Skip to main content

Two Flames on a Candle (Episode 1)

The wristwatch on dresser lit up and beeped. It was 1AM. Miriam sighed. The room was was washed with the soft glow from her laptop's screen. Everywhere was silent save for her continuous tapping on the keyboard and Chima's snoring. A few months back she would have worried about how she would fall asleep amidst such noise. Now with two months of marriage under her belt, she didn't bother. The noise seemed to be music to her ears. She had gotten used to it so quickly that it surprised her.

Chima mumbled something from his sleep. 

"Honey did you say something?" Miriam asked not expecting any answer. 

"Please don't kill me" he replied. She turned in panic, she could see Chima stretched on the bed. His breathing was laboured but he snored nonetheless. He seemed to be in some sort of struggle with something. She could see him turning his face left and right in the dimness. "Please, please. Haba mana, ka yi hakuri" Chima pleaded. Fear gripped Miriam when she heard this, she knew for sure that Chima knew not even one word of Hausa. Where was all this coming from? She was already shivering the time she observed his face glistening with tears. She switched on all the lights to confirm her fears.

Chima woke up with a start. "Baby why are you crying?" he asked surprised to see Miriam in tears standing over him with all the lights on. 

"The question is, why are YOU crying, Chima" she asked holding back sobs. 

"I had a dream. I don't know even know. But it was horrible" Chima sighed and wiped the tears in his eyes. Miriam held him close. She could sense he was quite shaken. 

"Let us pray" she said as they both sank on their knees.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Nigerian banks: So much hype, so little groundwork.

This events chronicled herein truly occurred as the world spun past this morning. Today I took it upon myself to pay up all individuals and groups I was indebted to. This involved visiting three big time Nigerian banks. These transactions which could have simply been carried out with my PC, had to be done the old school way because online transactions are not common (no one I know has ever used the system), hence it could n''t be trusted. Aside the long queues and the ages it took to get served, these banks are are quite in contrast with what you'd see in the slick adverts on CNN or NTA (Nigerian Banks do ads on CNN). The staff are not that friendly, and you can waste a lot of productive time just waiting for your turn ( I kill time watching TV whenever I visit a bank) In one of the Banks I visited, (this bank boasts of ''Pan- African ess'' ) the bulk room where I went to pay in money was desecrated with graffiti on the side boards. Yes! Graffiti, scr...

I Did Not Choose This

I did not choose this life This life chose me The work I do now, I do not think I am qualified in any way to do. Perhaps however I underestimate myself (something I do a lot). That I am here now means I have to remain and give my best to it. I do not despair and feel sad that I am a teacher, far from it. Many people may feel ashamed if they were in my shoes, a few other "extra sensitive" people feel ashamed on my behalf and pray I get a more rewarding job. Please, what is more rewarding than seeing a bunch of tiny tots gobbling up every word you spit out? I'm not saying it in a disgusting way. I just mean teaching is a rewarding experience and I don't regret it. I feel it is like a process that is required of me before I'm admitted into the next phase of life. Which perhaps may be parenthood. My experiences as a teacher have taught me patience, perseverance, love and how to accept feedback via non traditional channels. I've learned to repeat something over...

Who did it?

Madam Shola had always been a very friendly woman ever since I knew her - which was like all my life. One of my funniest memories of her was when her humour made its finest appearance. It was a surprisingly rainy Sunday morning some Decembers ago, and we had just closed from church. My wife and I were dashing to the car hand in hand as it drizzled. "Mr and Mrs Lovebird", madam Shola called. I recognized her voice and stopped to say hello to her. "Good morning ma" "Sam, look at you! You're glowing" she exclaimed, turning to my wife she added "Mercy, you're doing a great job, I give you an A". She said using her right forefinger to make a swoosh in the air. We all laughed. First of all, my name is not Sam neither is it Samuel. Madam Shola had never called me by my name. Never. I'd gotten tired of correcting her and never bothered anymore. Sighting mercy's protruding belly she opened her mouth in mock surprise. "I see wh...