This is about 40% of the entire dream. The only part I remember.


A boy of about my age came to me, and told me that he stole something from a shrine. Previously, this boy had bullied me, so I wasn’t really interested in his story. But he came to me in the dead of night, with a stubborn expression on his face. He told me the god was going to kill him for stealing, and that I should pray for his salvation.

I was unsure about the story, and why he was asking me to pray for him. While I was still speechless, he motioned with his hands, and suddenly I noticed a hut far behind us. Behind the hut there was a fire. By the fire was a tray, and on the tray was a lot of things I can’t remember. Another boy was also there. He picked up something from the tray and brought it to the boy, it was an object whose function couldn’t be told from its shape. A patently fetish object.

I suddenly knew a lot of things.

I told him I had dreamed of him while he stole the object, but that what he stole wasn’t that very small object. The look on  his face changed, and he swore that thesmall round bone-cloured thing was what he stole. The other boy who brought the thing was now standing beside him.

The darkness rolled away from us, and the colour of the atmosphere changed to a dull brown, such as we only see in old movies. A lot of changes occurred while we spoke out that very short conversation.

I asked him why he had come to me to pray for him. I cant remember what he answered, I agreed to pray, citing that Yahweh was a merciful good, and would take his soul. While I spoke horrible things happened. The boys grew much older in the brownish evening light. A light rain appeared to be falling cos the ground became muddy. The two boys now strangely appeared to be dressed in armor much like the romans wore, but the old man who had stolen from the shrine was rolling on the floor, because his arms and legs had already been cut off. He was just complete from his head to his belly button, no arms. As he was rolling over, I realized he wouldn’t be able to hear me, so I switched my talking to the other man who was standing beside him, dressed in same armor.

He asked me why my God would forgive the dying man, and I laughed and told him that my Yahweh was not like the god of his religion, that his mercy was boundless. Then he shocked me.

‘how can you pray for him, you are not even holy or sinless. We are the same thing!’

As he spoke, my perception of everything changed. The speed of the different images and concepts being made clear to me was too intense. There was this weird thing happening that I really cant explain, but it was like I could see the very nature of evil, I saw it in him, and I saw it in me too at the same time, as though to prove what he was saying. At that moment I realized that I had told him that what he stole was not that small object because I had not seen it in its physical form, I had seen it in this strange evil form, and it was much larger. Basically, the small object contained a great evil. Then the vision ceased.

‘My God is merciful, and my sins will not cause him to abandon me’, I replied.

The man on the ground was certainly in great pain. So I closed my eyes to pray.

‘In Jesus-‘

I woke up instantly, with my head understanding what was happening, and I continued the prayer as though I was still in the dream.

Journey pt.2

When the journey finally began, I had picked up enough curiosity about my immediate envrinment to observe my surroundings. The two passenger beside the driver were obviously students,  though I cant say how I figured that out. Guess it takes one to know one.

On the second row was a fair bulky man, a woman of the same statisctics with her liitle son and an over dressed, voluptuous, chubby young woman with an  imitation lace wig. They were all doing an awfully good job of being quiet and looking out the windshield from behind the driver’s seat.

The pew behind them contained two men and a woman. The men would keep talking throughout the eight-hour journey. I discovered that whoever started the thread of conversation would get almost idiotic nods of agreement from the other at every sentence. Their talked ranged from world politics to global warming and classic reggae. They were very knowledgeable and remembered quite a lot, I must say. The woman, I had regrettable noticed, had feet reminiscent of a reptile’s, with long toenails and a lot of wrinkles. It was not a nice site. She looked like she was in her tortuous thirties with her dishelved hair, her almost tight red blouse and knee length simple black skirt. Infact, she looked like something that had been run over by guard dogs.

Then there was my sister and oh…and a girl who was by the left window at the back.i shall not go through the trouble of describing her because she did not bring anything to the table during the journey. She hardly spoke except to complain about something or the other. We started the journey at about ten-thirty that morning.

Riding on the bus…riding on the bus…riding on the bus…I had multiple bouts of motion sickness ,thanks to our bad roads, until we arrived hours later at a rest stop. The time was two o’clock and the sun was unrelenting. I have jumped all the way to this point in the journey because the experience here dwarfed anything before it during the journey.

The rest stop, instead of being at Benin as I had assumed, was at some area near benin whose name I cant remember. It consisted of a small shack of a restaurant and a bush nearby. Almost looked like a village at the roadside. I quickly followed the other men into the very low bush before I discovered that the site was actually an uncompleted building violently overrun by weeds. After a few seconds, I replaced one of the men at the place he urinated and whipped out my…er…and urinated. I walked into the restaurant where the two students at the front of the bus were settling down to a meal of what looked like eba (pounded yam?) and egusi soup. I walked to the counter and asked the rough looking woman there if there was a toilet nearby. She instantly demanded a fee of fifty naira and took me to the back of the place. It looked like where ritual murder was commited. There were broken pots everywhere with their pool of collected rain water and dilapidated structures that looked to be a row of three lavatories. There was also a very beautiful woman almost hidden from view by still more half standing structures doing dishes or washing clothes- I can’t be sure.

As she gestured me toward the stalls, I asked for a roll of tissue paper

‘do you have tissue?’

‘tissue?’ It sounded like a foreign idea to her.’No tissue. But water dey’

I frowned, not very intent on cleaning myself up that way.

‘ok, where is the water?’

‘the water dey everywhere’

In a flash, she had picked up the still intact bottom section of a dirty broken bucket and dipped it into one of the bigger drums of water standing out. she dropped the now-filled container of slightly murky water at my feet. She gave a sort of nod towards the thing and rushed into the restaurant to take care of her customers.

In order to prevent shitting in my pants, I unthinkingly carried the thing into one of the stalls, where I was met a big surprise. At the least I had expected a pit latrine and at most, a non functioning WC, but this contraption beat all my expectations.

It was a two feet high block of concrete with an almost square shaped inner section hollowed out to the depth of about six inches. The square was not complete because a part of it led into a hole on the wall, where presumably the faeces was supposed to go through.The bottom of the hollow bore a yellow stain- imprints of the legacy left by previous users. Further  moments of not-so-diificult reasoning saw me  arriving at the conclusion that I wud have to climb and squat on the platform and perform my duty in the same manner little girls urinated on the roadsides. My stomach made a noise and I was off to business. I reckoned that I had to be free of my trousers and boxers. I looked for a suitably clean place to hang it before settling on a wooden beam that criss-crossed the un-ceilinged roof. I kept my phone on a ventilation hole on the wall, took a moment to thank God that nobody but me was witnessing this outrage…before I remembered that all of heaven and any passing fallen angel had probably paused to see me in this squatting position. I closed my eye and started my business careful not to let my arms build up reach back up into my…oh shit, you don’t have to read this..

I would say that is all for the memorable events the journey had. I would very much not like to avail of the tales of how the driver frequently stopped to satisfy his cravings for a cigarette, or how the tire of the bus kept deflating and taking valuable time by causing us to stop and pump it back up…or how the traffic at anambra state made me wish myself dead and finally, of how the car finally developed a fault a few villages from the owerri city where I was supposed to disembark at about 11pm at night, causing my frantic mother to send one of her gazillion sisters to pick us up and let us spend the night at her place which fortunately was a few meters from the point the bus stopped. That is all about the journey. Hopefully, if I have time, I shall comment on memorable funny moments and observations during my stay

Journey pt 1.

This year, I hope to make blog entries as frequent as they can possibly be updated-what with my two month break before my national youth service-, without any reduction in quality, of course. Been meaning to post something here for the past month…I even downloaded WordPress for Android to make chaff of my frequent excuse of not being able to get on wordpress.com as frequently as I should, but all to no avail. My innate laziness and let-it-go doggedness triumphed over my quest to serve humanity. The result is the very low number of post….just thought to make all the above clear so you don’t think I have nothing worthwhile to write. Wait! Yeah! I just thought of another excuse!…there has been bad power problems in this area of Imo state in which I am holidaying so…you know what, forget it!

Below is a transcript of what my holiday journey experience has been. This will probably be a long one, so I will do you folks the service of breaking this into 2 parts for easier reading and bookmarking.

I arrived owerri with my sister on the 24th of December last year by one of the worst road journeys I had ever undertaken. The genesis? Ok. Let me begin at the beginning…

There was the adrenaline filled rush after waking early in the morning of the 23rd in order to make the luxury bus station in time to get tickets for the day’s approximately eight-hour journey. I wondered why we were doing this so late when the ticket cud have just as well been bought the day before, allowing us the luxury of leisurely driving to the bus terminal to wait for the departure to owerri for the xmas holidays. The cold bath drove every question out of my mind, as did the last minute packing which I can only attribute to my innate laziness…Let me take you back so you can live the moments with me…

Damn, where the hell is my shoe? My sock? Damn, my laptop AC charger? I shiver under the cold as I have just stepped out of the bathroom

Oh God, why is everything going so wrong on this sacrilegiously cold harmattan morning? I glanced at the time 5:36? What the hell was I doing awake?

A little nagging voice tells me that the only thing wrong in the universe is my sense of priority and my attention to time! I frown mentally, annoyed at this aberration.
Ha! Found them. Up yours, stupid nagging know-it-all sense of reason!

I look outside my window as I hear my always-impatient father threaten fire and brimstone on the house and its contents if we were not out of the damn building within the next five minutes. My eyes open wide in shock, for it is at this moment that nature plays a fast one on me. I look at the toilet longingly, I think of possibly embarrassing myself during the eight-hour journey-the side looks and the covered noses and the possibility of a hot girl sitting beside me soaking it all in-then, I remember that I have a penis, that am a man! In control of my d..oh shit! It going to come out. I break into a cold sweat and suck it back in with my ass muscles….or whatever it is that sucks the shit in…

I hurriedly dress and enter the car with my sister in time to prevent my irate father from bursting his healthy heart…

Then came the mad driving to beat the early morning traffic, the venomous exchange of curse words between drivers, the cut throat competition over driving space, the screeching of tires, the lengthy stand-stills. It was too early for the traffic officials to resume duty so the roads truly belonged to the drivers. After all the shovelling and name calling, we arrived at the bus station at about 8:20am.mentally exhausted…well, my father and sister was. I was very busy at the back trying to hold in my shit, wondering what manner of impending disgrace my morning would be laced with. Telling my father of my heart desire to shit my heart out would have resulted in a round of beration and ultimately a refusal, so I carried my cross.

He came down and began the arduous task of looking for a terminal with available tickets. Twenty minutes later he came back with a sullen look and suggested we walk the length of the road with a luggage and try out any of the lesser known bus stations down the busy road. We complied and armed with luggage, we began the sordid business of enquiring after available tickets at about five terminals before we got lucky; Sunquick Travels, I believe it was called.the company(?) had no terminal and was largely unregulated but they had a fleet of air-conditioned buses to their credit. My urge to use the loo was now forgotten, temporarily-you know the way the muscles drag the thing back in only to resurface it when you had almost forgotten you had an urge in the first place. We had to shell out an unexpected twelve thousand naira for two seats. I wished for the umpteenth time that the plane tickets were not so prohibitively costly.this was going to be a long trip. After we got into loading our luggage into the small bus, we settled in for an uncomfortable wait as no one remembered in which direction the driver had gone. Minutes later, after the disappeareance of the driver had inspired a spirit of camaraderie among the passengers, someone espied him across the busy road smoking a cigarette like an addict. Most of the fourteen  passengers made a huge show of being offended at the practice after which two of them quickly disembarked for a smoke. I took all this in stoically, reaching with my mind to the end of my journey when I would be reunited with my mother .


The air was red. The atmosphere reminded me of a colour-correct thriller movie poster. There was a lot of activity and at the same time extreme inactivity. Folks moved about as though they had a burden on their shoulders. The news had welled up from our Spirit; it had not been communicated to us by an external force or read in a newspaper. It was Judgement day. The one written about in the bible. The rapture had already occurred, i think. I couldn’t be sure. No one is sure of anything anymore. The news was attended by an unusual slowness. We did not know what to do about it-yet.

She was talking to me about where she thought she might end up when the Heavenly Host arrived for the final selection. I was listening but I couldn’t understand what she was saying, maybe because I was thinking of how improbable this whole situation was. Judgement day was real. It had felt so distant the day before when we were all having the time of our lives. There was no immediate threat because we were at the high point of our existence-laughing, clubbing, gisting, drinking and partaking in all the forbidden pleasures.

Now I wish we could take it all back. We all knew inherently that praying would be useless because the Host would be busy preparing for their own arrival to care about the last minute desperate prayers of derelict mortals.

Then the awareness came. Without being told, I understood it.

God and the Host had arrived.

I stood up from my bed in what seemed like a hotel room. The woman had since left. I simply had to know my fate.

I walked out the door and discovered quietly that I was in the middle floor of a three storey building. It was happening at the top floor. I walked to the end of the veranda and climbed up the stairs, all the time wondering what I was going to meet at the top of the stairs. Wondering, like in a horror movie, if my fate would destroy me, though I was afraid i already knew the answer to that question.

In brief flashes, my life went before me. I was never very sinful, just truant in my worship to God. I thought again about the realism of the whole situation. Could this really be happening? I wished it was a dream. I wished I could go back and make all things right. I wish I could go back in time and submit myself wholly to His worship and adoration. I wanted to breakdown but my will was not my own. I realised that even the cripple would have had legs on this day to hasten his judgement.

I reached the top of the stairs.

There was a hall, outside of which stood well built boys about my age in white shirts. White shirts that had very thin horizontal red stripes. It reminded me of food company personnel. I saw a pastor from school among them. I looked into the hall which was teeming with seated people, very colourful in their dresses. Deep down I knew what they were doing there but I did not let that knowledge reach my consciousness. I looked toward the guy in white shirts nearest to me.

” Please sir , erm , what am I supposed to do here?”

Two more appeared beside him. Did I mention that they were holding a stack of cards? Cards which reminded me of the exit cards issued by my school for weekend travellers. Each of the cards in their hands had a .name written on it near the top.

“What is your name?” he asked with a slight smile, the professional kind. He was handsome. He looked perfect. I realised he was one heavenly angel among many here for this task of selecting the damned.

Something else, He spoke to me in Ibo.

‘Ekwe, Ekwe Martin’, I answered in a shaky yet hopeful voice.

The other two disappeared. Perhaps the alphabets in my name were not in their jurisdiction.

With blinding precision, he opened the stack of cards to the EK section. It was an EKWERE-something that appeared first. I didn’t know what it meant. I was hopeful.  I realised I didn’t know if my name was supposed to  be there or not. I waited for his verdict.

He looked up at me with a sad smile and said in Ibo,’ your name is not here’

He looked sideways into the huge room with the quiet multitude. It was a signal for me. A silent signal.

As he stacked his cards together, he made an attempt at a joke. I think it was a joke, because he chuckled slightly as he said it. But it wasn’t funny. Not in the least.

‘Get in there quickly, so we can bundle all your meat to that hot place’, he said in perfect Ibo. I knew he could have said perfectly in a thousand other languages I was so sure he knew.

For some reason, I wasn’t hysterical as I ought to have been. I accepted it calmly. My destination was Hell.

Well, in truth, we only rebel against what we believe to be a lie. My whole life was a testimony before my eyes, in this case a testimony glaringly against me and my desire to enter the pearly gates. There were no grounds for complaining after I had known my fate. I had hoped for the best-hope, I said. But since I didn’t get it, I didn’t really deserve it.

I walked into the hall. It was filled with all sorts of seated people, dressed in all manners, big, small. Male, female, young, old-all strata of humanity were present there. I walked to the back of the hall to take my seat. The hall seemed full, but I knew it could contain another billion souls if need be. As I sat down, I couldn’t help but envision an eternity in the lake of fire. I couldn’t really imagine burning forever. I thought about my family for the first time. I couldn’t remember seeing them in recent times, except my mother, the woman who had been talking to me in the room.

A whole new sensation of guilt and despair descended upon me, but a tear which would have provided an outlet wasn’t forthcoming. This was going to be a long eternity. An eternity without hope.

I opened my eyes, fear in the form of heavy heartbeats still resident in my chest. I stared at the dark ceiling in the low light of early dawn. It had been a dream! This morning had suddenly become the happiest morning since this year began. I almost didn’t believe it. It was the most realistic dream I had ever had. It made me think. This was the second judgement day dream in two years. It made me think some more.

And then, four hours later, I decided to relay it to you folks. Because all that detail and movie-like nature couldn’t have been for only my benefit. One or more of you has to relate to it. I realised that since it will stand as a witness in the future with me in the docket, it might do the same for you.