13 Feb 2012
10 Feb 2012
9 Feb 2012
belong in the Olympics and rightly so.
Arm wrestling is not one of them.
intimidation and humiliation that made me lose, or that for all the
nineteen years of my life I had lived in a state of heightened
self-delusion resulting in my humiliating loss.
It was not C's strength that I found intimidating; it was the starry,
retarded way her eyes focused on me, like Mike Tyson getting ready to
feed. I didn't even try to put up a fight the first few times, but the
celebratory high-fiving and hooting, combined with half a gummy ear's
torso still stuck to my eardrum, were reason to grow delirious.
"Fine, you fucker, let's go!" I yelled.
Getting into position on the floor while my friend T video-recorded
what would inevitably turn into a violent episode of The L Word. I
hoped I could turn my anger and humiliation into a sort of rabies
strength but was reminded time and again who was in charge.
Losing in conjunction with the stadium cheering was not the worst part; after
she beat each one of us, she would leapfrog onto the back of our
heads, crushing our faces into the tiling, and then spank us.
It was beyond embarrassing.
After that, i could never look C in the eye afraid that she would take
any opportunity to remind me how scrawny I was. I did everything in my
wheelhouse to avoid a one on one altercation. I averted eye contact
and generally made sure that we were never alone in a room.
I have not seen C since then. Everything about her scares me. I
suppose it has to do with the fact that she looks like a transgender
villain, and that at the time she was dating a man with shoulders the
size of a barge and a head like a steamroller.
I suppose my problem with her was that she was an unattractive
heterosexual who acted like a lesbian on steroids. That and the fact
that she dressed like a truck driver and cursed like one too. If
anyone had asked me if she were a woman, I would utter and reiterated
that no, I did not believe that she was female and that if we did any
further DNA investigation her constitution would prove me right.
Although her voice did all the proving one needed, it boomed from wall
to wall, end to end. Shaking the rafters of the house. I suspect she
is the reason why the earth would grow silent everytime she spoke.
Even a whisper from her sounded like a scratch to your eardrum.
I wonder about her sometimes, especially now.
Is she married? Living in a house with a white picket fence with her
children, little man girls with broad shoulders and buck teeth.
Or maybe she realised she was a lesbian after all *place-know-it-all emotican*
Vulnavia T. Gura
6 Feb 2012
whilst I was on my way out of the house.
I didn't panic.
My aunt did. She freaked out. Her scream rang out for miles and miles.
I did not see what the fuss was about; it wasn't like I was not the
first one to give birth. But there she was rolling on the floor and
wailing like a banshee.
Odd, birth is such a beautiful thing.
When mama came running she was clutching her purse in one hand and her
holding her phone to her ear,
"Chiiko!" ("What's happening?") I remember shrugging nonchalantly and
turning to pack my nappy bag,
"Nothing hey, auntie is crying because my water just broke,"
"Oh God, are you alright?" she asked rushing to my side.
"I'm fine mama, it's just I can't find any baby clothes, I totally
forgot to buy, all I have is one of the old nappies you used to use
and a bib, I doubt the baby will be needing that anytime soon but let
me just pack it in case,"
Aunt Gladys was now writhing noiselessly on the floor, occasionally
letting out a ragged sigh.
Her theatrics were annoying.
"Mama, tell her to get out, go call a taxi or something to take me to
"Gladys get up come on, we need to get V to the hospital,"
Mama yanked her off the floor and held her up as she walked them both
out the door. I could feel the baby trying to make its way out now. It
did not hurt though, I just felt like I needed to use the toilet,
through the wrong hole.
"Hang in there," I mumbled running a hand over my belly.
I heard the far away rumble of traffic, drawing closer until I
realised that I was standing on a footpath in the city.
The baby was starting to crown and I wondered vaguely where mama had
gone off to. She should have only been a minute, but it seemed like
she had been gone for ages.
A chair appeared in front of me and I sat down waiting for her. But
the baby was coming and I couldn't hold it off any longer. So, lying
back I reached between my legs let out a little grunt and gripping the
baby by its head I pulled the it out of the safe confines of my womb.
It did not make a sound, neither did it move. Instead it remained
rigid in my palm, ramrod straight and cold as ice. I pulled at the
umbilical cord, and it came right off.
Disconnected I laid the baby on the bench and watched it for a while,
I felt nothing for it. No pulling of heartstrings, no sense of loss,
only a clinical detachment.
It opened its eye's then, mewled for a just a split second and let out
an ear bleeding shriek. Piercing the brittle walls around my heart.
For the first time in my life, I felt love. Total love for another
human being. I was humbled.
In case you are wondering what sort of madness that is, I will tell
you. That was a dream I had last night. Scared me so much I spent the
whole day pressing my stomach just to make sure was not pregnant. I
circled a pharmacy twice, trying to decide whether or not to go in and
buy a pregnancy test kit. If you have an inkling as to what it may or
may NOT mean, do tell ;)