I unknowingly search for your face in the crowd
My heart longs for a glimpse of you
You're the one I don't know
Yet you're the one on my mind
Our meeting was misplaced
A chance encounter that almost never happened
You made me blush to my roots
It wasn't just your words
It wasn't just your eyes
It was you
All of you, telling me the same thing
"You're beautiful"
I looked away
I couldn't bear the intensity of your gaze
You were beautiful too
Your brows
Your hair
Your proud nose
The curve of your lips into a smile
Drawing me to you.
I wonder about you
This boy on my mind
Who are you?
Where are you?
I wonder what we could have been
Probably more than friends
But I might never know
You didn't get down from the cab.
Before you overthink it, "yams" is a slang. It means issues. I created it by mixing basic english principles with a yoruba word. Now that that's done, let's move to this very unimportant topic. On Monday. a guy actually had the effrontery to walk up to me in broad daylight and touch my butt. I know, right? I standing in front of a counter in a restaurant, waiting for a friend and drinking water when it happened. I was shocked but I had to swallow the water in my mouth before I reacted. I gave him a proper bath with the bottle of water my friend paid for. It pained me o. PAUSE. I know exactly what you're thinking but stopeet! Overreact? A mistake?? Puhleeeze! The brother knew what he was doing, He told me about the 'fineness' of my butt. Twice!" PLAY.
Unfortunately for me, my bathing skills were too advanced and a lot of water splashed on a very innocent bystander. At the end, I couldn't even be angry in peace. The innocent guy was angry as well and I just had to plead and beg. Sigh. Stories that touch. My molester was obviously high as his eyes were red and blank. Long story cut short, my molester got away with his hand-wandering ways. Him and almost every female-molester in Nigeria. His actions might seem trivial to the ordinary man but I came out of that restaurant shaking. And all I did to attract him was wear a skirt and stand. My skirt was just above my knees and not clingy in any way but even if it was, so what. After seething in anger for a minute or two I walked out of that restaurant knowing I could do nothing about the whole thing. He was physically stronger and I'd probably have typed this with a black eye, a swollen cheek or broken nose if I had done anything more. It probably wouldn't be funny right now. I saw him about a week after the incident. From afar. Thank you very much. And then I got the opportunity to get a closer look at him later on and I know that he didn't recognize me.
I don't feel weird when I remember the incident or when I see him around school. One day, I might actually say hi and invite him to fellowship
This was first written on the 25th of February, 2017
I don't feel weird when I remember the incident or when I see him around school. One day, I might actually say hi and invite him to fellowship
This was first written on the 25th of February, 2017
My eyes fly open. I sit up. I'm in bed in my four man room. It's in a female hostel in my school. As I get aware of my surroundings, I realize my sleep was disturbed by something.
"Wake up! They said everyone should leave the hostels today!! There are policemen everywhere and they are going to use tear gas on students!! I got this from a reliable source!" My mind started racing. Hearts do that too, I think. I hear her but I don't really believe her or I just really want to sleep. I wait for the light to go off.
I wake up almost two hours later, it's around 7am. There is tension in air. Something is about to happen. Someone bursts into my room. "You guys are not ready?? I'm going o!"
It's the girl from earlier. I feel like a car that has just been started although not with a key, with anxiety and a little bit of fear. My body comes alive and I spring up and move swiftly out of the room and down the corridors. I enter the room on my mind. One of the targets of my informational onslaught is asleep, the other is no where to be found. She's downstairs, her bucket on a queue, waiting to be filled with water. I pass the information and hurry to my room to pack.
Clothes, books, sandals, power bank, charger... I stuff what I can into my bag.
Brush. Bath.
Clothes. Dress up.
Hairbrush.
Food.
Go down.
It's past 9am. The fear of the unknown permeates the air. People, girls have run back and forth, in and out of the hostels. Apparently, we've been asked to leave the hostels and the university by the School Management but the Student Union Government doesn't want us to. The SUG has stated it's grievances against the SM but no one comes out to address us. The power supply is epileptic, we struggle for water everyday.. our major complaints among others. It's a tug of war. We are like refugees and we are not. Bags and boxes of all shapes and sizes; students sitting on the pavement at the side of the road and then restaurants making money out of us. People are scared. Of the police patrolling the length and breadth of the university; Of the threat of tear gas and bullets; Of the SUG supporters wielding canes and brandishing sticks. A number of students were actually flogged. I heard and almost saw. We watch some students March around under the glare of the artistic sun. I wonder how much SPF their sunscreen has and where they get their energy from.
"Open the gates!" A chant in our hearts. We long for safety, security. We long for home. I don't really want to protest although I understand why I should. I just want to go home.
It's 3pm. Several hours have passed.. I'm on my way home. I feel several shades darker. The sun has perfected it's art. My bag weighs heavy on my shoulder. I'm about to enter one of the two buses that will get me home. It feels great to be free. I smile at my friends and we begin a new journey..
-Dee M
