Shame of the year

We all know shame and understand to avoid it when necessary. But sometimes, we just walk down her street and hope the world would forget.
Do they forget? Or do you forget? The unexplainable embarrassment of the year.

Yeah! My case was a shame of the year and this is how it happened.

My grandma, “a hajat” runs a retail shop along a highway in some small town. It faces a rising sun which I enjoy bathing on the cold days.
I greet her, grab a chair, place it onto the verandah as soon as she opens her doors to the shop.

She is a tough person to read really. Unlike most elderly ladies who give a cozy feeling while talking to them, she freaks me out. Like she doesn’t like me. Or for some reason, hates me and just blurs me in her mind’s eye. And I think I did give her a reason to.

About eight months ago, I came to live next to her, at my own place in my own first home. A single room, rented, along a muddy road (cause it’s raining now) off the highway. The building is one block away from where the shop is. So if the shop faces north, my room would face the east.

I should say I didn’t know her until that time. Like we had not seen each other until then, and until she sold me a three litre Jerry can for I think triple the price, Ugshs 3500. And then, she gave me a reason to go to other shops. It was expensive even in my own ignorance since I had never done shopping for household items before.
So I tried other shops and bought a five litre jerry can at Ugshs2500. I was happy. It felt like money well spent. That I was a genius finally in control of my first days in the real world, away from home and school.
But at the same time, a wrong or the best idea of never to buy from her again. I mean, if family is to be exploited by you, am sorry grandma, I ain’t going to be part of your legacy.

So the sneaky dealings started like I was buying drugs from another dealer and had to be sure she never comes to know. Not that she would do anything, but really it would look weird.

My new dealer would be a shop along the same highway, on the same side, just a one block away from the grandma’s left.  A she of course, who undeniably is beautiful. A gracious voice and radiant smile, offering to do way good stuff if I buy from her. Like she sorts my rice so I take ready to cook and eat. Which of course my grandma, wouldn’t do. And again, she is beautiful.

Anyway I usually peeked at the verandah to see if grandma wasn’t there, then walk like a boss to my dealer whom am so proud to buy from. And this was just smooth until, I can’t even say…

It was a normal black out, just a few candle lights from the still open shops, and flashing lights of passing vehicles. The sky was dark enough for the  many visible stars that dotted it’s canvas. And this guy, myself, chooses to take a walk, masking the night, thinking about my own duties till I come close to my dealer’s shop, “mama Mariam” that I remembered I had a pickup to do.

It was dark and if that wouldn’t have been the best time, then there wouldn’t have been any better. She was not on her verandah, but dumping rubbish into a “pit.” so I took hold of the moment and made the pickup. I didn’t ask for a wrapping for my 1kg of rice and turned to leave the shop.

And duh, lights everywhere. To be specific, light above my head. Electricity was back from its normal routines as it always is in developing countries. Very bright. Probably a new bulb. Looking across me, grandma standing on the verandah looking back at me. With my spoils in my hands, I swear I wished to be anywhere else but not there. I was drowning literally in my mind that I froze for sometime. May be a minute or two. Until I went back into the shop and asked for a wrapping before walking shamefully with my head low.

It was the worst I had ever felt in a long time. Wait, the worst that I still do feel. So guilty that I have been avoiding my morning sun bath.

And when I did see her, she replied to me like nothing had happened. Huh? Nothing?!
Just with her stale face like before which could mean she always knew I bought from that shop. Or worst, “I don’t care. You can go to hell grandson. You are a sellout.”

And to the moment I write this, I still feel her stale eyes, hear her raspy voice like echoes from a nightmare that am never to wake up from, taunting me like a ghost.

Grandma, am sorry. But she is a pretty  lady the stole me from you. Please just understand why I had to do this. It was a tough decision that took seconds to make and would probably do the same until you start selling a bit cheaply. Wait, even if you did, she is a pretty woman and that’s a good reason to keep buying from

And again, am sorry! Love you!

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The knights of darkness

Sleep stands a few steps away from me
Watching my pathetic body cycle in weary
My mind aching in ceaseless frenzy

After long hours of a short day,
Counted two at most,
That slowly passed like two long dull centuries

I was reading, vampire chronicles,
Buried between the black ink and papers,
In the great imagery of fine wording

The beautiful scenery of dim evenings,
Masked by moonlights and lanterns
Along streets of the late eighteenth century

An artistic painting it seemed,
Old fashioned, tailored coats and hats,
Queued in long lines awaiting the curtains of the Opera

When theatre truly boiled blood in human veins,
The excitement, delight, clever poetry
Written softly on tender walls of their hearts

Listening carefully at the sounds,
Wagon wheels on tiny rocks of the dark streets,
Through alleys where stray cats made their little roars

There were gasps of terror,
swift advances like a wind,
Cold, that death smelt in the dump air

Then, screams of the fading,
Echoing on walls of moonless nights,
As their skins turned white within the reaper’s grip

Inescapable, truly before the face of death
Creatures of the night, lone predators
The knights of darkness

Beautiful, ain’t it?
Fascinating, the metallic smell of fresh blood,
Dripping from sharp canines, a fresh kill!

Ah, I felt the hunger, and truly did,
But was lost to this world,
Oblivious to my own problems, “food”

That now, dark, you understand,
Why I can’t leave this house to find “food”
And can’t drift smoothly into that pool of sleep “nightmares.”

Ah, nightmares! Hunger!

~sad ~

Through a glass of wine

The world through a glass of wine,
A ruby refraction of her curvy bosom
Round like twin apples,
Luscious and so inviting
Man’s undying hunger,
To suck once again on firm tits

Tender skin, soft,
An adventurous hand,  down her belly
Lightly mapping the navel
Before feeling the thread of silk around her waist,
On the hip side, raised slightly as my fingers run,
First slowly, and then quick, to the back of her knee

She moans briefly,
Abit surprised, or excited
the tingling feeling,  sending a million neurons,
To her mind, to the heart,
Racing, a rise in body temperature
As I breath, warmly on her stretched neck

She then whispers,
In a language of the two,
Her eyes rolling, lips wet,
“Sire, we are closing”
“You can’t sleep here again,
Taking with her, my glass of imagination rise

Facebooked

She leans against a pine
Slightly above the head,
Her left hand raised,
Touching the tree bark

Her elbow points to my direction,
Her eyes beam with youth,
And her smile warming my cold heart

I feel it beep once again
From one to a thousand,
Rapidly to a zillion,
And I know then,

That I have fallen hard
For the pretty face before me
Partially covered by long dreads falling

Her lips appear so luscious,
A deep red like a ruby
Reflecting the last rays of the sun
Before hiding behind the  mountains

Darkness covers us so fast,
Like a dark cloud spreading a plague
And yet, my delight dies not

But burns bright like a flame,
Of a piece of wood in the jungle
Suddenly blown out by the malicious winds

Then, reality appears to me like a ghost.
In blue and white,
Like, comment, tag
Big letters, “Facebook”

To which I now see,
It was just a pic

Dear mom and dad

It is a crazed world
Where sanity and insanity war
Man tethered by responsibility
Grazing between choices

Choosing a pathway to lifelessness
The black hole of all human life
The one side that we do not know
Pulling each one of us randomly

When man chooses sanity,
He lives to a scale
Set by the society, family and himself
Balancing happiness between all

Hmm! What are a wondering way to live?

Sometimes I do think its easier to be insane
At least then I don’t have to play by the rules
My dad a preacher, and mom a judge

Both speaking of hell,
One allegedly ruled by demons,
And another built of stone and bars
Designed for people like me

The sons of anarchy?
She replies, ” yes indeed!”

And why do I believe her?
Is it a paranormal feature that all mothers have?
Or they just tap into their children’s naivety?
Using sincere eyes that say, all is well

Hmm! A powerful weapon they wield

But anyway, this time,
some part of me still hinges
On the thought that insanity is better
Cause one doesn’t have to be tethered by anything

am I demented?
Tell me, really, am I?

I understand that responsibility defines life
It is the soul of sanity
And yet most of those who choose it seem unhappy

Unlike our brothers who choose the later
Living care free and drowning in physical laughter
And yet, them too are not truly happy

Tell me dad, what is life?
Is it the choice of how we make us happy?

And if yes, what is happiness?
Is it that gained by sanity or insanity? Or may be both?
Huh? Tell me

Yours truly,
Markus,
The 10 year old son

Note: I will be playing with Cathy next door
Thought you should know in case you need me
I love her hair and she smells good 
I understand you don’t want me to play with her
But I just won’t stop
Reason, because I like breaking rules
Love you mom. Love you dad

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