Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Of men, dogs and babies

Everyone is scattered around the house, hustling and bustling to get things ready for the party. My mum is in the kitchen broiling a portion of the ram that had earlier been slaughtered for the event. Yep. It is going to be a big party. As usual, I am moving all over the place pretending to be working but mostly avoiding all the heavy-duty chores. Which I think is divine leading anyway because of what happens next.
Monday, that’s the househelp, is downstairs roasting some of the beef cuts and of course I am there helping him kindle the already lit fire. Hero, the family dog is also patrolling the area, providing adequate security against the nosy flies and thieving rodents that might be attracted by the fragrance of the sizzling meat.
Sure of the safety of this particular chore because of the presence of a teenager and a dog, Monday plods off to attend to other chores in the compound.  Hero comes over a couple of times to ensure the beef is still sizzling. So serious does he take his duty that even I am not allowed to get close.
Seeing the seriousness of Hero, I turn away from the mouth dehydrating fire and walk towards the main entrance to the house, hoping to get a glass of water, Only…..I’m not gonna get that water just yet.
I hear a scream from behind me and turn around to see Monday sprinting like an Olympic gold medalist hopeful. The one thing that would have cost him any medal though, are the words spewing from his mouth. I do not speak ‘calabar’ but one look at his face & I know he had to be saying some awful things. I turn back & calmly follow behind, thinking this might be some of his usual theatrics.
Still cursing up a storm, he stops in front of one of the cars and stoops to look underneath. I sashay my way next to him, stoop, look under the car and meet a sight that still has me in stitches even till date: Hero, gnawing on a nice chunky piece of half roasted beef. Still hot too.
We begged, we threatened, Monday cursed, nothing worked. He simply ignored us. The silly dog got into so much trouble that day. Apparently, while rushing to serve himself, he upturned the other pieces of beef into the fire, costing Monday a tongue-lashing from my mum.
Smart dog that he was, Hero knew to avoid Monday through out the day. However, that night, I wondered how he was going to avoid being killed. I was so worried for Hero that I had to go and check on him. On getting downstairs, I heard yelps. With righteous anger, I ran towards the sound hoping to catch Monday in the act of killing Hero. Only, I got to my destination to find Monday rubbing Hero’s belly affectionately. What I thought had been painful yelps were infact sounds of pleasure. Disgusted with both of them, I asked Monday, why he decided not to kill Hero. And that when he said ‘He’s just a dog. What does he know?’
Lately, my mind has been drifting & dwelling on lots of things. Like times I might have acted like Hero. Disappointed people. My silly mind has many images to support my drifting thoughts but none where someone rubbed my belly. Lol. And I can’t say I have rubbed anyone’s belly after a falling out either anyway.
Making me wonder why we save that sweet, easily-appealed-to part of ourselves for our pets: babies and animals.
I want to be as easily entreated by the flaws of another adult as by that of a baby or my dog. Besides, if I expect people to understand I didn’t mean to disappoint them, shouldn’t I give them the same? I want to be generous in love and forgiveness, the two things we have in abundance from our Creator.
Doesn't scripture say we should comfort people with the very comfort we have received?
Anyway, as usual, this is just the long-winded thoughts of an explorer. I am still searching for my stuffs and I just bumped into this memory and decided to share with you all. May be what your searching for.
This is Mage, laying here, trying not to think of the blisters my mental feet got from trudging up and down on my psychosomatic search. So if you happen to come across my stuffs, please do holla? I shall be eternally gratefully yours…..


  1. You should write a bit more than twice a year..

    1. :D
      Thanks, Roc. I feel totally chastened. I do write a bit more than "twice a year" but its posted on my facebook notes wall thingy. Thot people wouldn't visit the blog, so I stopped.
      Will retrace my steps though. Thanks 4 d heads up.

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  3. Nice write up Abaoluwase never knew you were this talented in painting pictures with words Brilliant!

    1. Thanks a lot for the comment. :)
      Your comment reads like it's from someone I know.