I’ll take it back

Sometimes we are stuck in that valley; dead center in the midst of towering mountains, lost, cold and devoid of inspiration. Every man has this moment of tribulation where it seems like his peril is just a step away.
I know I’m pretty much exaggerating my situation but yes, I was stuck and devoid of inspiration.

Until someone agreed to share her write ups with me and like a light bulb, a pretty slow one.. Still took me a while before I picked up my pen but she did inspire me even though I never quite appreciated her for it.

So miss Mimi Oriame, thank you for your indirect surge of inspiration.
Do have a Happy Birthday and I pray you have a super-awesome day inspiring tons of people like you did me. To think it all started with me meeting you cos I was hyper as a result of my injections. Lol. 🙂

Congrats again and Have a wonderful day..!

P.s.. I know I suck at poetry but thats the only genre I’ve been able to write anything on for now. I won’t say I dedicate it to you but you sure helped me in picking my pen again. Thanks.

—–

I get blinded by very little
I could boast of that
But so much has changed of late
The tingling has ceased
The sparks that littered the air non-existent
Her smiles don’t keep me in awe anymore
And slowly, a monster beckons in me
Threatening to engulf what makes me
What’s left of me

* * *

Things were awesome yesterday
Now life runs in a cycle of grey
As the colors fade out of my view
Leaving me to this mist of nothingness
The gust strikes my heart time and time again
Yet, I feel no chill
But emptiness
A void of blankness
I miss what makes me
I miss the warmth that accompanies her stares
The glee in her eyes when they look into mine
The shivers in my legs when I feel her touch

* * *

I fear I’m broken
Loneliness continues to bite at my insides
Tearing me up bit by bit
And I cannot but hope for a remedy
A miracle
Magic
Anything
Else I’ll reside in this abyss that is loneliness
Devoid of colors and stars
Missing her warming touch and tender kisses
The world I’ve grown to love
I miss it all.
I want it all back.

Mike Dammy

I’m still a learner shey?

A little too late

Their lips parted as they released themselves from the embrace and returned to their sides on the queen size bed. Another romantic episode and though there hadn’t been any sex as it was the norm, he was still satisfied and she – well, she seemed fine with it.
They kept quiet in the eerie room and listened to their slightly laborious breathing whilst staring at the POP ceiling. It couldn’t get better than this he thought.

“Daniel…” Her voice shattered the silence that once purified the room.

“Yeah?” He replied mid-breath.

“Is it all about this?”

“All about what?” He hoped their reduced voice tones would hide the feigned ignorance in his question.

“Is this all we are – sex idols?”

“No, no… of course not Meg. We are definitely not sex idols. Though we have pretty awesome sex-like activities.” He chuckled and started to laugh but stopped when she remained quiet.
Troubled, he got off his back and balanced himself on an elbow. His eyes found hers easily in the darkness; a thick bright halo bordered by blackness on both sides.

“Meg, I’m serious.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled when she didn’t withdraw it.

“I love you, I really do…” He heard the panic in his voice and hoped it was nothing.

“Okay.” She said finally and pecked him full on the lips. He smiled again and fell back on his back.

Yes, he loved her — Yes, he did. Why then he was desperately trying to convince himself?

“Goodnight darling.” Her voice halted his chain of thoughts. He watched her curl into her usual sleeping position and turned his back to her.

“Goodnight love”

—–*——

The occurrences from that fateful night flashed before his eyes again and he shook it off his mind and kept his gaze on her as she stood up and headed for the rear of the classroom. He wondered if she remembered that night and had dreams about it like he did. If she thought he was a lying bastard after he broke her heart of if she had that idea all along.

He kept her in his view and watched her cut a row and head straight for him. ‘The real Bae’ like his friends would taunt him and say.

‘The real Bae’ smiled at her and pulled her close to himself. She obliged the affection by wrapping her hands around his neck and kissing him. Full on the lips. Exactly like she did his.

His heart broke. Again.

And then he had his answer,.

Yes, he loved her. And No, she wasn’t just a sex idol. Problem is, it was a little too late.

—–*——

Never take someone that loves you for granted…

Mike Dammy
@damstylee
52FD27D5

A New Dawn Beckons

Gone are the days of being misrepresented. Gone are the moments of laxly traumas and countless overnights in a bid to achieve… vanity.

The character peered up from the words that form his very own existence, eyes fastened on the one that handles the pen; the very device that births him. Yes, Mike Dammy lives as Mike Dammy writes. The latter continues scribbling in the striped journal oblivious of the curiosity in his character’s face. Or perhaps he ignores it. 2014 has been a blessing and a curse. The character wonders which his creator would embrace.

Disclaimer: Henceforth, I’ll be addressing the character as ‘Dammy’ or ‘the character’ and the writer which is Dammy himself as ‘the writer’.

It all started with a single tweet;

Getting married this year… House Warming this year… Acura ZDX this year…

Maybe it was faith; perhaps hope but Dammy remembered not what fueled the inspiration behind the statement. His church, CAC, Mende, Maryland disappeared as they went around a bend; the sanctuary where he breath his first breath of the year and congratulated close by ‘neighbors’ like his pastor would say. The time was 01:05 and the date read January 1st, 2014. The New Year had just arrived.

Slowly, but surely, they meandered through the pot holes and traffic along Ikorodu road down to their humble abode in Ikorodu. His brother still tapping on his Blackberry Torch 1 yawned for the umpteenth time and his mum squinted further as she fought to see the road markings in the misty fog that had enveloped Lagos. This is my year, Dammy said to himself. Fast forward twelve months and the writer wonders if it indeed is his year.

The year zoomed off pretty much after its opening act and only slowed down to permit Dammy end things with M in the month of love. Ironic. The writer focuses as he tries to see into the mind of his character and ascertain the reason for that single act. Was it fate or has there been a situation of poor decision making, he couldn’t tell. Dammy’s face remained stern, a book devoid of words or pictures.

March arrived and the phrase YOLO became more apparent in his doings.

Come on, just a little…

Come on, pop it a little…

Come on, sip it a little…

Come on, rock it a little…

Deceit spoke with the voices of men and a broken Dammy heeded its call. They say the heart of man is wicked and Dammy’s held firm as he broke all borders in two weeks. Forever a black hole in his heart; those two weeks in March. ‘Dammy two weeks’ sounded like a suitable nickname.
But Heaven intervened and Jesus came calling as usual. Salvation beckoned and this time, the nickname dissolved into non-entity. The past roared its fangs like a cobra in an exhibition fish tank but that was all it was; an exhibition. Only to be remembered or forgotten, asides that, the past was useless. Hence, Dammy’s giant steps into the future and boy oh boy, April was one blessed future — the emergence of C… The year was just getting started.

It comes to mind what or who Marc Anthony was thinking about when he penned down his hit song and popular Dettol advert theme song as many know it; I need you. You see, Dammy was a crush-magnet. His admiration for beautiful members of the opposite sex knew no bounds and if Marc felt a quarter of what Dammy felt with C, he was indeed happy for C was an Angel. Her semi-circle smile initiated sparks in his head and her voice always dealt a massive blow to the walls he tried to build but alas all of it was all gone in a flash. Her smile was as much as he got and an electrifying half hour where all but the sunset paused in romantic coalition as much as he managed. The beautiful damsel floated back to Port Harcourt to her true love and Dammy succumbed to depression valley.

True to his ability to fall in and out of crushes, he was quick to meet another… and another… but the smile of C lingered in his mind and all came to null until he met Her.
Now, ‘Her’ brings to mind a beautiful, intelligent lady and yes she was and still is but love was too complicated and Dammy had learnt that firsthand. His walls steadied themselves and anticipated another massive hit. This was early august where the days grew longer and nights invariably shorter.

* * * *

The crunchy escapades of Dammy, his alliance with wisdom and death wish as he plugged away hours upon hours of his life in a bid to create a perfect rendition of a ‘Convention Centre’ like his master’s degree project entailed cannot all be described here as months and months on end would be required of the Writer to create a befitting memoir of a life that is Dammy’s. Life is too short for that hence his quickening steps towards creating a suitable prelude.

* * * *

The character sat still in the settee. His eyes fastened on the eyes of the reader trying to understand what they think of him. Hero perhaps? Probably not. Prude or Inconsequential bastard seems more like it.
But really, he cared not what they thought. As the year grinds to a halt, he is grateful for what he has. He approaches the New Year as a war-hero albeit timid. He has proven himself not to be perfect but to be true and deserving of a tender smile and a good laugh.

Getting married this year… House Warming this year… Acura ZDX this year…

It all seems like a dream now. 

Dammy stood up and walked towards the window. He parted the blinds with one hand and watched as the earth fades in the distance in an almost spherical manner. The trees whistled gently the songs of the wind and homecoming birds adorned the sunset like paint on a canvas. His mind is steady and set because in two days, he departs for 2015 a man loved and a man in love. This was just the beginning; A new Dawn Beckons

The end.

* * * *

2014 was a glorious year in all ramifications. Like the literal art above described it, it had its ups, its downs, upside downs and many more that I cant possibly classify.
At some point, it hurt real bad, some other times my heart felt so light from joy that I feared it would burst. Still, I stand a better person than I was last year, an upgrade on the entity that is me.

One glaring aspect was my utmost dedication to work and school, inversely resulting in my haphazard and alarming blogging methods. I stand here ashamed at the numerous atrocities I committed all year long; ranging from incomplete series to disappearances for months on end.

Do I have an excuse for all of these? No, I choose not to.

A reason, perhaps? School

I can’t say I’m proud of my antics or how all these has turned out but if i had to go over everything again, it will probably run the same way. Such is the manner in which I prioritized my activities.
That hasn’t stopped me from having a wonderful and creative year however. I am not the best blogger around ( Definitely!), I’l leave that to the men; Sirs Walt Shakes, Newnaija, Topazo and Seun Odukoya and co, neither am I the best fiction, motivational or comedy writer around.. Lol… Even a new born baby knows that… One thing I do know is that I have some of the best readers and definitely the best writing colleagues and associates around and I’ll deeply grateful for that.

2015 arrives in but some days and we will soon be ushered into a new year and realm of possibilities amidst cheers and dancing. I can’t promise I will be more consistent but I can promise I will try my best.

I forever remain Mike Dammy and I gloriously march into the new year a man loved and a man in love.
Compliments of the season blessed people and a Happy New Year in advance!

* * * *

As is my tradition, I always post pictures of my studio work after each semester… Last semester was super hectic… Super super hectic! The results were endearing though and I dare say, Worth it… Its was a ‘Convention Center’ design incorporating a monumental tower ( yh, that Eiffel tower look-alike structure), an office tower, a residential tower, pavilion and many many things that probably won’t interest you.

Anyways, the pictures are below… I hope you like them! 😀

p.s…. Don’t ever let your child study Architecture… Its a trap!…Seriously 😐

image

Overview of the entire site

image

Residential Tower in the Foreground and the Mixed use complex and Monumental tower in the background.

Solomon Grundy: Wednesday 1

Solomon yawned lazily and rolled on the king sized bed. The couple in the degas above him starred undauntedly into the distance as he fought the urge to get up from the bed. The alarm clock on the bedside table rang a second time after the snooze period had elapsed and he sighed; accepting defeat. He kept out of the bed and stretched, stifling a yawn as he did. Outside, the sun was now where to be found and the world was still just waking at some minutes past six. This was his routine every day. He breathed and lived it.

Solomon sauntered towards the nine-foot tall mirror and examined his reflection. He ran a quick diagnosis of himself like he had seen his boss do.

Heavy eye bags;
not enough sleep.

Dampened complexion; result of returning home late every day from the hospital

And some wrinkles on his forehead; no lady influence. He hoped.

He had to remedy that. Now.

He plucked his phone from the bedside table, opened the call log and scrolled down to ‘Head Doctor Suleiman’. He proceeded to click the dial button but was interrupted as the alarm clock rung again.

“Shit.” He cursed and hurriedly stopped the clock from emitting its silence-shattering wake up call. He looked at his phone in disbelief and shook his head. Calling his boss who was probably nestled in a cuddle with his retired wife at six would have resulted in deep scolding. Not from his boss alone but from his wife too, who he was affiliated with. A query might even accompany the scolding not minding whether he was the hospital’s most promising prospect or not.

He returned the phone to its previous position and shuddered as someone knocked on the bedroom door. Florence. He had forgotten about that part of the routine.

“Mr. Grundy Junior Sir.” Her warm voice coursed into the room from the corridor preceding it.

“Yes mummy.” He answered wearily. He heard her chuckle and smiled.

Florence had been the main figure in his life as he grew over the years. Employed some weeks after his christening, he had watched her bath and cater for him every morning and evening till he was four and able to bath himself. Even then, she didn’t stop taking care of him. Coiled with his father’s official assignments in Britain and his mother’s insistence in accompanying him, Florence had been the principal guardian in his life. Hence, they weren’t any surprised persons when his first words were “mummy…mummy” and they were directed at her. The same words he just called her some moments ago.

“You know you don’t have to call me that Sir.” She paused and Solomon waited for the next question she would ask. The same one he had heard every morning for the past two and a half years since he got employed at the hospital.

“Do I get Wale to get the car ready sir?”

“No dear, I’m not going to work today.”

“Why, if I may ask Sir?”

“I need some rest… and a woman.” He added after another thought.

“Of course you do- Sir.”

He wondered if she took offence at his sudden suggestion of requiring another woman in his life asides him. He walked to the door and opened it. Her petite frame stood just outside the archway. He noticed her dark skin had gotten fairer over the years due to hours on hours spent indoors. Time spent catering for him, like his parents should have. He gritted his teeth and she frowned.

“What’s wrong sir?”

“Nothing Florence.”

She shot him a knowing look. One he had seen over the years. It always came before her placing him on her laps and scanning his body like a detective for wounds and bruises either dealt him from his rough play with the other kids or from the fists and boots of bullies. Sadly, she couldn’t do that anymore. And he didn’t have bullied on his back or little kids to run around with. This bruise was psychological and her resolute sigh told him she knew so too.

“If you say so sir… May I ask where you’ll be headed then?”

“Nowhere. I intend to stay home and rest.”

She smiled. Or did she? He wasn’t sure. It had vanished as quickly as it appeared.

“I thought…” she cleared her throat. “I thought you needed a woman.”

“I have all the ‘woman’ I need right here in my view.”

“Ha-ha!” She exclaimed in a mocked laughter. “Wash up and get dressed. Breakfast would be ready in an hour and a half… Sir.”

“You don’t have to address me as such Florence.”

“Of course I don’t but I prefer it that way. An hour and a half Solomon, don’t be late.” She said and headed downstairs.

He felt warmness in his chest as she called his name. Something he hadn’t felt in ages. Before she went down the stairs she looked at him one last time and he shone his teeth at her like he always did to show he had been a good boy.

 

* * *

 

Solomon trudged down the stairs approximately an hour and a half later as she had said. Florence’s smile grew broader as the floor above her shuddered gently with each step he too. She made finishing touches to the dining table and disappeared through the door that led to the kitchen. Solomon came into view in a blue shirt and grey slacks as he climbed down the last stairs and entered the vast dining room. The dining table which could sit eight, twelve on a full day carried sets of plates, cutlery, bowls and food.

“You know it’s just me eating right?” He asked as she appeared from the kitchen.

“I know.” She didn’t add the customary Sir or his name and it bothered him a little.

“Join me Florence. I hate eating alone.” He said as she was about to leave. She shot him a look as if to ask if he was sure of what he had just said and he nodded. She shrugged and picked the seat closest to his. They ate in silence, occasionally stealing glances at each other.

“You need a woman Solomon.” Florence said as they rounded up their meal.

He choked on his food and struggled to swallow. “A woman? I thought I have you.”

“Ha-ha… I’m serious Solomon. I watch you come home every day, in the dead of the night with a long face and tired arms. You basically just shower and collapse on your bed. A woman could help relieve you of the stress.”

He dropped his fork and folded his arms. He wanted to speak but his throat felt constricted.

“Won’t you say anything?”

“Okay.” He managed to say agreeing with her deduction. “I’ll work on that.”

“Of course you would.” She suddenly had a wry smile on her face and Solomon knew he was in for it. “I’ve asked Wale to get ready the Honda… you’re going out today.”

He thought to speak but decided against it. She pretty much had her mind made up. He won’t give in easily though.

“Why the Honda if I might ask?” He hoped it sounded as sarcastic as it did in his head. “What’s wrong with the Peugeot or the Range?”

Her sly grin in return told him all he needed to know. He had failed.

“Because young beautiful ladies like a handsome young man in a Honda. Go to your room now, get dressed and get out there and bring me a beautiful bride.”

She pushed her chair back beneath her, got up and started ridding the table of the dirty plates and cutlery. Solomon hesitated and watched her hoping she would turn to look at him and say she was joking. She ignored his presence and he got up defeated and strode upstairs to get dressed. Mummy has spoken. He had to get a wife. A beautiful one at that.

 

* * *

 

Solomon walked into the open hall of the Ikeja City Mall in a black shirt and grey pants and duly observed its interior. Dozens of people flooded in and out of the complex oblivious of his watching eyes. A young lady in jeans and a yellow t-shirt caught his eyes and he turned away from her to face another few looking. He had known this would happen. No matter how much they had seen white men, black people just had to take another glance. He turned again and watched the earlier lady climb the exterior stairs to the gallery above. He blamed Florence for his predicament and stepped outside through the revolving door.

It was barely 10 am and he had to get going if he was to accomplish what Florence had sent him out to do. The noise around him heightened and he decided to take a short break. He put on his glasses that managed to hide the bright blue color of his eyes and sauntered into KFC. He ordered a mini sized burger and a Pepsi and picked his spot at the extreme end of the restaurant just in view of the flat screen TV that had Beyoncé running along seashore and the world outside the restaurant. He took a sip from the Pepsi with a straw and scanned the other occupants of the restaurant.

An old woman, probably in her fifties sat at a table with two kids a boy and a girl. She sighed for the umpteenth time as she struggled to get both of them to sit. Solomon glanced at the empty bottles of Pepsi on the table and figured why she was having a tough time getting hyperactive kids to sit. The girl who looked older and much harder to restrain hopped to a nearby table that sat a young lady in a maroon dress. She beamed a glowing smile at the young girl and said something that made her giggle. Solomon smiled as he watched both of them and froze when she caught his stare. She smiled at him and turned her attention back to the girl not before she winked. Or did she? He wasn’t sure. He clasped his hands and tried to affirm what he had just witnessed wasn’t a figment of his imagination. Only one way to figure out, he decided. He adjusted his glasses grabbed his tray of food and sauntered in the direction of her table.

As he got closer the tray wobbled as his hands got clammy and held his breath to hide the effect of his racing heart on his chest. Her long black hair was tied behind her in a bun and the crane of her nose glistened in the light as she bent to whisper something in the girl’s ear.

“Hi.” His voice croaked and he bit his lower lip. She raised her head to look at him and he exhaled in his bid to avoid opening his mouth in amazement. She was beautiful. Her eyes shone brightly and her smile had his racing heart up a gear.

“Hello.” She replied gleefully.

“May I join you?” He sighed in relief as his voice sounded better although he could have sworn he held cowardice in it.

“I guess so.” She crossed her legs, putting the right one over the left with so much grace that it had him reeling in admiration. He placed his tray on the table gently and took his seat opposite her. A couple of boys passed by and ogled at him like he was an alien but he feigned ignorance.

“I’m Solomon… Solomon Grundy.” He held out his hand. She hesitated raised her eyebrows and shook it. It felt warm in his and he felt a chill down his spine.

“And I’m Little-Red… Little-Red Riding-Hood.” They laughed and he stroked his hand under the table to calm himself.

“Apparently, you don’t like giving strangers your name.”

“Neither do you.” She started swinging the handing foot and studied his eyes under his glasses.

“What do you mean? I told you my name.” She bent her head in a forty-five degrees angle and her eyes opened in amazement.

“Wait… you’re not kidding. Your name is Solomon Grundy?!”

“Yea”

“Like the rhyme?”

“Oh…” He smiled now realizing why she had given him a fake name. One from an old fable akin to his. “Well yes it is. Just like the rhyme.”

“Let me guess you were born on a Monday?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm… and were you by any chance christened on a Tuesday?” A glint had appeared in her eyes and a mischievous grin played at the corners of her mouth.

“Oddly, yea.”

“Shut the front door! Any chance you’re going to marry today?” He squinted and she quickly added “… seeing today is Wednesday.” He laughed and she smiled that glowing smile again.

The old woman stood up to leave and the kids tugged at her arms but she dragged them nonetheless. The girl waved at the lady and poked her tongue at him. He poked his right back at her and grinned.

“Beast.”

“Huh? Did you just call me beast?”

“Well, yea. You just poked your tongue at a small girl. That’s mean.” She folded her hands and looked straight at him.

He laughed and stopped when he noticed she didn’t join him.

“I’m sorry, I was only teasing her.”

“I’ve heard.” She waved him away and drank from a bottle of water with a straw.

“And I’m not mean, I’m just annoyingly sarcastic.”

“Really?” The mischievous grin was back on her face. “Say something sarcastic.”

“Err…you have to make a statement first.”

“Hmm. . .Okay. I love your blue eyes. They fit your tanned skin perfectly.”

“I know…” He said as calm as he could. “I can’t help it, I love them too.”

“Beast!”

He laughed again. This time she joined him.

 

To be continued

Apparently, this episode lengthened beyond my control. So, I decided to break it into two parts. The second would be posted today. Thanks for reading.

Mike Dammy

She Deserves Better

Lone Survivor_ The Movie

Lone Survivor_ The Movie

Disclaimer: You really should stop reading my disclaimers. Most times they never have any relation to the post… just like this one.

I’m hoping I’m the last person on earth that has seen Lone Survivor. I always had the movie on my laptop but like every true life story movie, I never tried watching it. Not because of beef or anything but unlike fictional movies, true life stories ALWAYS have a tragic ending.

Just heard a Jason Derulo song on the radio… what the hell happened to that guy? His future seemed so bright… but then so did Pato, GEJ, MayD and even Nigeria.

Like I was saying before I rudely interrupted myself; I flee from true life stories. A perfect example is that Bollywood movie; The Family that got everybody in my school wailing and shot up the prices of tissue paper. Everybody was crying including my guys. I was the last man standing and that’s because I refused to watch it. Bad guy like me can’t be found crying.

Sha… sha… owing to my resentment, I refused to watch Lone Survivor immediately I got it about a year ago until some days back and dare I say, I was thrilled! Like the title implies, only one person survives and every other person dies, blah blah blah… did I mention that the movie was about marines. Yes, US marines!..and even though the effects, especially the deaths were pretty detailed and grotesque but they didn’t take anything away from the plot or in this context, true story.

Before you think this is a movie review, let me stop and deviate into why I’m really here. I learnt tons of things from the movie and I’ll like to share them with you as they’ll help me in unravelling the title of this post. I have broken down what I learnt into three words;

 

PatriotismBrotherhoodLove

_________

 

Patriotism

It’s a known fact that that most Nigerians are not patriotic. Yes, many claim they are but they definitely won’t spend twenty seven (27) years in jail for a cause for their country. I mean I doubt I’ll do that myself. That’s Mandela’s destiny path not mine. And like a question I heard in a pretty good Korean movie (peer pressure made me watch it) Secretly Greatly

Who would you rather die for; your mother or your country?

I laughed at this point in the movie and imagined a Nigerian being asked this question, the answer would be given without any thought; Mother. The country can find other willing martyrs in its 170 million citizens; many would be quick to say. Even those that have lost their mothers would still refuse.

In this movie however and in reality, marines basically put their lives on the line for their country and they do so with joy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting you lead a revolt with men in your neighbourhood and head to Chibok to fight the Boko Haram neither am I telling you to stand in the way of an armed robber with a pistol. That’ll be suicide and I won’t take any blame for your actions.

A great deal of Nigerians including myself are quick to disown the country when it’s time to stand up to some things or make sacrifices. To us, dying for a cause is an abomination and dying for our country is a laughable idea. It’s time we stand for something. It’s time we recognise ourselves as legit children of this great nation and children are meant to honour their parents and guardians.

 

Brotherhood

Simply put, the act of treating each other the way you’ll treat your siblings and for some reason, we seriously lack that trait in this country. Its every man for himself these days, even blood relationa are not exempted, unless I need something from you, don’t expect a call. When we were younger, they enforced that we loved our neighbours like ourselves. Today, it has become ‘beware of your neighbour’.

In Lone Survivor, bar the fact that marines are made to go through rigorous traning exercises together, all these people were random folks from different races and walks of life but come a mission and they become the closest set of brothers I have ever seen. What happened to the Nigeria where neighbours stood together as one when NEPA comes around to slamming outrageous bills on our meters and cutting wires off their poles? What happened to the Nigeria where market women looked after the stalls of their competition, the Nigeria where anybody was allowed to marry anybody?

I doubt I can take a fulani or hausa lady to my mother as my bride. She will probably rebuke me and tell me her family might be members of the Boko Haram sect like everybody in the north is in support of terrorism. I haven’t even brought up the beef Yourba mothers seem to possess against their sons having Ibo wives… I mean, I adore Ibo ladies with their fair skin colour and dark hair but no, mama says I can’t have one as my wife.

It’s high time we put a stop to the feuds we have for one another and bring back our nation because that’s the only way we can move forward. If ever something happens and we have to stand against it, we would have more hope succeeding as one country not as Yoruba, Ibo or Hausa or any other tribe for that matter. We are Nigerians first, the tribal differences come later. And remember the proverb about the lone broom and the others in a bunch. Unity pays and its brotherhood that achieves that.

 

Love

It is one thing to say you love your country; it is another thing to mean it.

Gone are the days when as students, we recited the national anthem and pledge with so much pride and gusto. Then we wanted to be doctors, engineers, lawyers, pilots with good intentions in mind. Good intentions that involved the well being of the country. Now that we’re much older and maturity has set in, we still want to be those professionals but it’s for our pleasure and our immediate families. The country has been thrown out of the equation. There were days when we listened to the news and our hearts ached when we heard of tragedies. These days, we just pray “Father, don’t let it come near me or my family”. Inasmuch as we insist we aren’t the problem, we are a big catalyst to it.

Togetherness is non-existent anymore. Some sell their patriotism and love for the country for bags of rice. Others just do it for some notes of Naira. And when the situation gets out of hands, we are quick to decamp abroad in the search of greener pastures and leave the country to its palava. God forbid a revolution like ‘Ghana must go’ of those days befalls us in those countries, we would cry foul and say Nigeria has destroyed our heritage.

Truth is this is our home. Unlike many other countries where the ground opens up to swallow its citizens and various forms of famine and hurricanes are happening, ours has chosen to give us a safe life and fertile grounds. We aren’t scared of tsunamis or earthquakes because our motherland cares. And whether you like it or not, if your mother loses a hand or a leg, she doesn’t seize being your mother.

I hope you take a cue from the heroes that gave their all for their country in the movie and stand up for ours. It’s not her fault she has corrupt leaders presiding over her, it’s ours and the least we could do is show her some love and respect. And like the Brazilians and Americans that reach cloud nine when their anthems are being recited or played, our nation deserves a reaction like that. She has being a caring mother and she deserves better. She deserves better from all of us.

Have a lovely day.

I remain Mike Dammy

* * *

Thanks for reading.
Do drop a comment or your views below, it will be really
appreciated.

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Love, Abuse & Common Sense

Posted this a while back… Just felt I should share it again.

Do drop a comment and Share when you’re done.

Bless 🙂

* * *

 

I will never quite understand the logic behind sticking to a spouse in an abusive relationship, I mean, how do you remain with a guy that pummels you daily and call it Love?! Some like my mentor would say would claim it’s his nature, “He can’t help it, he gets angry easily” they’ll say. So you’re the chosen one to get beaten and battered shey? That’s really sad.

I’ve been in relationships so I’m not tackling this issue like a novice; two relationships to be precise. The first one was a result of youthful exuberance so that doesn’t count but the second one was more like it. Sort of fulfilling, I would describe it even though we had to go our separate ways. Many would say I was confused and naive but I wasn’t as naive as to the point where I would raise my hand to hit her. Insulting her was impossible and yabbing her would take all the meanness in me; but then I loved her and my fist was not my medium of showing it.

They say behind every successful man is a woman and I believe many have misinterpreted that statement. That the quote said “behind” doesn’t mean she behind’s you or you are some sort of master over her; it only means you’re partners and in that particular situation, you’re the one in the spotlight or undergoing the task, the statement can easily mean “behind every successful woman is a man” so we men shouldn’t blow up our ego beyond proportion;.

A relationship is a partnership; between two people living in love and equality; the key word there being “Equality”. The moment any one starts bossing the other one around, it ceases to be a relationship and becomes some sort of Master-Servant relationship and that’s not right no matter how you put it.

Now, focusing on the ladies in abusive relationships

What is wrong with you?

Why did you become so naive?

As much as guys claim to be the better humans, we aren’t in fact better. That you were formed from his rib doesn’t give him any right to lay his hands on you. The earlier you understand this, the better for you. There is no form of Eros love that connotes long suffering except when both of you (together) are suffering together; like say saving for your marriage or abstaining from sex till marriage but when one of you suffers at the expense of the other, it aint a relationship anymore, so wake up and open your eyes to this!

There is no form of love without wisdom and common sense attached to it. If you believe love is all about the feeling; then maybe you should stick to being single and go on a journey of self discovery. Every successful love story (Ignore those Bollywood flicks) have some form of common sense in twined in it. You won’t marry an armed robber even if the feeling is strong; common sense says its wrong. You also don’t let yourself get harassed by some guy in the name of love, common sense also says its wrong. Until your mind is in tune with your feelings, you are not in love, and if you aren’t in love, you should stay away from any relationship cos that’s where all forms of molestation would come into play and he won’t think twice about indulging in them because all he has are feelings and he has nothing to lose.

If he beats you, then acts all sober after a while and ask you to forgive him when you’re all bruised up, the best way you can show love there is to break the relationship and help him sort himself out; as a friend.

If he beats or molests you because he likes it, I really shouldn’t be telling you what to do. Like my father would say’ Cant you use your number six?! (I still don’t know what that means)

Moving to the ‘gentle’men that molest women, the lord is your strength. You’re not a very smart bunch and it’s your kind that evolve into rapists and sexual molesters. You have no right whatsoever to touch a lady, no matter how much you enjoy it. Beating a lady is an act of cowardice and not some form of manhood spectacle. Except she’s your creation(which she aint), you have no right to teach her. She’s meant to be your partner not your punching bag and you’re meant to respect her.

If you do have a temper, see a therapist and get yourself checked out. Nobody has to suffer for your shortcomings.

If however, you’re a man and your girlfriend or spouse harasses you, I really do not know what to say. Except she’s blackmailing you, yours is an unforgivable case and I just pray God helps you and your self-esteem.

All in all, nobody has the right to hurt his/her partner. The reason you said yes to him/her is cos you felt it was right, so don’t push yourself to doing something contrary. If however you were forced into the relationship, see an elder or report to the police.

Finally, for any relationship to work, God is a definite constant. Remove him from the equation and it’ll never work…. Never!

That said, Stay blessed and happy in your relationships. If you’re single like I am, it’s cool. Enjoy it while it lasts. 😉

 

Have a wonderful weekend!

Mike Dammy  @damstylee 

 

 

Shooting Star

Close your weary eyes; relaxing them

Count from one to ten; then open them

All these heavy thoughts will try to weigh you down

But not this time

You know why?

Cos we won’t let it__ I won’t let it

The sun might have disappeared in the sky

All might seem lost and distant

Your loved ones may suddenly seem like strangers

Your friends; now distant memories

The haters are barraging on your front door like raging bulls

And you lay crouched in your closet

Your eyes tired from crying

Your sobs now gentle whimpers

It might seem like you’re all alone

No single light on the horizon to keep you company

And your candle slowly burns out; flickering gently like a sail and casting beautiful images of dancing women on the dark wall that is the sky

Right now, it’s you against the world

Everybody is up against your throat; slowly edging you towards the cliff, pushing you towards desperation and sucking the life out of you like grim reapers

Your royalty suddenly feels like a myth

The vast talents you possess now figments of your imagination

Just a blip in your history; a mirage never to be encountered again

__________

This might be your story

Perhaps you feel all of this and more

Just permit me to assure you of one thing

A tiny revelation I encountered recently

Of how greatness can beget from nothing

An awesome moment from sheer blankness

A shooting star on the darkest of nights

Yes, that who you ought to be!

__________

So close your eyes again

Count from one to ten like before

Then open them slowly…

Ignore the pull of gravity and rise above the tension

Fashi the sleeping sun

Be oblivious of the mocking stares and jeers and set yourself on a high

Far beyond what cloud nine can offer

More intoxicating than seven shots of whiskey or a good f*ck

Way above the reach of the drenching rain

To the world where sarcasm is non-existent

Soar beyond the atmosphere

Reach for the heights

Set your mood like its reality

Listen to the thousand beats resounding in your ears

The applause of the millions waiting to be inspired

Anticipating that song

Chilling for that best seller

Savouring that mighty leap that wins you the Olympic gold

Imagining the capabilities of your invention

Arching our hands to click play on your award winning single

Waiting to imitate those dance steps you create

Watch that movie you acted

Receive the goodwill of your donations

All these and more

Set your mind on these

Imagine the glamour

Savour the freedom

Float on the wings of fulfilment

Appreciate the gratitude of the lives you inspired

We wait earnestly in anticipation of your achievements

The princess in you clamouring for promotion

The queen beckons to emerge

Let her out!__ Unleash her!

You’re a star in the making

A spark threatening to explode

A something going somewhere to happen

So, set ablaze the dark night and cast your brilliant light on us

Dash across the universe right before our eyes brighter than we ever envisaged

We wait…

Our eyes fastened on the skies

Our anxiety heightened invariably

So don’t keep us hanging forever

Shine brighter than a shooting star!

———-

This is my message to every woman or girl out there that thinks the world is firmly against them; the ‘damaged’, the raped, the sexually molested teenagers and the society rejects.

Reach beyond the evils of the world, it is your time to shine.

Owl City’s “Shooting star” inspired this. If you know anybody that fits in any of the categories listed above; anybody searching for meaning in this world, why don’t you share this to them and be a blessing.

* * *

Thanks for reading.
Do drop a comment or your views below, it will be really
appreciated.

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Insights

I noticed it the first time but I wasn’t sure. So I chilled. The instrumentals kept creeping into my ears like beautiful incense and I wondered If most of our local artistes were immune to calm, insightful instrumentals.

The umpteenth time it played, I had confirmed my fears. This was my sub. Omari was subbing me but then I remembered I barely knew him or him me. Said a couple of HI(s) around school but that was about any contact we ever had. He wasn’t subbing me in particular. He was subbing myself myself and a billion other guys out there.

Guys prone to thinking they don’t become Exes. That no matter what, we can’t become leftovers. No, that’s a problem for through ladies. We leave rejuvenated like phoenixes reborn out of our ashes. The ladies could be the ashes for all we know but we don’t care. We just fly off to our next intending target, set the P, send the DMs and start the process all over again. Many walk around with this mentality and I daresay that’s a whole lot of bullshit.

It’s fair to say we are but visitors in this world and one day our souls would jet off to God knows where. So why delay or dilly dally? Since you only live once, live it large. Wreck hearts and leave self esteems destroyed in your paths.

We won’t be the first.
Our forefathers did exactly this.
They relegated their women to the background. Rendered them worthless. Barely worth a half-man. Inconceivable of anything great except It’s a delicious steamy pot of soup. They cast veils upon their faces like they didn’t subscribe for the same life package we had. Or they didn’t all suck identical mammary glands.

True, that situation was appalling.
Today, It’s worse. Balance has shifted slightly. Now we have two general classes of women; the good and the bad. And the bad are triumphing well. Or so they think. If only they understood that this same men would flutter to the sides of the good ones when marriage or anything serious beckons. They’ve failed to see beyond the one night stands and club orgies and rendezvous.

It’s sad to see that morals are considered with a pinch of salt. The crave (and craze) to enjoy life has clouded decent judgements.
Who’s to blame foe this?

I say everybody.

But permit me to remove the log in my eyes before I leave you to yours. I have lost one too many good girls in my short life in my quest to enjoy life just more. I aim high or so I think.  Video vixens, Club trouts and half naked ladies must be exploited and fast.
The struggle is real.
And If you can’t get any of them, you grab the nearest good girl and convert her. Immediately you’re done, you scamper off to your next prey… Promising heaven and earth and love that doesn’t exist. Consequentially, that “good-turned-bad” girl you left joins the lot and goes on rampage herself. Now she understands the concept of YOLO. Sad I tell you.

In conclusion, someone tweeted this this morning;

That She’s a good girl does not mean She’s the right one

True. Very true. Every good girl out there won’t fit in with your temperament. Do yourself and the world world a favour then and leave her to herself and let the right one find her. Don’t further invest in the bad girl’s ever growing reservoir.

“Falling in love is easy, Staying in love is the hard part.”
If you’re not ready, stay away from it.

I could have sugarcoated this but I’m done doing that anymore.

* * *

This post was inspired by a single from revolutionary rapper and poet; Omari ( @AybeeOmari):
Bloom Baby Bloom

You should listen to it. It’s awesome and insightful. Just click the song title above to download it.

Have a wonderful day.

Mike Dammy

Fire In Our Bellies

Disclaimer
This is a fictional story. The incident itself is real but the characters and plot are works of art. Any resemblance to real people was not intentional.

* * *

“At all, I’m loving it sister Sewa.” Kemi replied.
“The barracks is quiet and would be perfect for the baby.”

Her sister nodded her head absentmindedly and stared blankly into the mirror in front of her. The hairdresser caught her glance and smiled at her. She smiled back.

“Okay Kemi.” She finally said. “I’m happy If you’re happy. Just make sure you’re safe.”

“I will Sis.”

“Drink a lot of water, watch the aerobic videos, rest a lot, eat heal.…”

“Yes Sis.” Kemi interrupted. “I’ve heard all of this before. I’ve not forgotten. I’ll talk to you later. Bruce is ready to leave.”

“Okay. My regards to him and Tofunmi. Take care. Bye.”

“Bye Sis.” Kemi said and terminated the call. She looked up at her husband fully clothed in his official uniform. He looked like the soldiers she saw in a Hollywood movie she saw that morning and she was proud.

“I’ll miss you darling.” She said to him and walked up to him. The baby bump restrained her from getting as close as she wanted but he bent over to kiss her. She kissed him back wholeheartedly.

“I’ll miss you too love.” He said and carried his luggage. She watched him say goodbye to their seven year old daughter;  Tofunmi and a tear dropped from the corner of her eye. She already missed him. 

“I’ll be back on the thirtieth. Be safe.” He said as he shut the door behind him. She walked to the window and watched as her husband joined his colleagues also dressed in their camouflage uniforms. She never quite remembered why it had to be camouflage. He told her once but she didn’t remember. The hot, mind blowing sex minutes before he did didn’t help either.

She was about to pull away from the window when she caught him look back at the house and could have sworn she saw a tear. His colleagues laughed and Tunde patted him on the back. She felt a relief when she saw Tunde. He made her feel safe. Out of all his friends, she trusted him the most.

They had been friends for ages; Tunde and Bruce. Attended the same secondary school and enlisted in the army on the same day. Bruce had introduced him as his best friend the day they met. Now she watched both of them head for Bakassi peninsula beside the city of Calabar to serve their country. They were but protectors of the Land. It was their duty. She never quite accepted that. She hated his job. Hated the uniform. Hated the barracks. Hated everything about the profession but she couldn’t do anything about it. The army was his first love. She had to live with that.

* * *

The loud sound of the ceramic vase shattering on the terrazo floor woke her from her slumber. The effect heightened the migraine she felt and she shrieked in pain. Her blue face Motorola cellphone rang beside her and she picked the call. It was her sister;  Sewa.

“Kemi!” She heard Sewa yell on the call. “Where are you?” She could feel the anxiety in her sister’s voice.
“At home Sis. What’s wrong?”

“Oh my God. Get out of there now.” Sewa ordered. “Kemi, take Tofunmi and get out of there!”

She heard a loud sound as she arched her back and some boards fell from the ceiling. Voices rang around the road adjoining her room and she jumped up. She rushed to the living room amidst shattering window panes, grabbed a crying Tofunmi and exited the house.
On the street, she was greeted by people heading in the direction of the barracks entrance. A couple of cars drove through the crowd hitting some pedestrians in their haste. Quickly, she joined the fleeing crowd dragging her daughter along.
The migraine pangs slowed her down and she struggled to see ahead. Her head hurt, her breathing was heavy and she felt fire in her belly but she didn’t stop. They approached an intersection she recognized and she hesitated to follow the majority of the crowd heading in one direction.

“Never take that route, Kemi. There is a canal at the end of that road covered with water hyacinth. Nobody knows It’s there.” She recalled her husband saying once. She tried to warn the people heading in that direction about their impending doom but none hearkened. They just zoomed past her like flies to a bug zapper. Giving up, she said a brief prayer for them and turned to continue in the other direction when a Nissan Sunny hit her and sent her flying. She landed with a turd on her bump and yelled in pain. Tofunmi rushed to her side and tried to drag her up but the child failed in getting her back to her feet and Kemi laid there in the red sand. Blood flowed down her legs and she knew this was the end.

The sun disappeared slowly in the east and she knew darkness would soon be upon them.

“Tofunmi.” She said.

“Yes Mummy.” The crying child replied.

“Keep running darling. I’ll meet you at the gate.”

The child shook her head In disapproval and wiped her running nose.
“No Mummy. I’m scared, let’s go together.”

“No Tofunmi. Mummy needs to rest. I’ll meet you at the gate with baby, you hear?”

Tofunmi nodded this time and managed a smile. Kemi pulled her close and kissed her on the forehead one last time. Tears streamed down her face as she watched her daughter scamper through the crowd in the distance. Her phone rang and she answered the call.

“Hello Sis.” She said into the mouthpiece.

“Kemi.” Sewa said. “Where are you?”

“I couldn’t make it.” She replied. “But… Tof…”

“What do you mean by you couldn’t make it?” Kemi asked.

“I can’t, Sis.” A sob interrupted her and she pulled herself together to continue. “I can’t make it, but Tofunmi can. Find her and take car.…”
A blast erupted and the phone went dead.

* * *

Some say It’s never too late to right a wrong. I argue and say sometimes it is. I’ve lived long enough to know that life can throw you off balance in a second and render all your plans useless.

That’s why I’ll rather live in the present. Planning for the future is also important but what We do with our present is what influences that future we crave.
This is my rendition of the Ikeja Cantonment armoury explosion on the 27th of January, 2002.

It’s hard to imagine It happened 12 years ago but time flies and so do opportunities and lives. It’s painful to imagine that there was someone who passed away via that disaster that wasn’t meant to be where he or she was at that particular time. It’s painful to imagine that like my story, families were broken, legacies were destroyed and lives were lost. It could have been you Or me instead of someone there that fateful day.

Life is a cheat.
A respecter of nobody.
If it decides It’s your time to say goodbye, bar God’s intervention, you’re going.

So my advice is simple.
Live like today’s your last.
Love like he or she would be no more tomorrow.
And laugh like your source of laughter might soon disappear.
In truth, you actually only live once. So live it right and well.

Have a lovely day.

Mike Dammy

Let’s talk Breakups

Hi there…

I thought of ways in which I could just glide into the topic at hand and not sound too serious or rash… Sadly, I got none… So I’ll just start…  Here goes nothing.

* * *

I have to say it’s quite alarming the manner in which breakup and divorce stories flood the air these days.
Everyone is getting in on the act. Even I myself; the title ‘breakup king’ has been accrued to me a couple of times.

Today however… I sat still.. sort of… in a bus plying the Sango Otta – Ketu route and tried to decipher the mystery that is Breakups. I won’t lie, I didn’t make that much of a breakthrough thinking about it, so I resorted to writing. For some reason, when I write, my words flow from a reservoir of knowledge totally oblivious to me when I’m performing another action.

What you’ll read below is what my mind could fashion. I like addressing my posts to imaginary people to enable me pass my message across properly and that’s what I’ve done here again …
And No matter how much it sounds like I’m referring to you in person, I’m not. So, wipe that thought from your mind whenever it comes up.

If however you believe I didn’t write it with someone in mind… You’ll be falling for my Joker card. Remember what I said earlier,  this is simply my brain at work… My mind is not in on it… I think. -____-

* * *

Hi dear.
I know this is the last thing you want to read.
That you’ll probably prefer to walk on burning coal than listen to me…
Who knows you might be armed with a 9mm ready to pump my tummy with your silver bullets.
I know you want to do this and worse…

But chill…
Let me try and convince you that we are indeed perfect despite my shortcomings and your wrongdoings
Let’s assume we were separated at inception.
That he created us whole…
One full picture with no blemish whatsoever.

Now, Imagine He broke us
In fact, literally cracked us into two
With no emphasis on precision
No form of accuracy whatsoever
Just two parts of a puzzle
Not necessarily two halves of one
And as he did, bits and pieces of us splattered everywhere.
A Mona Lisa decapitated… albeit temporarily.

So now, picture us as two slabs with jagged edges
With pieces of us scattered all over the horizon
Who knows, the piece that makes me sing like you’ve always prayed ‘Your dream Knight‘ would lies somewhere not far from where I sojourn.  
Imagine, the stone that makes u laugh even when I’m boring lies fallow at the bottom of the Atlantic
Then it’ll make sense when we don’t seem as perfect as we hoped

We’ll see sense when we quarrel and nag
You’ll ignore my yells and I’ll forget your insults
We’ll understand when our fights keep us awake at night with our backs turned on each other
We’ll see reason that all these serve to build us
Slowly craft us into one perfect being
The kind that still blush amidst all the wrinkles and crutches
And laugh even with our teeth in a glass jar.
The life we live to have.

I’m beginning to wonder if all I’ve said makes any sense…
I doubt if the inspiration was worth it
Maybe it’s just Banky W’s “All for you” in my earphones that’s making me this crazy
Probably I’m seeing things that ain’t there..

Still,  I won’t stop typing…
If I do, I might end up lonely
Sad
Loveless
Dejected… All these I can’t risk being.
So you see, I really don’t have any choice here.
You must see reason…
You Must.

* * *

Done…
I don’t know if this explains anything but I guess it should give you a reason to think.
A reason to hesitate before you pick up your phone and call her to end it. Or halt your speech as soon as you sense those fatal words coming out of your mind.
We owe our spouses that that break.
We owe ourselves that brief pause to think.

Come to think of it.
The pain you feel after the breakup is not that of Ironic Joy or happiness… It’s just a reminder that you miss the person and that if one of you had tried harder,  you would still be together.
It could mean destiny still has plans for both of you and you need a second chance…  or third,  fourth chances like I got.
This theory could be wrong though but I dare you to pause and think of an alternative solution before you pull the plug.
You just might thank me later.

Happy Easter folks!
He lives…  Hence we live too.
Bless

Mike Dammy