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She pressed and held so that the honk of her car will rally with that of the ones around, maybe then, the traffic will clear.

She could will all the cars away, she knew she could. But she did not. She wanted- needed- to conserve her new found powers because of course it was bestowed on her by more than coincidence… it was a gift of fate for the greater good.

Lala knew the world was in imminent danger. The signs where there, of things; bad things approaching from different dark crevices.

It was obvious in the shadows that moved anti-clockwise, against the sun,defying light.

It was evident in the children born with their eye wide open, open even in their mothers wombs.

It was apparent in the gait of the trees, more rebellious as against their gentility. Nature was brazen and brash; a tree trunk extending to make her trip, then the winds howling in laughter as she falls.

Somehow, she was the only one that saw them, she was the only one that felt the change so when she told her mother, her mother merely grimaced and looked away staring into the empty sunburnt evening.

Lala had had enough. Surely, doing something to prevent her from having a heatstroke amidst an ungrateful traffic in a state that will get mad at you for dying because you have caused more traffic is part of the greater good.

Eyes closed. Breathe hitched. Zen mode. Concentrate.  It took 10 minutes… it gets easier and faster by the moment. Wielding ones power, like a talent takes practice… Lala was getting a hold of hers.

The traffic had dispersed before her and she easily maneuvered, her heart in her throat, her fists clenching the wheels till she felt like she’d puke. She could do it, she had the power of telekinesis. She could move objects using sheer mental power and that…. that had to be the most heady thing.

She was glad she made it home before fainting. The mental exercise had drained her of all energy and she needed sugar or an energy drink to re-charge. She’ll take red bull, then she’ll tell her daughter all about it now that she had confirmed that she was indeed superhuman.

It all started in the lab, as a scientist working in a high facility government lab, she dealt with major chemicals, and she believed in major abilities but she had never for once thought she’d accidentally develop an ability though it might be that her strong mental believe had attracted that bug to her.

The vision of that multi-coloured, shimmery bug with eyes that looked like they could see right through people and straight into the future hit her again, this time, so hard she had to promptly sit on a sofa.

She wondered-not for the first time- how it had made it’s way past the barricade, past the heavy duty doors that shut so tight even air had to hiss away. The place was highly sensitized and well-lit, surely something as big and colourful as that should not have covered that distance unnoticed.

But fate… laws of attraction… her innate instinct to help must have had a hand in gaming it all. The sting was so sharp and sudden she fainted. That was when she  died, perhaps for a second or its split,but her heart had skipped a beat, maybe two and it had been jolted back to life only because on her way down, the complex chemical she was working on had spilled and burnt deep into the sting that it had prompted her heart to beat. And when she awoke, she woke up a new human.

She could see patterns in life, she could see thought processes. She could see the life in things people think are inanimate not knowing that they retain the hum of life of their raw nature. The furniture still hum with the trees essence, the cars still have elements of steel, so does every other thing; that was why controlling them became easy for her- because she could feel them, connect to them, communicate with them, will them and they bent to her will.

She didn’t hear her daughter come in. She was so in tune with every other thing she started losing touch with humans… they were far less interesting.

‘Mama you look pale’. Her daughter looked at her worried. Her daughter worried unnecessarily.

Lala smiled weakly.

‘I’m okay. How are you? How’s school?’

But she didn’t hear how school was, or how Nana was selected to represent the school in a science tournament, or how Nana’s best friend was caught with a boy and flogged before the class, or how Nana really needed money for a new uniform, because she was communicating with TV vibes and she would have moved it but for the fear that Nana will freak out.

When she opened her eyes, it was night and her daughter was nowhere to be found, she had slept off. There was a plate of yam and beans porridge on the table, Nana must have made it. Her poor child must be confused and lonely but some matters require sacrifice.

‘Mama are you sure you are okay?’ Nana asked again after checking up on her mother to see if she was breathing. Her mother had been delusional since her father left them for her mothers older cousin but it had become worse lately.

Lala didn’t flinch.

‘It’s okay to think about him. But please we have to move on’. She pleaded. She was desperate for her mother to pick up the pieces of her once colourful life again.

Lala tilted her head towards her daughter and smiled ‘Who? It has always been the two of us darling’.

She was, it seemed, stuck in a stage of calm denial- not of the act of betrayal (it would have been much better) but of the existence of Nana’s Dad. It scared Nana to no end.

Then something moved in Nana’s periphery. She turned to catch the object fly out through the window. Her mother caught her looking and smiled.

‘ I was wondering how you’ll find out. It was so hard keeping it to myself for so long. Now you know’. Her smile was so wide, it was the happiest Nana had seen her since the incident.

‘Know what? What are you talking about Mama?’

‘I know it may seem like there’s a plausible explanation, but it’s just that! I have the power of telekinesis… and yes I just threw out that verse through the window with my mind’.

‘Mama!’ Nana half-whispered in an ill-attempt to keep the alarm out of her voice, ‘Mama that was a bird’. And a tear fell from her eyes.

How do you react to physical illnesses? Do you ignore physical pain, tell your loved one to ‘man it up’ when he has a killer headache, decide to treat yourself when you have diabetes? Or do you go to the hospital and seek professional help.

Now how do you react to psychological diseases? Are you aware that mental illness do as much harm to you and your body as the physical and many physical pain are in fact, a manifestation of the pain that is lodged up in your brain seeking a way to get noticed and treated.

Mental health awareness, in developing countries especially, is just gaining momentum after wreaking harm for years unattended.

Recently in Nigeria there is an appalling surge in the number of suicide and suicidal attempts, murder of spouses, relatives and strangers, terrorism activities and other life threatening acts. Are you aware that over 70% of these acts can be attributed directly (as in the case of suicide) or indirectly (as in the case of terrorist attacks) on mental ill health.

Psychopaths, sociopaths, people with borderline personality disorders and other personality disorders walk, work and live among us (they might even be us), but the lack of awareness on the signs to watch out for and when to get help can make the disorders worse to the point of making them dangerous in the society.

Depression spreads it’s tentacles far and wide, more so because it has found a suitable environment for growth in Nigeria fed by lack of awareness, shunning, pressure, frustration stemming from work, home, marriage life, studies or standard of living.

The lack of empathy makes it that much harder for patients to reach out and the stigma makes it worse when it comes to seeking help. But no one has ever stigmatized people for seeking help with cancer, so why is cancer of the mind any different?

What we need to understand is that mental diseases are diseases like any. What we need people to know is that having them is okay and seeking help is an act of courage. What we need from people is to research, know about the importance of mental health and what to watch out for, know the many different personalities and disorders, observe the people around them and give them a should when they need it.

Because your mental well-being means so much more than you think. It means the world.

She dipped the kitchen towel in a bowl of hot water and placed it on her hand. She winced as the heat seared through her tender flesh. There was a cut and several small injuries on the back of her hand and she couldn’t let anyone see it, especially the people where she was going.

She placed a band-aid and covered the small cut around her knuckles with foundation, she was wearing a long-sleeved gown to shade her wound from prying eyes. People, always trying to establish your life is not perfect like theirs.

She wasn’t going to address the cause of her pain until she’s back. He was probably on their matrimonial bed still asleep, but she had to get up, because she had to work, because she had to feed the family while he slept like a bunch of rotten bananas.

She checked her watch, frowned at how the small hand had ticked clockwise faster than she had wanted and hissed. The lecture wouldn’t deliver itself, she said to herself. Domestic violence, it seemed was a much sought after topic. Battered women where having none of the bullshit anymore, and she was proud. She stared at her bruised hand, she was proud of them.

Iridescent flowers that have already started darkening by the edges, that was what they looked like. Their faces lighted up in understanding and agreement as they stared ardently at her, eagerly sucking up each word like a child with an insatiable appetite of milk.

She shivered slightly at the sight of the innocence painted on their faces, innocence that for some, has already started getting tainted with a dark paint. She needed to save them; from themselves and from the others be it their parents, partners or the society… or all.

And so her voice got stronger with each word, with each message, with each example stating a hundred and one reasons why a woman is the owner of her body and why no one, can take that away from her.

‘The word ‘woman’ has, for a long time been taken to be synonymous to ‘weakness’, and that is why the girl child has been conceived of weakness, birthed by weakness and brought up in weakness. It has been drummed in our brains for so long we begin to believe in that and that is why when our husbands batter us’ she cringed at the thought of that ‘it is taken for granted and blame is heaped solely on us, the weakness’ her voice dripped of passion. She needed them to understand that they needed to stand up for themselves, she needed them to understand there in the grand looking assembly hall of the school of the elite children before it was too late.

‘But not anymore’, she went on. ‘The modern woman is strength and power. She understands that she is human before woman, she understands that she is woman and therefore priceless, she understands that dowry is not a ticket to torture, she understands that she is the owner of her body and she will fight to see that every other person accepts same’. She concluded.

The thunderous applause made her jolt a bit in fright. She stood stunned as the crowd of young secondary school girls and teachers stood up and cheered.

It always happened like that and that was why they scouted lectures so much from her for whenever she was delivering a lecture on violence against women, she was never herself. She was a woman from fifteen years ago who had been dragged and man handled, slapped across the face and told to shut up or the knife glistening in the dark will be buried within her. And she had to stifle her scream and lie for hour-like minutes until the deed was done and her innocence, gone. The most painful part being she knew who it was, and she knew he was a coward as only cowards hit women.

She smiled and lowered her eyes as if shy. The rage of being a victim had subsided and she was back to herself.

The admiration in the eyes of the female students and the profusely stated appreciations were enough for her. Her job was done.

She didn’t want to go back home. She didn’t want to face him or anyone. She just wanted to drive away, far away, but she knew she couldn’t, she knew she had to face her worse nightmare who shared her bed every day for 5 years.

The moment she pushed the door open and heard the sound of feet shuffling, she knew he was home. Where else would he be? Useless man.

‘Come here’. Silence.

‘I said come here’. Now with obvious annoyance.

She felt the rage creep back in. He always had that effect on her ever since he decided it was a good idea to rape her. Little did he know, he fucked with the wrong girl.

10 years after the rape, she had bloomed into a beautiful woman,and he had thought that she had forgotten as it happened a long time ago. And so when she did everything young ladies were prone to do to get the attention of men they liked, he had succumbed and had fallen prey. Some months later, they were married, what he will come to discover was her plot for revenge all along.

She had made his life a living hell from the first year of their wedding. She had made him lose his job, distanced him from family and friends and basically made him dependent on her so that all the power were in her palms, the palms she used to batter him all day as she relieved that dark night that awakened the monster in her.

Her fists were still sore from the punch she had given him last night and she could see him visibly shake as her palms curled to fists.

‘Bloody coward. I hope you tell this story to your fellow weak men who hit women’. She spat out in disgust and landed him another punch.

I’m not Hausa, or Kanuri or Fulani. I’m from the Bolewa tribe of Yobe.

I can neither sing, nor dance, nor paint, nor draw nor do anything creative apart from writing.

I learnt how to read in primary 4 (I think I was dyslexic)

I learnt how to speak English towards the end of primary 4. Prior to that, I knew only the basic ‘Good morning, yes, no, stop’. 

I write faster than anyone I know

I love everything natural. My hair has been natural from birth. I’d rather go out with my face bare than apply even powder.

I am a pretty good masseuse. But I don’t tell people because they might demand a massage all the time. If I were on another dimension, I probably would have been a professional masseuse.

I never eat chips with ketchup only. I eat chips with ketchup and yaji (ground pepper) together. So much sizzle and spice God!!!!!

My favorite colour is green and favorite number ,7

 I am a highly principled person and stubborn to a fault! I can be very obstinate 

I absolutely love pringles. I can eat a can in one sitting.

At some point in my life, I didn’t believe in love because I had never actually ever fallen in love. But then the craze that love does exist was (and is) still on so okay… yay! Love is real.

I sleep better with a pillow on my head

Sometimes, I direct my own dreams. Like a movie script.  Cut! Bruce Willis do not shoot him yet! God! . Okay take two. And…. action. I honestly dreamt up an action dream with Bruce Willis in it (would have been better if it was The Rock but no problem) and I controlled the whole movie.. sorry dream. So no one could shoot me without my permission and even if you do… it’s a dream so joke’s on you.

They call us Lucid Dreamers… we can bend our dreams to fall in line with our will.

I want to take up a second degree in psychology 

Plenty people who read my works assume I’m a small person. So they are mighty surprised to find an almost 6 feet, plenty KG human looking down at them.

There was a time I’d often confuse bakwai and takwas , dankali and doya, tattase and attarugu. I still confuse Sahoor and Budabaki😂😂

I’ve never watched (and I’m not proud of this)… I’ve never watched ‘The Sound of Music’

I live off lists. I make lists of what I should buy, what I buy, who I owe, who owes me, sometimes what I should do…. I don’t really love lists, lists love me.

The more comfortable I am with you, the more the likelihood that I’ll unleash the full fury of my sense of humor which happens to be quite dreadfully hilarious. So if I’m holding back, comfort-o-meter is down.

If I can really, fully eat bones, goriba and sugarcane before you, then I can trust you.

I was a very very shy and reserved kid, I couldn’t look people in the eye.

What I consider the most beautiful thing on my face are my full eyebrows.

If I could add 4 feet to my height, I will

I’m not actually 6 feet tall… yet. I’m 5’10 (close enough) but love it when people think I’m 6 feet.

I’m addicted to newness.

I’m easily tired of talking except to people I really enjoy talking to, then I never get tired.

I still haven’t met a person who has read the book ‘1984’ by George Orwell apart from myself.

Plus- I make mean grilled steak

I don’t have an ex

I can look at the sun rise and set, and the moon, and the stars, and the clouds and sky and trees and anything nature all day

I’m lowkey a romantic at heart

With all the things happening today from politics to religion to the society to economics to marriage to education, it is to be expected that everyone will have an opinion on everything. 

The problem arises not when people have varying opinions (that’s a good thing), it is when people decide to voice out those opinions at the same time, all trying to scream above the others din in order to be heard. It makes you wonder, is it to seem relevant and intelligent or to just communicate.

In the society it is very easy to judge people based on what they say especially when their point doesn’t tally with that of the majority, they are automatically seen as wrong.

In the society it is automatically wrong for you to even breath once someone of your religion or ethnicity or state does wrong because he is your kin and you are vicariously just as much a culprit.

In the society (some parts) as a woman you should learn to voice out your opinions only when you are in a room by yourself, and even then, hush it down will you?

In the society saying what you mean makes you fake and a wannabe and automatically you are in an intellectual competition with others and you don’t even know it.

Bottomline, in the society today, you always wonder when to speak or not to speak!

Now speaking is not a problem, WHAT YOU SAY is a problem. You honestly just can’t say anything you feel like because not everything you say matters. Some things make sense in your head but in reality they are rubbish. ‘Think before you speak’ is honestly the most underrated thing.

If it’s unnecessary, keep shut.

If it’s fruitless, don’t.

If it will cause alarm, soften it.

If you aren’t sure, be sure first.

HOW? When you decide to let your tongue race without control and you untactically say all the things that come to you everywhere to everyone, then you have signed up for it.

If it’s offensive, tune it down, use examples.

If it’s harsh, use euphemism. 

If it’s rude, then you are wrong.

If you are riled, calm down.

Talk calmly and with intelligence in passing your message across, don’t just spurt out anything you feel like carelessly, it’s rude.

WHEN? Which time do you choose to speak? Do you tell people the truth or what you think when they are hurting or most sensitive or when they are much calmer and ready to see reason? The former should be.

TO WHOM? If the recipient is not a person of understanding, hold your peace (avoid dragging things to forever, it irritates). When you realize that no matter how calm or tactical you are the person will vehemently never see reason because he isn’t in the discussion in order to learn but in order to ‘win’, then you are just wasting your time and reducing your intellectual potential with something not productive.

Choose the calibre of people to talk to about certain things. You can’t come to a purely Muslim community and preach to them about accepting homosexuality because it is not in their orientation same way you can’t go to a western community and preach them on polygamy. If they don’t want to hear leave them alone! If they don’t want to accept and it hurts no one leave them alone!

WHY? Are you speaking up for clout? For validation even in things you don’t believe? 

If no one cares, don’t. If your reasons are mischievous and not noble don’t. So why are you speaking?

Your RIGHT? Recently, a Professor with degrees in Psychology and International Law and certification in Ethics who has taught Prime minister and presidents and… said that you should know when to defend your right and when to surrender it. Defending your right may do you more harm than actually letting it be so that you can tackle the situation more tactically.

SOCIAL MEDIA has turned us into unempathetic beings, we feel like because we are behind the screens and because we can’t see the people we are directing our wordings at physically, we hurt no one when we speak. Why do you think suicide is on the rise now? Directly or indirectly social media has many things to do with it.

Use the tool of globally reaching out to people wisely and not oppressively or carelessly.

All said and done, I am all for speaking up. I am all for expression and saying your mind. I’m all for watching and observing and laying your observations to the table. I’m all for not keeping things bottled up but in this world where everyone is sensitive, you must not be insensitive about it. Talk only when not talking causes more harm than good, talk only when needed to, talk only when it causes more good than harm, speak up, but do it right!.

Some people are people’s people. They can be around people 20 hours a day and never get tired. They’d rather be with people longer than they will be with themselves. They are extroverts, social, and very confident and comfortable around people.

Some people cannot stand others. They’d rather be alone 20 hours in a day. In fact, they don’t even like people. They are very reserved and might not be confident around others. Socializing is a strenuous task for them.

Then there’s me. I can be around people, I can socialize, I can be with others 20 hours in a day but honestly, I’d rather not.

Sometimes I want people around, most times I want them away. And I know why.

It’s a different thing to chat or be on social media, I’m at home so no (much) problem. But for me to actually go out of my house! That is a mighty problem. I don’t go out except I can’t help it (Market, Hospital…. oh yes of course, work). Socializing and hanging out are major tasks even for a productive purpose.

When I share no common interests or point of view or discussion point with a person, then I can’t relate much with him. If I can’t relate much with a person, then there’s not a point being around the person. Now I might feel this way around people I can even converse with.

For me to want to be around a person then that means the person really gets me to a certain extent and I can be myself with the person at all times. I can handle otherwise (when I’m not comfortable with a person) but I’d rather not, so I’m always surprised when some people are comfortable with everyone and they can be with everyone and speak to everyone. How fam?

I don’t even like talking much except it’s about a novel or cartoon. I don’t like repeating stuff, if I say it once I’d rather not say it again.

I don’t like arguing with people’s opinions and beliefs.

I don’t like it when people think my normal conversation is a battle of intellect and so they start showing off their IQ when in fact I don’t even know if I have one.

Generally, except when I really see the need to (because of the person or topic), there’s little or no point to talking more than absolutely necessary. Ever.

Hi. I’m Hafsah, and sometimes, when I look at myself, my face, my body, I feel like it’s not good enough. Sometimes I have issues, body image issues and usually I am my own critic- not others. It’s fine if you do the same thing too. It’s fine if sometimes you feel down because you wished your curves are curvier, it’s fine if it’s often and not all the time, it makes us human.

We were never created perfect so noticing our imperfections physically is a good sign. Next, we accept it, we can’t do anything about it, we embrace it, we love it.

I feel uneasy about how my tummy looks in a tight blouse ‘ I look pregnant’, I say. But don’t hate that part of me. I hope it could be flat sometimes but it’s not flat and I’m okay. I’m still the same person and I have 50 dollars down that I’ll still be the same person with a flat tummy.

TV, social media, the internet, magazines all don’t help when it comes to self-esteem and body image issues. You just have to discountenance all those ideals as the unrealistic and unrelatable made up standards that they are. Because in the long run, who gets to define, design and decide what really is beauty and perfection? The Creator . And since the all perfect Creator who never makes a mistake created you like this then best believe you are as good as you could ever get.

If I wish to exercise so much my tummy flattens it has to be for me. It has to be my choice, it has to not have anything to do with the expectations of others on who I should be or the stereotypical images of ideal body on the Tv.

I have plenty body image issues, my face size, my nose, my skin tone, my hair line (and guess what? Many other things that people actually compliment me about)… but I’ve embraced it and the fact that I majorly love me like this though sometimes I may feel insecure, is all part of living.

Is it yours?

When it can be taken away 

As swiftly as you came

With no notice,

This time, with no prior notice.


Is it yours?

When the only thing 

Between you and the grave

Is one last breathe

And you have no control


Is it yours? 

When you feel you have a grasp

But it spurns out of control

And all you can do is watch

Pray, it will stop


Is it yours?

Because when it’s the end

And the Angels come

You can’t tell them to wait or stop

They just take it away and it’s forever gone

This life you live the way you wish

As if created on your whim

You say it’s yout life

But it can end anytime

And you are just an audience

To the life you lived

You wish it will rewind

You have changes to make

But its a lot too late

Your deeds will pay

So again I ask

That life you slaved for

And the end of the day

If you can’t decide its fate

Is it yours?

Keeping Up With Social Media

Social media is the greatest most destructive millennial development. It has turned the whole world into a global street so that you can access information and people with no fuss. Now while that’s mostly a good thing, you stumble on things that make you question your choices.

One of the very first platforms to reach Nigeria was Hi-5. I didn’t know about the Hi-5 craze until it was almost over and almost all my friends were on it. I wasn’t particularly crazed about the prospect of meeting strangers I couldn’t actually meet.

Then came Facebook, then 2go, then BBM now these I actively participated in. So I watched the metamorphosis of those platforms from media of connecting with people to a means of corrupting people. 2go was the worst.

People thought the most they could do was chat up friends and family, make new friends, try to lure people of the opposite gender into a flirting spree, exchange phone numbers etc. When I’d log on 2go and see the nonsense going on in different groups, I’d think that is the height of it. Little did I know that it was a saintly arena compared to the future decay.

Now many of those social media platforms are just mine fields of indecency, insecurity, narcissism, immorality and many mental ills.

People utilize it for social harm and gratification out of that than for social good and a free conscience.

The timelines of Facebook are marred with lies and time-wasting stories rather than important news and socializing.

The pages of Instagram are riddled with gossip and name-calling rather than sharing and catching up.

The streets of 2go are deconsecrated by immoral ideals and vapid talk.

Even LinkedIn, a professional networking site has more love and immoral proposals in the message sectionthan work proposals.

Youtube content helps you waste hours and plenty data watching people spew useless stuff which you won’t remember in a few hours time.

Snapchat affords you a chance to watch small children ‘live there best lives’ according to social aesthetics even if they aren’t necessarily happy about that and yes, you can follow everyone’s lives right up to the colour of their underwear because that’s the whole point. Then after that, gossip about what you watched in the Dms.

And then when they have adulterated the true use of the platforms, they meet on WhatsApp.

If you wish to maintain your dignity as a person do not be caught dead roaming the streets of some platforms because they are a one-chance street.

And to maintain your sanity in others do not believe a word posted or a smile splayed or a story said or a life displayed because anyone can take a happy picture, but only a few are truly happy after the shot.

Now all of these realisations took time and change to register. And according to the true nature of the platforms, it is a duty upon you to keep up with trends, literally follow the lives of the people you are following(because you have nothing better to do), suck up all the idealogies and propaganda they subtly release because that is about the aim of the apps and be a merry smartphone puppet.

Now all that notwithstanding, social media is an absolutely amazing tool for those who actually know how to use it for the best and that’s those who know how to develop themselves, network, form meaningful relationships or strengthen existing ones, be productive, impact others, source for jobs or further their businesses and generally positively develop themselves.

Just know that it should be more for keeping in touch than gossiping and stalking. It should be more for linking up with like minded people than negative ones, it should be more for putting your capabilities out their than putting your life and beauty none of which are your achievements.

The Season Of Moral Decay

She got up all bleary eyed and puff faced when she heard the locks turn. He was back.
He stepped and shut the door behind him before looking at her. He almost sighed in welcome frustration. It was going to be the same routine again. A routine he enjoyed because of the sheer rush of power it gave him.
‘Are you okay?’ She asked. She was torn between reaching out to touch him and staying within the invisible boundaries he had put up which only he could cross. Maybe if she didn’t push it, he will start staying with her.
She wrung her gown with unstill hands and waited for him to reply. She wasn’t sure when she became nervous near her husband, he never beats her, he doesn’t even raise his voice not to mention a finger. But that made her more nervous , the calm.  The roaring thunder is always more peaceful than the silent lightening.
‘Come come here. I’m fine. Of course I’m fine’. She moved slowly towards him and he embraced her. She was feeling the tears lodge in her throat, when he was affectionate, which was most times, she always felt the tears. But she never let them fall, he may think her a weak woman who is being too clingy and needy, she didn’t want that. She knew that he married her for a certain appeal in her independent spirit and a thrill in the long chase she made him do. What went wrong -what made her so shrunk in size and spirit, so dull and slow, and so frail in ego was beyond her. Love probably.
‘Have you eaten?’ He asked. She shook her head. She hadn’t eaten since the hour he left home.  Never seemed to be able to eat or sleep when he wasn’t home. He left three days ago.
‘But why? You look starved.  Let’s get you something to eat, have your bath and rest okay?’ She nodded.
I’ve told you, whenever I am not home, it’s because I’m working and the network in the office is bad, I never seem to connect with your line. Don’t worry about me okay?’.  He said as he laid her to sleep after she was full and refreshed.
‘Now let’s give you your shots. Less worry, more healthy. Okay?’ She nodded again her eyes wide in anticipation. She had a disease too complicated for her to comprehend and he took care of her, only he was willing to stay with her and give her her shots of injection. After that, the whole world seems alright again and she honestly never cared about what he did. She was always in a state of unexplainable euphoria and to the outside world,  she was a perfectly happy housewife.
‘There there’ he said and patted her arm where the needle was just pulled out  ‘You’ll be alright. I’ll be right here’
He waited for her to sleep then pulled out a box from the top of the dresser, the shots were about to finish,  he needed a larger dose to keep her high and off his case. He loved his wife, at least he loved knowing he had a wife, it made him more appealing to other girls and the fact that he had tamed such a wild shrew to become his personal powerless pet was a mighty boost to his ego.
Besides, he was sure that was the only way she could ever remained married to him. She wouldn’t have it that he was a man for many women and he had vowed never to be divorced, it was sign of failure.
He packed up some fresh sets of clothes, some wads of cash dropping a bundle of hundred thousand naira beside her and dropped two tablets of rophynol into a bottle of water beside her. Then as a second thought,  added three more.