Kusee’s Diary: The Stalker

I am Kusee. I don’t get scared. This became my mantra as I drove all the way from Ritzzy to my home. Mercifully, Joy and Jake ignored me all the way. Jake as usual, Joy…not so usual. She pretended to be fascinated with all the great stuffs happening everywhere but inside the car. That was fine by me. I hope she grows up to learn to ignore all the things I cared about. If not..well, another fuck-head wouldn’t be too bad.

I drove to my gate and honked steadily while watching my back through the rear and side  mirrors looking for what? A car that might be stalking me? Well, yes, I live in a really posh house with posh surroundings but, I didn’t even know if the man whom I had fucked earlier even owned a bicycle, so? That didn’t stop me looking or even ease my tension.

The gate was swung open and before my gateman had nodded his perfunctory wave in greeting, I was already at the door of my garage. He came running over after locking the gate.

“Ma good day”

“Help Jake out of the car and if Joy cannot find her shoes, find them for her” That was my response. Yes, Joy always misplaced her shoes even though they might be right in front of her but no, I don’t care much for the little people.

I believe that the baddest of humans were those who once cared too much…like I used to.

“Mum, my shoes?”

“Moses would get them” I replied Joy-typical

He was helping out Jake first of all.

The door of my house was flung open just as I lifted my hand to knock at the door but, noticed a shadow beside the wall of the house.  It was as though someone threw a bucket of cold water on me. Mike?! I looked behind me and was glad that Moses and the kids were now inside but, Moses…he was needed here too. The only other person who should be home was my nineteen years old house girl. Where the fuck was she anyway? I was home late too so she definitely should be home but,…I took off my stilettos, kept one and took up one.

I would only go down fighting. I quietly snuck to the side of the wall and waited for the shadow to make a move.

Dear Diary,

It is indeed a painful relapse,

Tell me to swear off sex until am sixty, I got no problems with that…right now. Tell me to eat only fruits for the next ten years…done…for now. Tell me to give up eating stones…we got a problem…

I have come back again to say that i have relapsed and although I am not going around picking stones to chew, I still do something that is familiar…when I lay my hands on stones, it is a battle to get me to stop chewing.

Don’t think I am not trying. I have even agreed to enter a rehab but, where is it in Naija? I only have the advices of “well meaning folks”, most of whom have never been addicted to anything! It is really frustrating. First, I have to give up something which I love by consciously and continuously telling myself that I don’t love it any more (which takes a huge courage). Secondly, I have to pretend the hunger for it isn’t tearing me apart.  (This kills a big chunk of me).

Let me tell you about this my new habit of chewing gums everyday. My close pal told me to stick a gum in my mouth each time the craving came on. You know, at the peak of this addiction, I was chewing as much as thirty fine stones in a day. When I became committed to dealing with it, I cut it down to five…big clap guys?! Do the gums work? So long as there’s no stone closeby! And this time, ten stones…or twelve. That’s one doddering step forward and ten backwards…I tell ya, its a painful relapse. Much more painful cos, I see no workable quick elimination process…I promise, I’d take it. Please don’t recommend crap.

I am like a warrior severally beaten down by her own people…I leave ya…with my head bowed.

Dear Diary

Hitting The Ground Running…

It has been a while since I talked to you but, am sure you can understand that I hit the ground running as far as my blog is concerned. I am in love with writing and engaging as many subscribers as I have while plotting new ways to get so many more…has it been a cup of cake? Not ever but, have I loved every step of it? You can bet your money on a thunderous: YES!!!

Writing…especially novels and short stories is a tasking affair which I undertake with all the vigour and pride of an unknown Michaelangelo. I get lonely. Many days, I have to keep working, shunning friends and outings cos there are loose ends to be tied up.

I get scared. I get scared that the many negative stuffs I have been told about fatigue might actually cloud my enthusiasm and make me give up. I get scared that I would grow complacent and end up the rich fool. I get scared that am gonna begin resisting growth.

I get tempted to just drop off the surface of the earth. Some days I am too depressed to do nothing else but mope around. You used to know all about that when I was most honest with you and had no cares in the world.

I hit the ground running and I have been running since then. I don’t wish to stop. There is so much on my plate and yes, I doubt myself while I force myself  to push my own limits. I wonder what all that is for. I wonder if anyone really cares what goes on here. Yes, I get great reviews and all but, today, I feel like going deeper into my fears. Laying them on the table helps me clear my head. It is a great wonder to me coping with so many fears while soaring with so much determination.

I have lived without the comfort of friends all my life. I wonder if anyone would know when this voice is stilled. Would I even care? That worries me a lot. I should really care about people rather than seeing a lot of stuffs as black and white. I feel like needing people is so much heartbreak. I don’t feel all that strong but I am upheld by those around me as a pillar. I get told their fears and heartaches. Who to tell mine? Almost no one. Is that even fair to me or is that the life of a writer or the life of an honest fellow? People’s experiences occupy the vault of my existence. That makes my world smaller (in my opinion) and not as big as people think.  Maybe that’s why I have little patience for stupidity. I club myself almost to death if am the stupid one…I should unwind a bit…shouldn’t I? I should need friends… shouldn’t I? I hate it when people ask to see me…almost like a disturbance. And then I regret that I feel that way.

I think I have always known what I wanted out of life. I feel life thinks I asked for too much so, I fight life. I couldn’t care less but then, I need a breather! I want to just float with no care anymore. How do I do this?

I hit the ground running but it feels like the ground is fighting my approach. It is time to change direction or fight the resistance. I have always been a fighter…maybe it’s finally time to change direction and flow with the tides.

Do I have a Compulsive Disorder?

My sister brought my attention to my neighbour’s “disorder” once…neatness. We had fun over what we called his Compulsive Neatness Disorder (CND). Why? He works 7am-5pm  but, whenever he’s home, he is either washing his clothes, tidying up the whole compound or he’s cleaning his car.

Once I pointed that out to him and told him what my diagnosis was-CND. We laughed over it and in his defence, he said, living with an elder brother that made him always work tirelessly defined him that way. His younger brother usually ran away to other relative’s place so as to rest from the unceasing works…he told me. He equally said he couldn’t help himself.

Well, I noticed I was becoming obsessive myself… the terrible lapse in our society’s security has made me so conscious of double-checking my doors each morning and night that, I could do it five times every ten minutes! Some nights, I suddenly wake up and quickly walk around my house to check my doors and  my windows .

Does that mean I am dealing with a compulsory disorder? I can’t keep away bombs by double checking my doors and my windows but, the increase in robbery and rape says, one can never be too sure. Some days, I walk out of my house and return again to check around my house…isn’t it getting really bad?

I hope no one recommends therapy though (haha)

 

Remember Madam Koi-koi?

Everyone in my secondary school knew her…the faceless demon which was a school legend. The story goes like this… on many nights, students could hear the sound of “koi, koi, koi” presumably from a woman’s high heel shoes. We were warned that we should never try to find out who she was as she was a ghost and could kill/maim/blind and all that. It was a real scare in my early days. I always wondered where the woman was and all that.

In my JSS1, there was the story of the female student who usually had a new hairstyle each morning. Her hair was always the most beautiful and was always very neat. She usually claimed that a fellow female student plaited the hair for her but because the hair plaiter was an industrious junior student, she preferred to keep her identity secret. This went on for a long time until something happened… a student woke up in the middle of the night and had the scare of her life when she saw that the girl with the most beautiful hair actually removed her head and was plaiting her hair, herself! Geez! That was enough to keep me scared and awake most nights.

 

(She came at night)

Birds and cats were also known as demons as we were warned that students who were witches usually transformed into them to attend meetings in the night. The birds had their meetings on rooftops and treetops while the cats had the fence. I love animals but that was enough to make birds and cats suspects to me.

The madam koi-koi tail reminds me of the childhood folktale where we were told about the belle of the village who against the warnings of her parents to not marry the handsome man from a very “far away” land, stubbornly married him. What she didn’t know was that the man was a fish who having heard of her famed beauty decided to deceptively marry her. He borrowed every part of the human body he had. On their way to his place after having crossed many mountains and seas, he returned all the parts of the body and eventually swam away from the very shamed, disappointed and horrified girl.

As a grown-up now, I have been told that because parents did not like their children especially female children marrying men from far away places, the story came to be. It was a warning and a deterrent to many girls. Whenever madam koi-koi crosses my mind, I think that the seniors might have actually manufactured a story which could keep students from wandering after dark. It works quite well if you used me as a gauge.

Birds and cats? How about checking “longer-throats” cos people became “possessed” if they collected stuffs from “possessed” people. Well, this is me still pondering through all that I heard. Maybe you have a different take on issues or have seen madam koi-koi?

As for me, I don’t know what happened to madam koi-koi cos I was in that school many years and never found her…she never visited me or anyone I knew. I believe in the supernatural and I believe in the natural but, how did that story begin? I am aware too that the story of madam koi-koi isn’t unique to my secondary school. Matter of fact, almost every school in Nigeria has heard of her. So, how did this “woman” come to be? Who saw her? How did she become this popular?

 

 

It’s Complicated 7: Out Moro…You don’t wanna miss it!!!

Read and share!