Meena’s Diary – Page 4 – 21stcenturybelle

Meena’s Diary #3

Emotions vs Logic

Another hectic week of work but I am not complaining. It’s a lovely Friday night I have been looking forward to resting my feet and get lost in a good make believe romantic movie just that real life is a lot different from the movies.

So my weekend is suddenly turned to Nollywood and not the Hollywood I wanted. wordle-girlstoys
There is a knock at the door with a rhythm to alert you that all is not well. The urgency with each “rap rap rap” gets me racing inside to retrieve a wrapper to cover my scantily dressed self.
I rushed to the door, amazed to see my Nanny – Madam Rose as we fondly called her.
She burst into the house as soon as I opened the door wailing “My daughter is dead!”
“Your daughter is dead?” I asked numbed with shock. My thought process is freezing.
“Hey! She exclaimed holding her breasts and swaying her head from side to side in anguish.
We held ourselves and started wailing. I was crying for the loss of the child as if it were mine.
I did not ask why she came all the way to my house or where the child was.
We were just simply us, women.

Hubby steps into the living room alerted by our cries.
“What happened to her?” he asks me searching my eyes but not coming to take me into his arms.
“Her daughter died,” I responded still in tears.
He faces Madam Rose and calmly asked her “where is your daughter?”
“She is in my Pastors house.”
“Is she dead?” he asked so composed that I am wondering if is this hubby is okay.
The woman has said her child is dead and you are still asking questions. I wondered to myself.
“Can I talk to your Pastor?” He asks as she rattles the pastor’s number to him.
He dials the phone while we hold our tears, sniffing at intervals while wiping our tears with the back of our hands.
Was he calling to confirm the death of the child and did not believe the mother that came all the way from her place to ours to inform us that the daughter she sent to school this morning was no longer alive?

“My name is JK and Madam Rose works for me. We would like to know the situation of her daughter.
From the conversation, we found out that the child was not dead but slumped. Madam Rose rushed the girl to her Pastors house, left the child there and took a bus all the way to our house.

Hubby was on the phone with the Pastor who had already taken the child to the hospital. The hospital had refused treatment until the payment of deposit. We resolved the issue with speaking to the Doctor and getting his name to be sure he was genuine, money changing hands and Madam Rose going to the hospital.

I can laugh now at Madam Rose and me, how we let loose our emotions, but I also celebrate the good men we have in our lives who step into situations, take charge and solve the issues.

I can analyse and wonder if it was not a case of being swindled? The supposed Doctor and Pastor we spoke to could have been a ploy, another school of thought.

However, with so many sides to a coin, doing good might seem an act of foolishness in the environment we are, but it does not rule out the fact that there are genuine people who need help and an angel in human form.

Meena’s Diary #2

Half of my Kingdom

I have been invited to a women’s forum program. Not sure if I wanted to go. We, women, are lovely creatures and fun beings but too many of us together can be disastrous. Hence my hesitation. However, when I met the convener of the program at church this morning, I was too ashamed not to give my usual reply, not this Sunday as I had done for a whole year.

I convinced hubby that I had no choice to go than to support my fellow sister. Searched my wardrobe for a dress that will bring Lagos to standstill – remember o! I was going to an all women program, but truthfully I think we women are the ones that look and size each other up.

My headgear rivalled Madam Kofo in Second chance, a sitcom of the 80’s. Make up in place. The scent of J’ardore, evoking a unique and harmonious floral fragrance.

“Babe, are you sure it’s a woman’s program? Because I think this is pure harassment,” teased hubby.
“na you sabi, No one is looking at me. I am looking at myself,” I retorted.
I grabbed my car keys before hubby decides his agenda for me.
On second thought I ask, “Sweetheart can I use your car?”
“Anything you want to the half of my kingdom,” replied my gallant knight in shining armour.

Now his kingdom is our lovely house and kids and some Naira in the bank account that belongs to all who need it.
I take his keys and mine so my car which was behind could be moved which should have been the cue only to go with mine rather than face the hassle of driving cars

I drove out in his Honda Accord 2011. Nothing is wrong with my car. But mine is Honda 2007 a brand new car when I was given still in good condition. But longer throat no gree me.
So I put in the ignition, place the gear in reverse, and drive off till I heard “gboa!”

Ye! All my shakara flew out of the window.
I have entered one chance today.
Shaking all over because half of my kingdom does not entail his car o!
I rush back to the house.
“Sweetheart” all forgotten.

“JK – I am in trouble!”
He is staring at me like I am from another planet.
Of course, he has no idea what has happened to his real babe.

“Your car, your car,” my vocabulary reduce to that of a toddler while my queens English took the backseat.
“What about my car?” he asked too casually. If only he knew.
The guy was not making it easy for me and my women’s weapon for ready tears today had taken a trip to China.

“I bashed it. I am sorry,” all coming out so fast coupled with the speed at which my 5 feet 6 inches frame got to the ground in the traditional way.
Something I have never done since our traditional engagement ceremony over a decade ago.
Unfortunately, hubby remained unperturbed.
He rushed out to see his baby and a torrent flow of the “what, why, where, how, and when questions started.
As hubby was not slowing down and none of my actions was working
I went to our room and changed.
I was upset with myself and hubby for not easily forgiving me.

“What is in a car? Am I not worth more than a car?”
I am puffing and talking using the last weapon I have – my mouth
“Haba car na car o! No be living thing,” I exclaimed.

Meena’s Diary #1

November 11, 2016

Today is my debut for Meena’s diary. Here I was, wishing for an extraordinary day to share. Something like dining in the white house with Obama and Trump while having a Tete- a- Tete with Michelle and Melania or somewhere in the Bahamas lazing alone leaving leboo and my brood back at home. Instead, I was booked to see my Doctor for a pap smear appointment.

It was my first time using this hospital. I asked my friend Sa’a who had informed me that it is the nurses who would carry out the exercise.

I walked into the GP’s office for my appointment. I met a male doctor, and that was okay after all, it was a nurse and a female one who would perform the procedure. No hard feelings here and sorry to my Doctor friends. It’s a personal preference. I feel freer with my kindred – women.

I enter still dey form level – finest big babe. The Doc asked me questions; age, last pap smear and medical history questions which I answered. See my phonetics. I still had no clue that he was the one to perform the pap smear.

That was how the Doc said they would give me some time to change into the hospital gown and he would come around to carry out the pap smear procedure.

I ate humble pie as to say the Doc don see me finish. All my “fine girl sophisticated babe posing.”

So we got on the table, and he kept saying open up, open wider. The more he said, the more I wanted the ground to swallow me.

As soon as the procedure was over, I was dressed back in power dressing but without my full kitted confidence. I had never been so eager to see the exit of an office like I was today.

I made a mental note always to request for a female doctor in such matters. Although it was male doctors who took delivery of my two children but you all know, there is no shakara in the birth room.