To be a side chic

Couple walking together

How does the story end? What choices will Tomi make? This is your chance to predict the end of To be a Side Chic before it is published. The person that gives the most accurate prediction will receive a complimentary copy of my next short story before it is posted here!! Cheers!!! 🙂

It was supposed to be a very simple trip; take a taxi to the airport, get a ticket, get on the plane, arrive at Lagos in one hour and call her brother once they alight from the plane. Little did she know that things would not be that simple. The day started out quite normally for Tomi. She had packed her bags the previous day, woken up early and arrived at the airport around 6am. Her flight was scheduled for 8 but she wanted to be at the airport on time to avoid the embarrassment she had endured the last time. She was in high spirits. She had been planning to visit her only brother and his wife in Lagos for months but one thing or the other always came up and spoilt her plans.

First, the flight did not take off at 8am. The operator announced in a bored voice that there would be a slight delay and that passengers should please be patient. Tomi was patient….well, up until 11am when the voice announced yet again that the problem would soon be rectified. It wasn’t until 2pm that they heard the final apology and were asked to board. By then she was already tired, hungry and grumpy. She had barely eaten two slices of bread that morning just so that she could make it to the airport on time. Other angry passengers were complaining about the delay while she was just happy it was finally over.

Everything else was quite normal after that until they got to Lagos. They arrived Lagos in one hour and she went to pick her box from the baggage claim area. She had to stand there for a few minutes. It was quite rowdy and the boxes were just thrown haphazardly on the luggage belts. There was no use complaining, she simply picked up her box and headed to the gate. The box seemed heavier than normal so she stopped to adjust it. That was when she noticed that the name on its tag wasn’t hers. Alarmed, she quickly rushed back to find hers and drop the box where she got it. She couldn’t seem to find any other box like hers there and she was beginning to worry when someone tapped her. “Excuse me, you seem to have taken my box.” Tomi turned to see a guy with the most dreamy eyes she had ever seen. He seemed a bit surprised too, as though she was different from what he had expected when he saw her from behind. She laughed nervously and handed the box over to him. “I’m sorry, I thought it was mine,” Tomi said.

He laughed nervously too, “Thank God we realized it before we left the airport.” They walked out together and he even offered to help her with her own box. Tomi was impressed. It wasn’t every day that one came across a guy that acted like a complete gentleman.

Tomi stole glances at the guy walking beside her. Although he was of average height, he was well built and had a pleasant face. He had a nice gait and looked like someone who was used to being in charge. He seemed like an interesting person and Tomi who was enjoying the wisps of his nice perfume was not ashamed to admit to herself that she hoped he would ask her out….

To be continued….


NB: Watch out for the concluding part of To be a Side Chic… ‘You don’t rush a delicious meal!’ 🙂

Should I leave it in the Closet?

© Copyright 2012 CorbisCorporation

This is for the ladies who carry so much emotional baggage around, hoping to make a new relationship work, wondering if you should reveal the skeletons in your cupboard or if you should just let them be. If you’ve never had emotional issues in the past then you may not be able to relate with this but if you’re one of those who have had so much to cry about in the past, who have been on the brink of suicide or have experienced untold hurts and pain from people you placed so much hopes on then you may feel at home reading this. I hope you find inspiration to make your next relationship work.

From childhood, Jane always felt there was nothing special about her. She wasn’t a bright kid, she had poor grades, couldn’t grasp simple arithmetics and didn’t feel good enough for anything. She wasn’t the kind of child anyone would see and smile at. She was simply plain Jane. To worsen matters, she had taken a liking to stealing. She would pilfer erasers, sharpeners, ribbons and pens in class. Somehow, she never got caught. She hated school but going home wasn’t something to look forward to either. Her mom would beat her for not getting an answer right in her homework or for some other reason such that she was miserable most of the time.

Then, Erastus, her dad’s second cousin came to live with them. He was a second year University student. He would slap her butt playfully when no one was looking and when she told him to stop he would tell her he was only playing with her. One day, he caught her stealing money from her mother’s purse. That was the day everything changed for Jane. He threatened to tell her mom if she refused to do whatever he wanted. She was so afraid that she gave in. She was only twelve when the abuse started.

Jane grew up feeling so worthless. She hated mirrors because everytime she saw her image in the mirror, she was reminded of how worthless she was. Her low self esteem degenerated into self pity, resentment and anger. Sometimes she would just stare into thin air for minutes. She felt she had nothing to lose anymore and started sleeping around at a very young age. Somehow she finished school, became a strong Christian and carried on with her life. None of her relationships ever lasted long. She couldn’t understand why they were so quick to dump her after hearing the sad story of her life after all she was doing whatever they wanted. Why couldn’t they love her and forgive her past? It wasn’t her fault she was abused, was it?

For years, Jane struggled with her pain and rejection. She finally met this man that seemed to be her dream come true. After a couple of dates, he told her he loved her. She was so relieved to hear him say that. It wasn’t long before she started to tell him the story of her life. What she saw in his eyes was not pity or empathy, rather he looked repulsed. He stiffened and loosened his embrace. He had to pick up his mom from church, he said and zoomed off rather quickly.

Within the next few weeks, Jane barely heard from him and cried her heart out for days. I tried to console her and pull her out of her depression as much as I could. Now it’s not normally my style to be blunt but… I told her that she has to be healed from her past hurts first before starting any relationship. My take on this is that it is not necessary to start broadcasting your issues to your date at the early stage of your relationship except if it is something that is still ongoing or likely to come up in the future. Besides why are you still carrying such a heavy burden around? Why heap it on someone else and expect him to carry it for you? Ask God’s forgiveness, forgive yourself and move on and if there is still any burden to be carried then hand it over to him. He promises to bear your burdens for you. You cannot keep dwelling in your past. It is true that something bad happened to you but your past does not define your present. If you doubt it, ask the great men and women who had terrible pasts too. Read Paula White’s or Donnie McClurkin’s story and you will understand. Let what happened in the past stay in the past. Time heals all wounds, they say and it is true. The wounds may heal and leave a scar. Just as the warrior proudly displays his scars, let that scar be a reminder that you are a  survivor. As much as you can, be an encouragement to someone else in your shoes.

If you want to make your relationship work then please leave that baggage in the closet and enter your new relationship free and positive. Love yourself and live in your present. If your views are different from mine then please I’d love to hear them. Just leave your comments in the comment box. Cheers!


Quarter Past One

quarter past one

Do you know the meaning of the slang, ‘quarter past one?’ Before you read this post, first you must note that this is not an adaptation of any Nollywood movie but someone’s real experience. Real names are withheld for the privacy of the characters.

Hannah was in no way prepared for the sight that greeted her eyes when she got home one evening after a long day at work. A lady was sitting on Hannah’s sofa, watching TV. As soon as Hannah opened the door the lady got up and said, ‘hi honey,’ before she realised that her company was not who she was expecting. This made Hannah uneasy? Something just wasn’t right.

‘How can I help you?’ The lady asked Hannah who was now confused.

Hannah’s first impulse was to look around her, at the door and at the keys in her hand, wondering if her keys had opened the wrong apartment door. She ignored the nagging unease she felt and asked, ‘are you Frank’s cousin?’

The woman laughed and said, ‘it’s funny but I was about to ask you the same thing.’ She had an accent that Hannah could not quite put her finger on its origin.

Hannah blinked hard. The woman was obviously in the early stages of madness. Very slowly Hannah said to her, ‘my name is Hannah and this is my house. I live here with my husband, Frank. May I know who you are?’

The smile slowly disappeared from the woman’s face and she sat down on the same sofa she had been lying down on. ‘I’m Lola and Frank is my husband. There must be a mistake somewhere.’

Hannah also sat on the nearest sofa. Though tempted to believe that someone was playing a cruel joke on her, the look on the woman’s face was enough to tell her it was no joke. She laughed anyway. ‘You’re joking, right? Frank and I got married in church here in Lagos two years ago and we have been together since then.

‘Well, Frank and I also wedded in a church in Dallas, Texas in February two years ago and I have a daughter, Cathy to show for it,’ Lola said.

‘What?’ Hannah laughed nervously. ‘This must be a joke right? My daughter’s name is Catherine.’ But deep down inside, Hannah knew it was no joke. The month her husband spent in the United States with only a few calls to his newly wedded wife and excuses of being too busy at the training his company had sent him to the US for, was beginning to make sense to her.

‘Frank and I had dated for a while when he came for his company’s project in the US and we planned to get married but he stopped calling me for some months and I was devastated. He had always told me that his mother wanted him to marry a Nigerian and since I’m from Kenya, I thought he had left for good but then he came back and told me he loved me and wanted to marry me. We got married in my church and he came back to Nigeria. Since then we’ve seen each other a number of times. I didn’t hear from Frank for a couple of months and I was worried. His phone’s been switched off. I was able to trace his address through a friend at the embassy and I thought I would surprise him. Little did I know that I was the one in for a surprise. I saw the keys under the flower pot in front of the front door. Frank and I always keep a spare key in the same place in our house at Dallas. Are you telling me that Frank was already married to you and he still came to marry me? Why would he do such a thing? He doesn’t even need a Green card. He’s a citizen!

Both Hannah and Lola stared at each other in silent rage. Each was lost in her own thoughts, wishing she could wake up from the nightmare.

Hannah’s sister chose that moment to come upstairs with Catherine, Hannah’s daughter. Hannah forced a smile at her daughter while seething inwardly, regretting the day she met Frank. Just a couple of years earlier, she had been a single lady with only thoughts of getting married. Therefore, when her aunt referred Frank, a comfortable man working with an oil firm in Lagos to her, it was like a dream come true for Hannah. All she could think about now, was the shame and ridicule she would face if the story got out and the pain of Frank’s betrayal. In that moment, Hannah hated Frank more than anything in the world. She thought about packing her belongings and returning to her father’s house immediately but almost wept at the thought of becoming a quarter past one, after leaving singlehood for two years. Being single was difficult enough but being quarter past one…Hannah couldn’t think of any sentence worse than that.

What would you do if you were in Hannah’s shoes?