Travel Chronicles

I met a boy once.
His name was Alex.
Okay I didn't necessarily meet that boy named Alex , I sat two seats and an aisle away from a boy named Alex.

So I sat two seats and an aisle away from a boy named Alex on a flight from Los Angeles to Paris. No I don't go on fancy vacations because I can't afford it, Paris was a stop over. I know his name is Alex because I heard him introduce himself to the lady who sat next to him. Alex wore glasses and had a stripped cardigan on which matched his socks. Both stripped but different colours. Alex had light brown hair with streaks of blonde. And also a beautiful smile. He was super nice to the old lady who sat beside him. Not technically beside beside because there was an empty chair between them. From the conversation, Alex talked about how beautiful Tahiti had been when he visited. I just listened and stole glances when I could because the lady besides me wasn't much of a conversationalist. I mean I smiled and said hi but didn't get a response. I met Alex's glance twice or thrice, I can't really remember. I'm sure he won't remember the girl in a grey cardigan with blue twists. And there's a greater possibility that he was just looking over my head or pass me.
We would never find out.
So I took got off that plane with my hand luggage and an unrealistic funny short story on how I fell in love on a 12 hours flight. I would tell this story to my friend while at the airport and almost miss my flight back to Lagos.

Months later I would be reminded of Alex when I sat next to a girl at the airport in Ethiopia waiting on our connecting flight. No I don't go on fancy vacations because I can't afford it, Ethiopia was a stop over too. She had a 3b/c afro which I thought was beautiful and I couldn't stop admiring her piercings. We shared a smile and confusion on whether the next flight boarding was ours or not. While sitting there , I noticed she had a bag of things, looked like souvenirs to me from where she had visited.
I would stand next to this same girl at LAX waiting to pick up our luggage. While I waited for my two boxes which of course one was filled with food stuffs ( a Nigerian that travels without food stuffs is that a Nigerian?) , she picked up her over sized camp bag and left. I stared at the fully grown tree tattooed on her ankle, silently wishing her good luck with whatever growth she had or wanted in life.
I should have asked her for her name.

I am grateful for French air hostesses who mispronounce your surname but escort you to board your almost missed flight.
I am grateful for different stop overs that make me feel like a seasoned traveller even though I have only two stamps from two different countries on my passport.
I am grateful for friends that keep you company with the aid of airport WiFi.
I should start collecting souvenirs , even from stop overs.
I should have taken a picture of that beautiful sunrise I saw from an airport window.
I should tell strangers that they are beautiful.
I should ask for names.
So I am grateful for Alex and the girl with the tree tattoo on her ankle.
It feels good to write again.

– for Alex and the girl with the tree tattoo on her ankle.

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One Day

Nne m, I’m restless 

I want to tell your stories, I want to tell our stories

My pen is blunt and my tongue heavy

But these stories will be told

Truths reveled , sworn secrets exposed 

All hell will be let loose

Promise me one thing Nne

That when your truth is reveled, my truth reveled 

That I can still sit by your feet and rest my head on your laps 

Rub my back til I fall asleep and call me nne m

‘Creator’ 

For those who we can sit down with, open ourselves to old and new things

For those who accept their imperfections and our imperfections 

For those who accept a total stranger from Nigeria with an immense show of love 

For him who is not afraid to speak his truth 

For her who is far from home but building a home 

For teaching a young girl that she too can speak to a spirit 

That one cold night with words accompanied by soothing sounds ,  is what she carries continually with her 

                                      – thank you 

So for my last post ‘Jigida’ I decided to take a few pictures since the ones I found on the internet were : 

1. A little too explicit 

2. Lacked that  ‘je ne sais quoi’ 

So I decided to take pictures myself. 

After my brief ‘photog’ moment, the post picture was chosen and I was left with a couple more. So decided to share them here
So featuring: 

Beads – mine 

Back drop- my mother’s materials that I wished I own and still hope I own

The pictures were taken with a phone camera and some the Snapchat app.

Hope you enjoy them 😊





 




  
                                           – Oge.O ❤️

Hey! 

Happy New Month! 

It’s been over two months since my last post. And well I was waiting still I got that one picture that just said I-still-look-fab-despite-the-shit-I-have-been-through-be-inspired-by-me. But then *throws hands up* …hey.

I was really going to come up with this one inspirational or really deep post, but it seemed my poetic words aren’t just there. I can’t bundle up a whole lot in just few lines this time around. So instead I’ll talk about what has happened this few weeks. 
1. The Big 2.0 ! 

I happen to have left my teen years behind me. No lie whenever it’s almost my birthday, I’m not excited until few hours to the 7th. Instead it’s anxiety, mostly anxiety. Anxious that I’m getting old and I still don’t have things figured out. But thankfully I have friends who can make you smile and give you badass face beat 


2. Conversations I Never Had

There are issues you never want to remember or re visit or conversations you just think “Oh it’s done it’s done, I’ll probably never talk to this person again” . But deep inside you want to talk about it with those certain people about those certain issues. Tired of having those conversations with yourself, displaying those emotions only within you. The scene might never happen, that closure might not happen and you can’t keep living your life in a cycle. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t.

3. Forgiveness et Regrets 

‘First forgive thyself. Ye can only give what thy hasth ‘ 

I feel that should be a quote somewhere in the Bible or a Shakespear play. I have learnt that some of the burden we carry within ourselves is the burden of unforgiveness . Not only towards other people but to ourselves. I can’t give what I don’t have. I can’t forgive you if I can’t forgive myself. 


I have decided to live by this. Or try to at least.

Most things I felt really useless or guilty for actually did make me smile, one way or the other and many times! So why should I regret my various moments of happiness even though some of them were short lived? 

So instead choose not to regret your happiness.

4. Mental Illness 

So sometime in November, my class went on a one week trip to the Neuropsychiatric Hospital at Abeokuta, or like we call it Aro. Through out that week we had classes and Ward Rounds. I bet you three years of psychology classes didn’t prepare most of us for saw. And no we didn’t see people tied up with chains, uncombed hair and laughing hysterically. No that is not just what mental illness is all about. You have people like you and I walking around , attending therapy sessions, take their medications, a few relapses, playing football. People my age, parents , people younger than me. People who have just literally started achieving things , people who have achieved way more than I have 

Life just deals us different cards and nobody is above mental illness.

On a lighter note , I did take some pictures at Aro. Even though half of my course mates were all about how the place needed a ‘face lift’ , making it look really modern. Aro has this aura of serenity 




Yes there are lots of trees at Aro  


I would have loved to take pictures of few old stone houses I saw. They had chimneys, gardens surrounded by lots of trees. I thought they were beautiful and my friend was like “Ehen Olivia won’t you take a picture, see the kind of thing you like. But we had gotten to a dead end and it was super dark and it felt like a scene from a horror movie. No lie.


But this picture is my favourite for some reason. I always found myself looking for this very gray door with the stairs everyday. 

5. Art of Breathing 

Sometimes, all you need to do is breathe. Just breathe. I remember during this semester at some point I had a long week and I decided one afternoon I was just going to watch a movie and sleep. I get to my bed and it is soaked. Apparently someone (me) had left water on the bed and it was everywhere. My pillow, wrapper. I stared at it and I just put my head down. My whole body was ready to channel the physical, emotional and academic stress of the past few weeks into anger. And my friend is hovering around me “Olivia are you crying, it would dry”. I raised my head up and said “I can’t kill my self” 

Load work of assignments, final year project, uncertainty in career choice, relationship/ situation-ship , uncertainty in various areas of life … breathe because no lies. If I don’t breathe I will die and I know I’m not going out like this 

6. Pretty Bubble also known as Personal Space 

Which some people choose to poke and poke and continue poking . Like people don’t even poke anymore on Facebook why are you doing this!!!!!!! No I don’t want breathe, I want you to learn to respect this invisible pretty bubble that you can’t see but you know exists. Sometimes you have to tell them I need a little time or space to myself, don’t touch me, my things, my parts because just don’t. This bubble is pink and bubbly don’t unbubble the bubbliness I beg you . 

Sometimes you can’t .

You just can’t 

Back to Life, Back to Hope

When you sit down hugging your knees rocking  yourself

With tears running down your cheeks

You silently call on someone, anyone to help you

But your voice is slightly above a whisper

Baby girl, talk your way through it

Say it with me “I’ll be fine”

Say it slowly, repeatedly

And when depression tries to mock your growing faith

Shake your head and say it loudly “I’ll be fine!” repeatedly

In that dark corner, in your room, in your closet, on your bathroom floor

In your mind

Hugging your knees with tears on your face

Rock yourself back to life, back to hope

Nne ama m , but speak life to yourself

Tell depression “I’ll be fine!”
– for September 10