Small Girl, Big God.
Shortly had I delivered my love letter to Ifenyinwa, one that I had painstakingly written the previous night, had I ran for cover, towards "The Plasticine factory" that was holed in the art department of the college of education Owerri. You cannot pass on a love letter and still remain in the vicinity. This was a stealth act, no one must see the exchange. More so, the aftermath of recipients reaction after read is one that should be communicated yet in stealth or by eye signals and primitive morse body language codes.
The previous night had been full of tense moments. Penning a love letter in those days was quite heart wrenching. There was an art behind the craft. The intro was about everything. It was this intro that the girl in question showed off to her friends. One could access the impact by looking at the facial expression of her friends and also by the size of the gaping mouths and covered lips as "My one and only", "My sweetheart " or" Sugar" were read among budding heads. If you missed on this "love catcher", you would have missed on a one in a lifetime chance. Then comes the part that gave a bit of high blood pressures, the body of the letter. This was the part that most of us consulted "oxfords dictionary" or the less imposing "New English dictionary". This was the part that either made you or broke you. You had a dire choice of keeping it simple or going for the overkill, whence you chose words for the sole purpose of overwhelming reader ."Flabbergasted by your beauty", "bamboozled by your love", "bedazzled by your beauty", were commoners around here...
"Fifi my one and only,
I hope this letter finds you at that time God designed love. My heart leaps like a hummingbird in flight every time I see you. You are the sun in my sky, the river that runs through my soul and the very air I breathe”, "seduce my mind and you can have my body, find my soul and I'm yours forever. Each time you smile, a part of me melts like soft butter on bread"
and on and on the letter had spiraled. I did not have "You are the cockroach in my cupboard" nor did I have "the sugar in my tea", I prided myself as one of those that wrote nicely constructed letters and I have my cousin "Samson" to attest to my prowess of pushing thoughts that arose "from the bottomless pit of my heart".
It did not get past the fifth line before I penned those magic words, that once said in a love letter, signals a beginning or an end. It gets writer and reader shy and kick starts that awkward period of "now what".
"I really do love you and I would love you till the end of time"...the cat was let out. I had said it, there was no going back. I was in love...I had added more meat, more endearing words to the body of the letter. I remember adding some gibberish about my imaginary competitor "Gideon", some bully that we had in the class, I had written something about "him being afraid of me"...must have given me cool points then and a little more and my letter had come to an end.
I had read it over and over again, careful enough to fish out the "Kpums" and "bomb". I had dotted the " I’s" and put the heart sign on most of them, crossed my tees as well.
However, the biggest problem I had encountered that night was awaiting my mother to nod off to sleep. This was a very vital part of the operation as I had to find my way to her dress chest. Target object was the "Avon Timeless". The smell of the "timeless" was the best among the troves of other Avon perfumes that my mother had. My next target was the Avon "Tranquil moments". This was talc, not in the league of those powders that women put on their chest and neck when the heat was unbearable, this was not one of those that they pour in open palms to herald a new baby. This was the one that you dabbed on the cheek and made men say " You smell good", those were the ones that made men want to " Suru gi garri n'ahu"...very sensual.
I had methodically dabbed my love letter to Ifenyinwa in a mist of "Tranquil", then shook it free of debris, then I had sprayed "Timeless" on it, a greater concentration towards the part that was to bear my kiss. You had to end these letters with a kiss. " A real kiss". To get this kiss, you required a red pen. The ink from the slender reservoir was all that was needed. Once you were ready, you poured ink on "foam from a mattress" or tissue, careful not to wait before it dried, then you would hold tightly to your mouth and then hold love letter lovingly and kissed. Care was taken however not to cover with too much saliva less paper erodes and love withers away. Extreme caution was required here.
The execution of a love letter from start to finish has to be timed. If it went wrong, you were bound to remain miserable and shy for the rest of the academic year. It had to be done in such a way that breeds anonymity. Most times, ingenious ways were devised" passing under the table", "giving through a mutual friend"...mine was tucked in between a pacesetter novel " Evbu My Love". I had this novel plus a large "Nku cream" container that I had filled with Plasticine the previous day, handing it over like I was returning a book I had borrowed.
I had quickly taken my leave once the exchange had taken place. I couldn't tell the outcome until the next day. The Jar of Plasticine had garnered me more points. Anyone that went to Shell camp demonstration primary school would attest to the bravado and risk involved in getting Plasticine from this depot. It was likened then to crossing " seven seas and seven mountains". A lot of walls needed jumped, so many stealth maneuvers to evade the art directors and security. I remember the wall vividly. From the outside, it did not seem so steep, it even lacked luster as this was a wall that was not cemented, you could still make out the outlines of the concrete blocks. It was undeniably black from dirt and algae and well hidden from the nearest class which was elementary two. Mrs. Nwaokoro would not be able to see you from her class anyways so that was not an issue, and the vendors that sold "Kwuli kwuli", "Odobiri ofushie", " Groundnut cake"," Ice cream waterproof" did not care, they even looked out for us. The biggest issues where the people on the inside, the art students and their peeps who complained so much about the recurrent theft and depletion of their Plasticine. If caught, which was a big deal then, they would punish you for hours, they made their culprits kneel on both knees whilst raising their arms overhead for hours, then subjecting them to the wrath of the principal and your parents. Most times they detained you past school times and parents would resort to the art department as a last resort to find their kids that they could not locate at pick up time. It was quite terrible but then, anyone that got lucky like I did so many times was a daredevil. A quality that I had mixed with a bit of a brain.
The next day had said it all. Fifi had a dreamy eye that said "I love you too". She had gone ahead and passed on a smaller piece of paper, folded in multiple rectangles and had sentenced me to "an all term fool" albeit to say "fool for love". I did not open this letter until I got home. I wonder how I made it that far as my heart was beating so fast, I thought "Dee Remy" my dad's driver would have noticed by the constant fidgeting in the back seat. I had waited until I was safely in the visitor's toilet at home, then I had unwrapped my fate. In the "best" of cursive writing, Fifi had said "I love you too".
With a bit of a tear and gladness in my heart, I had accepted my sentence and I had henceforth become a Big god to a small girl. Those words had put me to work. I from then onward, waited on her to copy verbatim from my work, I refused to submit my test papers unless Fifi was done, spent more time ironing my red shorts and white shirt, drove into a fit as my mother refused to buy a new set of rubber sandals to suit my new " In Love" status, my appetite waned as I shared my lunch money with her, making due with lesser rations, I became quieter in class, trying to exude a gentleman stance for her, Jealousy grew as I watched her converse with other boys, more pens and pencils disappeared from my mum's stash as I had to share with Ifenyinwa, depleted my collection of pacesetters novels, and handed half to her, found out her love for mills and boons novels and fixated on buying them from monies that I had "loosely found" in my dad's room. I became a daredevil for love. I had wanted her to have it all. I wanted to prove to her that my love knew no bounds. I had resolved to get more Plasticine for her to assuage her pottery appetite. I had thrown caution to the winds.
The signs of impending doom were always there but I had paid no mind not until Uzochukwu was caught. Uzochukwu had been humiliated right in front of the whole assembly. His parents had been complaining of constant incidents of money missing from their drawers. Adaku, Nkechi, Constance, Chika, Ugochi had in the week before, been eating quite a number of "Agidi Jollof", pretty much more than usual, instead of the "waterproof ice cream", they were all having yogurt which seemed odd at that time given that none of their parents gave them that kind of money to purchase "them" goodies. The popular snack was the Icheku or Nchichi, the groundnut cake, the kpoff kpoff and odobiri ofushie, the waterproof ice cream. Once you strayed into "Agidi Jollof" Agidi with Okpukpo(bone), yogurt or towards Madam black that sold "mama put" towards the general hospital then there was a greater suspicion that you were involved in some grand theft.
Uzochukwu had become yet another big God for these small girls. None cared to ask the source of monies that he was dishing out. The other girls in the class that did not share from Uzo's largess that week felt they were not beautiful enough, they felt all left out, they probably felt ostracized from the clan of girls that ate all "them"nice things during the break. Amara felt that way. I was so sure about it from the way she constantly walked past Uzo for attention but he was way over the top, rubbing shoulders with the girls that were said to be "the ones". I could only imagine what Amara would have done to be a part of this clan.
Amara probably was relieved a week later when Uzo's shine was busted and ego deflated as a teary Uzochukwu was pulled on one ear by the father as he was brought forth to the front of the assembly. The band boys had abruptly stopped playing as Uzo was marched forward, a seven-strokes later, he had confessed all that he stole from his parents and was made to write a hundred lines of "I will not steal again in my life"
Most of the pressures that young girls of today face are more of those coming from their peers. More like what Amara had felt transiently. Those pressures that have them questioning "God" and wondering why their situation was different. Those pressures that have most of them succumbing to ways that would mimic peers. It is human nature to want to compete with your peers but it is also humane to always place self in relative space.
"Contentment is an attitude that says "I will be satisfied with what God has given me"
A trend in Nigeria and the world over where a semblance of success made forth by unseen benefactors have created an illusion of perceived hard work. It had evidently created situations where most young girls are put into a lot of pressures in the quest to meet up with demands as desired by society. Coats that were meant to be cut according to sizes and available materials were no more valid yardsticks as "Get the coat first" had become the norm where these girls have mortgaged their body and self to appease society and friends. I know of hard-working bankers that occupy the teller position, that have to toil day in and out to make a modest living, yet I know other girls of the same position who fly to Dubai on a regular, brandishing Hermes bags and the latest in shoes, who drive big cars and live in choice areas, supposedly from same meager salary. A detailed research would have revealed where the extra monies were coming from, an extra eye would reveal the big "God" in said girl's life... yet a mere post or outward postulations by said small girl "hard work pays" had led a number of girls astray who had not taken a minute to seek the face of the small girl's God. In seeking the face of this big God who comes in human form as rich men in town, politicians, criminals, marauders, fraudsters, exploiters of any sort, these girls have come under immense pressures to become like "a small girl with a big God".
"I am not interested in competing with anyone. I hope we all make it"....Erica Cook
At it matters period, we recognize these everyday pressure that has besieged our girls and we have a resolve to advise correctly. We will keep pointing out those ills that move the society towards a downward spiral and in our little ways, chaperone these girls to ways that will strengthen their will to survive......in the best of ways.
We are encouraging our girls in so many ways......
Back To The Basics ... Cutting one's coat according to size is the very way to go. One more step down the lane is to cut coats according to the material length available. We are constantly looking out for ways to encourage them to be content with whatever they have. To become content is a matter of character, more reason why we are investing a lot of time in molding minds that would translate to excellent characters.
Research culture....We would continuously encourage our girls to delve into simplistic research methods that reveal what probably glitters but not Gold. This would go a long way in putting value to expectations. It would create a yardstick for their aspirations which is in tune with reality rather than ones built in the sky.
Education...We cannot stress this enough. Education remains the bedrock of success. With dwindling educational fortunes in the country, it would be only proper to invest in meaningful education that bothers not only on "book smart" but on life in general. We would encourage advancement in vocational studies that challenges creative minds. We would encourage them to be self-sufficient, no matter how little.
Reward for hard work...... There is a reward for hard work, albeit to say not commensurable in Nigeria but with the proper mindset and push, the reward might become relative and tailored to each an every girl.
Chaperones..... A chaperone service where each girl is guided to her best strengths is paramount."Life is better if you are satisfied and happy with what you do and what you have"......Dr. T.P. Chia
"Contentment is natural, wealth and luxury is artificial poverty"
At It Matters Period.... "Our lives must be spent seeking our God, for God hides; but his artifices, once they be known, seem so simple and smiling! from that moment, the merest nothing reveals his presence, and the greatness of our life depends on so little"......little successes..all by a big God.
Uchenna Iwualla M.D
It Matters Period