ghost in the shell

‘Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.
See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting.’

Psalm 139: 23-24

Yet, I stay here still. I should leave... just walk away... but as I'm unsure of myself, my soul remains bound to its shell; confined. Am I only free to expand myself within boundaries that have been created? In truth all things change so perhaps it is my efforts to stay the same that have limited me. Perhaps that is why a love that I had craved so much was simply unable to break down my walls and complete me.

Sometimes I wished I had not dreamed this dream so hard... perhaps then I would not have felt so lost when Reverie became reality. Till today, I have no idea why I stood silent, like a dumb mute, with no answers to his gestures. My ghost whispers contemptuously ‘ghost-hacked humans are so pathetic, it's a shame’. I can only sigh in agreement as I tell out my soul.

All I want to do now is pretend it was just a simulated experience. False, like a dream. Yet it happened. My fantasy was real. My ghost whispers sadly ‘we weep for the blood of a bird, but not for the blood of a fish. Blessed are those with a voice’. I cannot weep because I do not know how I lost mine, yet I bleed.

I dare not dream anymore. My voice is gone. My actions seem to echo those of a coward. But I tried. I swear I tried... so much so that even distance could not come between us. My ghost whispers mockingly ‘no matter how far a jackass travels, it will never return a horse’. My thoughts shift suddenly to Italy. Alone in Milan with the lure of speed as my only friend. Life raced by me that September weekend but somehow it failed to take my hopes with it.

Just a whisper. I hear it in my ghost.
Reverie.

Today, again, he is close by. However, today is the first time in a long time, that I have chosen not to reach out. I do so, not to punish him but myself; should he not notice. Perhaps this will finally prove to me that when he looks at me, he sees in me only golem; an absence of form yet to be shaped from mud. Yet do I not already know this to be untrue? Simply because he helped fix my fragmented form. He stopped my heart's demise and then reconstructed my being using the clays of hope on the river banks of my tears. Happily, I morphed. I became the child of a dream. I laugh as I look up to the heavens, not in wonderment but with a certainty that ‘life perpetuates itself through diversity and this includes the ability to sacrifice itself when necessary’. Yet when I look within, inside my Section 9, I have no idea of how to cope with a such a loss. Major.

Just a whisper. I hear it in my ghost.
Aemaeth.

Perhaps I am the unknown puppet master that has been pulling my own strings; forcing myself to remember… how he pulled me close… his kiss… the times he made love to me. What of my feelings for the future?... were they just mere trick modes? This thought alone cuts me; causing a solitary sob to escape from me mid-flight. I begin to plummet into a cloud of despair. I am bleeding more now but still I choose to go... to forget. I fear that when next I hear him call my name my heart will soar again with childish joy and instinctively, I will turn and run back... I always have. Sometimes I wish my heart would turn to stone instead of being set alight by the blaze of his warmth. I look to the mirror; searching for my truth. My ghost whispers scornfully ‘when one’s face is distorted why you should blame the mirror? The mirror doesn’t help to enlighten but rather to confuse’. So I stop staring at myself and I rub my forehead; robbing it of truth.

Just a whisper. I hear it in my ghost.
Maeth.

Looking back, I realise that the universe conspired to keep us apart. What could be… cannot. The dream must die, for I choose to live. I finally understand. I hug my ghost as it whispers reassuringly ‘life and death come and go like marionettes dancing on a table. Once their strings are cut, they easily crumble’.

Good Shepherd, I know not of tomorrow so just for tonight all I dare ask is ‘let one walk alone, committing no sin, with few wishes, like elephants in the forest’. Please.

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sex, lies &...3. chaos

This is a hilarious... while I 100% support Baba Suwe's beloved's mantra of ‘you gats to give, to receive’... I can't stop laughing at his response.

When I get up off the floor and the tears subside I might try and decode what Baba Suwe says here for the non yorubas... although most of the rest of this clip is sub-titled, the classic bits of his rant are not... which is great shame. Like I said I might try but as doing so will most likely cause me to collapse in a fit of laughter again, I can make no promises =)

What I will say is one has to respect him for how he sticks to his guns with respect to what he regards as a gross act of foreplay... I doubled over as he kept repeating similar words to those sang by Meatloaf... ‘I can do anything for love but I won't do that’... but his sentiments are an antonym to those of the song... LOL.

What Baba Suwe's girl wanted: Head.

Resulting chaos: Baba Suwe started ranting and raving; basically, saying ‘hell no’.... in the end there was no sex that night as both of them tried to make their respective points on the matter.

Moral: There is a line that one should never be forced to cross to please another.

Baba Suwe, let katakata burst jo... norring do you jare... I support your theory o! (not this particular one sha)... but I do support the idea behind it… one should never agree to do something, sexually, that makes one uncomfortable for another.

Speaking of chaos... I will take this opportunity to do ‘2 truths and 1 lie’... I was tagged by Doug. No, I will not be tagging any others or pasting the rules here... yes, I do know that it may be unwise to forego the rules or break the chain... & yes, I also understand that by purposely doing so, I may spurn the universe's wrath. Will it dash me a hard slap of ‘the butterfly effect’ for my disobedience?….who knows… but what I do know is that, for this, I am choosing not to give into any notion based on an unrealistic sensitive dependence. So I post this in the hope that the flapping wings of that butterfly that has just taken flight, halfway across the world, will not result in a tornado in my life; as these scenarios can themselves, already, be deemed as salacious or perhaps even scandalous. Thankfully, I can say they have been rarity in my life.

Case 1.
What a girl wanted: To suprise her boyfriend... so I once decided to turn up at his house, using the set of keys he had cut for me. I just wanted to see him as we had been going through another rough patch... basically, his complaint was we didn't see each other often enough. As I snuck out of my parents place and disappeared off their radar, I couldn't help smiling to myself... the thought never crossed my mind that he would be anything other than happy to see me.

Resulting chaos: I caught him in bed with another woman... I stayed there, silent, for what seemed like an age as my mind screamed ‘not again, not again’. When, I woke them up, he stupidly tried to convince me that it wasn’t what I was thinking… then the madness ensued.

Moral: Stop flogging a dead horse because a leopard can't change its spots... (& no the moral of the story for the guys isn't 'do not cut keys to your place for your girlfriend').

Case 2.
What a girl wanted: To get her groove on… so I drank a glass of double Remy Martin & Coke when I was out with a guy I was seeing… then I started sipping on a second glass but left it, unfinished, when it was time to leave the bar. This I did as I was coming to the end of the course of prescribed amphetamines which I had completely forgotten I had taken earlier that morning.

Resulting chaos: I passed out and woke up with the hangover from hell, in a hotel room. I was completely starkers; sporting only the vaguest flashbacks (but no real memory) of the night before.

Moral: Don’t EVER drink while taking drugs... prescribed or otherwise.

Case 3.
What a girl wanted: Love… even the tainted kind... so I let a married man slip his hand inside my bra as my friend drove. When we got to his place to drop him off, I wasted no time in jumping out of the car after he offered to take me home as I lived nearby. I followed him inside, upstairs and into the bedroom to get his car keys.

Resulting chaos: I had an affair with a married man and ended up becoming a home wrecker; he left her for me... only to break my heart later.

Moral: What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder (Mark 10:9).

Which is my lie?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*UPDATED on 07/02/2009*... specifically to hold off the two hell hounds at my heels (i.e. my dearest Afrobabe and the lovely Avartsy)… the answer is now below in inviso text:

Answer: Case 3 is the lie (truth is I told 2 truths followed by one lie… so I am not really a rule breaker afterall ;-P)

I never had any sort of an affair with Serb. I’ve never seen him since that night we dropped him off. I did hear that at the time he was trying to ‘cop a feel’, his loving wife had left for London to give birth to his 2nd child... *shakes head & sighs*... may that never be my portion.

I hope and pray that the only married man that I will ever follow into the bedroom will be mine. AMEN.

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T5

5th June…today all British Airways flights between Heathrow and Nigeria move to the dreaded Terminal 5…This post is to mark the occasion.

Will Nigerians suffer the jinx of T5?…I suspect some will fall prey to that place…I have. I don’t fly British Airways to Nigeria because I don’t like wahala…I believe in a stress free life so if anything or anybody tries to compromise that they get cast aside...case in point – British Airways.

I loved British Caledonia when I was younger but when they stopped my family switched to British Airways. About 3 years ago I refused to spend money on the disrespect and the poor service on the London to Lagos BA route so I switched to Virgin Atlantic…no regrets so far.

At this point I have to confess that about 1 month before I travelled I received an invite to join one of those never fly British Airways or boycott flying British Airways groups on facebook. I simply clicked ‘confirm’ without thinking about it twice. If you are Nigerian you will guess why…if not, the antics of ‘brutish airways’ are summarised perfectly in Solomonsydelle's blogs.

At this point I also have to confess to a dual truth…I still tend to use British Airways 2 fly everywhere else.

I think God wanted me to test out this dichotomy…I think I knew inside…somewhere deep down I would fall foul of this one day…such beliefs cannot co-exist in one person.

I’ll start with a song by R Kelly that described how I was feeling when I woke up that day:

‘…I believe I can fly
I believe I can touch the sky
I think about it every night and day
Spread my wings and fly away
I believe I can soar
I see me running through that open door …’

I believed I could fly…twice in one day…British Airways did not…the cretins at Terminal 5 slammed the door firmly in my face and then lost my luggage. At that moment my brain scattered…I was confused and tired…but mostly confused.

Rewind back to how my day had started…well…in Ikoyi. Nepa was behaving so the generator hadn’t disturbed my sleep. We thank God o!

I stepped out of bed. I couldn’t walk properly…my feet were on fire…I laughed as a remembered dancing at my aunt’s ‘birthday do’ in 4 inch heels…i love family functions like that...so i thought no long thing. I showered and dressed. I put on a cute pair of hoop earrings. Then packed, had breakfast and said my goodbyes.

I got in the car & gave the driver his ‘dash’…normally I do this at the airport but for some reason that day I gave him the money at the house. I think that the generosity sent Wale into some sort of euphoria. However, his joy started the run of bad luck that stayed with me the whole day.

Forewarning 1 – in an attempt to avoid the morning traffic in oshodi, Wale started diverting left, right and centre…this shortcut and then that shortcut…he would then loose his bearings and take the wrong turns. At one point I realised we were headed back to ikoyi. I lost it then…suffice to say I yelled at him to disengage all the loose wires short circuiting in his brain and follow the directions I gave. I routed us back through oshodi to get to the airport.

Forewarning 2 – My Baba was furious. He was at the airport and he’d been waiting since 7:30am. He needed to hand over some documents to me. It was now 8:15am and I was not there. He called me:

Baba: Where are you?
Shubby Doo: Good morning sir. I’m in the car to the airport
Baba: Where are you? What is your estimated time of arrival?
Shubby Doo: I’m not sure sir…we are stuck in traffic in oshodi
Baba: Why are you behaving like this?…awon uncle and aunty sachs are here already…oshodi ke? Why did you go that way? Kilode…Shubby Doo why are doing this today?

Me ke?

At that point, I tried to cut in to explain. He hung up…ha!!!…not a good sign…not a good sign at all.

My dad is a retired Air force officer and 1 minute late is unacceptable. He kept calling me every 2mins after that but I was too afraid to pick up…I got 14 missed calls from his number. I focused on just getting Wale to the airport…

Forewarning 3 – I faced my Baba’s wrath at the airport…I greeted him and he threatened to go military on me…lol…I laugh now but he did use those exact words…on hearing this, I ducked away, greeted uncle and aunty sachs and went to check in.

Forewarning 4 – When I got to the gate to board my flight I realised I couldn’t find my boarding pass and Nigerian passport in my handbag…my Baba has special privileges...it means he can stroll through most of Murtala Mohammed…so you guessed it…he was there when I discovered I longer had my particulars.

Baba: What is it?
Shubby Doo: I can’t find my nigerian passport and boarding pass
Baba: Not possible
Shubby Doo: I don’t have it. I’ve checked
Baba: Can you use your British Passport?
Shubby Doo: I can’t. It has no Nigerian visa on it. Plus I don’t have my boarding pass

My father just looked at me with contempt. I rushed back to the lounge. I searched…no passport or boarding pass. I returned to where my father was seated.

Baba: Did you find it?
Shubby Doo: No

For some reason I decided to check my laptop bag...thank God...it had my naija passport and boarding pass inside it. At that moment, I swear if looks could kill, the expression on my Baba’s face would have vaporised me.

Baba: You cannot be doing this...ara reo bale! You must always know where everything is kept. You need to be organised. How many times have I told you this? This could have been very embarrassing
Shubby Doo: Sorry sir
Baba: If it is work that is making you confused…

I apologised again, thanked him, disappeared through the gate and boarded my Virgin Atlantic flight to London.

The flight was fine. I called my younger brother to help me check in online for my British Airways connecting flight when I landed. He did. I got my bags within 10mins, said good bye to uncle and aunt sachs and headed for arrivals. I saw my older brother and we raced from T3 to T5.

I got there & started to repack some things into a new smaller case. My phone rang…it was my mother calling from Nigeria.

Shubby Doo: Hello Mãe
Mãe: My dear, how are u?
Shubby Doo: I’m fine Mãe. I got in safe at sound. We are at T5. I’m just repacking…I can’t talk but hold on
Mãe: Shubby Doo…Shubby Doo…wait…just listen…

I didn’t. I passed phone to my brother who explained that I had 10mins left to repack and drop my bags off.

Forewarning 5 – when my brother hung up he told me that my mother had said I was not to check in any of my bags because of the T5 fiasco.

Forewarning 6 – There was something wrong with the handle of the small suitcase so I had to take the bag to ‘oversize’...yes o! against my mother's correct advice, I checked in my small case (with my flat keys, my car keys et al).

Forewarning 7 – My brother told me to go through to the departure lounge straight away. I said I’d rather sit down, relax and jist small. I started telling him about my trip to Lagos.

With 30mins to go, I waved goodbye to my brother headed to security…the guy asked for my boarding pass. I gave it to him. He asked for ID. I handed over my driving license…I was still smiling and humming to myself in my head…yes o! I was humming I believe I can fly! He swiped my boarding pass…I stood there and waited for him to take my picture...to myself i thought strike a pose... lol...he still had not let me through security for my domestic flight...why? I gave him a puzzled look...he simply said “I’m sorry. Your boarding pass is invalid.”

Invalid ke? Not possible.

At the British Airways desk…they told me that I missed the 35mins deadline to get through security. None one told me that. My ticket conditions said check in 60mins prior the flight and baggage drop 45mins prior to the flight. British Airways didn’t care. Apparently they had already off loaded my case too. There was no way I was getting on that flight.

The test had failed...or maybe I had failed the test...

I sighed. I called my colleagues and told them not to come to Manchester airport to pick me up. I wouldn’t be there.

I went down to baggage reclaim to get my case… it was still in the system and they were trying to find it. They couldn’t estimate when I would get it. I was weak...

The guy at the desk felt sorry for me…he kept telephoning people to help…they kept saying they weren’t trained to use the system to check for my case...how?! My blood began to boil...

I needed to be in Manchester for 8am tomorrow. I could catch a coach to my place and then drive. No…I didn’t have my flat or car keys! Any fix to my dilemma needed something I had packed away in the case that was now lost in the system. I should have listened to my Ma’a.

I called my boss and told him I had missed my flight…could I take a hire car?…he said yes but as it was now 8pm I should consider taking a taxi to Manchester instead…I was to find a way to get to Manchester by all means.

At 8:30pm I got a text from my boss saying ‘I hope you are enjoying having the time to inspect T5’s excellent baggage system’…I swear if he wasn’t the company director I would have called him and finished him…

By now tears were welling up in my eyes but I was too tired to cry. I was emotional and cranky. I was about to explode and I needed an outlet for my frustration that wouldn’t land me in jail.

I wanted to call home...‘Home’, when my siblings & I are talking to each other, automatically means our parents place…I moved out right after I graduated and now live just outside London.

But I didn’t call home...my ears started ringing with my father’s foreboding voice from earlier… I don’t do ‘I told you so’ very well.

My brother called me at 9pm...had I landed safe and sound? I said yes...irrational I know but I just couldn't tell him what was going on without breaking down...

At 9:30pm…I gave the guy at the British Airways baggage reclaim desk my work address so that they could deliver my case there…he said it would get there the next day…yeah right!…It actually arrived 2 days later! To keep me calm he started trying to console me…I would get my bag back…a lady yesterday had waited for her bags but she got them back after 3 hours…opari!…my blood pressure started rising again.

At 9:45pm…the British Airways desk at T5 closed and I still didn’t have my luggage.

I called a number of taxi companies… it would be about £450 to get to Manchester…Since I had cleared it with my boss I knew the company were going to pay me back but saying yes meant I would have to get cash out of my account and wait 1 month to be paid back. No way!

At this point I have to thank the guy at the baggage reclaim desk…he had called a taxi firm British Airways use and priced it down to £240…I called the number and booked the taxi. It arrived at 10:45pm.

I called my colleague in manchester...I wanted him to tell the hotel that I was still coming…I didn’t want to get there and find I had nowhere to sleep. Plus I sent him a text with the car registration number of the taxi that had picked me up…if anything happened to me the driver would at least stand trial…if not go to jail. Plus I came right out & told the taxi driver what I’d done and why I had done it lest he got any funny ideas…

I got to the hotel in Manchester at 01:45am.

This is the clincher…with no change of clothes I went to the presentation in the same clothes I’d been wearing the day before…can you imagine?!...I’m a consultant, participating in a whole day presentation with our biggest client...potentially this alliance could bring in 10s of millions (sterling) for us annually...everybody else was looking sharp in their suits but I turn up in low rise blue jeans and a ‘off the shoulder’ white and pink pokerdot top! Oh…the shame!!! I took off the hoop earrings sha!

I called a close family friend of mine to recount this tale to her…this is why I love her to bits:

The Doctor: My sista, welcome back. how now? How was naij?
Shubby Doo: I dey o! That part was fine. It was the journey back. Heathrow T5...
The Doctor: Sounds ominous…what happened?
Shubby Doo: They bounced me...can you imagine?...said I needed to be through security 35mins before my flight. I was 5mins late. They no even give me face
The Doctor: Walai…they did that to me too…I lost over £200 and had buy another ticket to Scotland
Shubby Doo: Kai! Pele my dear but why didn’t you tell me? When?
The Doctor: About 6 weeks ago. Walai talai. I was traumatised by the whole thing. I wanted to start rushing about to see if I could get on the next flight to get to work the next day but then I thought there is no need. No need at all. They will survive without me. Life will go on.

Now why didn’t I think of that?!!

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