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While We Are Tragic: Amanda POV
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2024-10-29 19:42:56AMANDA
It is late evening when I ask Dad for a pen, when he goes into his bedroom to sort out one of the fancy biros he stashed in the lower drawer of his reading desk. I sneaked Chideziri, quickly, into the kitchen and out, to the back of the house through the pantry door. Though he didn't seem a tad worried about my Dad smelling him out, I hurried him anyway, but I made him wait for me at the gate. I think of how we watched the twilight born together, saw it fall asleep, slowly, leaving a map of scintillating pink, orange, red and yellow continents stretched across the worn out sky. We talked about everything, and nothing. Movies and books and songs, and wondered why another person could tickle you but you couldn't do so if you tried your hardest. We talked about poetry and lyrics, our favourite places in the world, and tattoos. When he asked me if I would like to have a tattoo, i said "yes", and I told him it would be at my hip—a giant bitumen-black butterfly—t
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She Belongs To The Sky While We Are Tragic: Chideziri POV
It's past six when I get home. The house is as quiet as it always is. Only the rustling of the crawling plants at the fence can be heard. Daddy is at his usual spot, cuddled between the two ends of the long couch. He eyes me vehemently but doesn't say a word. For that I am gateful. He grunts in answer after I have greeted him, then goes back to listening to the news at six on his trusty radio, eyes closed, blissed out. He nearly looks peaceful, I swear. I had already braced myself for the tirade, so when it didn't come it is replaced by a suprised soothing relief. I ambled into my room as fast as fast goes and shut the door before he can change his mind. That night, I do not soak my clothes in a bucket of detergent water and wash it off in the bathroom how I normally do. I set it u on the nail on which I hang my backpack and I breathe the underlying perfume of clean grass shimmering above the spicy smell of use. Amanda on me. Perfection in itself.There was no electrici
She Belongs To The Sky While We Are Tragic: Amanda POV
Daddy took me to school in the morning, himself. We drove in silence, he staring at the wheel, me staring out the window. When we drove past Elimgbu junction, I thought about the crossroads the four-way junction had created. One time, Dad told me that back then in the village, some people who believe in one deity or the other would go to a junction that is a crossroads and makes sacrifices there. He told me how he would see cowries and red brown blood on the coal tar when went out for water—some times even a dead chicken or two in the middle of the road. He told me how he saw that bizzare sight so many times that he became used to it. His face contorted into a grimace when he said it and i knew he was thinking about all those wasted birds that someone could have eaten and been satisfied with. I thought of them, too. Although I had never seen such—i still have not—i was angry at them, whoever they were, for all that wastage. Whie zooming past that spot, I imagined s
She Belongs To The Sky What Made Now Sour: Chideziri POV
It's past six when I get home. The house is as quiet as it always is. Only the rustling of the crawling plants at the fence can be heard. Daddy is at his usual spot, cuddled between the two ends of the long couch. He eyes me vehemently but doesn't say a word. For that I am grateful. He grunts in answer after I have greeted him, then goes back to listening to the news at six on his trusty radio, eyes closed, blissed out. He nearly looks peaceful, I swear. I had already braced myself for the tirade, so when it didn't come, fear is replaced by a suprised soothing relief. I ambled into my room as fast as fast goes and shut the door before he can change his mind. That night, I do not soak my clothes in a bucket of detergent water and wash it off in the bathroom how I normally do. I set it on the nail on which I hang my backpack and I breathe the underlying perfume of clean grass shimmering above the spicy smell of use. Amanda on me. Perfection in itself.
She Belongs To The Sky What Made Now Sour: Amanda POV
Daddy took me to school in the morning, himself. We drove in silence, he staring at the wheel, me staring out the window. When we drove past Elimgbu junction, I thought about the crossroads the four-way junction had created. One time, Dad told me that back then in the village, some people who believe in one deity or the other would go to a junction that doubles as a crossroads and they would make sacrifices there. He told me how he saw cowries and red brown blood on the coal tar when he went out for water—some times even a dead chicken or two in the middle of the road. He told me how he glimpsed that bizzare sight so many times that he became used to it. Still, His face contorted into a grimace when he said it and i knew he was thinking about all those wasted birds that someone could have eaten and been satisfied with. I thought of them, too. Although I had never seen such—i still have not—i was angry at them, whoever they were, for all that wastage.While zooming past t
She Belongs To The Sky What Made Now Sour: Chideziri POV
I get to school on Friday morning and all of the squad has that knowing look in their eyes. They didn't ask. I didn't tell. I just slinked into my seat with Amanda. When she asked me why I wasn't around, I told her I was involved in a "small family crisis".It made her laugh. It also made my stomach turn."Small" is no way to describe these things.Mumsi hasn't been to the saloon after Wednesday night. She stayed in bed, dropped her curtains so the room was like some dark street alley, throughout yesterday—she was still in there when I told her I was going out to school. She just mumbled an incoherent "okay" that screamed contrast to the "Didi! Have a blessed day" she always says.It hurt so badly that it actually hurt.It hurt physically.It's not as if I was in short supply of things to keep me angry for the rest of the day, someone just had to come along and piss on me—the driver of an old faded taxi. He was
She Belongs To The Sky What Made Now Sour: Amanda POV
I am flying.Without wings, with only the air to hold me up. Then suddenly, the air lets me go and gravity snatches me. I drop into the rivulet like a stone, feet first, where I make a splash worthy of an Olympic medal."Followed somebody who knew." I finish. I splash around in the water and it ripples brown currents from the disturbed soil under."Are you crazy?" Chideziri bellows, well on his own path to craziness. I turn and spray water at him with my palms cupped together to form a spade. He is wet, through and through, from feet to chest, and is glowering down at me."Is that really a question?" I snicker.Craziness is a prerequisite for awesomeness. Not everyone you see walking on the road is aware of that. I don't mean crazy-crazy, straitjacket needing kind of crazy. That's a bad kind. I am talking about the good kind of crazy.Okay. Slow down. Rewind.Good kind of crazy? There is no such thin
She Belongs To The Sky What Made Now Sour: Chideziri POV
Nothing rivals a kiss from your favourite person in the whole wide world.Nothing in the whole wide world rivals a kiss from your favourite person when you need it most. Nothing at all, G.My eyes are closed, lightly, shut automatically the moment she kissed me. She lingers a second. A second long enough to make me want to depend on her more.When she lets go, i open my eyes and the sun has dipped further into the water.But it is still bright out here."Every time we are alone, this kind of thing happens," she says, quietly."And whose fault is it?" I joke."Yours." she intones, not missing a heart beat.A Classic case of Amanda. I chuckle to myself."Thank you though," I say. "For coming to get me. I needed this."."Whenever," she answers, focused on the bear paw imprints on my shirt. Out of all times to be bashful.I steal a kiss.
She Belongs To The Sky Alive, You Say: Amanda POV
Afterwards, we sit on the jetty and listen to Teni's Wait on my earphones. One bud is his ear, one in mine. Honestly, I never, ever, enjoyed a song with one earbud. I still don't, but I like the sharing part. I wonder how Patoranking and Lil Kesh's is it because I love you will sound if I listen to it like this. It used to be my favourite song. I wonder about the mangrove tree near the jetty, its thick twisted roots growing into the river bank, I wonder how long it has stood there, watching silently. I wonder about the straight line of black ants marching up its torso carrying fresh green dicot leaves.But I don't let myself drift very far away. I am sitting next to him, being here, whilst wondering about the world. Living it, breathing it, wondering about it. Oddly, it is not so bad to sit and watch for a second, like the tree.I don't know when I start humming, humming to the next song on my playlist."Please stop," Chideziri begs. "Please."
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Calling Ma to tell her the exam is over will only make her rush me, I think.Today is the one day I don't want to rush things. So when others pull out their phones and gather round for selfies and corny posts such as GRADUATE IN A BIT or BEEN HERE, DONE THAT, I push my phone deeper into the slash pocket of my overall."And we good to go!" my best friend appears just as she disappeared: when I wasn't looking, and all of a sudden.She stretches her arms out for a hug."Ewwww." I dodge her. My best friend, Amanda, only seems to want hugs after one of her many visits to the toilets. There's enough bacteria on the doors alone to kickstart an epidemic."You know you want this hug," Amanda grins, inching closer.The periodic toilet frolicking is normal, the usual. The grinning is new. Whatever Port-Harcourt did to her was good. She even let me read her journal for like six seconds—which is a record. She n
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I slump onto the grass next to Chideziri. He keeps staring up ahead into the tree, as if he's looking for something in particular, not paying me any mind. "G." Nothing. I shove his shoulder. Still nothing. "Are you going to sit here sulking all day?" Finally, he looks at me. "I can try, can't I?" "It's passing out day, you fool. We had plans, remember?" "Frankly, I don't." He says. I raise a brow at him; he only shrugs. I adjust myself till I am lying on my back in the untrimmed grass. "Well, since you don't remember, I'll wait here until your mermory starts to come back." "You'll be waiting for a long time" "I have enough time." I fire back. "Jesus Christ." Chideziri mutters. "Don't use the name of the Lord in vain, bro." "Guy, g
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After four months of complete drought, March releases the first rains.Rooftops turn red with dust filled water, dust that accumulated over the dry season. Children play around under the rain, splashing in puddles.I spend half of most days in second term numb and staring. Staring at the teacher, at the writing on the board that makes no sense to me whatsoever, at the wall clock hung above the marker board. Then I spend the other half of the day noticing I'm numb and staring.In church, I no longer swing my shoulders to the music. I don't listen to J.Cole anymore.She is too everywhere. Too present to be so absent. My clothes smell of rain-beaten leaves, of abandonment, of freshly written poems. How hard I scrub makes no noticeable difference. Weeks after January the sixth, my knuckles are red and raw from trying to scrub her away, and failing to.She is too everywhere.I learn to stay in my room, curtains drawn
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Queen's is as quiet and sprawling as I remember. Almost too quiet. The pinafores are also as I remember, shining from excessive ironing. But now the shirts are cardboard paper and the weather is always so dry that I have to keep lipbalm in my bag, just in case my lips crack. Again.Lorita's here, and she definitely missed me. I get cupcakes literally every day of the week, and a lot of guilt trip for that one time I abandoned her, went to Port-Harcourt, and while there, lived my best life.The absolute best thing about being back is that Queen's installed a new track. I'm feeling it.Now, I can run.As far as I want, as far as my legs will carry me. So fast that I fly. I close my eyes and there I'm in PH city, with Chideziri, sprinting, the rain right behind us.When I open my eyes, he isn't there.~
She Belongs To The Sky Exodus: Chideziri & Amanda
CHIDEZIRI I kiss her now, because when she's gone, I want to remember how her smile tastes mixed with tears. I want to remember the flayed pink that the sky took on, how rays peered down through clouds. I want to remember the mangroves, their dying leaves forming a glade of rusted confetti. I want to remember the sun, before it was eclipsed. ~ AMANDALeft to Aunty Seedy, suffocation by embracing is how I'd die."Nne, I'll miss you sorely." She says, smothering me. I lose count after the seventh hug. All our stuff will be moved to her house. Sofas,
She Belongs To The Sky Purple Hibiscuses: Chideziri POV
The trees outside my window are almost naked now, burnt to figs by the ever angry sun. In the darkness of dawn, their branches resemble bones. I can't sleep, and being awake staring at the skeleton branches isn't helping, so I take Tobi's hoodie and leave the house. Outside is silent, much like everything else. So silent that when I pass the playround, I can hear the grass whistle. I walk. I walk by the tailors shop, to Close 4 and past. Past the hulking buildings and lonely trees. I walk till I get to the river. Elimgbu river has sunken so low that the stones underneath break its glassy surface. The first time we were here, it was full to its brim. Leaves floated on its surface. Pebbles lived under. It was beautiful. That is the thing about faded glory. It always starts out beautiful.
She Belongs To The Sky Purple Hibiscuses: Amanda POV
January, the sixth arrives quickly, quietly. January, the sixth steals our time. I wake up not remembering what the day means, at first. It comes to me slowly. The night before we leave, the night before January the sixth, I learn two things: there are two kinds of hunger, and one can keep you up all night, staring at the ceiling and missing a place and people you are yet to leave. It is two O'Clock in the morning and disconcertingly quiet when I decide that I can't endure the trashing and turning. I take a book from the shelf that will no longer be mine by evening, purple hibiscus, with the cracks on its cover and Adichie's delighted face above its blurb, and I go to the sitting room that will not be ours by evening. There, I turn on the light and cozy up on the couch. Halfway through the first chapter, feet shuffle in the hallway and Dad emerges from
She Belongs To The Sky Yultide: Chideziri POV
Ahmed is stuck at his mother's shop. But as always, he finds a way to vanish. Abe's on his way already. Pacal posted pictures of the places his family had been to today: cinema, swimming at a pool and Ferris wheeling. The mere sight of the Ferris wheel gave me vertigo.By the tone of his last text, he's down for a reunion. Although he's never been as good as Ahmed at vanishing, I know he'll be there. Chantelle gets there first, to our spot at the river. Her sister's nurse friends visited, and in her words, turned the house into a marketplace. Amanda arrives last. The sun has sunk below the horizon by then and mosquitoes are biting. "I come bearing gifts!" she bellows, stomping down the planks, her footsteps heavy with the weight of five paperbags she's clutching. "Since when did Amanda become Santa?" Abe says. Yet he grabs his gift bag when it's offered.&nbs
She Belongs To The Sky Yultide: Amanda POV
Christmas is explosive. Literally so. The number of fireworks produced in a single annum is alarming. But what is even more alarming is the fact that the effing hoodlums that deadbeat parents in my neighbourhood call their children seem to think that detonating all those fireworks in the street just beyond our gate is cool. On Christmas eve, after one "knock-out" landed on our roof, I reached the end of my thoroughly stretched patience. I stormed out to yelled at a couple of them loitering in the street. All of which I did barefooted.Don't blame me, I was spectacularly pissed.The twenty fifth—Christmas day itself—is spent out of our house and in Aunty Seedy's, with her and Ozo. Dad wanted us to go to Chicken Republic, or one of the many fancy restuarants he made it his business to locate in the area once we arrived, since neither of us can boil an egg.
