It began with the pictures
then we arrived at the oldies’
an army of aged men and women glanced at me
elastic skin,brittle bones
Then the greeting,an obligation,a custom
I sat down listening to the live band’s Fuji music; my mother tongue
I sat down,also discombobulated with little or no emotion
I hid in my cap but it seemed like the cap wasn’t doing much
The they came( middle-aged ones) ready to evaluate my history
comparing my present to my past
‘You’ve grown’ they screamed-noise to my eardrums
Then I brought out the fake smile-another obligation, a requirement
They interrogated me fervently hoping I’d give them answers before my food arrived
I answered a few but I was distracted by the intense aroma of red wine
from Southern Australia,consumed by elite Nigerians.
My mind tried to race around but all I saw was the Mercedes Benz 200 and it stared at me
like the photographer.
I wanted to leave the gathering,but I could not
it seemed like I was stuck with elastic skin and brittle bones
12th July ,1900h
i sat unmoved,stationery
i needed my pen and journal.