à bientôt

This was no sip, No gradual descent into thirst No decent interval between the first gulp and the next No decent swallow No dissent from our limbs, On the contortions being demanded.
This was the ravenous quenching of the thirst Making up for lost months. At its pinnacle, This was two cannibals feeding on each other. Clothes the casualties Underclothes all but collateral damage.
This was the crossing of thresholds Ecstasy and agony Enveloped in each spasm .
This was our reunion Sorry neighbours, Next time I’ll bring earmuffs.

COLORS

She reminds me of yellow
A mellow hue 
Of memories blues
Kisses stolen in red
A glimmer of radiance
As white smile peaks through black lips.

Take a walk with me
in the promenade of the beautiful
I'll lend you my eyes
and walk to the echoes of your steps
Take you through my stories
A rough draft open to your edit

All i need is one date
To show you
I was crafted through the ages for you
and meant to last for eternity with you
Introduce you to my friends
and with that, all my secrets
Never caring to hide my cards
For in this game i play
your happiness is my win

I don't mean to startle you
and I would never want to part
with such a gift as you
So please forgive the romantic in me
who wants to break up with you daily
so he can re-meet you
and fall in love with you
all over again each day.

Uber

"Your uber is arriving"
... was the alert that jolted me back to consciousness.
The party as it were, had continued in our absence.
Her, hot, and me, bothered
unceremoniously clambered after each other into the car.
"Wickham", I hoarsely managed to utter
as i slammed the door behind us.
my fingers as they wandered south
commending her decision to go commando.
appreciating that her dress could barely contain her
my hands had worked gamely to cover the rest.
Our driver, at first bored, then curious
was risking death with the constant shifting eyes.
Me, preoccupied with keeping my hands wet.
wet enough to continue its fun date
on this marvelous slip and slide.
Her moans the shrieks of ecstasy that egged us on.
She kissed me...
and my lips were not the only ones leaking fluids.

Love sucks

Five years ago upon returning from Sierra Leonean after a month long vacation, i started writing this blog, it was in the middle of an exciting time. Social media was filled with folks who had newly discovered their activism and had found a way to showcase it to a wider audience. We were all still grappling with how to use social media to enrich our relationships, etiquette was being discovered on the fly and the protocols were never universal. Leh We Talk was the first of many outlets that sought to tap into the conversation of young sierra Leoneans and i'm honored to have being a part of it. It was refreshing to be able to connect with young Sierra Leoneans from all over the world. We reminisced about growing up in Sierra Leone, raised our objections to present day happenings and expressed our fears and dreams for the future.

Two years ago i stopped updating this blog. i had learnt a lot from my past relationship, Social media was playing a significant role in our conversations and our politics, relationships were being ruined everyday by social media. I still believed my generation had all the answers, just as i believed the generation before us had squandered all the gifts they possessed on the trading block of personal enrichment.

Today, I'm back. My pieces, never prophetic, have become more reflective. I have grown in terms of years and experiences accumulated, accepting the primary fact that life hurts, but we go again.

Accompany me on this journey of self discovery and self development in a new continent and amidst all the laughter and cringes, remember, love sucks, but you can't give up.

The Returnee

     They say life is made up of memories, the good ones and the not so good ones. Your first kiss, the first beating in school, your first crush, your first fight. a series of firsts that shape your experience. You can neither get enough firsts nor can you have enough memories, but every now and then you sit back, delve through those myriad memories and smile at that experience that's treasured close to your heart.

     For me, that experience was a trip I took to Bo in 2003. Two years after the war was declared officially over, in the middle of the national reconstruction and resettlement stage, a few days after I had taken my WASSCE exams, at a moment I was deep in the desert of self-discovery, I took the return leg of a trip I had undertaken in early 1992. Back then, the war had just started and I was hard pressed to recall anything about the trip as a combination of my Mom's back and my spindly legs combined excellently to keep me ahead of the rebels who had just started their movement by attacking my town.

     My interactions with the provinces in the intervening years were all centered around hearing tales of the progress of the war, seeing the geometric increase of new faces around my area and the gigantic fear that would strike my heart whenever my Mum, (whose business required her traversing the rebel infested highways ever so often) showed up at home or was leaving on another journey. They tell me now that I always used to cry when she left, I don't remember that part (yes, that's my story and I'm sticking to it).

     Those intervening years had made me very much a "Fritong boy". With a full creole name and an educational background that had taken me to a lot of "creole" schools, this trip was going to be some experience.
As the government bus gradually chased the sunrise on rickety roads, I was confronted with all I'd heard on the news about the war. Burnt out busses littered the roads, broken checkpoints were not uncommon and half naked children with varied wares would greet us at every small town. Unlike today, the journey lasted close to a whole day.


     Then I was reminded of the hospitality that is common among Sierra Leoneans but more renowned among those in the provinces. Constantly bamboozled by the many family members I had never known I had. Had anyone told me I was a long lost prince, I would not have disputed that. Such is the exceptional treatment that was meted out to me on that trip. Needless to say I did not want to leave, but I had to and I did. Not before sampling all the delights a vibrant and laid back town had to offer to a young man out on his own with thoughts of the world at his feet.

     So if you want to hear those stories and relieve those experiences with me, then join me on this year's GWB Ball and maybe over drinks or on the dance floor, we can trade stories while basking in the company of other Sierra Leoneans.

The Other Side (for those who are heartbroken on Valentines day)

As the world watches
He slowly lunges
Fall caught the gentle waves
As he lives to tell the tale
of love lost on vday

Table set
Candle lit
Champagne chilled
Strawberry iced
Chocolate warmed
Dream nowhere to be seen

The sky becomes clouded
As the wind chills out the candle
Bearing with it a note
Sorry honey:
Cupid’s arrow lost its way.