mystery – Chocolate Flavoured Girl

Ilekedi…

Three things I’ll remember about her
Three things I’ll never forget about this night
Three things I’ll forever ponder on
Three truths that I will never cease to grapple with

Her name was a mystery, like herself
Many have searched, albeit in vain, to find
Some say its the key to taming her
So she keeps it a secret; she locked that door and threw away the key

I didn’t ask for her name, I didn’t even think I would come so close
But she looked at me that night,
And opened up the deepest parts of my soul with those eyes
Upturning the dirt and ashes that had buried my secrets

Three things I’ll remember about her

The way she swayed her hips,
lost in her own designed ecstasy
The beads that adorned her waist,
sculpting her frame, undulating with her dance
The way she looked transformed
from mere mortal to revered deity

Three things I’ll never forget about that night

The way she looked at me, with eyes so beautiful,
yet rid with the sadness of a generation
The way the room faded away when she moved
as if it were just her and I locked in a battle of wills
The way her beads drew me in to her
holding me captive to her every twist, every turn

Three things I’ll forever ponder on

Why she singled me out, plain old me
instead of the usual patrons falling over each other for her
Why her movement, body, and soul spelled a sorrow
unlike any I’ve known; the kind that comes from fear
Why her beads danced around her waist
as if in a dirge, mourning a loss

Three truths I’ll forever grapple with

She was me, she became me, she is me
like a distant memory, foggy and dreamy,
of a past that was mine, a life I once lived
She was trapped; hiding in constant fear
I was trapped; hiding in constant fear
of who I was, who I was becoming
She held a secret, a certain power, and mystical force
in those beautiful beads that were my undoing
and in those beautiful eyes that told a thousand stories…

*Ilekedi: traditional beads worn around the waist by women for beautification or ritualistic purposes. Common in the African society.

Mine (9)

“So where are you from?” he asked as he packed my plate with food to hold a nation for a year.

Am I really that skinny that I look starved? And here I was thinking I was healthy. I knew I had lost a few pounds since I got here; apparently, oyinbo food and I are not particularly compatible. He stopped when he noticed me staring at the monstrosity that was supposed to be my food. I finally tore my eyes away from Goliath and faced him.

“You’ll need your strength later,” he said as he tried to hide his grin, but his eyes held a promise of something. Something I couldn’t quite place my hand on…until…click!

“Oh”, I half-whispered, and then giggled thinking to myself, ‘thank God I’m black. The last thing we want to do is start blushing like a goat’ (I know goats don’t blush, please leave me). That didn’t stop me from smiling like a fool, although I looked down at Goliath in order to avoid David’s burning gaze.

“So, where are you from?” he asked again, as he moved to his spot beside me on the island.

“Nigeria,” I said, bracing myself for a lengthy discussion spent discrediting common misconstruction about Africa, and African countries, and also preparing not to lose my cool.

David was straight out of my favourite, most exciting erotic novel, but that doesn’t mean I won’t lash out at him the moment he says something stupid. Maybe I could even exaggerate things a little bit, so he could beg me with that sweet sweet tongue of his. What the…keep it together woman!

“I figured you were from an African country, the accent. I didn’t know how to say it without sounding rude, so I…”

“You’re fine,” I smiled, “I don’t think it would have been rude.”

“You miss home?” he asked, and then suddenly, I began to reminisce on the ‘good ole days’ back home.

“As a matter of fact, I do. I miss my home, I miss the people, I miss being in a place with culture, I miss the food- the tasty, spicy food.”

I said the food bit with my eyes closed, licking my lips, and daydreaming of some hot pounded yam and egusi soup. God I miss home!

“So I take it you’re not too fond of the food here,” he asked, looking almost sad.
I am confused for a split second; is he such a patriot?

“Oh,” my eyes light up at the realization- the restaurant, his restaurant. “The food here is great actually, not as much spice, but I love it. Except for the part where some sauces and the chicken are sweet. I like my chicken spicy, not sweet; that confuses me a lot. But the food here is amazing!” “Honest,” I added for emphasis, hoping he’d believe me.

“It’s fine,” he sounded like a defeated child, “you don’t have to like my food.”

Aw hell! Mummy warned me, but I didn’t listen. She warned me to stop being so darn picky and choosy, and try to be adventurous for a change, but nooooooo, I just have to hold the whole world to my ridiculous standards. Ugh! I felt like I had been punched in the gut.

“I’m sorry,” I said, almost begging, “adjusting has just been difficult, even though it should have gotten easier after two years.” I felt so embarrassed, “I’m sorry, I tend to be quite picky.”

Suddenly, it looked like Goliath just grew a size bigger. I pushed the plate of food away as I fought back the urge to cry.

“I’m sorry,” he put his hand over mine, “it’s just that thinking of some Nigerian hunk cooking you your favourite spicy meal makes me a little bit sad.”

I couldn’t hold back the laughter that erupted from what seemed to be my stomach.
“You really think I’d leave you for some Nigerian hunk just cos he can make spicy food? I might as well leave you for myself then.”

He smiled like a little boy who just found out his crush likes him back. The next thing that came out of my mouth was really deadly. I should have thought this through, but by the time I realized that, it was too late…

oyinbo- Yoruba term for white person or pertaining to the Caucasian race.

egusi soup- A Nigerian dish. It is a soup made from melon, usually accompanied by a carbohydrate morsel.

Mine (3)

“Thirty-what?! Are you out of your mind child? Are you sure you didn’t have a drink too many? What the… No! You’re joking right?”, she was laughing now, “you’re joking. Of course you’re joking.” Yvonne could be so annoying when she decided she wanted to play mummy. “Look. It just happened okay. It’s not like I purposefully went out in search of some 35 year-old Greek god of a man. We’ve been together since we got here. Stop giving me that look.” I walked away from her. Stupid girl. “Look Stacy, I know you’re young, and feeling adventurous, and whatnot, but I have a really bad feeling about this. What if he’s married? Or has some pregnant girlfriend stashed away somewhere? Stacy…” “Stop it! Stop! I never said we were dating, nor did I say we were screwing around…” “Well, his intentions seem pretty clear”, she smirked. “Oh for the love of Christ Yvonne! Cut me some slack!” I stood looking out the window in silence for a few minutes, trying to figure out how I was going to tell her the rest of the story. Should I? Should I not? She’s just going to blow this all up in my face. Bit- umen… Ugh!

“We’re staying till the end of Spring break. David will arrange for us to be taken back to school.” I didn’t turn to look at her, but I could feel her staring intensely at me, mouth agape, in utter disbelief, and partly shocked. “And who do you think is about to pay $600 for a hotel room, on a college student’s budget?” she quizzed, even though we both knew the answer. She continued, “so he has already started spending money on you? What does he do for a living? What if he’s some psychotic criminal? You surprise me Stacy, honestly. I mean…” She heaved a sigh of exasperation, “I’m going back to school tomorrow. You can stay here if you like, but I’m going back.” I dashed to her on the bed, “but please Yvonne, I need you to stay with me. You keep saying I don’t know him, I don’t know what he does, he could be a psycho, and now, there’s an opportunity to get to know him, but you’re refusing it. Come on”. “But Stacy, he’s 35 for crying out loud!” “I don’t care if he’s 35 for heaven’s sake.” She gave me the straight face. “You like the fact that he’s 35, don’t you?” “So you’ll stay?” I smiled. “Well, to keep you from getting into trouble, yes, I’ll stay.” I hugged her and said thank you.

The next morning, we had a ginormous breakfast courtesy of David, and then we were driven to the spa, where we were pampered like little spoiled little babies. Spring this year felt like summer; the weather was beautiful, and Yvonne was even beginning to lose the skepticism in her voice. After our mani’s and pedi’s which came last, we were taken to lunch, where David at last joined us. “I imagine you ladies have had a good morning”, he smiled, almost looking like he was glowing. Inside of me, I was melting into a pool of goey stuff, but outside, I was hard rock, no emotions. “It was okay”, I shrugged. He simply smiled, and signaled to someone who came to take our orders. Yvonne looked around, “no business today?” she asked. “I didn’t want any disturbances”, he replied. Yvonne laughed, “what are you? the owner or something?” He smiled, looking at me this time, “are you okay? We didn’t exactly conclude our night well. Did you give my proposal some thought?” Yvonne froze, and shot me that ‘I’m about to kill you now look’. “Proposal?!” she almost screamed. “I see she already discussed it with you.” “Yes, she only forgot to mention the part of it being a proposal, and that she hadn’t yet agreed to it.” “Well then, I guess she wants to. Do you want to Stacy?”

How could he sit there and be so calm? Was he crazy or something? I’m just 20. I mean, my fake ID says I’ll be 22 soon, but I’m really just 20. What if he’s really a criminal, a psychotic one like Yvonne had said. Was the room spinning? Was I dreaming? Oh crap. “Excuse me”, I ran to the bathroom. I spluttered my insides into the pristine toilet bowl. I felt so sick. What was happening to me? I felt someone’s hands helping to get my hair out of my face; they were not Yvonne’s. I spat into the bowl, and got up. He helped me to the sink, where he cleaned me up. I was crying now. He didn’t ask what was wrong, I was glad. “Would you like to go up and lie down for a bit?” “Yvonne…”, I said. “She’ll meet you upstairs.”

The room was big, and beautiful, with a breathtaking view of the city. The sheets were so white I was tempted to ask to sleep on the floor, but it looked so inviting. He peeled off the edge of the comforter, and I sat on the bed; heaven. He bent down and took my shoes off quietly…in the most sensuous manner I could ever imagine. At some point, I wondered if he was going to kiss my feet. Then he got up. “Are you leaving?” What the devil?! Shut up Stacy, shut up! “Ummm…yeah, to get Yvonne.” “Can you stay?” “Ummm…I don’t…uhhh…I guess…” Wow! I just had to laugh, it was weak, but I had to “who would’ve thought that you could ever be tongue tied.” “I’ll let Yvonne know.” He disappeared for a few minutes, and by the time he got back, I was in bed, wearing just my oversized t-shirt, with my back turned to him as he entered. He got into bed, without a word, and put his arm around me.

In that moment, I felt so content, and at peace. His embrace made me feel so tiny, and cared for. He pulled me closer to him, as if to say “mine.”

Mine (2)

A few minutes into dessert, I heard the sounds of the street, which meant the door to the restaurant had opened. I didn’t look up, but I felt someone walk past our table. I turned around, but no one stood out. There was chatter, dining, laughter; everyone seemed normal enough. Then I felt the eyes burning into my back. I turned around, and spotted a man at the bar, but he wasn’t looking at me, he was talking to the bartender. The guy who did appear to be looking in my direction was some dude who had had a few drinks too many; I doubt he could even actually see me.

“I feel like someone is watching me Yvonne. Bartender. Look. Discreetly.” She mad it look like she was looking at me. “I can’t tell. If he is, then he’s pretty good at hiding it.” As if prompted, I took my purse and got up from the table. I moved to sit beside the man who had been speaking with the bartender. I asked for a martini. “Sure you’re supposed to be having that?” the stranger asked. “What business of yours is that? I retorted without even taking as much as a glance in his direction.

“So you like your dress…” I froze at the spot. I finally turned my head, probably a bit too mechanically, to look at him. “D-David?” I asked. He smiled…that heavenly corner smile. Dark hair, brown eyes, clean shaven, toned body, looking very sharp in black, looked and smelled like money… “B-but I don’t know you”, I swallowed the lump in my throat, “I don’t remember meeting any David”. “I never said we met. Hi I’m David.” He stretched his hand out to me. “Stacy”, I managed to say, ignoring his outstretched hand. I turned back to look for Yvonne. “She’s back at your hotel room, not too worry. I had arranged for her to be driven back there.”

“Thank you . I like the dress.” “The dress should be eternally grateful to you”, he smiled. I took a sip of my martini. He took the glass from my hand. “I need you to remember tonight”, He said. He took my hand, and walked me get my jacket. A car was already waiting outside to take us back to the hotel. He requested for the keys, and asked his chauffeur to go home. We drove to the parking garage at the hotel. We were parked for about 2 minutes when he asked, “how old are you?”. I was a bit taken aback. “20. You?” “Why do you want to know?” He asked, as his left hand found it’s way up my dress, as his lips visited mine. There was just something about that moment…something that was just pure energy…

This was crazy! Absolutely insane, and stupid. I pushed him away. He smiled, “35. I’m 35.”

Mine (1)

So we decided to visit Atlanta. Strange how I have to go through this city to get to school, but I’ve never really been to it. It’s actually pretty decent…I mean, not bad for a city. But too much ratchetness, and quite frankly, I ain’t about that life. (lol…that sounds so ratchet! =D ) Anyway, so here we are in Atlanta, Yvonne and I; two college students taking a break from the busy student life. I’m Stacy by the way 😀

Being the mildly egocentric individual that I am, I had persuaded Yvonne that we had to stay in one of those $150/night hotels. She had looked at me and laughed, until she realized I was being serious. She suspected that I had something up my sleeves, as I was never really the type to spend so much money on a hotel room. I said even if it’s just for two nights, then we can be able to tour the city during the day. Thinking I wouldn’t follow through with the plan, Yvonne agreed to it. That look on her face when I brought out my card to pay for both nights! =D We got up really early the next morning, and began our pre-booked tour of the city. We visited the CNN Center, the World of Coca Cola, the Georgia Dome, Aquarium, we went to the High Museum, and ended up dining at some fancy restaurant a few blocks from our hotel. But it didn’t happen that fast…

We had indeed spent the day touring the city, taking pictures, flirting with some, ignoring others, and the day had been terrific! We arrived at our hotel at about 6:00pm, and we were starving! Yvonne had said we should stop by the hotel restaurant, but I had insisted we go some other place fancy, after all, this was probably our last night in Atlanta. Reluctantly, she had agreed. We spent the next hour showering, and putting on makeup for the night (my idea). I was about to get into my dress when I heard a knock on the door. No one requested room service… The hotel staff at the door suddenly had his tongue tied, tugging at his bow tie as if it was on too tight. “What’s this?” I asked again. “It’s a uh um…it’s uh umm uh uhhh…de uhhh for uhh” and then finally, “you.” I took the box from him, and picked up the $20 bill lying on the table, and handed it to him. He couldn’t even say thank you, it was like he went into shock or something.

I closed the door behind me. “What was that about?” Yvonne called from the dresser. “Apparently, I have a package,” I wasn’t exactly sure myself. “Well, did you order anything? Did you ask the boy who it was from? Cos it could have been sent in error you know.” I sat on the bed, still staring at the box, “well, I guess. The boy looked really distressed, he could barely speak.” Yvonne laughed, “and I wouldn’t suppose that had anything to do with the fact that you had no clothes on.” “Don’t you raise your eyebrow at me,” I hissed, “he knocked on the door at the wrong time.” Yvonne just laughed and shook her head, “so typical of you. Well open it.”

I opened the box, and it was the most gorgeous sweetheart cut dress ever. It was covered in black sequins, and it looked so elegant! Yvonne and I stared straight at each other as our jaws dropped. There was a note in it: “I had guessed you’d be a size zero when I first saw you. Hope I’m right -David.” My heart was on some fast and furious ish!!!! Who on God’s green earth was David? I hadn’t met any David throughout my time here, this was room 520, I was a size zero, and the only size zero in the room for that matter. I turned to the other side of the note, it had an address, and a table number scribbled on it. It was the restaurant down the street. I was scared, but excited at the same time. It could have been some serial rapist or murderer, but the mystery was just too sensual. I mean, he didn’t even have to hide his name; whoever this guy was, his mystery game was 100% yo!

The dress was perfect! And I couldn’t get over the fact that it was such a luxurious black. I rummaged through my luggage for my strappy heels and purse. Well, I guess it’s an all-black night tonight then. Fragrance, finishing touches, and within 10 minutes, we were seated at the fancy Italian restaurant down the road. Turns out we needed reservations to get in, and who knew we already had reservations; Table 3.

It was set for just two, and the person who made the reservation wasn’t going to be joining us, so it was just for Yvonne and I. I was uneasy throughout the entire dinner, but struggled to maintain my calm, and composed air. Then it happened…