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Diary Entries: Ghosts

Happy February people.

Sorry for the hiatus but I have had other stories that have refused to stay unwritten. I hope you enjoy this installment of Solape’s life. It is getting rather boring though without yall’s input.


One of these days I am going to end up in jail. For murder!The victim will be either my stupidly stupid boss or my equally brainless landlord.

I need a new job.
I need a new place.
I need a new life. 

Full stop!My favorite U2 song is ‘Walk On’. I need to take Bono’s advice and somehow get rid of all of the crap that I can’t seem to leave behind.

Segun…I still don’t know how I got lucky. We finally did the dirty. And it was so good that we did it 4 more times that night. Now we are like rabbits that just discovered Viagra.
Today, I called him from the office to vent about my boss. Next thing I know he was at the parking lot of my office and we were making it rain in his tinted glass car.
Yikes…I am wet even talking about it.

Mom is still around so our escapades are limited to his bedroom, his dining room, his study, his bathroom, his car… I am sure you get the idea.

Maami’s memorial is in two months time. My father emailed me again. It has been too long since I was in Nigeria. I am afraid that if I go, I will never leave.
Too many memories of Maami lurk in the shadows, all of them, ready to take a hold of me and never let go.

The darkest shadow of all, the man I called father.

I fear that to go home will mean to forgive him for the ruins that was my early teenage years.

And then there is Segun.

He tells me how much he longs to go home. When we have sex, he puts his hand on my womb and names our unconceived children. He dreams aloud about their childhood. Dreams that  are set in Lagos with patches of holidays all around the world. He puts his head on my belly and bids his unborn children show up quickly so he can show them the Lagos he grew up in. 

Mom says if I go to Nigeria, I would get a better job and and command a better salary. She also says the money I spend on rent here would see me live in Victoria Island with the elite. She tells me I can start my life again in Lagos.

She loved her flowers by the way and cried when I handed them over. She cries too much.
So many odds are against me wherever I am.

Lagos, New York, Mars… The ghosts of my past need no visas. They find me too easily. 
Mom went for groceries. The doorbell is ringing. I am curled up in the corner of my kitchen, willing myself not to open up for Marcus.

Song of the day: A Yoruba Praise Song that has these words ‘Oba to fi imole sha sho bora’

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3 Comments

  1. 'Lara February 3, 2013 Reply

    Ghen ghen…things are happening, waiting for the next post.

  2. Sylvia February 17, 2013 Reply

    Kiah, please we need you to finish this story or rather keep writing this story.I like this

    • Kiah February 17, 2013 Reply

      am on it! thank you for inspiring me today. 🙂

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