By Sharon Olanrewaju
I never liked her
I would never admit to being jealous of her though
She always had this gentle smile, the kind seen in the movies – bright
eyes, pink lips,white set of teeth…
You could almost kiss her!
It was just perfect… too perfect.
She’d say a good morning, then accentuate it with her smile, then
add ‘have a blissful day!’
I mean, WHO IN THE WORLD SAYS ‘HAVE A BLISSFUL DAY?!'”
And the smile would always be there.
It was like she did it to taunt me,
I could hear the smile singing: ‘YOU CAN NEVER BE LIKE Me la la la la
la, SUCK IT UP.”
I hate her.
I swear, I do!
Then, her beauty? My Goodness!
It affected even me, a girl!
She was a natural!
I could never be like her, not even if I tried,
There is actually no point trying.
My smile can never be as perfect as hers, not with these braces
and maybe not even ever after.
And I’m not a natural beauty
My spots would scare a monster! – literally
I just would never be like her.
She definitely is a virgin.
There’s a way they always look…Innocent face…shy smile.
It makes me sick…
They remind me of who I will never be,
I hate it…
I hate them…I HATE HER!
Especially when she smiles at me and
says ‘HAVE A BLISSFUL DAY’, then
she accentuates it with her ugly smile and rotten teeth.
*Sighs*… Who am I deceiving?
She has the best smile in the world and I would never be like her.
I can also never escape her.
She lives next door and unfortunately, she is my course mate…
Nothing could be worse!
After a woeful test, she’s still smiling.
“How was your test?” she asks
You tell her, “It was fine”,
then she’ll say, “mine was great”…
And I’m like, “GREAT!?…GREAT!?…CAN SOMEONE WIPE THIS GIRL OFF
THE SURFACE OF THE EARTH FOR ME?! OF ALL WORDS…GREAT!?
She then ends the conversation with the smile.
It is always so easy for her, the smile.
She was just too nice for my liking.
Last week, I was walking towards the hostel, I could see her up ahead of
We both were approaching a group of girls, clustered around
something on the ground
They were looking scared
She rushed towards
them, (God bless her compassionate soul)
When I got near, I heard one of the girls shout, “It’s a Snake!! It has bitten her! ”
I was now alarmed too.
THE POISON. I heard it moves towards the heart…or
brain… or something.
”WE NEED A PIECE OF CLOTH!”
”WE NEED TO TIE UP HER LEG!”
”WE NEED SOMETHING!…ANYTHING!”
”WHO HAS A SCARF!?”
I was the one shouting.
No one had anything, the hostel was still far away.
I looked back at her,
“IBIRONKE, YOUR SCARF!”
Her smile was gone.
She looked surprised… or confused
She still looked beautiful though.
WHAT! HAD I MISHEARD?!
“BE QUICK IBIRONKE !”, I cried.
” I can’t open my hair outside”
(Uhm… “OPEN MY HAIR!?” Now that I’m writing, I realize that was bad
English. She definitely is not as perfect as I thought. Who asked her
to ‘OPEN’ her hair; when did the hair become a container to be opened)
That day, I was amazed.
I couldn’t understand or, maybe I
did but, I couldn’t recover quickly.
When I came back to my senses, I continued, “BUT IT’S ALMOST DARK,
IBIRONKE, BE QUICK! PLEASE!”
“No, I can’t”.
Now, her voice was more resolute.
I was staring at her, the poison must have
I tore my gaze from her…
The poison was still flowing…
I tore open my shirt…
There was no time to unbutton.
Thank God I wore more than a
bra… well, just a tube
(before I be called a pagan ‘cos here was a person who couldn’t even
“‘OPEN’ her hair outside”… I’ll be worse if I ‘OPEN’ more than the
I tied up the leg of the wounded girl with my shirt.
Minutes later, those who had gone to get a car were back. It would be quite a long
journey to the hospital in town, especially with the heavy traffic in the evenings.They drove her away.
News around the hostels had it that the girl survived.
She is from another hostel so I’ve not seen her since then, and even if I did,
I definitely would not recognize her, so there has been no thanks from anyone.
The next day, the nice girl was still smiling.
I couldn’t grab what she was smiling about though…
maybe it’s because she saved a life.
Now,when she smiles to me, I smile back.
Now, I don’t exactly hate her anymore because now I know that if this is what
niceness is about, then I want none of it.
I want love
Tomorrow is my own mother’s birthday and guess what…It’s my birthday too! And although it is a cliché and often a lie when people ‘hail’ their mothers and hype them in public, I make an oath to say only the truth – Nothing but the truth! No lies like – she is the best mother
in the world, she is the most perfect mother and all that…
No, the truth only so, here is the truth…”SHE IS THE BEST MOTHER IN THE
WORLD”…(LOL! jes kidding)
With all sincerity I write, “MY MOTHER IS
SIMPLY A REAL ONE”. I don’t know how she is able to do it, never fake; gist, play,quarrel…too many memories with you Mama… When I talk about a guy and we talk it through, analyse him,turn him over… What of the
way we quarrel.
Gosh! I love when we quarrel, just like mates but what I love the most about it is the fact that You are not just my friend but my mother. It gives me an edge over you mama. That is why when we
quarrel, I’m sure you’ll make the first reconciliatory move. *winks*
So,So… you will be a year older tomorrow. I want to thank you
mother…Firstly, for saying yes to daddy, I want to thank you for the
legacy you have started (of real mothers), and I want you to know that
IF, just if you ever think you never have achieved anything (and you
have no reason to think that way), you just remember you did this; you
raised ME, even me. I wouldn’t give my children another grandmother and
I’ll make you proud. I’ll not bring home a guy who has crazy hair and wears a necklace😁 I love the face you put on when I say that’s
the way I want my husband to look… Don’t be bothered mom, I’ll tell him
to trim the hair and put off the necklace the first time he meets you *winks* because I know he’ll win your heart from the first day.
I wish you us a happy birthday and many happy returns.
From your most annoying, silly daughter, Omodara.
I love you Mamayoyo! 😘😘😘