Through My Glasses

Earlier this month, I took my first trip ever outside the shores of Nigeria. The media organization I work with was one of the official media partners of the 4 th African Union High Level Dialogue on Democracy, Human Rights and Governance in Africa which took place in the beautiful city of Kigali, Rwanda. And yours truly was assigned to cover the event. On arrival in Kigali, myself and some other participants were taken to Lemigo Hotel, which would be our abode for the next couple of days. After a lot of waiting around, I was finally given the key card to my room- 223. My room was very beautiful. It had a queen-size bed, beautiful lounge chair and overlooked a breathtaking landscape. Room 223 was perfect except for a couple of things: 1)    It was smaller than other rooms in the part of hotel undergoing refurbishment. 2)    Most of the delegates at the conference had their rooms in the new building still under construction. Hence, I felt isolated from everyone else.

Wife. ‘I ran into your wife in Tesco last month…’ Wife.Richard.Marriage. I felt like I was having an out-of-body-experience. I couldn’t breathe. I broke out in cold sweat. I felt my tummy churning. Like a flood, everything Richard said to me came cascading down my mind: ‘When I am with you, I feel the magic’. ‘I want you. All of you. I want you to be mine. In every way possible. You and me together’… ‘I ran into your wife in Tesco last month…’ ‘Breathe’, my mind commanded. It was a struggle to breathe and I felt like my mind was actually teaching me how to breathe. ‘That’s right girl. Breathe. Just breathe’. After I got my breathing under control, I started debating whether to run from the park or not. My mind was in disarray. What do I do? Pretend I hadn’t heard that Richard was married? If I walk up to him, how would I look to his friend? Would he think of me as the whore Richard was keeping in Nigeria? Oh my God! ‘You are not a whore!’ My mind hissed. ‘Don’t giv

‘Did you have fun?' Richard asked, like a teenager who had gone to great length to please his crush and was waiting for verdict. It was our first outing. I didn't want to think of it as a date. That would make it sound somewhat official and serious. And I am not quite comfortable with labels. We had just attended a Night of Spoken Words (NSW) organized by poet and writer, Dike Chukwumerije at Sheraton Hotel, Abuja. Truth be told, I hadn't expected our first outing to be to an intellectually stimulating event like NSW. When he said we were going to Sheraton, I had assumed it was to have dinner. I had been pleasantly surprised and to be honest, I loved it. In fact, I liked the different shades of Richard I was getting to know. It has been about 6 weeks since he dropped me off at home. 'And 6 weeks before the kiss', my sly mind added. I refused to argue the differences between a kiss and a peck. Back to Richard. In those 6 weeks, we had gotten to know