Finding my way back…
Starting all over again!
I missed you guys so much, and yes, I didn’t know how to come back or start writing love letters to you. I initially wanted to take a breather for a day or two and then come back. But then, a day or two turned into a week, and I found it difficult to even come up with a sentence
.
On Saturday evening, I was too pissed to write. I wanted to share my own thoughts about the whole Herbert Wigwe issue involving the bereaved children and their families, who were taking them to court over the inheritance. A video was made public where his sister addressed her niece as ‘Herbert’s Daughter,’ as if she was talking about a total stranger. Like I mentioned earlier in my little rant that didn’t make it here, it hit too close to home. When my dad got ill and it was really bad, I saw the true colors of the supposed relatives who were supposed to protect you in times of need. Instead, they clamored for anything and everything that belonged to their ill brother, who wasn’t even dead yet but was perhaps sharing a meal with death at the same table (Mercy said No).
One came for the jeep, another took all his property documents that he owned in the East, and another was asking for the documents for the house we were currently staying in. LOL, I was mad as hell. Mom instructed us to give them all what they wanted, as she’s basically an outsider.
(Image is a response to my rant on WhatsApp)
Before calling them, Mum’s friends sneaked in the night before to cart away valuables in preparation for their arrival to see their sick brother. I was confused as to why her best friend was in the house at night with a car, taking away every valuable thing we had to our name. Aha, when morning came, it all made sense. LOL, it was such a mess. There I was, trying to give an update on his health, the doctor’s diagnosis, and possible solutions, but I was immediately interrupted by, ‘Where’s the key to the Jeep?’ I was stunned to my bone marrow. What were we supposed to use to transport a sick person to his appointments? Well, I was a ‘girl’ speaking where elders were, and I was sent away for being disrespectful.
I know it varies from family to family, but I hate that it’s so dominant in the Igbo tribe in Nigeria. They’re apparently ruthless, and that’s one of the questions I never fail to ask when I’m about to get into a serious relationship with anyone. What’s your tradition like? What happens to widows or the bereaved when a loved one is lost? I once met a guy who was seriously against having a court wedding. Well, we didn’t move past that date.
I finally ranted about what I really wanted to say. Took me long enough—oops, I lied… there’s more gist, but I don’t know how to say it.
Also, tell me why only two people asked why they aren’t seeing my posts on Substack! The rest of you didn’t care at all. Well, such is life. Here I thought we were bonding over my trauma and gossip, coupled with a little sprinkle of fiction here and there, but no—out of sight equals out of mind for most of y’all.
The randomest of things have been happening lately, and let me share one. I passed by this car coincidentally one evening, and since then, we’ve met at the same spot like six times on different occasions on my way back from work. One day, he finally rolled down his window and started a conversation. It was a moving traffic, so he begged for my number, to which I obliged just to let him leave me alone. Since then, we’ve just kept seeing each other briefly—like five seconds at a time—and that’s all. We never chatted or called. Then one day, he called and introduced himself as the guy I always run into on my way home from work.
Well, it took me long enough to recognize who was on the other end of the call. We rescheduled the conversation to Sunday. Sunday came, and we spoke briefly again. After the short call, he sent a text saying, ‘I want you to be my girlfriend.’ Understandably, well, I’m not that bad, but someone you barely know? Really?
Tell me why he called a few minutes ago and said, ‘Hello, girlfriend.’ 😒😒 I said, ‘Who are you referring to, please?’ and he said, ‘Me.’ I asked, ‘How?’ and he said he’s my boyfriend, and automatically, I’m his girlfriend. Like, how? Fear Yoruba men, o!
Hmm, well, the reason why I’m here is the fact that I’ve got my mojo back, and we’re back to my era of gists and storytelling. I have a piece in my head that was originally tonight’s content, but I’m not too sure I’m brave enough to put it out there.
In other news, our writing streak is back on. I conquered writer’s block by speaking to my favorite human, and all is right with the world again. I now understand why people seek closure in certain situations.
Good night, loves. We meet again tomorrow for another rant or an emotional piece—depends on what this crackhead decides to go with.