Victoria's Secret
That night had been all about sweetness. Earlier on, we had been basking in the euphoria of a win over the neighboring "Umudimagu" village in a soccer bout. The spot we had chosen to celebrate later was holed beneath a tree also known for its sweetness...This tree had also lent its name to this spot "Ukwu Udara". Chidinma Ukemezie's bar was among the few bars strategically located beneath this tree. All the bars that laid strewn beneath and besides this tree all sold "sweetness" in jars and "more sweetness" in bowls. The "Ngwo and "Nkwu elu" palm wine from madam Ogu next door was second to none while Chidinma's snail and pepper soup held forth in sweetness sold in bowls.
Obviously a lot of sweetness under this tree. This particular one was unique. Asides from being a repository of one of the sweetest Udara fruits around Ubaha, it also had not recorded any incident of falling on any human's head or hitting whoever sat beneath it. It either fell sideways or farther away whence people now scrambled to fetch it. It was common a sight around this spot for an incessant burst of people scrambling for these fallen nectarous sweeties. This Udara tree" African star apple' was a delicious breed. I had always wondered if it were sweeter than the ones that we fetched "N'azu ulo npa Chibu"..behind Chibu's dads’ house...."N'uzo Umuomu"....the road that led to Umuomu village. I think those ones were called Udara nwa mmicha aka.... to crown its sweetness above others.
The night was definitely going well as planned, my childhood friends and cousins were all happy and in the best of moods, a lot of empty bottles laid under our table with fourteen or fifteen dirty plates stacked next to them....a receipt of the hole created in my pockets by our enjoyment and more so Chigozie's mother, my aunt who had a chemist store next door, who had my best interest at heart had reminded me for the umpteenth time that it was time to go. She had pointed out a few drunk fellas who were gearing out for a fight, an aftermath of too much booze and a definite herald for me to make my way home. A quick push of my Datsun by my chaps and a release of my clutch, I had bid them farewell as I headed home.
I was not drunk or tipsy as I drove home to Oboroche, but I was in a state where my senses were all on full blast. I was very sensitive to all the sounds emanating in the dark of the night. I drove a Datsun bluebird that belonged to my father. "Old soldier " we called it. The Old soldier was reliable but lacked all the trappings of a decent car. It did not have an air conditioner but allowed me manually to regulate the inflow of air by pulling on the window "upwards" if I wanted less or pushing down the glass if I wanted more. I had wanted more on this night as I needed fresh air to graze my alcohol laden head.
There laid a stretch of road that was dicey each time I rode past it. This lonely stretch was between the "Ukwu Egbu tree" and Ambu Obi's fathers’ house. Each time I had devised a song or played one in my head that lasted till I crossed this "scary" patch. Back in the day, there was a deity's house that stood firmly by the roadside. This house came with all the trappings of a habitable abode, with doors, windows and a thatched roof over it. I remember counting about eight or nine different wooden deities, standing with their backs on the side wall. They were faced looking outwards to whoever rode past or walked past. In this area, you would find regular, sacrificial items that I had always noted to be of the sweet types. A lot of "Fanta" laid around this house. The gods surely liked "them" sweets......Some unverified stories had it that some kids in the village had their fill of sweets from the supplies that they got from the god's bounty....More stories however unverified had it that it was also a curse for their failures in life ...having to shortcut the gods. The chicken feathers and smashed egg yolks gave this stretch a gory and a haunted feel.
I was on my third whistle, jamming to Victor Uwaifo's "If you see mami water" when a quick jolt startled "Old soldier". He had buckled afterward with a steady hum and then dead silence. "Old soldier" was quite predictable. I knew him like the back of my hands. It was probably the battery head that got loose and flipped off its jack. All that was to it, was to calmly pop open the bonnet, whilst speaking gently to him, and reconnect. It was not the first time "old soldier had buckled" whenever I approached a gallop, albeit to say "not gently". I was not gentle at all on this night as I was hurriedly trying to drive past this estate that belonged to my ancestors without a trespass notice.
I had quickly opened my door, no second thoughts and had "old soldier" abandoned as I scampered towards Ambu Obi's house. I was definitely not going to be the gods’ dinner, at least not that night.
I sang as I now strolled towards home, trying to wade off any inkling of fear. I whistled too but cut myself short as I remembered that it was not okay to whistle at night " you might wake up the dead" they said. Then I heard that sound. Very distinct from other sounds I had heard that night. This one was more of a shuffle and stifled ruffles. It was as if two porcupines were mating, with their quills against each other. It was a perfect night for them to engage in this nocturnal act of theirs. I would have overlooked this sound if not for the location that sound was coming from. It was coming right from the spot that "Nma Anna" had her oil mill press.
"Ihe ahu owu onye ? onye wu onye ahu? ...I had projected firmly enough to let who or whatever know of some presence but I was met with a deafening silence. The porcupines had frozen in mid-act but not for too long as I could still pick up a bit of a shuffle. A masked labored breathing had changed this equation as I switched unto an attack mode, looking around to see if I could lay my hands on any object to hurl at the direction of shuffle. My eyes, by a sheer pump of adrenaline and timely acclimatization, could now make out a silhouette. The form that I could make out was that of two people holding each other. A quick flick of my hand as if I was hurling an object at these two got the bigger of the silhouette lunging towards me but a quick swerve, he had disappeared into the thick of the night. The slender figure tried the same maneuver but was too late as I had gained enough grounds to block the path. "It" tried to fake a move on me but was cut short as I grabbed on its clothing and the sound of a rip brought "it" to a standstill
Dee Uche, Dee Uche.......O wu nmi o!
O wu nmi o....I was cut short in my own tracks. I knew that voice. It was that of my seventeenth-year-old cousin. I had not recognized the fleeing other.
The following minutes in this dead of the night were preoccupied with my cousin crying and holding onto my trousers. She had vowed not to let me go until I assured her that I was not going to leak her escapades to her elder brother. She was crying so hard that I almost forgot that she was frolicking awhile ago.
My cousin was a graceful young girl who by sheer good training or luck had never enshrouded bad behavior nor had she in any way kept bad friends. She was very cheerful and happy in her dealings, pulling through each day like every other thing was well and dandy. Her mum died while she was about three years, it was still a marvel how she turned out to be a wonderful young girl. But with this whole escapade, I was lost in thoughts. I could not make the connection. I was finding it hard to maneuver my way to right senses when my cousin, in snotty sniffles had reeled out a myriad of problems, a plethora of insecurities, a mountain of deficiencies and a few minutes afterward " I was hit by the thunderbolt". I was jolted to my senses.." I got it". We had collectively neglected her, we had unknowingly not paid adequate attention to one of ours, we had mindlessly pushed her to sort what ordinarily was in our possession to give.......none of us deemed her needs worth the while. We had determined her needs " shelter","food", "school fees".....We had not watched her grow.
"Nobody cares if my bathing soap is finished "
"I go some weeks without a body lotion"
"Nobody cared if my undies were torn"
"Dee Uche, I have needs that none of you care to ask" .... she had continued....I got it...I was shaking my head in disbelief as she justified why she sort other male presence..." to satisfy her needs" she said.
My cousin lacked who gave her without her having to ask....She had just opened my eyes and heart to one of "Victoria's secret"...The act of giving....a language of love.... a random act of kindness to whoever needed it without the person having to ask or appeal....
I was now armed.
I had finally made up my mind to accost my fears. My fears were not unfounded. They were real fears. A phobia I had developed over the years, over numerous times that I had crossed this store. A store that had me staring at mannequins in tap pants. I did not have anything against this store but boy, those scantily clad mannequins and their perfect Da Vinci dimensions were all too good to be true. A beehive of women lived here at each time. My phobia stemmed from drowning in a sea of female ensembles to the bludgeoning looks I had envisioned on getting from staring hard on "5 for $25 undies" to perception from ladies thinking my innocent feel of the fabrics of these ensembles sold here were little too "time-consuming". This was America and in New York city, one needed to be careful on outward expression of one’s ignorance. I had chosen the Victoria secret store that was on 6th Avenue and Broadway. The reason was solely that it was not as homogeneous in its customer population as the one I had encountered at the same store in Newport center in New Jersey.
I had my lines rehearsed as I walked into this flagship store, I also had a wonderful mannerism like someone that already knew all the crevices of this store. "What do you think my girl would like" I was reeling that already as the girl that mouthed " welcome to Victoria secret" approached me. "What size is your girl ?"..Oh shit....I got that covered too. My plan was never to have a definite description. "Not too small, about medium or in between". " Do you know her Bra size? ...."I have been trying to reach her on the phone " I had said while holding the phone to my ears to an imaginary call. I had pointed at this mannequin that seemed like my girl in every feature, this mannequin even had a dimple in the back...double dimples "Venus dimples ..after the Roman goddess of beauty. Asides from being created by short ligaments between the superior Iliac spine and the skin, it was said to crack up sex life...
"That would be a Medium size and 34D" I could not agree any less as I urged her to make a selection of the undies with matching bras. I had also told her to make my girl happy. A $105 at the counter and a large beam on my aides smile, I had held my head high as I walked off this store. A quick stop at another store not far out in Heralds square, Bed bath and beyond had made my day a success. Armed with "Midnight blossom", "Endless weekend", "Japanese blossom", "Vanilla Bean Noel" and a dash of sandalwood and cherry blossom body mist and my day was crowned a success.
The genuine joy that my "said" girl had on her face was priceless when my random arsenal hit home. The payback would not be for this fora but she had reinforced that giving was actually a valid language of love.
The lessons my cousin taught me in the dead of the night, an awkward night had been validated. "Victoria's secret" sure melted hearts....albeit to say "The act of Giving" was the winner.
It Matters period acknowledges the fact that "Giving" which is a universal language of love is important in its dealings with societies abound. We have recognized that humans and humanity are all the same. Whatever that was good for the goose, should be equally good for the gander. A random act of kindness to a sister, a brother, girlfriend or boyfriend, significant other, husband or wife, random people around goes a long way in ensuring that the circle of gladness keeps growing.
"To get the full value of joy, you must have someone to divide it with"..Mark Twain
We would beg for people to enshroud the act of giving as a way of life
Lessened Dependency : We should look around and about us, paying attention to the girls and boys that look up to us. We should as a matter of urgency plug all the holes that drive them to dependency on men or drive the boys to do unfathomable acts. We can achieve this by random acts of giving. Random acts that solve their needs without them asking. If we take a model of twenty boys and girls per an "Angel giver" one can find ways to monthly supply them with their needed basic needs. Needs like soaps, cream, sanitary towels, detergent, anti-antiperspirants can be pooled to satisfy these salient needs that we have overlooked.
"We make a living by what we get. We make a life by what we give"....Winston Churchill
Heightened Focus : If we enshroud this behavior, a lot of the younger ones will strive to be better so as to help others when they are in positions too. If we can be responsible for them now, nothing would stop them from being responsible for the ones that would look up to them. Let’s pay it forward by being responsible now.
"We must give more in order to get more. It is the generous giving of ourselves that produces the generous harvest"....Orison Swett Marden
Moral Compass : These acts of kindness will in the nearest future strengthen the moral fabrics of our today youths. The increase in moral decadence has negligence as a culprit. Whence we allowed uncouth morals to take precedence, we might be able to retrace our steps by meaningfully impacting on the ones around us. While our views are global, we continuously encourage "angel givers" to concentrate a few thousand radius of them, that way, improvements, and impact remain concentric while expanding as expected.
Let us discover the "Victoria secret" languages together and push this limits that will benefit the societies that we live in.....
It Matters Period
Uchenna Iwualla M.D