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When your lips spoke 

Things you should only think 
How my heart broke. 

I wonder at the damage done 

Everyday I see the signs 

Another reason to be gone. 

Lol, I am now the student 

My lessons taught to me 

Their education (though) absent. 

I must have severely hurt you 
Resentment thinly concealed 

Vengeance truly becomes you. 

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Mama Mia

My mum is just a mum. 

No slaying… 

Not a diva… 

No swag… 

Does not own a smartphone. 

The quintessential mother; loving, selfless, godly, religious, safe… You know, mummy-ish. Every phone call from her ended with a prayer. She is a Christian and a ‘prayer warrior.’

I come from the Northern part of the country. A job in the federal capital territory was a dream come true. I jumped at it enthusiastically. 

The first few months were tough. My learning curve was steep. But I balanced out. As things got better, I moved into a better part of town. I got a car and started to make new friends. 

I met a group of attractive women et al. They were called the ‘witches of Harlem’ behind their backs. They had a Goth/Emo combination going on. They were easily the life of any party or occasion. 

I have always done well with women. Women love me. I think it is because I am nice… Yes, really I am. 

The ‘head witch’ was Ada. 

She was hot. 

Hawt. 

Haute. 

She had a tattoo of a tiger over her left boob. It started between her breasts all the way… Uhmmmm… Left. She was tastefully pierced and studded here and there. I first met her at a soiree hosted by the American embassy. 

She walked up to me and told me that she liked me. She then asked if we could date. I was single at the time so I said yes. I love tigers…

My rep’and market value skyrocketed afterward! I suddenly began to get invited everywhere. My affiliation with the witches of Harlem was well received. I began to be called, ‘the wizard of Oz’. 

Teehee… Me, church-boy, a wizard?! Teehee…  

Anyway, Ada was okay. I truly have dated better. Looking back now, I think I had started to find her boring. All bark and no bite. I have been with ‘church girls’ that behaved like your favourite pornstar. So, I found Ada a tad lacklustre. 

I have always insisted on condoms. Despite the fact that Ada hated condoms. 

I insisted despite the clean bill of health her blood work from National Hospital showed…She raved and ranted about her hatred of condoms… Shed a crocodile tear or two… Threatened to sexually starve me…  (and she did). I insisted on the condoms regardless. 

Remember that she sexually starved me? Right…it lasted about a week. She staged the fight on a Friday. 

By the next Friday then, I was on a casual date with Adriana, the daughter of a Brazilian diplomat. We were at MarionStones┬« eating grilled steak and vegetables when Ada suddenly showed up and was disrespectful to me and my date. She caused such a scene that we were all asked to leave the establishment. 

Adriana already knew about Ada, so she was cool and wanted another date if I “survived the night.”

I got back to my studio apartment to meet a livid Ada, who proceeded to verbally abuse me. She said that she would make my life miserable and that I “had better fall back into formation!” 

I calmly broke up with her and walked her out of my house. 

The nightmares started that very night. I woke up screaming every night for the next few days. I would wake up and see scratches and cuts all over my body. Injuries that were not there the night before, injuries that no human could have inflicted. 

I became skittish and paranoid. I was tormented by ghouls and nightmares every single time I shut my eyes. 

I uncharacteristically called my mum and requested that she come spend a few days. She uncharacteristically accepted and said she would be at my place by dusk the next day. 

That same day,  Ada called and asked if I had “come back to my senses” yet. I told her to “go and die!”

That night, she showed up in my dreams with a few garishly dressed women and told me that I was going to die the next day. 

I woke up troubled. I was starting to understand that these women were not just called ‘witches’ for fun. I was suffering the wrath of a witch scorned. I am not ashamed to admit that I knew I was going to die the next day. I was a broken spirit. My only regret was that I could not reach my mum to spare her the trauma of being the first person to see my corpse. 

I actually put my affairs in order before noon the next day. My mum arrived towards evening. After fussing and praying over me for half an hour, she left me in my room. I was now more optimistic. I had faith and hope. 

I must have drifted off to sleep because when I opened my eyes, Ada and three of her friends were in my room holding gourds and cowhide whips. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. My heart began to beat violently, my tongue felt swollen and my eyes bulged as they took turns assaulting and battering my strangely supine (and somewhat restrained) body. 

Ada then pulled out a long porcupine quill sharpened at the tip, dipped it into her gourd and approached me, her intention obvious… Just then the door of my room flew open and my mum stepped in. 

I tried to call out for my mum to save herself until I saw that she was smiling.

 Yes, smiling! 

You do not want to see my mum smiling when nothing is funny. 

She locked eyes with Ada who was now looking back and forth between my mother and I in confusion. 

“Rachel, I… I don’t understand… What are you doing here?”

“He is my son!!” Was all my mum said through gritted teeth. 

At her words I felt a great weight lift off me, unseen shackles seemed to fall off my body and I regained  my faculties instantly. 

I looked up to see Ada and her goons curtsy humbly at my mum and then, I swear (down), vanish into thin air. 

 

I tried to bring up the topic the next day, but then my mum started to smile…