Wednesday, November 05, 2014

Moving Portraits : Mornings and Women.

On my way to work, I saw her from a distance.

She was tall, light skinned with the right curve of hip. She caught my eye.

Her gait was jagged. She was staggering. A man gently led her along with a wry smile on his face. She was like a sheep led to slaughter. She couldn't look up. Her eyes were suspended in nothingness. She was in a deep stupor. The moment I passed by her, the fumes proved it was stupor.

It was almost 7am.

Was this man her brother? Did she have a father? A mother, sister or friend? Why was she in the middle of town at six in the morning looking like a sponge with limbs? Smelling like a brewery despite having the look of a princess?

Pangs in my chest. I wondered, in our attempts to fly without wings do we throw out reason and caution and go straight for the deep end? Why was she here? The only question I could ask was why.

She stood out because she did not look like the kind of person who would do this kind of thing. Yet again, looks are deceiving. I looked back one last time at the girl, and the man holding her hand looked back. I saw a hunter collecting his prey.


She's sitting on a woman's laps. Resting her back into her chest. She has a white knitted sweater on.

Her hair is braided and ornamented with brown, cream, lavender and black beads. Her eyes are looking through the window casually. She's not really focusing on anything; she just lets the day show her what the day wants to show.

The lady is holding a small bag. Mickey Mouse is on the side of it. There must be a bottle of juice and a container with biscuits in it. That's what I used to take to school at that time. Though, then it used to be in baskets.

However, there is something in her hand. She is holding it gently and softly, making sure not to bring any damage to it. Her eyes are not on it but clearly her thoughts are. It is placed like a jewel in her hand. The white flower is her gem right now, the little girl on her way to school.


Moving Portraits. My eyes keep seeing more.

Tuesday, November 04, 2014

Jesus meets Luzy

As the good old saving Jesus we know, after the release of the pics had stung Luzy well, he came and knocked on her door.

J: Hello Luzy.
L: Hello ? Who's that?
J: Jesus.
L: Jesus who ? Are you a Nigerian?
J: Well you could say that. I'm also Ugandan if you like, and Italian and Jewish... Pick one you're comfortable with.
L: What? Anyway, onjagaza ki?
J: I want you to rest.
L: Rest? As in sleep? Do you want to trap me also?
J: No Luzy, my yoke is easy and my burden is light. Even before you were in your mother's womb, I saw you. There's nothing I haven't seen.
L: You perv! You paedophile! Leave me alone,  go away. All men are the same.
J: Luzy, you are loved. I have seen you. Inside out. There is nothing desirous in you. But I have loved you with an everlasting love.
L: Now you're laying those cheap tricks! Have you ever had a week as bad as mine? In court for unpaid debts, exposed before all men.
J: *laughs
L: Why are you laughing?
J: Well, there was this time I was accused of being a blasphemous man. Then I was betrayed by my friend. Then my other friends scattered, only two remained. Then they took my clothes, hang me naked on a tree.... Generally....
L: Jesus, what have you been smoking?
J: Not even the smoke from burnt offerings I promise. *laughs
L: You're weird.
J: Yes I AM . *laughs.  But Desire , I came because I heard your prayer. When you cried after seeing those pictures. I heard you. I promise you're my kind of person. Humiliated, downtrodden, shamed. I know coz I have been there.
L: So...
J: Forgive him. I have forgiven you.
L: Easy for you to say.
J: Well, my strength is made sufficient in weakness. You can because I am.
L: Hmmm. But you know I'm a wretch. My life is a mess.
J: Like all 7 billion people alive. No one's life is perfect. No one is a saint. Many pretend to be, others act as revealed devils. Only in me are you not a mess.
L: How so?
J: My Father looks on the heart. Beyond cellulite and make up. Deep down all people long for Him. They miss Him when they turn to sex, drugs, wealth and accomplishment. They think those things last. They don't.
L: What does?
J: His love. I. The Length, breadth, height, depth, magnitude of His love never ends and you can spend the rest of your human life swimming in that.  See Desire, this is Love, that a man lay down his life for his friends. I did. And this is Love :

1 Corinthians 13:4-7 NASB
Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered,  does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

I am love.

Love is not sex, the thrill it gives you into thinking you're loved. Come to me, I am love. Rest. Receive true love.

I don't know what happened after but I'm glad I overheard the conversation.