I have to garner the strength to make a thank-you meal and send it to Solo later. Scrimping my savings together to hire a private investigator to follow Philo around had been a plum idea after all. It stung, having to go to all that length, even sacrificing my savings on the way, but I concluded that it was for a good reason. I not only found out that he was cheating on me, but I also had the misfortune of discovering he liked his men in all the ways my insecurities and fantasies manifested: heavy-set, hairy and devastatingly beautiful men. Aliu went after men who looked like gods amongst men. Men who looked like him. He didn’t chase my kind, I always suspected, I chased his. I had begged and stalked him until he became mine. Deep down I always knew such a bounty was too good to be mine so I held it too close to my heart. Once again, Solo had been right. Loving a Nigerian man is like building the castle of your dreams, adorning it with your richest fantasies only to find yourself trapped in it when he uses his very hands to scatter that castle.
Fresh game slung over his shoulder, a wide mirthful smile taking up his face.
“I’m home!” his voice boomed, taking the attention of the other two nearby. The young girl ran over gleefully, “Papa. you’re back!” before rushing him with enough force for the large man to take pause. He smiled down at his daughter before turning his ever growing smile to the man elegantly seated on the porch, the curves of his mouth softening.
The acorns roll in the leaves before being pushed in to keep safe, the hungry stay hungry because sometimes just looking at a full pantry makes us feel safe and we don’t know how long this bounty will last. “This is my emotional support money,” my neighbor and I joke but neither of us are lying. Oh, to be like a flower opening its petals to whatever comes or a bird singing through the day. Instead, we are frantic squirrels, trying to save, trying to bury our worries and tie down peace of mind because we don’t trust the promises of the future, making and then forgetting our back-up plans.
The land contained endless bounty, of fruit orchards, fertile land for growing vegetables and wheat and wide open spaces for farms. This is why the other side wanted it. At the end of the war, the enemy had won, but the bounty was polluted soil, eroded land and burned out remains of the forests.
I have to garner the strength to make a thank-you meal and send it to Solo later. Scrimping my savings together to hire a private investigator to follow Philo around had been a plum idea after all. It stung, having to go to all that length, even sacrificing my savings on the way, but I concluded that it was for a good reason. I not only found out that he was cheating on me, but I also had the misfortune of discovering he liked his men in all the ways my insecurities and fantasies manifested: heavy-set, hairy and devastatingly beautiful men. Aliu went after men who looked like gods amongst men. Men who looked like him. He didn’t chase my kind, I always suspected, I chased his. I had begged and stalked him until he became mine. Deep down I always knew such a bounty was too good to be mine so I held it too close to my heart. Once again, Solo had been right. Loving a Nigerian man is like building the castle of your dreams, adorning it with your richest fantasies only to find yourself trapped in it when he uses his very hands to scatter that castle.
Fresh game slung over his shoulder, a wide mirthful smile taking up his face.
“I’m home!” his voice boomed, taking the attention of the other two nearby. The young girl ran over gleefully, “Papa. you’re back!” before rushing him with enough force for the large man to take pause. He smiled down at his daughter before turning his ever growing smile to the man elegantly seated on the porch, the curves of his mouth softening.
The acorns roll in the leaves before being pushed in to keep safe, the hungry stay hungry because sometimes just looking at a full pantry makes us feel safe and we don’t know how long this bounty will last. “This is my emotional support money,” my neighbor and I joke but neither of us are lying. Oh, to be like a flower opening its petals to whatever comes or a bird singing through the day. Instead, we are frantic squirrels, trying to save, trying to bury our worries and tie down peace of mind because we don’t trust the promises of the future, making and then forgetting our back-up plans.
The land contained endless bounty, of fruit orchards, fertile land for growing vegetables and wheat and wide open spaces for farms. This is why the other side wanted it. At the end of the war, the enemy had won, but the bounty was polluted soil, eroded land and burned out remains of the forests.