Did you know that blueberries are false berries?...apparently these types of fruits are found in plant species with an inferior ovary. However, true berries such as gooseberries, have an edible pulp.
I have met many people in life that want me to ingest their modified pepoes... or their falsehood... and like it. They think by packaging their inferiorities as something sweet, bright and juicy I will not recognise what they have tried to force down my throat. I think it is a shame that they fail to understand that had they given me the choice I might have enjoyed the simple truth better.
In my second year at university, I moved out of halls and started living with three other girls; Chixster was igbo but the rest of us were yoruba.
Let me start with introductions.
1stly, there was Bubbles. She was the youngest. Bubbles was just really sweet.
2ndly, there was Owambe. She was only months younger than me. I have to applaud Owambe…she went from a british size 20 to a size 12 (american size 8) over a period of four years…a mean feat. But her years of being ‘heavy’ meant she had issues…no, she wasn’t some sort of evil…no, she wasn’t inhumanly wicked or cruel…she just desperately wanted to feel among.
I loved the fact that Owambe tried to follow the latest trends and rock the latest designer gear but sadly she didn’t have the persona to carry off loud and quirky colours…nor did she put her outfits together well. Ladies one should know one’s own frame and by a certain age one should know how best to work with that frame to look good. Sadly, Owambe did not dress to maximise her new found frame…the girl was constantly adjusting her clothes that were too tight or pulling down her skirts that were too way short in public. I tried to give her some helpful suggestions but she made it clear that it wasn’t needed. I thought ‘nothing spoil’...not for me anyway...lol.
I found that Owambe was always looking to be the centre of attention…her advice was instructional…her ideas were best…she wanted to rule the roost. I don’t do ‘you are the boss of me’ well so when she started that nonsense I was like ‘abeg get out’. I guess it didn’t help her complex that Bubbles, Chixster and I refused to let her ego rise with us…anything she wanted to show off about was something or somewhere that Bubbles, Chixster or I could say ‘been there, done that and got the t-shirt’ to.
Anyway back to the intros…
Lastly, there was Chixster. She was the slimmest, the prettiest and the kindest…she was genuinely kind. Chixster was constantly worrying about everybody... as our mother hen, to some extent she looked after us. I got on with Chixtser the most because she seemed like a ‘straight shooting’ and ‘to the point’ kinda gal. She was slightly older than me by about two years but she knew how to have fun.
As girls do, we often gathered in Chixster’s room at night to gist. Sometimes we would stay there all night and leave just before the arrival of the morning rays of amber. On one late starry starry night, the topic turned to sex.
Chixster: What do you think about sex?
I decided to take a philosophical approach and said:
Shubby Doo: It is necessary. It can result in life. Creation of life is God’s gift. I think it is amazing that it is a very small way for human beings to really get to actually resemble their creator.
Owambe chose the more common Christian approach and followed with:
Owambe: As a born again, I don’t believe in sex before marriage. I think people should only have the sex after.
Bubbles: Me too I guess. It is not really right.
Eh? I looked from one to the other… I felt like I was in the twilight zone and in this alternate universe standard naija babes were trying to sell me tory! … na lie! I didn’t start the conversation…plus my initial answer hadn’t turned it in this particular direction…but now we where here, I just couldn’t help thinking ‘bloody pretenders!’.
I laughed.
Shubby Doo: Really…you do? hmmm…I guess I was brought up to believe that too but in reality I don’t think it is that simple.
Owambe: It is. Abstinence is not impossible.
Shubby Doo: I agree. It is not impossible. But when two people are together in the heat of the moment it is not easy not to give in to it...especially when those two people think they are in love...or are you saying that you haven’t had sex ever Owambe?
Silence.
Shubby Doo: you nko, Bubbles?
I knew Bubbles she was no saint. My brother had a big problem with us living together because she had been with more than a few naija guys at his university. Bubbles was ‘one of the regulars’. As he tended to live by the rule ‘each to their own’ he’d never been interested in judging her behaviour. He was trying to support my decision to live with whomever I chose but he had issues with us flat sharing...basically because when ‘awon boys’ came visiting to knack Bubbles and he didn’t want anybody implying that it was his little sister that had entertained.
I assured my brother that there was no problem because:
1. I had just come out of a long relationship that had been pretty serious. I wasn't looking to play the rebound game.
2. I said that I'd be ok...I knew how to handle such guys if they did turn up at ours...I'd use the steely resolve that I inherited from my mother...plus he had prepared me well as only an older brother could.
3. Bubbles was now in a committed relationship with Ayo (whom she did eventually marry) so I doubted she would be soliciting illicit visits.
I never mentioned my brother’s concerns to Bubbles because as long as she didn’t make it a problem for me, there was no problem.
But now Bubbles was claiming that sex was only suited for marriage.... hmmm...
Shubby Doo: Bubbles you no dey talk…abi wetin?
Bubbles: I think it is better in marriage.
Shubby Doo: I agree with you whole heartedly but are you saying that you haven’t had sex?
Chixster: I think sex should be with someone you love. Ideally, that commitment comes in marriage.
Bubbles: I agree with Chixster.
I was thinking to myself ‘chai!...these girls just dey dodge my question’…when I heard:
Owambe: As strong Christians, Segs and I have promised ourselves that we will only have sex when we are married. I say no to sex.
I thought ‘Owambe shut up!’. The babe was lying.
Don’t get me wrong…I understand that everybody lies…but if you cannot lie well, my advice is keep it simple or better yet keep quiet & don’t try. If you want to lie to me put some work into it…your story must be robust and your actions must support your story. Not just on the day you spin your tale but forever…I must never be able to pick holes in it…and before you start, you should remember that in time the truth tends to prevail.
In my humble opinion, Owambe’s actions did not support her words. Her room was next to mine so whenever her boyfriend Segs came to spend the weekend, the following would always happen.
12:00am: Owambe and Segs say goodnight.
They enter her room and close the door.
12:10am: I hear her bed springs squeaking…
I would laugh. This was like the tonal work of the string section of the orchestra playing the sonata...it signified the 1st movement of the great symphony to come….
12:15am: Owambe starts giggling.
From time to time Segs laughs loudly.
12:20am: I hear someone lock the door to Owambe’s room with a key.
12:25am: I hear soft moans…
Followed by faint promises of sweet nothings…
Then I hear groans...
I would laugh to myself again. This had to be the ternary movement of the symphony…but why had they re-arranged the order of this classic orchestra piece?… why had they skipped from the 1st movement to the 3rd movement and missed the slow movement?…
12:30am: I hear very, very, VERY loud music blasting out of Owambe’s room.
I have a fertile imagination… so to be fair I am now taking this opportunity to ask all the people reading this…what you think happened in that room next?
Just to help you make up your minds I’ll just say that I also remember that loud music from Owambe’s deck used to wake me up on Saturday mornings too but only if her boo was there with her.
I now realised these babes were true impressionists…they were trying to paint a work of art...they were using movement as the crucial element to distract me so that I wouldn’t focus on ‘the truth’…so I would simply believe what they portrayed as truth. I guess if people don’t see the real you from the obvious visual angles they may just catch a glimpse of a distorted image...one that seems amazing or remarkably refreshing. Well it wasn't working with me...their words just annoyed and irritated me…my mama no born mumu…
I smiled.
Shubby Doo: I think that is so sweet Owambe…to know that all you and Segs do is kiss and cuddle all night… on that small single bed…to loud music that starts at midnight and is on for at least 45 mins…That is love o!
Bubbles laughed out loud.
Shubby Doo: Bubbles I guess that is what you and Ayo do too abi? That is so sweet.
Bubbles: Ok. Let me fess us…surprise, surprise…I’ve had sex.
I was not surprised but I was happy that she had come clean…eventually.
Shubby Doo: Thank you for your honesty. Oya come and sit next to me as we are the only two sinners in this house. We have confessed our sins to God today again in the presence of Owambe and Chixster. Don’t worry confession is part of the Christian faith and practice. All will be well.
Chixster: I guess there is nothing wrong with having sex if you are in love and you are committed to each other…it does not have to be in wedlock despite what naija society tends to dictate but it is preferable.
Shubby Doo: I agree.
I was still wondering why Chixster had chosen to use those particular words...she still had not revealed...when I heard:
Owambe: Segs and I have made love...but we have decided to abstain now until we get married.
Made love ke?…you mean fucked each others brains out while you deafened me! Whatever sha…a confession is still a confession and I am not an enemy of any type of progress that results in the truth. In my mind it was not the whole truth because she was still claiming she wasn't ‘at it’ anymore...but I was happy that she could no longer look me in the eye and start her ‘hypocritical’ crap. The really sad thing is I don’t think she was ever really ‘trying’ to be even be living embodiment of her words…for her it was always about keeping up appearances and trying to say the right things so people could like her and listen to her.
Chixster stayed silent…then she excused herself and she left her own room to make a phone call on her mobile phone…
About 18 months later, Chixster started dating my brother (not the one that had had the problem with Bubbles)…their relationship lasted about 6 months…they were happy-ish but they knew it wouldn’t work when she decided to move to another country so they called it quits.
After they broke up he told me, he was not her first…she was experienced…from way back. I said nothing because I wasn’t shocked by it but his words somehow made me feel let down by her...there had been no need for the illusion. I guess some people simply choose not to share...I do understand that.
I have thought about this some more since then and after all these years I have realised something... as sung by Don McLean in ‘Vincent’, I just want to say that by starting the conversation and by walking out of your room, Chixster “…now I understand what you tried to say to me...”
My brother ended the conversation with a simple admission…Chixster was a bit of a ‘sex fiend’.
Nuff said!
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