No one to talk to,
And no one to tell that to.
Drawing strength
From invisible places
Everyday.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
A PRIVATE AFFAIR
WE DECIDED TO let her have her affair, and pretended not to know.
We all work in the same office, she sits in front of her computer right at the back of the office, and computes away. We all sit in front of our computers, computing away.
I saw one of the first emails. It was one of those accidents that happen in the workplace. I don’t know where she went to, I don’t know what compelled me to get up and go to her empty desk, and click on. I shouldn’t have. Seeing that she was not there, I should have just walked away; shouldn’t even have gone there in the first place. But I was in a hurry, she should have forwarded the email to me an hour ago, I needed information in it to help me finish the contract I was drafting for an agent, and the deadline was noon. Without thinking, I grabbed the mouse and began to browse her inbox which surprisingly was open on the screen. Normally she always locked her screen before she left her seat.
Suddenly I hesitated. She was a person who guarded her privacy intensely. She was a bit different from the rest of us in the office, at least in this regard. With any other colleague it would not have mattered, but she was… Hmm… Come to think of it, what did she have to hide anyway? Why was she always locking her screen? Mchw!
My annoyance at knowing I would have to let go of her PC without getting what I wanted, thereby facing the risk of not meeting my deadline, almost rubbed me of my morals. But still I hesitated, which in itself irritated me all the more. She was the only one in the office who guarded her privacy with such tenacity. But the moment of hesitation had done its job. I sighed. Don’t be a jerk! I told myself, she’s different from the rest of us, just let her be. I shook my head and started to turn away…
Then I saw the name. The email at the bottom of the page. It rang a shrill bell. I did a double-take. That name! But, even more than the name, was the subject title of the email. “Babycakes, can’t wait”. Almost mechanically, without any conscious effort, I pointed the mouse at the incomprehension and clicked. The clarification came. I closed the email, returned the inbox to the face of the monitor and walked away, thoughtful, to my seat. She was having an affair. With him. It hit me like a thunderbolt.
For the better part of the next hour, my mind was in turmoil. Needless to say, I missed my deadline. Even when she returned to her seat five minutes after I left it, and eventually forwarded the email to me, I couldn’t work. It took me a long while to find my composure.
For some reason I kept it to myself. Over the next couple of weeks, I began to observe her more closely. Such a quiet, shy, unassuming, unobtrusive personality. Babycakes, can’t wait. How had it started? Every once in a while I would turn around, steal a glance at her, or watch her as she walked by. And each time, the wedding ring on her finger would catch my eye, and I would think of her four year old son who she once brought with her to the office. Babycakes, can’t wait. What was she doing? I noticed that she began to receive lots of phone calls. Private phone calls on her mobile phone. Each time, she would jump up and hurry out of the office; and in between the phone calls, frequently, the buzz of incoming text messages. Babycakes, can’t wait.
I don’t know how the others came to know, truly I don’t. Maybe because of all the sudden personal phone calls. One day, while she was out, we were all talking, and the conversation gravitated to love and affairs… and it turned out that we all knew she was having an affair… and with whom.
Maybe because none of us had ever met her husband. Maybe because all of us liked her, liked her quaint, quiet, modest personality. But we never discussed it again amongst ourselves. For some reason hard to explain, we all hushed it up.
The months passed. No one came to visit her in the office. Was she still having the affair? She remained her usual self, quiet, generous with friendly smiles. The phone calls and the text messages kept on coming, an insistent flood of private vibrations.
One day, her husband came to the office. I think that was when the pain of conflict drove all of us into intense inner reflection. He was a nice guy, with an unassuming, almost self-deprecating air, greeted everybody with a wide smile, an eager handshake. In the following days, we started to talk about her affair again. It was moral, it was immoral, life is a mystery, she needs salvation, maybe he’s doing it too, who knows how it really is in their home, it is a sin, everybody has free will, monogamy is unnatural, polygamy is unnatural, judge not, love thy neighbour, trust nobody, watch out for the devil, what a man can do a woman can do better, are we sure, maybe we’re mistaken, stop gossiping, stop spreading rumours, it is true, I have the proof, the world is coming to an end, he must be doing her well, maybe her husband has stopped performing, it’s his money she’s after, but she’s such a good girl, we must put her in our prayers, there must be a reason, love is a mystery… As always we only spoke about it when she was not there. Was she still having the affair? I didn’t know. I didn’t ask.
And then came the day when everything changed. Her phone burped. A short conversation. A loud gasp. An ominous pause… and then it broke out: a frightening, low, howl that gripped every heart in the office. It seemed as though we all started up at once. I turned around. Her face was in her hands, she was sobbing. Wracking, ugly sounds, primitive and real.
I jumped up and hurried with the others towards her. It took a long time to calm her down. After she had shut down her computer and left, I walked into the toilet, to avoid the chatter of the colleagues. I put the seat down, sat on it, closed my eyes and watched again in my head the scene that had played out after we all rushed to her.
“What’s wrong?” someone asked.
She sat frozen, staring at her mobile phone, as if hoping it would ring again. Her voice was a whisper:
“A friend of mine… just died… he took part in the fuel protest in Lagos today… he got hit by a stray bullet… his best friend was with him… “
Silence.
“What’s his name?” someone whispered gently.
A pause.
“Kulie Oto.”
“The artist?”
“The activist?”
“The lecturer?”
All three questions came at once.
She answered mechanically.
“Yes…, the sculptor. He is… was… my husband’s cousin.”
“Really?” Even I felt my eyebrow rise. She was still mumbling softly, almost to herself.
“He’s the one who just called… I mean my husband… to tell me… there was some shooting… people ran… Chiya… was hit… fell… his best friend found him… I don’t understand… he flew to Lagos yesterday evening… he was to travel back to Abuja this evening…” Her eyes travelled from mobile phone to PC screen and back again.
Babycakes, can’t wait.
A very uncomfortable silence followed.
She breathed out slowly, very slowly. As if she was letting something out. She shook her head.
Silence. Longer.
And then:
“I’m so sorry for his wife and three children,” someone said, evenly.
Months have passed again. The calls don’t come anymore. Her smiles are few and far-between. Somewhere in the quiet depth of her heart, her secret, her loss and her pain continue to rest, unshared. In the office nobody talks about it anymore. Silence has encapsuled it once more, like a matter that has been put to rest.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
AS IF THEY WERE GIVING
Dead trees
blowing in the breeze
as if they were living,
yet they are dying
Foreign lands
stretching out their hands
as if they were giving.
But they are lying…
They are taking, taking back
what they lack
More than what they give –
they need More to live.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije
LONELY FOOTFALLS
How deep must be the night
Inexhaustibly deep
To awaken such endless restlessness
In countless sleepless souls
And there you see Love
Wandering in lonesome search
Like a homeless stranger on earth
Restless, tireless, nervous
Moving from heart to heart
Knock knock knocking on human’s door
‘Tis not the love of partner pleasure
It is higher, it is Compassion
And through the restless night
Quietly in spirit we search
As though we were desperately listening
For love’s footsteps in our hearts.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
DAS LEBEN
Ich sehe einen schönen Pfad
Durch einen schönen Wald
Braune Blätter lagen auf dem Boden
Es war Abend, lautlos, kalt
Die Bäume waren leer
Ich sah durch alles hindurch
Rote Dächer und braune
Glocken läuteten, eine Kirche
Ein ganz stiller Platz
Zwischen den Bäumen
Still wie ein Friedhof
Land ewiger Träume
So kurz dauert die Reise
Gar ein Spaziergang
Dachte ich, während der letzte
Glockenton ausklang.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije
THE FUTURE
The way your friends of today
Speak about their friends of yesterday
Is the way they’ll speak about you
To their friends of tomorrow too.
It’s easy to read the future
All you have to do is remember the past
Most things stay true to their nature
The first shall be the last
It’s always pride that leads to the fall
When people peak ‘cause they know it all
The sin that brought an angel down
Beware of it when your heights you crown
Those that swim in every wind
Will fall under the influence of your every whim
But when events keep you far away
Another’s mind will bend them its way
And those that always rise again
Or stand when others fall in pain
No-one can say the reason why
Yet, no matter what, they never leave your side
It’s easy to read the future
If you know how to read the past
Most things stay true to their chosen nature
The first shall be the last
That’s why when an Oak falls
Which long stood undefeated and tall
We feel an odd sadness, vulnerability
Injury upon our sense of stability
It is also the reason why
When a Sinner repents, beyond the Sky
The Angels are moved to their very core
And rejoice like never before…
It’s easy to read the future
Too often it mirrors the past
Yet leave a little room for error
For the human heart is vast.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
HISTORY AND DESTINY
Plenty of questions but no gaps, only seeming gaps – but how would you know unless you first tried to fill the gaps in answer to your questions? Then you fathom that you are the gap, you are the question, and the answer rests in you.
Plenty of questions, but not all are gaps. Plenty of gaps, but only some are visible, while the rest, the sleeping questions, are still waiting for you tomorrow. You don’t even know your deeper questions yet, the ones that will really tear you out of yourself and make you a part of something bigger than you could ever conceive of today.
Because you are the gap and the question, you are the answer, the future and the fate. And the more you find yourself, the more you find your questions. And the more you find yourself, the more you find your answers. Until there are no gaps left, and everything becomes simply the story.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
ODE TO THE FLOWER
Human beings can be very unjust
Because some are mean and some are blind
But she teaches me to ever trust
In the victory of love true and kind
She flows with the rhythm silently
And subtly sets the tone
She fulfils something for everybody
Until each feels she is their own
She flows, stands, dances, hovers
She softens hunters and strengthens gatherers
She makes Knights of all her lovers
And Kings out of gardeners
She defeats deserts of both soil and heart
She is an oasis all on her own
She awakens new worlds, reawakens that part
Of me that has turned into stone.
Be ever on the look-out for her
Like a watchman from his tower –
Protest her when you see her; thus will you know her:
She who flows is the flower
She opens her heart for all to drink
Who bear the natural thirst,
She expresses what all lovers think
Because she was the first
An irresistible smile is her crown
Radiating unselfishly,
She lifts my spirits when I am down
She gives unceasingly
She arrests with her quiet dignity
She‘s humbly proud, yet vulnerable
She is the salvation of the concept of purity,
Accessible but unsoilable
She is Natural, normal, ordinary
A caring, healing gem
She flows with her lovers’ and guardians’ story
Encourages, comforts, ennobles them
She awakens tears and gentle smiles
Just by being there;
Beautiful above all transient styles,
A beauty always and fair
Her lovely whiff, caught from afar
Releaser of the deepest sighs
She is a mirror of heaven’s star
Lights up my soul and eyes
She’s nature’s victory over human art
Mightier than pen and sword
She speaks deeply to the human heart
Without saying a word
And has one distinct feminine feature:
In her grace lies her power.
She FLOWS with the currents of nature
That’s why she’s called the FLOWER…
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
GLOBAL UNITY IN THE STRUGGLE FOR EXISTENCE
The Elite and Power-holders, traditionally few in number, always find a way to prevent the masses from uniting against them. The most popular and effective, trusted and time-tested, methods are the instigation and strengthening of racism, tribalism, sexism, religious intolerance, etc, within and amongst and between the masses. Man, being a living being, soaks up these sentiments and they grow within him, upon which he begins to also defend and propagate them; thus they become self-perpetuating from generation to generation, across centuries, and people even forget where and when and why these things started.
But these things were never the actual problem of the masses in the first place. It’s all an illusion. True, when different sides happen upon each other there is initial distrust and competition; but there is also curiousity, such that left on their own – if there is no conscious malicious and insidious effort to awaken fear of each other amongst them – they will always merge with time as they unite in the common struggle to master the battle of life. Especially when they face a common threat, e.g. nature and the elements.
But man has a fragile nature sometimes. In his struggle to master his own personal little life he can lose sight of the bigger picture, thus making him gullible and susceptible to the intrigue and manipulation of those who seek their own personal and selfish goals. And those who have money and power, or who strive after money and power, know well to prevent the masses from ever uniting against them or developing a WE-consciousness as a united group. Thus they keep them occupied with the individual struggle for existence, or distracted by a media barrage of empty things of no importance and, as the master stroke of genius, they keep them divided amongst themselves by pulling the strings and feeding the sentiments of religion, ethnicity, race, sexism, etc.
Any leader or leadership system which really loves its people will seek to unite them. This however is rare. Instead what we see are power-centers which perpetually ensure that the flames of division (religion, racism, ethnicity) never die. All the rest of the people perpetuating these things are just blind tools. But if you follow the trail of the true power-centers it will always lead to where the money is. Follow the trail of the money’s smell. Those who have the money – who OWN the global wealth – are the ones who make sure that those who need the money always stay divided amongst themselves. Divided and distracted, so that they will never see the effort being deliberately made to keep them from recognising the path that will lead to freedom. The path of unity.
People, unite.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
THE MOON IS IT
I cherish the sight
I cherish the night
Moon-crowned… moon-found
The Poetry is so profound
That strikes the Deep
Out of its Sleep
When the fortnight is twice over turned
And the Full-Moon has returned.
I hear the lone wolf again
From the stillness of the deep and the pain
Howling from out of my Heart…
Howling from out of my Heart…
The moon…
The moon…
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Che Chidi Chukwumerije 