Silent questions.

A broken man questions to understand.

So I understand what place of pain a man strains from to ask why a God mighty in battle, that protects his children from harm sits still as armed men walk in his house and murder his worshipers.

A broken man questions to understand. But a foolish man takes a stand from a position of ignorance.

Rocks Cry.

I know rocks cry when we take machines to them, breaking off it's skins till only a puddle is left where strength once stood.

Blessings.

*May you ride on the back of lions, the Krakan, and lightening bolts.

*May the back of crocodiles rescue you and your kin from drowning.

*May pythons fold as pillows for your sleeping head.

And when you go hunting with blunt tools, *may the waters release a sharpened set to aid your day's toil.

Blessings.

When men seek to curse you, *may dragons swallow and spit their curses back at them. Now. And forever.

Eight Questions.

Why does the cock flail, running away from his pending death after it's head is already cut off?

Why is the man resisting the temptation on his lip when the nipple is already grazing his infant's lip?

Why do we accept the medicine for the dead man when his grave is already celebrating an anniversary?

And why?

Why does this flower flail in the wind as though protesting its death at sundown?

Why do we refuse to live?

Why do we refuse this life thrust on us?

And when do we start living?

On Choosing.

It is a human failing that'd make the boy decide he could do better in choosing.
So he'd leave his first for the newer, but would find years after;

*that newer is no better than the first.

*That age would make newer wither too.

*And childbirth would make newer more a mother than a lover as it did the first.

This Love Thing.

It is different every time, this love, thing.

You meet the boy in your teens and it was love too. That innocence, that first time at everything, the palpitations and the sheer stupidity of everything else.

Grown people knew it wouldn't lead to much, that life would happen to you and this thing you feel will wither, or fall. And they are often right. 
For, sometime after your various graduations, first jobs and new people, it'd die. But it was love too. Just a different kind from what you know now.

Now, love is sitting next to someone you once loved, holding him down because you know he is having a breakdown and the only good you can do is not sleep until he is better.

Love is knowing that your partner is scared, possibly for life, and recognising this, intentionally picking up all his shrapnel and splinters along the way hoping to patch him up when he needs it.

Love is now also companionship and lifelong plans, learning your lover's illnesses and walking on a care plan together.

Love is responsibility and subtle head nods too.

For some, Love is recognising that he is not only yours too, that you aren't that special after all. He is yours and hers and his mother's too.

Now, love is meeting broken people, and fixing inches of their lives one encounter at a time because you can't fix them, really. You can do just this much and hope.

Now, love is different things and nothing.

Tide.

We are all chasing mavericks until we tire from it, and get ready for the waves in the tide.

I have been waiting.

Crumbs

These days, there is often food in my bed and a drink on my bed rest. Not good for my weight gain.

Sometimes I wake up to ants crawling on my arm because the popcorn bowl is often never really empty and the crumbs from sweetened biscuits call on other beings to me too. This is the reward of nutritioning in bed with movies (and the occasional PowerPoint slides I make during idea burst). The last time I'd done this was with Merit. I kept her TV and now I pointlessly have two TV's in one room.

I try not to think so hard.

Yesterday, I found a product I'd been looking out for the past year. Jergen's, 'hydrating Coconut' 'dry skin moisturizer'. I am not picky with products usually. I'd use any cream that does not lighten or tone my skin.

Anything is fine.

Vaselines are great.

My mother says I abused Vaselines as a child. I'd empty a whole bottle of Vaseline on my body, take a stool to the sun and sit out while calling myself a shining Queen. This is funny until the 20th bottle BTW.

Back to the cream; I had bought this 'hydrating coconut' Jergens a year ago because I really love coconut, you know, and found that the moisturizer took well to my skin too.

The texture of the cream itself was just right, not so shinny like that Nivea moisturizer in the Blue bottle.

Thinking about it now, I'm unsure if I liked the product for myself or it was transfered inference from my older Sister Jane. I remember she'd gushed about it and had mentioned how it was so great you could moisturise anything with it ( I put a squirt on my hair and felt my strands jump I swear), so maybe I liked it because she did, I don't know. But after that first bottle, I returned to the shops to buy more but never found it until yesterday. I had to catch myself from screaming when I found that lone bottle on the shelf.

Well, that's that.

You realize now that you'd been reading all these hoping to find a conclusion that sums up my thoughts conclusively right? Now that you know I am not going to do that for you, what do you do?

Conquer: On Lies.

A lie undignifies it's peddler.

A liar loses dignity when he is found out.

A Deity's prayer;

May our sleeps come in breaths and our beer gourds in the morning.

                                 For those whose toes will curl anytime soon, I wish you babies!

Mother Of Gourd:

I built a house of GOURDS.

I am priestess and Mother.

I am. 

Mother of Gourd.

Mother of Gourd.

On Fear.

Not everyone is afraid of Demons. 

Some of us are Deity.

Conquer Igali

Recent Projects. Hair

I had decided on extending my curiosity to hair, specifically braids and and just how versatile this focus is. I love braids. I love them so much it is a sort of vice for me now. I love colors in braids too and I put a lot of colors in my braids.

Next to color is length. I love really long braids. I love that I can twist and turn and do all sorts of styles with long braids. This curiosity is how I invented the African Braidijab. A braid style where hair is used to form a modern Hijab style worn by women who do not want to wear the traditional hijab look. Below are some photos.

The Braidijab by MizConceptions

The Braidijab by MizConceptions

Mother of Suns

Have you heard that when a woman is dilated enough to birth, 
her crown brightens like the sun?

What if a Woman birthed the Sun 

Like she birthed the Son 

And the Messenger too?

Conquer Igali. 30/10/2016

Pebbles

                   Like things brought ashore by indecisive waves,
                we trudge our affections to the welcome mats of each other's hearts

           But no further.

       Leaving clear pebbles of a sailor's journey in our wake
    But never a stay 
of ornamented pebbles on bedside jars

                                                                                                                                Conquer Igali. 30/1/17

Notes For A Shedding On A 30th

It is two (2) days to my birthday and I do not know what I feel right now. I feel something alright. It is just really difficult to put it into words.

I do not know how I will spend my birthday. Not yet. I have no plans even now. 30 is an important number for me. I do not even know why it is so, but I feel like it is going to be an important number in my years. I should do something, anything, to make it count.

Earlier this year, I had drawn up a plan. I would make my entry into my 30th several life-pounds lighter than I have been the last 30 years. I would shed most of my life-weight. And I would go on an adventure all through the months preceding my birthday. I would pack up a bag every weekend and go somewhere, anywhere, until my diary entries are filled with memories and places.  I would visit obscure rural villages in Nigeria or Ghana or Cameroun and be the guest child of the loneliest widowed woman in the village, to be the friend of the unluckiest child or the outcast, the miss-fit in every such village I will visit.

It is 2 days to my birthday and I haven’t gone anywhere, or met anyone, yet.

It appears that the physical ceremony of shedding my life-weight is the only thing I will be doing. For this, I have already sorted and evaluated all my physical life possessions and out of everything, I will be giving most things away save few essentials.

I had toyed with the idea of saving only 30 items of my life’s possessions and doing away with everything else but I had hit an indecisive brick wall. What constituted ‘an item’? For example, I own a collection of treasured books in my miniature library, chief of which is my international passport and my bank’s check books.  In saving ‘an item’ from my library, do I pick out only my Passport for example and give out everything else? Do I tag my library as one item and save it all? At the end of my deliberation, I decided I would simply take out objects that I did not necessary need or use, or objects, ideas, people, habits, hobbies and relationships that were hurting, stagnating and or negatively impeding  my growth and goals.

Two weeks ago, I had visited an internally displaced person (IDP) camp in Kuchingoro(?), and decided that will be my physical location for a shedding.

I have begun the sorting of my last 30 years.  I have begun shedding my weight to appear lighter for my next decade and this may hurt at first, but I am strangely confident that I will be better for it.

Lie To Me

When my gloom curls up ,
forming rings around my heart,

And my words spread the pain that ensnares my being;

Lie to me.

Tell me happiness starts first as a sadness.

Tell me this thing I feel isn't real.

That none of it is real.

Tell me None of this is real.

A Dirge For Tarty

They say every new birth (day)

lays a nail With which our coffins are set.

As the clocks chimes a melody for a 30th

Shall I sing a dirge for Tarty?

A Sneer At Death

Not all of us are afraid to die.

Some of us do sneer at death in the face and ask him rudely if the best he could do was a lump or a clot or a failed kidney.

Because death? Your ways have always been cowardly, so even when I cry because you were coming or you had come to take what was mine; my tears had always pitied you instead. Because you are a retched cowardly trifling bitch!

Signed: A pissed of Mom.

Futile Things.

'What do you really want from me?' The man asked the girl.

'I want to fall in love,' the girl replied.

'I cannot give you that. I can give you a restricted form of companionship, but you can never fall in love with me' the man finished, his brows, beat.

The man had often thought the girl had a fertile mind, but this was futile. From experience, he also knew somebody always ended up hurt when people wanted futile things as realities.

He owed her the truth.