Posts Tagged ‘memories’

I sat down on the steps of the bungalow knotting up the hair of my Barbie doll, although, at the time it looked like I was doing something beautiful. I chose that day to wear my favorite English dress.

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My grandfather brought it all the way from England for me as a birthday present. It was white and had these little rosy petals on it. I never liked to wear dresses but this particular one was quite pretty.

I hummed the nursery ryhme “Twinkle, twinkle little star” while I worked. My mother was at work and my father was… somewhere. A noise however interrupted my little project. I looked up and saw my brother and his friends riding down the slope.

They stopped in front of the house. My brother climbed off his bicycle. After ruffling my hair, he went inside to drink some water. His friends came up to me and sat on the steps.

I saw them earlier so there was no need to exchange greetings. There was no need for formality since they were my friends as well. I never got along with the girls.

My brother came out of the house wiping his mouth with his sleeve. I looked up to him, “Where are you going next?” I asked.

I could stay alone for days and wouldn’t mind but this time I felt like doing something.

“We’re going to climb those rocks over there”.

I grinned. He looked down at me narrowing his eyes

“Miriam… no”

I gave him the little kitten look. His friends all tried to persuade him.

“You know mama won’t like that”

“How? She will”. I said in a soft voice.

“Are you going like that?”

I squealed in delight and looked down at my dress. I shrugged “Yes. The rocks aren’t so high”.

He nodded and I dropped my Barbie doll on a nearby chair.

I got my little bicycle and climbed. We rode to the rocks and parked.

The rocks were not so steep but my brother and his friends made a fuss over me. Ensuring that I was in front of them; helping me maintain my balance. It annoyed me a bit but they let me come with them and I had to take that into consideration.

We reached the top and we saw a tree. It was very healthy and not too tall. There were little creamy colored things hanging from it. They looked like peaches.

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We all went to the tree and our friend plucked the fruit. It had little hairs on it and appeared succulent. The whole thing made my mouth water.  He spoke, “I think I know this fruit”. He opened it easily. It had a yellowish interior with little seeds in it. We all plucked ours and went through the same process. I popped one of the seeds into my mouth and sucked it.

It had a sweet and sour taste. I liked it and so did the others. We gathered some more and carried it back down the rock. I placed mine into the little basket in front of my bicycle.

As we rode back, I started to feel a little bit uncomfortable. My brother and his friends were unusually quiet. I blinked rapidly because the road was becoming blurry.

“I feel sick,” my brother said.

His friends were all scratching parts of their bodies. Suddenly, it hit me full force. It was like millions of needles were piercing my skin. I stopped riding and started to scratch my body. I didn’t know which part was itching me. My fingers were everywhere.

It felt like time stopped and I remember running fast. Really fast. Tom and Jerry FAST. At some point our friends disappeared one after the other and it was just my brother and I.

tommy run

We pulled each other. It was suddenly crab mentality… king of the hill competition.

I had no idea why we were doing that until we got home. It was a race to the shower. We just wanted some relief and we didn’t care how we got it as long as the itching stopped.

My brother and I got to the bathroom. I entered it before he did but he pulled me out and turned on the shower. I started to cry and curse him.

I felt like crying, laughing and pulling out my hair all at once. I heard my brothers frantic scratching. Water was flying everywhere.

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I saw the sink and I did something I never thought I’d do. I ripped my pretty, pretty, pretty dress off. Tore it to shreds. I turned on the faucet and threw water on my body. It just wasn’t enough. I cursed my brother… “I hate you!! I hate you!!! I wish you weren’t my brother! Bloody hell!!”. Got the last curse from Ron in the Harry potter movie.

We both turned that bathroom into a swimming pool. I got so frustrated that the adrenaline rush hit me. I shoved my brother out of the shower and stayed under it. The itching continued for hours, although the cold water toned it down a bit.

My mother… “sigh”. She dealt with us. That was no fruit. It was definitely not a fruit.

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In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “An Extreme Tale.”

It was early this year when one one and only shortfilm got the award for best student film. I still remember the joyful screams of my colleagues coming from the other end of the line. My name appeared in yet another newspaper article even though they spelt it incorrectly.

The months that followed was a happy one but it was short lived. The chibok Girls were kidnapped by the well known terrorist group BokoHaram. I began to wonder what my fate as a female was in the world. I felt insecure, afraid and numb in a country I grew to love. I no longer had the zeal to do what I loved. I just wanted to stay at home and never go out. The depression was setting in and the fear gradually increasing.

I felt guilty for laughing, eating and sleeping, when those girls were still out there in the bush suffering.

At that particular juncture, I just wanted to leave the world but it struck me as pointless. I said to myself “you can’t stop what is happening. It is impossible to leave in a world that is void of suffering. Not when the lust for power is still out there”.
I gradually got over it and spent my time praying and hoping that those people who are suffering out there, find the strength to keep on living.

If there is one thing I believe, it is that there is always peace after the storm.