Don’t get me wrong,
I still remember where I live,
I still know what my addy is and I’m sure I can find my way there from most parts of lagos
and some others of Ogun..
and maybe even Ghana!
if my house were a person,
I wld say we have drifted apart,
and in this struggle for survival,
our relationship has broken down,
we have become bedmates who are strangers
and the fine details of everyday living
have robbed us of the love we once shared.
Like they say,
out of site is out of mind
and like a reflection in a rippling river,
my house is begining to fade from my mind’s eye,
and one day I’ll wake up and not even remember
there was something to remember in the first place!
and maybe I’ll even be too tired to care
cos my feelings are being eroded a little at a time
and the gully will soon be too wwide and deep to cross.
I wake up every morning before day break
and grope about in the dark,
hurrying to get ready for another mundane day at work,
can’t really remember when last I had power supply,
so my dear house has been blind for so long,
I don’t evn get to see her before I leave in the morning,
not even a glimpse,
blame me for being in too much of a hurry,
blame my job for wanting too much,
blame nepa that I never have light,
not even a tiny bitty glimpse
and I’m usually too tired to care cos I’d had a restless night in the sweltering heat
and my mind’s on the awful traffic I’m about to face
I drag my tired mind and aching body around all day,
without a hope of starting my return journey before dark,
too much to do,
too little time,
too few hands on deck
so,Ii get back to my house
my house who’s been waiting eagerly for my return
like a lover looking out to sea on the pier
hoping,
longing,
expectant,
excited,
but me drags my aching body and tired mind to my door,
and gropes again through the gloomy dark,
kick off my shoes and dump my clothes in a heap,
I slump on my bed too tired evn to eat,
too depressed to care,
praying for sleep to drown out the reality of the next day being just like this one
and the next, and the next,
and my house goes unnoticed yet again,
the details lovingly created forgotten in the fog that has become survival
so I toss and turn all night in the heat
with the mosquitoes as my companions
my house looking down at me sadly
cos I didn’t notice yet again
I didn’t even see a thing,
my luvly pink walls
or are they yellow?!
I don’t even notice if my feet still sink into the plush carpets
or did I strip them up and put in tiles?!
when last did I enjoy the view from the windows?
or the way the sun streams in through them when the sun peaks?
they are all just wisps of smoke in my mind now,
my tired mind drifting off into a troubled sleep
and in a few hours,
my blasted alarm will rouse me
and I will grope in the dark trough my house again,
and start the viscious cycle all over
cos I’m caught in this rat race that’s meant to be survival
and my house will go unnoticed, unseen yet again
hmmmnnn, I guess my car is a tad luckier
at least, I get to sleep walk to her every morning
and so far, I’ve managed
to get us both to and fro in one piece,
while going about the drudgery
of life in Lagos
and every evening, I ‘zombie-walk’ from her
into the house I’ve stopped seeing….
I hope it too much
to want my life back,
I hope it isn’t asking for too much,
going above my ‘station’,
cos it’s not just my house that’s begining to be forgotten,
but me as well,
maybe I don’t even know me anymore,
maybe I don’t even see me anymore,
maybe the reflection of me
is beginning to fade as well,
all in the name of survival,
and I have gotten to that place
where the the business of being has robbed me of my own being,
and has the process of living
drained all the life out of me?
I really don’t know anymore
I just wonder now,
if I had been unfortunate
to live with anyone during this period
if I would have been writing this about that person
and not just my house
well, just anoda sad fact of life,
so, my poor house,
like the poor neglected wife,
is still there waiting…
