http://penastory.com/2016/02/16/penastory-love-contest-entry-4-faith-ekabua/


“Hey Fred, I’m Boo-less”, I broke the news via whatsapp less than 3 hours after the breakup occured. Here I was, same spot again. Craving to be in the warm arms of the one who loved me with everything he was/is. Having thrown his love back to his face for seven years (the seventh year had the love ball wrapped with subtle but deep insults), whatever gallon of verbal acid awaited my football-shaped baby face, I deserved it. I just wanted to talk to my best friend. Someone who has loved me through all my seasons; a proverbial Hosea,made to love a proverbial Gomer, faithfully obeying the words in Hosea3:1.
My phone beeped and there I was, faced with reality- THE VERDICT. It was everything the opposite of what I deserved. The words meant the world to me, lifted the weight and brought peace. The words made the break-up pain as insignificant as the K in knife. It stared right in my face so long that I felt every alphabet like a presence: soothing,reassuring and everything like the writer. It read,
“Come and take a knock and a big hug. Go and sin no more”.
Buddy, you could knock my head off with pestle and still catch me smiling at you with the ‘gimme some more’ wink. I was like a murderer being set free on a fifteen naira bail. A whole year’s bad debt was written-off with this ‘fun-undertoned’ statement of divine forgiveness. No ‘Hello, it’s me. I was wondering if after all these years you’d like to meet to go over everything.’
A ‘purfect’ example of A LOT OF WATER WENT UNDER THE BRIDGE! If you can imagine the ‘Noah Flood’ going under your village bridge… Alright! Come back!
HEAVEN KISSED THE EARTH AND FOR A MOMENT,I FELT LIKE OMELET BETWEEN FRESHLY TOASTED BREAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Ima walked into the room interrupting my thoughts and simply asked,” What’s love?” I stood, adjusted my sagging shorts, walked up to the marker board and wrote in my best handwriting, “Following the Logic: {If p~q and q~r, then p~r}, Love is Fred; Fred is Black; therefore LOVE IS BLACK!” I turned to her knowing I had succeeded in getting her confused again with ‘black’. I said “Black ain’t bad, black is the richest colour because it is made up of all the colours put together in right proportions. Black is deep! BLACK IS NAIJA! I smiled and passed her but not without pulling her thick natural hair.”

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