Simi Joel

Author: Simi Joel

  • MISSING – Teaser

    MISSING – Teaser

    The sound of laughter greeted Ike as he stepped onto the corridor of his house, his wide shoulders slumped under the weight of his bag and fatigue. He’d spent two hours on his trip from work because of a political rally that had blocked all major routes.

    ‘If only I’d taken Fatima’s advice to wait a while for the traffic to abate, I wouldn’t have gone through this stress.’

    His first shot of regret had come after twenty minutes of sitting in a traffic gridlock. He’d shrugged it off until an hour later when he couldn’t take it anymore. He’d then joined the people who’d taken to walking and trekked the remaining distance to his house for another 40 minutes.

    He opened the door of the house, stepped into the living room and let out a long whistle. The room looked like a crèche at noon. His friends Kabir and Eunice wrestled playfully on the carpeted floor, completely oblivious to his entrance. There were pieces of Ludo game scattered on the floor, and the 3-seater chair which usually rested on the wall, was now close to the center of the room. Eunice was sprawled on the floor with her back on the ground, and her knees raised poking Kabir’s chest. She was laughing uncontrollably and shrieking loudly.

    Ike dropped his bag and watched the duo in tired amusement. He’d met Kabir and Eunice three months earlier at their first clearance and they’d struck up a friendship that had grown since then. In that brief period, he’d come to think of them as family. He didn’t have much of one except for his grandmother who’d raised him in Abia, his home state. He’d lost his father at barely two years old, and his mother had remarried to a man who never wanted to see him.

    Eunice screamed again, so he walked to the couch, grabbed a pillow and threw at the duo. It bounced off Kabir’s back, who looked up briefly but made no effort to get up. Ike kicked the Ludo board at his foot gently to one side, walked up to them, and pulled Kabir up from his awkward sitting position, easing Eunice’s elbow from the deadlock it was in. Kabir straightened up, standing a head taller than Ike. He laughed and dusted himself before giving Ike a playful handshake. Eunice sat up on the floor and greeted Ike with a grin.

    ‘Sweetheart, how are you?’

    ‘I’m fine,’ he said, bending to pull her cheek tenderly.

    Eunice laughed in response, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

    ‘Can you guys stop already. Kabir interrupted their banter rolling his eyes.

    ‘Why are you hating bro? Can’t I spend a few moments with a lady without you getting jealous.

    You’ve had her to yourself so far.’

    ‘Okay o, continue with that crooked mouth of yours and sweet words.

    ‘Kabir!’ Eunice stood and punched him in the shoulder.

    Ike smiled. It was public knowledge that he had a soft spot for Eunice, and he didn’t try to hide it. He’d gone so far to ask her out, but she’d turned him down pleasantly. He’d then told Kabir who’d made it his duty since then to tease him about it at opportune moments.

    He sat on the displaced couch and Kabir followed suit.

    ‘How was work? And how many errands did you run for your office secretary today?’ Kabir continued his teasing.

    ‘Bros, make you just dey your lane o.”

    ‘My brother,’ Kabir replied with mock seriousness, ‘I’m only concerned about your well-being, which is why I’m asking. In addition, it’s nothing to be ashamed about. The woman looked at you from head to toe, and summarized that your B.Sc. degree qualified you for appointment as her personal minister for food, drinks, and miscellaneous duties. It’s a thing of great pride in case you didn’t know.”

    Ike took a playful swing at him, but he ducked in time.

    Eunice smirked, glanced at her watch and announced.

    Guys, I’m leaving.’

    ‘Haba, why so soon? Kabir protested.

    ‘I still must get to Tola’s place to pick up stuff that my mom sent through her and its past 7’o clock already.’

    ‘I understand. Let’s see you off.’ Kabir stood, walked to Eunice and flung an arm over her shoulder. He motioned for Ike to get up.

    Ike reluctantly stood and spoke with concern evident in his voice.

    ‘Eunice, you shouldn’t have stayed this late, especially with the recent tension surrounding the upcoming election. I think you should go home directly, and see Tola tomorrow.

    He watched as Eunice shrugged, picked her bag that lay on the floor and brushed her hair into place.

    ‘It’s not so late. There’s nothing to worry about, I’ll be home in good time.’

    Ike twitched his lips but didn’t object. Instead, he opened the door and they all walked out, teasing till they got to the end of the street where they hailed a cab for Eunice.

    He watched as the cab pulled away, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling of unrest that had suddenly gripped him.

  • HIDDEN SOULS

    HIDDEN SOULS

    The sun shone overhead in full glory.
    But the man stood in the shade as life zoomed past him,
    Unwilling to step out for fear of the heat that would burn his tender skin.
    ‘When evening comes’, he said, ‘I would ply my trade and spread my merchandise’.

    Her name was light, yet, she hid in the shadows;
    Held by demons named fear and unworthiness.
    Her days were night, and her nights darker still.
    When men asked why she hid, she pointed at the shadow only she could see.
    Within she asked, ‘when would I shine?’

    Then the storm descended, tearing apart all in its path.
    The streets wept, and all men fled, ‘cept these souls who stayed to be swept.
    But when the storm approached, it stilled.
    For hope stepped out with outstretched tender arms.
    She prodded and pushed, willing each to move.
    Fiercely and tirelessly, she yanked the roots that tied them down.
    And she whispered, her words echoing in the wind.

    This isn’t your place dear ones.
    Light should not be stifled in the shadows, nor beauty hidden in the shade.
    Yes, I see the fear in your hearts, but it’s illusion lasts only if you let it.
    Oh man, you have strength to withstand the heat.
    Dear woman, you are worthy of the glory within you.
    Step out and free yourselves, for within you lie the power to do so.’

    She breathed once, and in the next breath disappeared.
    The storm continued its journey and the sun rose again above the now quiet street.

    The man stirred and shivered once, and looked ahead.
    Without a glance back, he dragged his merchandise into the open street.
    She shivered also and a dash of light struck the soil at her feet.
    She gasped and felt the cold hold of darkness slip away.
    With a scream, she jumped and stretched her hands towards the street.
    The shadow fled, the sound of her laugh chasing closely at its heels.

    When men returned, they met a sight so glorious it out shone the sun.

    credit: google image

  • THE GIRL WHO TOOK A SHOT AT IT

    THE GIRL WHO TOOK A SHOT AT IT

    She was a small girl with a big heart, a junior secondary school student who stood unnoticed at the center of a large field.

    Her school’s inter-house sports competition was coming up in a couple of weeks, and the school field was a bustle of activity. The atmosphere was charged with excitement, and students were joining different sports teams in preparation for the event. She went around the field to scout for a sport that’ll catch her fancy. Shot put and Javelin throw seemed out of her league, long and high jumps didn’t seem like her thing. Parade and football? Those she found fascinating.

    They had enough girls marching for the parade already. So, she went to watch the girls who were practicing football. They had just started and were taking turns shooting the ball into the net. It looked like so much fun and she wanted to be a part of that. More so, joining their team would surely help them win.

    She hopped eagerly and with little thought approached the girls…the bigger, mature girls who had flesh in all the right places.

    ‘Can I join you? I’d like to play.’ She said.

    Their reactions were immediate and in sync, like a scene from a well-rehearsed play. One scrunched her face impatiently, a look of scorn crossed the feature of another, and another snickered, while others merely stood watching as the replies shot at her.

    ‘You can’t play.’

    ‘You’re too small.’

    ‘Is it those tiny legs you want to use to kick the ball?’

    ‘Do you even know how to play?’

    She replied, ‘I can learn and I’ll practice.’

    But they shooed her. Her heart fell, but as she turned to leave, an idea flashed through her mind. What if she showed them that she could do it? What if she kicked the ball right there into the net? Yes, they wouldn’t have a choice but to let her on the team. She could do it, she could kick the ball into the net.

    So, she approached again, though a little less confident than the first time, but more eager to prove herself. The girls were reluctant at first, but she persisted till they gave in, with the air of ‘let her do it so we can play in peace’.

    They set the ball in front of her feet and left the goal post clear. She breathed deeply and looked towards the post. She breathed a second time and looked at the ball. She breathed yet a third time, charting a line from the ball to the goal net, and in one swift move kicked the ball hard.

    She missed!

    Image credit: google photos

    A few weeks later she was prancing around that same field. The competition was in full gear and she couldn’t see a thing. She ran behind the throng of people, trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on. when that didn’t work, she squeezed, shoved and pinched, moving among the shifting bodies, till she found a spot with a clear line of sight. She watched the parade, then she watched the football game. Her house lost the game and she was sad, because despite what they all said, she was confident that they would have won, if only she was part.

    In the years that would follow, she wouldn’t play football, but many other life chances would come. As the opportunities arrive, those questions of doubt would raise their voices. Yet with the same high spirits and confidence, she would silence those voices by taking her shot. She would hit her mark and even when she misses, she would learn and try again!

    In these times, her shots would tear through the goal net, leaving behind the mark of a winner.

    She’s that small girl with a large heart and a winning shot.

  • MIRROR MIRROR ON THE WALL

    ‘Mirror mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?’
    She stands before her reflection, like an accused before a judge.
    Silence rings out deafening and she shifts slightly waiting for her verdict.
    Then it speaks, it’s voice quiet at first.
    She strains to hear, and the voice emboldened grows louder.

    ‘Your question is weighty, for you are just one among many.
    If only you were taller, you would be fair enough.
    That crooked nose and freckled face are entirely out of place.
    Your lips, too dry and brittle; a little moisture might help your chances.
    Oh your waist, definitely too wide.
    That stomach, flatten it a bit would you?
    Your entire frame is disconcerting.
    If only you were more shapely;
    If only you were slimmer;
    If only you were fairer;
    If only…’

    A tear slides down her face and she wills to hide from herself.
    She swipes her hand to stop the falling tear.
    Alas, she’s too late.
    The tear hits the floor and ‘Crack’ the mirror breaks.
    Glass shatters and with it the voice fades.
    She stands dejected, then another beckons to her.
    She draws it out from a pile of rejects.
    The frame is worn, its glass dusty.
    She wipes off the dust and hangs it on the wall.
    After a slight pause she restates her inquiry.
    With tear stained cheeks, bloodshot eyes and smeared makeup.

    ‘Mirror mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?’
    Its soft words caresses her, touching her in a place she had long forgotten.
    ‘You were formed after the similitude of a palace;
    Created in the image of the perfect one;
    Crafted exquisitely with love;
    Every detail of you woven with delicate care;
    Heart of gold wrapped up in beauty, glory and virtue.
    You were made to be a cornerstone polished like a palace;
    Yet you stare at the world, embracing its standards.
    Gifted to heal broken hearts;
    Yet you wallow in self pity, obsessed with the opinions that belittle you.
    Look at me,’ the voice urges, it’s nudge hard to resist.

    She looks up, stares intently and her reflection soon transforms before her eyes.
    ‘Your seemingly uncomely parts are for honour;
    And in your overwhelming weaknesses lies strength.
    Be bold oh daughter of Zion;
    For you are the fairest of them all.

  • To Do or Ditch; What lies in Between?

    To Do or Ditch; What lies in Between?

    It’s been almost a year since I started the National Youth Service Corps Scheme. At the start, I penned down goals, things I hoped to achieve before the end the year. Among all the things I listed, there was an endeavour I did not add, even though it mattered to me most. I was afraid that it was ambitious, too large to handle and that my commitment to it would only lead to disappointment. I started working on the others but was not quite satisfied because I could not deny that something was missing. It tugged at me at every turn and reminded me that I was letting fear run me.

    As weeks started counting, I stumbled across an article by Bruce Kasanoff. In not so many words, he asked us to describe ourselves not as we are now but as we see ourselves. That day, resolute, I added writer to my LinkedIn description. I also grabbed my note and added ‘Writing Goals’. Then I broke this down into bits and hung on my visual board. At this time, most of my writings were confined to my journal under the guise of ‘personal writing’. As a first step, I wrote a flash fiction piece (which I looked fondly at some days ago), and shared on Facebook. That was the start of my ‘public writing’. Then I published another on a friend’s site. As my shares grew, feedback started flowing and support systems that I didn’t know existed sprung up. And yes, cash followed. A friend saw my writings and started sending paid writing jobs to me (I didn’t see that one coming).

    Then came the idea to turn my NYSC experience to something more. So I wrote word after word, sentence followed sentence, my thoughts took form and a work was born. After many moments of ‘I can do this’ and ‘let’s ditch this’, I published a work of fiction that I absolutely love. Suffice to say, I did beyond what I imagined.

    I really don’t know how to end this; maybe to drop a quote or an insightful thought about faith, fear, courage or perseverance, but all I wanted to do was tell this story. All I know is that between do and ditch, there was journey. This journey started with seeing what was not and it came to be.