I am what the French call, les fous d'Afrique - I am mad about Africa. I am even crazier about Nigeria and I've been missing home a whole lot recently. I have this project on Africa and the more I read books on my continent, the less I see of the world I know. So, in honour of St. Valentine, I thought it will be a good idea to share my sincere feelings of Home with you guys. I hope Africans will recognise their continent and themselves in these words and that non-Africans will glimpse deeper truths about that 'troubled continent'. Enjoy!
I miss u, my darling as I always do, but today is especially hard because the wind has been singing to me, and the song is that of our life together. I can almost feel u beneath me as I write this letter, and I can smell the smell of red hibiscus flowers that always remind me of u.
But at this moment, these things give me no pleasure. My visits have been less often, and I feel sometimes as if the greatest part of who I am is slowly slipping away. I am trying though. At night when I am alone, I call for u, and whenever my ache seems to be the greatest, you seem to find a way to return to me. Whether through a quick glimpse in the latest Nollywood offering or shared memories with old friends or in my dog-eared copy of Half of a Yellow Sun – you come back to me.
Last week I remembered the sweetness of the red hibiscus. I remembered stuffing them in my pinafore and getting beaten for it. I remembered the red earth that typifies your beauty. I remembered the chaos, the darkness, the warmth, the pain, the laughter, the hustle, the bustle. I longed for you.
Last night, in my dream, I saw you. The wind was blowing through my hair, and my eyes held the fading sunlight. I am struck as I see you. You are beautiful - a vision that I can never find anywhere else. I slowly begin to walk towards you, and when you finally turn to me, I notice that others have been watching you as well.
'Do u know him?' they ask me in pity-filled whispers, and as you smile at me, I simply answer with the truth...'better than my own heart'. They stare at me, amazed that I still love you. They see the tattered you, the diseased hateful you. They know you've failed me over and over again. They know we fight and we've both said horrible things. They know I left you for another. They think, 'what's there to love?!' I pay them no heed.
I stop when I reach u and you take me in your arms. I long for this moment more than any other. It is what I live for, and when I return your embrace, I give myself over to the moment, at peace once again. I bend down to grab a fistful of you and I wonder for a moment if you will pull away, if you will leave me but of course you dont.
You never have, and it is at times like this that I know what my purpose is in life. I am here to love you, to protect you, to enrich you, to care for you. I am here to learn from you and to receive your love in return. I am here because there is no other place to be.
But then, as always, a distant fog rises from the horizon, and I find that I grow fearful as it approaches. It slowly creeps in, enveloping the world around us, fencing us in as if to prevent escape. Like a rolling cloud, it blankets everything, closing, until there is nothing left but the two of us. I feel my throat begin to close and my eyes well up with tears because I feel helpless to what is about happen. The look u give me at that moment haunts me. You know you are about to betray me but yet you go, you go to those who continually abuse you. To the dirty gold-diggers that only want you for your wealth. You fail me once again.
The ache in my heart that had been silent for only a short time grows stronger as you release me. I long to go with you, to fight for you, but your only response is a sad long shameful stare. I watch with breaking heart as you slowly fade away. I find myself straining to remember everything about this moment, everything about you. But soon, always too soon, your image vanishes and the fog rolls back to its faraway place and the only image that remains is that of CNN and Mutallab.
I hate you in that moment. I think you are everything they say you are. But then I realise you do not know that I'm your wealth – I make you. You should have fallen long ago but I keep you. I am the guiding hand in the crook of your back. I am your compass, the wind in your sails. I lead and you follow. I have to save you to save myself. I have to go back, I have to find you. I have to start our journey with my own small step
So I've been toying with the idea of joining a burlesque dance group...
