked on the first ring.
“Hajia Meena, ya kike?” He greeted me over the phone.
“Kalau  Atiku but there is a problem. We almost lost Sa’a today. Thank God she is out of danger,” And I started crying over the phone.
“When was this?” He asked, and I could hear the trepidation in his voice.
“This morning.”
“Why did you not call me?”
I had to lie to answer the question. “I was called in by Hauwau. Everything was happening so fast that I was so confused not until the doctor just assured us she was going to be alright, did it occur to me to call you. At least the latter part was true. Where are you I ventured to asked?” feigning ignorance
“I am in Dubai, but I will be taking the next available flight back home. “What hospital is she in?”
“Gurara Hospital.”
I whooped for joy. The situation was not that bad. He still cared for Sa’a.

Meena’s Diary#4

wordle-girlstoys” Fire on the Mountain!” came Hauwau’s voice over my mobile phone.
“Meet me at Gurara Hospital,” she said with an urgency that was uncommon to her.

Hauwau has been my childhood friend, and she was one of the most laid back people I had ever come across.  Anything did not move her, and she moved nothing. She had it all together in her life and yes! I confess I was jealous. I was never tired of telling her. It was like she had the universe eating from her hand. Whatever she desired she got it cheaply and without stress.

“Is everything alright?” I asked already panicking.

” I can’t talk over the phone. Please show up quickly and leave all that your made up to perfection face at home too,” she hissed. She knew I would never leave the house without looking my best.
Whatever the problem was, it must be big. I was certain of that.

In addition to her life being on a platter of gold, Hauwau was also the worst of people to get a message across in crisis. She was either giving you her thoughts or the consequences of the issue but never the real problem at hand until you got to her.

So this is how I started my fifteen days vacation. It was not a holiday to go on any trip, but to get my home and heart in order. My life had become a roller coaster on speed off  600km per hour similar to Japan’s Maglev train without applying any break. Turning sharp bends and corners that I felt I had lost control. I did not know what day it was anymore. I was consistently missing out all the children’s school functions. Following up on their work has been so tedious that I am only able to check their home works and leave the rest to the lesson teacher.

I dropped the kids at school this morning while I attacked cleaning the house like it was the battlefield of Normandy.
It was in this state that Hauwau called me.  I slipped into a skinny black jeans, sky blue sequined kaftan and a navy blue veil around my shoulders, picked my Ferragamo bag and wore my sequinned slippers that matched the kaftan top.

A quick touch of lip gloss on my mouth, pursing my lips before the mirror as I applied it. Spraying a good deal of my Jimmy Choo illicit flower perfume while using my hands to comb out my human hair. I was contemplating working on my foundation when my phone rang again. It was Hauwau.

I dashed out of the house calling on Hannah, the house help to finish up the cleaning.

Meena’s Diary

Emotions vs Logic

Another hectic week of work but I am not complaining. It’s a lovely Friday night I have been looking forward to resting my feet and get lost in a good make believe romantic movie just that real life is a lot different from the movies.

So my weekend is suddenly turned to Nollywood and not the Hollywood I wanted.wordle-girlstoys
There is a knock at the door with a rhythm to alert you that all is not well. The urgency with each “rap rap rap” gets me racing inside to retrieve a wrapper to cover my scantily dressed self.
I rushed to the door, amazed to see my Nanny – Madam Rose as we fondly called her.
She burst into the house as soon as I opened the door wailing “My daughter is dead!”
“Your daughter is dead?” I asked numbed with shock. My thought process is freezing.
“Hey! She exclaimed holding her breasts and swaying her head from side to side in anguish.
We held ourselves and started wailing. I was crying for the loss of the child as if it were mine.
I did not ask why she came all the way to my house or where the child was.
We were just simply us, women.

Hubby steps into the living room alerted by our cries.
“What happened to her?” he asks me searching my eyes but not coming to take me into his arms.
“Her daughter died,” I responded still in tears.
He faces Madam Rose and calmly asked her “where is your daughter?”
“She is in my Pastors house.”
“Is she dead?” he asked so composed that I am wondering if is this hubby is okay.
The woman has said her child is dead and you are still asking questions. I wondered to myself.
“Can I talk to your Pastor?” He asks as she rattles the pastor’s number to him.
He dials the phone while we hold our tears, sniffing at intervals while wiping our tears with the back of our hands.
Was he calling to confirm the death of the child and did not believe the mother that came all the way from her place to ours to inform us that the daughter she sent to school this morning was no longer alive?

“My name is JK and Madam Rose works for me. We would like to know the situation of her daughter.
From the conversation, we found out that the child was not dead but slumped. Madam Rose rushed the girl to her Pastors house, left the child there and took a bus all the way to our house.

Hubby was on the phone with the Pastor who had already taken the child to the hospital. The hospital had refused treatment until the payment of deposit. We resolved the issue with speaking to the Doctor and getting his name to be sure he was genuine, money changing hands and Madam Rose going to the hospital.

I can laugh now at Madam Rose and me, how we let loose our emotions, but I also celebrate the good men we have in our lives who step into situations, take charge and solve the issues.

I can analyse and wonder if it was not a case of being swindled? The supposed Doctor and Pastor we spoke to could have been a ploy, another school of thought.

However, with so many sides to a coin, doing good might seem an act of foolishness in the environment we are, but it does not rule out the fact that there are genuine people who need help and an angel in human form.

Meena’s Diary

Half of my Kingdom

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I have been invited to a women’s forum Christian program. Not sure if I wanted to go. We, women, are lovely creatures and fun beings but too many of us together can be disastrous. Hence my hesitation. However, when I met the convener of the program at church this morning, I was too ashamed not to give my usual reply, not this Sunday as I had done for a whole year.

I convinced hubby that I had no choice to go than to support my fellow sister. Searched my wardrobe for a dress that will bring Lagos to standstill – remember o! I was going to an all women program, but truthfully I think we women are the ones that look and size each other up.

My headgear rivalled Madam Kofo in Second chance, a sitcom of the 80’s. Make up in place. The scent of J’ardore, evoking a unique and harmonious floral fragrance.

“Babe, are you sure it’s a woman’s program? Because I think this is pure harassment,” teased hubby.
“na you sabi, No one is looking at me. I am looking at myself,” I retorted.
I grabbed my car keys before hubby decides his agenda for me.
On second thought I ask, “Sweetheart can I use your car?”
“Anything you want to the half of my kingdom,” replied my gallant knight in shining armour.

Now his kingdom is our lovely house and kids and some Naira in the bank account that belongs to all who need it.
I take his keys and mine so my car which was behind could be moved which should have been the cue only to go with mine rather than face the hassle of driving cars

I drove out in his Honda Accord 2011. Nothing is wrong with my car. But mine is Honda 2007 a brand new car when I was given still in good condition. But longer throat no gree me.
So I put in the ignition, place the gear in reverse, and drive off till I heard “gboa!”

Ye! All my shakara flew out of the window.
I have entered one chance today.
Shaking all over because half of my kingdom does not entail his car o!
I rush back to the house.
“Sweetheart” all forgotten.

“JK – I am in trouble!”
He is staring at me like I am from another planet.
Of course, he has no idea what has happened to his real babe.

“Your car, your car,” my vocabulary reduce to that of a toddler while my queens English took the backseat.
“What about my car?” he asked too casually. If only he knew.
The guy was not making it easy for me and my women’s weapon for ready tears today had taken a trip to China.

“I bashed it. I am sorry,” all coming out so fast coupled with the speed at which my 5 feet 6 inches frame got to the ground in the traditional way.
Something I have never done since our traditional engagement ceremony over a decade ago.
Unfortunately, hubby remained unperturbed.
He rushed out to see his baby and a torrent flow of the “what, why, where, how, and when questions started.
As hubby was not slowing down and none of my actions was working
I went to our room and changed.
I was upset with myself and hubby for not easily forgiving me.

“What is in a car? Am I not worth more than a car?”
I am puffing and talking using the last weapon I have – my mouth
“Haba car na car o! No be living thing,” I exclaimed.