The past was continental, Future laid beyond places.

I left my country with my mind, and leaving behind my heart and soul. It hurts so badly to live a life with those parts missing. A robot holds more emotion than my present self. The summer atmosphere reminds my mind how the sub-Saharan wind felt, how the impurities tasted..and what illness flew with the land breeze.

Driving down a landscape perspective, the trees were  lined like citizens of the former soviet union. The rich and poor got equal amount of food and weekly stipend.....what an egalitarian community that fell apart due to Human instinct, greed, negligence towards spiritual morals and capitalist control holding world power In view of monopolism.

The future appeared fair, suffocating under tainted air  and overwhelmed by dark mornings ......the monochromatic scenery depicting thought created by the movie industry. Cold as ice am gradually resorting back to that hermit and humdrum life where every morning was bright and no drama everyday...a situation where Fun's death is a natural mystic...a recurring episode, watching the leaf fall off, floating down like a pendulum ball and sipping hot cocoa outside dad's conquered palace. My hands felt the coldness from the wind and the counter effect from the hotness of cocoa, a sublime moment where my mind refuses to focus.

From mud floors to bumpy roads to smooth Tarmac, the impurities from the dust tasted dirty, but the atmosphere relate three different places combining all into a very big memory where am reminded of my past.

Like most dreams, I envisaged the future, smiled in the morning because she shone with brightness and minor troubles then forgot her till she materialized in the present. I am always lost in oblivion when chapters from my dream occurs........thinking when did I dream about this bittersweet situation?

The past went continental, as memorable as a monochrome picture....and the future laid beyond places .....

21st December

The misty air that came with 21st Decembers... The dust flushing out
our nostril system, the dry harmattan from sub-Sahara dessert yet,
Lagos was lively under extreme condition. Aromas from both religion,
the Christians and Muslims ...happy because the weren't any cause for
conflict... Neighborhoods were as peaceful as the could be till the
sun sets....



21st Decembers, the only holiday observed by mobsters, hoodlum, and
thieves( Both in the streets and public offices)....the day when the
riverine bunkers won't vandalize pipelines and spray bullets to the
wandering masses. The day the police gets the lowest revenue off
kickbacks and the day when electric supply was the fullest and be
probably Guinness.


The day when tenants won't get kicked out so early, the day when
paupers didn't sleep on buoyant mattress cause everywhere was flooded
on poor drainage system. The day husbands went back to their wives and
prostitutes went back to love ones.


Masquerade and superstitious images serenaded the streets like
Hell......Entertaining people and sometimes scourging them to the
pillar..... the victims smiled afterward ....most wistful
torture ....an oxymoron that will forever enslave parts of Africa till
illiterates let intellectuals into political power. This is culture for
an ethic group in Nigeria where I grew up......LAGOS