I would no longer shed a tear for you

Hi people. Sorry I will be skipping the Guess the Blogger series this week, and will resume next week. I'm sure that when you read the story below, you will understand why I had to do this.

22 August 2013

I heard a loud bang on the gate, accompanied by the screaming voice our family friend and neighbourhood panel beater, Uncle Bayo. He was screaming for my sister and cousin to come down and open the gate. Being used to the feigned deafness of the house rascals, I ignored the commotion, knowing they would still go down to open the gate.

The baritone voice of my brother rang in my ears as he shouted at my sister to get down and open the gate immediately. A few minutes later, I heard a sound like when a slap is being dished out on someone’s smooth cheek, and what sounded like my mother’s voice. “What would my mother be doing at home by 3.40pm when she would ordinarily be at work?” I thought to myself, puzzled. Whatever is happening in the living room would definitely sort itself out.

Five minutes later, my brother suddenly barged into my room. The abruptness with which he opened the door got me scared and got me to leap. I took a look at his 6-ft giant frame, and my eyes were immediately drawn to his face. Strange! They were swollen, and tears were streaming down his dark cheeks. What is it that would throw someone with such a stature into a sorrowful state? Just imagine a NFL quarter back wailing. Strange sight indeed. And then the first thing that registered in my mind was the slapping sound I had heard coming from the living room. Right there and then, a barrage of thought ran through my head, all at the same time, like pictures in a kaleidoscope.

“Armed robbers are in the living room of my house, and they slapped my brother, and that’s why his face is swollen.”

“No if armed robbers were in the living room, they won’t allow him to leave their site.”

I remembered I had heard what had sounded like my mum’s voice, so I quickly changed my thoughts to “My mum came home, and she slapped my brother.” Immediately realising how senseless this imagination was, I discarded it.

It was then I realized I had been screaming “What happened, what happened?” And he was responding with “Ha Tayo, it is Tayo.”

I said “Tayo.” I still couldn’t get the thought of the slap out of my head, and I thought “Maybe Tayo is the one that slapped him.”

“Wait, Tayo. We only know one Tayo. What can be the connection between Tayo and my brother’s tears?” The only logical answer is “Tayo must be dead.”

I did not want to accept it, so I allowed myself to hope for a few nanoseconds. “What happened to Tayo?” 

He kept on saying “Tayo, Tayo.”

I asked “What happened, is he dead?”

He went on “Its Tayo.”

“Please, tell me what happened. He’s dead?” More of a statement than a question. I was already falling to my knees at this point.


I landed on the ground, letting out a wail that was louder than the combination of the slapping sound, my mum’s voice, Uncle Bayo’s screams, and my brothers yell, as I ran to the living room. I just couldn’t believe it. It was only four days ago we were together in my house.

A neighbour heard my cry, and ran to my house. Uncle Bayo immediately cautioned me to stop wailing, and drawing attention. He said my tears would further deepen my mum’s sadness, and make her cry more. Like a stop clock, my wail ceased immediately. I knew right there and then, I would no longer shed a tear for you.
I was instantly reminded when my father died, when I was crying immediately I heard about his death. My next-door neighbour told me not to shed tears since we do not yet know if my dad’s death was ordinary. And if it was not, the people that had a hand in his death might be lurking around, planning to wipe my tears with a material, and go and use it for diabolical reasons. I stopped crying then, and now eight years later, I have still not shed a tear. Thanks to African witches, I was not even allowed to shed tears for my dad for a period of five minutes.

I looked at my mum, asking her what happened, as I stilled myself not to cry, while she ignored my questions. I walked to my room, calmed myself for five minutes, and came out.

I asked again, and I got the story.

“You were changing your flat tyre, when a car came out of nowhere and ran you over. You couldn’t be revived. Just like that, it was all over.”

I sat and looked for five minutes, with a straight face. I finally got pissed and walked to my room, noting the finality of it all.

Two Sundays ago, I remember begging you to accept a pack of Toblerone, and sacrifice the t-shirt I intended to give you for another person, as I left you, just like that, to attend to other business.

Just this Sunday, I remember us arriving from church at the same time, and I harassed you to move your car from the front of the gate, so I could park in the compound. When you protested my harassment, I turned them to pleas. We gisted for about three minutes, and I went to my room to rest. If only I knew. Would I have taken those last moments with you for granted, and spent it on my bed?

You haven't even spent up to a year in Nigeria. You were happy to be back home, always talking about how you wanted to do business in Nigeria, how Nigeria is the place to make money, become an agent for change in Nigeria, and so on.

My grieving process has just begun, and sadly, I would no longer shed a single tear for you.

24 August 2013

"I would no longer shed a tear for you." Today, I realised this statement is as false as the snow being black. I cried as I stood by the rectangular hole in which you were being buried, and the finality and hopelessness of the situation dawned on me. Then I knew that as long as I didn't think about you, I won't shed tears, but when I'm forced to, like when your graveside imposed your thoughts on me, the tears won't stop coming.

"I would no longer shed a tear for you." A lie that even surpasses that of the devil.

RIP Temitayo Obasa

When People are about to die, does death have its handwriting inscribed on their faces, because four days ago, I saw no sign of it on yours.

Your last birthday on earth,
Two months before you relocated to Nigeria

You and I

You, I, and my sisters, when we were younger

Still finding it hard to believe...

Guess the Blogger - 5

See you guys o. Because I made the last week’s edition so simple, you guys now all started feeling like geniuses. To be factual, we all know that last week's edition of this series wasn’t really about who knew the answer, but who actually got to comment first, because the answer was already answered in the question, lol. It is Doll Chic. I don't have her pic, since I didn't really hang out with her. I only went to deliver something to her. Even if I did, I wouldn't post it, since she was anonymous.

So congrats to Atoskin. You know the drill. Send your number to hattylolla@yahoo.com, and get your recharge voucher.

If you disagree with me, and really believe it is because you are all geniuses, then guess this week’s question, since the blogger in question is also retired.


So here goes the clues
1. This blogger is a retired blogger. She left her very popular blog around November 2011, after a major milestone in her life
2. She recently started commenting on few blogs once in a while, but under the user name of her new blog, which is not as popular as the blog she closed down
3. She has a killer smile.
4. She cut her hair not long before retiring
5. She was really popular in blogsville.

5 clues… for just one blogger. I think this is fair enough.

Now prove me wrong. Show me that you are really a genius, and guess the blogger!

Guess the Blogger - 4

Honestly, I think it is unfair for anyone to say my clues are hard joo. Let's take for example, last week, I said the blogger's blog never ends or climaxes. The only thing that never ends is a series. And I only know of one serial blogger, Geebee of Geebee chronicles. I believe if only we bothered to think about it, it is actually very simple.

So in my own opinion, I just think some of us don't want to bother doing any brain exercise. I hope I have been able to prove to you that my clues are not hard. Lol

Congrats to Tamie, the winner. Please, send your number to hattylolla@yahoo.com, so I can send the voucher number to you.

One more thing, there are many bloggers I have met, but I never made mention of it on this blog, so try not to let your mind go to just the ones I mentioned on the blog.

So onto this week's blogger. If you like, don't get it. In my opinion, this is the easiest.

1. This blogger retired from blogging last year.
2. This blogger still actively comments on certain blogs, even though she stopped blogging
3. This is very light skinned.
4. This blogger is married, and seems to be in a continuous honeymoon phase

So guess who.

Guess the Blogger - 3

The answer to the first edition of Guess the blogger is none other than Ginger!!!!!! Yay. Congrats to the winner, Honey Dame

We were both on flats. No heels to cover my secret, lol.

Now, I have something to say to you bloggers.
1. According to Ginger, she has mentioned her concern about her complexion about four times on her blog. I gave this as a clue, but you guys didn't pick it. So you guys aint obsevant.

2. I said her blogger name is spicy, and some peeps said Cherrywine. All I could say was "huh"?

The answer to last Guess the Blogger post was no one else, but Dayor Writes!!!!!! Congrats to the Toinlicious. See how Dayor wanted to swallow me in the pic below. And that is me stretching, and her leaning down o.

So HoneyDame and Toinlicious, send your number to hattylolla@yahoo.com, so I can send you the voucher number.

Before we move on, let me just state these 2 things.

1. Only 1 answer is allowed. No "blogger A or B" answers. Double answers won't be counted, lol.

2. If someone says you are the blogger in question, and you aren't, please, just ignore the comment. Don't come and mention it on the blog, because that's synonymous to giving expo in an exam.

Onto the next blogger

1. I have never seen a blog post from this blogger that climaxed. (C'mon, you all should know this blogger by now)
2. The blogger has a very interesting past, one worth making a good movie out of. (Another mad clue for you.)
3. The blogger has a killer smile.
4. When you see this blogger, you remember a pole, lol.

Unfortunately, I have never taken a picture with this blogger. Maybe because we are close and talk all the time, so I see no reason to make memories.

But still, guess who. Your N500 voucher is waiting.