Sulking has always hurt me, causing considerable pains in my throat and around my forehead. I have never remembered to ask anyone if they feel the same things when they sulk. But then I have always seemed to have the weirdest symptoms in my family anyway. Like, no one else I know has tummy pains when they eat their first meal of the day. No one else has to swirl drinks in their mouth to really “taste” them before swallowing. No one else likes thick fruit juices like mango or guava.
My earliest memories of sulking seem to be of Sunday evenings as a six or seven-year-old, after weaving my hair in preparation for school on Mondays. Read the rest of this entry
It feels like a lifetime ago when I dropped my letter. I saw my grey-green G-Wagon in which I stacked my work place “personal effects” in a dream just before I woke on resignation day. I shored up savings for six months, not with the dimmest inclination that I would be home for far longer.
I have gone from feeling a thousand emotions to being numb. I’ve screamed so loudly in my heart that I heard my Creator say to me in Yoruba, my first earthly language, “Pele, Keke”.
As a young, young girl in Primary 4, my Class teacher had me perform “Songs of Sorrow”, by Kofi Awonoor- Williams. What was he thinking when he wrote that poem?
I wore tattered looking clothes, chalk in my hair and on my face to lend credence to the lines “I have been somewhere…If I turn here the rain beats me, if I turn here the sun burns me”. My most quoted section of that unique poem is “…the firewood of this world is for only those who can take heart…” I felt back then though that the line should have said, “…the firewood of this world is for only those who can carry it…”.
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