The Butcher

The blade plunged deeply into the muscle and ran its full length in one supple movement. The slice was perfectly controlled. The lifeless head hit the ground with a heavy thud. I frowned. Sounded like a good head.

"That's a good one."

I turned towards the voice to see her smiling at me. I smiled back and nodded. If anyone knew what a good head sounded like, it would be Ada. Our Cutlass.

I carried the head and placed it gently into the bowl with others. This one would fetch us a good price. Ada came over and stood behind me. I knew what she wanted. With another deft movement, I sliced out the tongue and gave it to her. She smiled as she threw it in her mouth, and chewed with relish. "Nothing like the feel of good tongue against tongue" she said, and looked at our rams for emphasis. Their screams resumed afresh. I sighed, turned and continued with my work.

 I have worked here for as long as i can remember. Actually, I was brought here as a ram. Unlike these silly ones who come here and scream till they die, I sat still and pondered on my current condition. I remembered stories Akin used to tell us back then in secondary school, about One-chance buses and the like. Never would I have thought that I would have first hand experience. I looked on and watched the grotesquely obese woman wielding the bloody cutlass, chopping off heads and selecting choice body parts to be sold. I looked at the cutlass, and slowly, the idea came to me. I heard my mother's voice saying that popular quote- "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade." When my turn came to be slaughtered, i gently held her hand and whispered, for my dear life. "Let me help you, please. I would kill for you. Please, let me."

And let me she did. I became a very skilled butcher, second to only The Cutlass herself.

The guard lions growled and I lifted my head from my reverie, just in time to see our 'shepherds' walk in. From the smiles on their face, i wondered if they had made a good catch. I didn't have to ponder too long, as the heavy footfalls of twenty or so people filled the entrance of the cove. I drew in a deep breath as they were dragged in and reveled in the smell of fresh blood...and i sniffed out an especially potent one. No kidding. A Christian?? I peered through the screaming newcomers and saw him. Ah, a true Christian. I smiled. Today was indeed a good day.


 One man suddenly screamed loudly and ran towards a woman, one scrawny little ram that had been kept alive in hope that she would gain some fat before she was killed. "Oh my God! Folake!! FOLAKE??! Is this where you have been??" Oh no, she's been in your father's bedroom. I chuckled at my own joke.

"Shut up!!" Ada bellowed, as she walked briskly to the errant male and bestowed a heavy slap on his face. Instantly, he fell dead, and was dragged towards the lions. That should take care of dinner today and tomorrow. Folake looked on, with her glassy eyes, as if nothing had happened. Being here this long had drained her of feelings and rational thought, she was a living dead now. "And you, sit down!" Ada turned, now facing the newcomers who had joined The Christian to pray, and were now egging him on with 'Amin's'. "Gbe enu saun! Idiots!! Why didnt you belt your gbaduras before you came here?? Shut up I say!!" This had its effect on the witless little things, and they began to whimper and weep silently. Unperturbed, I cleared my throat as i made my request.This was going to be special. "Bring the mad one over there shouting with the bible." Ada turned and shook her head in wonder. "A true Christian. Today is indeed a good day." I smiled.

I may just eat this one tongue.

New Kid On the Block

The other day, someone on Twitter said;

"Everyone and their two dogs now has a blog!"

Now, the problem with that statement was, she sounded like she had a problem with it. I should too, except I remember advocating for something called the freedom of speech and expression. As a kid, I used to really wish I could share my thoughts with everyone, and honestly, I had the seed idea of starting a website just like these blog spots when I was about ten years old. You think I’m lying? Let me tell you a story.

When I was 5 years old, I had this really pretty dress. It was hand sewn by my mother, and I don’t know who loved it more between the both of us. You know all those cloths that when they brought it out of the closet, you knew it was a special day? You start thinking Amusement Park or school party? Yes, you get the idea. Well, it was one of those cloths.

One day, I begged my house maid (Aunty Nkiru, as we called her then, them no born us well to call housemaid housemaid) to let me wear it. My favorite cousin was coming to visit, and I thought she was the coolest person ever to walk on the face of the planet. Aunty Nkiru hesitated for a bit, but she understood; she too she had a ‘crush’ on Sister Stella. So that’s how I wore the dress without my mother’s permission.

In my house, there is this saying. If you get liver to disobey mummy, you gast find liver to chop the after-bulala. We found out later (very very late sha) that every time we went against our mother’s rule, something bad happened. In this case, it was something disastrous. Somehow somehow, I tore that dress that day, and no be say na small tin, at all o. It had to be a big, big, irreparable rip. Mehn, 1 was devastated.

In my distress, I tried everything possible to mend the dress. What didn’t I use? Glue? Cello tape? Spit? Everything a five year old could think of. I couldn’t go meet the house girl, that one was a confirmed tattle tale, she would tell mummy. In vain I searched and searched, until it occurred to me to do the only thing I knew best. I ran to the library, and after hours and hours of searching frantically, I sat down to the painful realization that there were no (child) books on ‘How to Mend a Tear.’

Then, and only then, did I start to cry. The hopelessness of the situation overwhelmed me. I felt even worse because, if there were no books, it meant I was probably the worst behaved child out there, since no one ever found a reason to write one. After crying, I shook off my misery and decided to accept my fate. My mother was going to find out anyway, I better save some tears for later. However, there was no way I was going to be caught in this position again. I picked up a pen and an empty 20 leaves book, and started writing a solutions/instruction manual on every bad thing that could possibly happen to young girls out there. That’s where my mother found me when she finally got back. Anyway, you guessed right, I didn’t get a beating eventually. She had a sewing machine.

What’s my point??

Aside from emphasizing my early love for reading/writing, I’m trying to say that, everyone and anyone who has a good command of English language should please have a blog. Express yourself. It does not matter if you don’t get too many followers after, or if your parents read and start wondering if you bought akara with the school fees money they gave you, just go ahead and do it. What do you have to lose? Most blogging websites are free. You never know who out there would appreciate your thoughts, would be motivated by it, would learn from it. You never know what seed you might be watering, what vine you might be lending a hand to lean on. Yours might be the post the future Obama may stumble on, the post a future Basket mouth might eventually discover to awaken his inner passion for comedy. I know many good bloggers now who were motivated by someone who took out time and courage to write their thoughts down, my friend @Kevinwithanl can testify to this. Besides, the constant writing would definitely develop your writing skills, and instill the discipline of delivering works well within deadline, something every working individual needs. So, like John Meyer says, go ahead! Say what you need to say!

Now, with that being said, please say hello to the newest blogger on the block. Ki lon pops!!!! Ada kan, Ayeblogsvilli kan!!!!

Hehehe, yes i know. I'm a confaamed razzite.

Please accept my deepest gratitude for having read thus far. Eez a long tin, I know.

Before I go, let me give a brief introduction, so that you know what to expect. I am that kid who read Shakespeare’s Complete Works three times before I reached age 9, that kid that loved the critical analysis section in the S.A.Ts, that kid that read all the required literature texts in high school two years before it was due. My name is Ada Arinze, A.A for short, and I am a chronic literature lover. (Hi A.A!). Please o, I’m not a freak, I have other interests too, like drawing, baking, and swimming, so don’t be scared.  Most of my future blog posts would be stories, stories that I think are funny, interesting, sometimes inspiring, at all times original. At least, seventy percent of it all would be stories. The other thirty percent could be anything- rants, videos, anything sha. Don’t hold my words accountable yet. I may have a change of heart as we trudge along. 

Alright, you’re free to go. Thank you once again J




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