To that one lady, Thank you.

Sometimes Mama tells stories. Most times she doesnt. I guess happy stories are easier to share. Mama has very few of those as far as Dada is concerned.

So when she does share these stories, they stick.
Call them crazy glue to the basement lining of my memories, i... remember.
Like this one that i heard when i was little.

Mama, while driving us from school... told us kids... stories. And these times you'd never see her eyes. I dont think i ever saw her cry. But i know Mam's emotions flow through my ducts. I earned these tears from her. I know, she sheds in silence.

I tell you, some things just didnt make much sense.
We were young, we didnt understand. Mama lived in America for years. She went to uni in America. Mama et Dada.

Then they had some kids. And Dada was to go visit back home. And he did.
Then Mama got the mail.

"Some woman wrote me a letter, asking me if its true that he had divorced me!" its (un)funny how shes able to yell it out to us (sometimes). Yet when she hurts, does it oh so quietly.

In an attempt to ensure she would be married to a single man, this lady wrote her a letter to confirm that he had been divorced as he had claimed.
She snooped, got Mama's address, and sent the letter.
I admire her. Back then most women wouldnt care. Even now, some wouldnt. Culture is just an excuse. Truth is, some people just dont ever have the courage to demand better.

Needless to say, they were still married.

"I moved back home immediately. They had almost had the wedding, plannings and everything!"

Thats how she ended up back home.

Years later, somewhere... Dada got his dream. He found a woman who didnt care. She along with her one daughter and a pregnant belly, moved into our home. But Mama sensed it coming. You can take a bitch out of a hood but never a hood out dat bitch.


She had moved back overseas before she arrived.


I want to be that woman.
I want to be the one to tell another...
I would want to be told.
I would want to be informed.

But lord knows its been stressful trying to get a hold of Mrs. Stella Diek.

She never answers the phone. And so, i stopped calling.

And Diek? I stopped caring. Truth is, i hardly ever did. Which is why i was not hurt. I forget about him till friends mention him. Or till i log on to blogville and see his name... or till he calls.

But it must hurt to lose. Or it must suck to be ignored.
He had been trying to contact me on msn and i really didnt know what to say so i just leave him be. But instead, he decided to start calling me continuously.
8,4,3, 10 times a day.

Once i answered and said "Hello" only for him to say "Hi Truth, how are you?"
I hung up. What am i supposed to say? I dont know! Where is the conversation to go? How are you am okay how are you oh am okay too so what are you doing oh nothing so what are you doing oh nothing... LIKE!!! SERIOUSLY!
So, thats why i hung up.

And he resumed calling... always with blocked numbers. And when i answer (hardly do), he doesnt say a word.
A coward cant ever own up.
So i usually dont pick up. And when i cant stand it anymore, i do pick up and just leave the receiver on the table so he can hang up when he is tired of being a Diek.