I’m A Human Diamond
Keeping up with PURFECT ^ ESCAPE
LINGUA FRANCA_ CAMEROONWORD - 'Cut-seba' _______________________________________________________ Meaning - used to describe the act of 'not' having a full body wash. It is when someone washes specific body parts to give an appearance of looking clean and tidy when actually they haven't had a proper bath. It is usually due to water shortages, cold weather or personal choice for quickie hygiene. 99.9% of people have cut seba full stop. _______________________________________________________ DD
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Previously on Purfect^Escape
EDUCATION IS INHERENT _ OWN IT
A few facts from Cameroon Education - it's not given us the best pro-active standards -did not teach us to question authority - taught us respect of elderly and stature instead of mutual understanding - taught us to take any treatment and not show weakness in the name of respect As terrible as all that may end up looking - the fact is, on the surface you may struggle but overall you are basically always overqualified. Never underestimate the power of education Be educated - do not give up - Ever
- PART 1 ‘FLOWER POWER’ 26th May 2017
- Dear Diary 5 30th April 2017
- Dear Diary 4 4th December 2016
- DEAR DIARY 3 – UNEARTH 4th November 2016
- 300 Kegels a day – women isn’t that too much exercise? 26th October 2016
- Remember Stepanie Linus’ baby – Maxwell? well he is 1 already! Amasome bday bash pics! 26th October 2016
- A famous African feminist fronts a global make-up campaign and wows! 26th October 2016
- Dear Diary 2 – Define A greater Sin! 10th October 2016
- Un Genre Un Genre – lands a new flying epidemic in Cameroon Music Industry 5th October 2016
- Dear Diary 1 30th September 2016
MEN's CAREER MATTERS
PURFECT ^ ESCAPE BEATZ
Category Archives: STORIES UNFOLD
‘When Love Blossom’
“After the tattoo, they had shared their first kiss by the mall entrance, she could never shake off how shy she’d been after that”
Students gambolled about the schoolyard like bees chasing and spreading pollen in the heart of the dry season, a season hotter and dustier up north than most parts of Cameroon. The earth parched and cracked like it hadn’t seen water for decades. The plants were almost non-existent and water from open taps ran so hot they needed to be collected and cooled under shades or Calabashes. A cool day seemed like a shockwave had hit the ripple of the sun’s continuum throwing the heat delicately out of pattern and in that slight space in the sun’s continuum, cold air brushed over the town like a kiss from the wind, which only happened once in a month throughout the dry season.
Maimuna knew better not to dirty her uniforms or become too sweaty, from a tender age, looking a hot dusty mess had always been a rebuffing trigger from her mum who did the laundry, as Maimuna grew older she became conscious of what the hot weather meant for her teenage looks. She sometimes remembered her mum’s voice echoing her disapproval of her dirty dusty feet and sweaty gown armpits referring to her as ‘Mrs ganakoh’ a title for the wives of cattle nomads. These days the most her mum did was look at her, sigh with disapproval on anything remotely close to dusty shoes and sweaty armpits. Her mum still managed to behave like she did the laundry when at the age of fifteen the maids did most of her washing except for her undergarments.
May’s dad was a top ranking military general who had worked in many parts of the country, but loved the North the most, he never took up the Muslim religion but enjoyed the organised ways in which the men, women and children religiously prayed, he always remarked that crimes were a lot less in this part of the country than anywhere else because the repercussions were religiously linked and dire. Being the only English general in town he could speak some of the Fulani tongues plus French, this was a respectful added bonus which worked in his favour politically and social stature wise, the lifestyle and culture up north had a complimenting ego massaging effect on him you could tell from the almost always satisfactory grin he wore with a tinge of arrogance.
POSTED IN: African Fiction, African stories, Cameroon Fiction, DOROTHY DIAMOND, DorothyDiamond, PurfectEscape, Stories unfold, Upcoming Writers
Lightning Strikes Twice
DEAR DIARY 1 HERE
DEAR DIARY 2 HERE
DEAR DIARY 3 HERE
DEAR DIARY 4 HERE
The wedding and all ensuing rights and festivities passed so quickly. Dina and Tate honeymooned in the coast of Kribi in Cameroons most buoyant and flourishing tourist beach city with its exceedingly elaborate beautiful sea view resorts… It was nice to just be able to live in the moment. A time and place, that encapsulated the purest and best of all their first spousal memories, the beginning of their lives together as a couple, she bearing his name and he wearing a contented smirk on his face from dusk till dawn.
Dinah found herself constantly humming to “This is why I love you”, she felt like for the first time in a long while she’d found love again. Her dad was her first love, the most loving man she had known her entire life, so much so that leaving home as a teenager left a debilitating dent in her emotions, she felt like not seeing her dad each day would kill her… So she was grateful for all the times he’d visited, even when her memory mélange with thoughts of him and her best friend tumbling in her sheets or elsewhere resurfaced, she quickly shook it off saying to her brain “not that, not now – never”…. that spec of flaw was not enough to taint her dad’s memory.
He was a good man and a great father.
Honeymoon time together was a culmination of love, lust, fear and apprehension for what the future held. Bless! Tate was an expert emotional harness, he made sure that the days were filled with just about the right balance of futuristic plans and living in the moment he was a spontaneous lover and that attracted Dinah to him from the moment they had shared their first kiss. When it came to his feelings for Dinah he could forgo all else and just do what it took to be with her or make her happy.
Their days were filled with seaside disposition, impulsive shenanigans coupled with loads of restful relaxing sun soaking layabouts.
Tate studied her silhouette as she lay on the beach mat, loving every streak of sweat shimmering on her bare body and the sun kissing her skin, he was a little jealous of anything that made such all-encompassing contact with Dinah, he wanted to be that sun that’s engulfed every part of her bare body in the open with no limitations, the competition between him and the sun was rife, it was a lost battle as he had restrictions while in public, but in the confines of their solstice, that body was he’s too tender and knead to his heart’s desire, he reminded her how blessed he was to have her and so too did she in words spoken and unspoken… A conversation wrought of love… Pure true and new…in just an eye contact they comfortably spoke to each other and loved each other harder.
The days went by so quick they winded down their stay making actionable immediate plans to be together soonest in one place and they’d agreed that will be Paris. There was no denying that Tate’s career was a lot stable while Dinah was vertically stretching into her role as a wife.
POSTED IN: African Fiction, African stories, Cameroon Fiction, DOROTHY DIAMOND, Upcoming Writers
DEAR DIARY 1 HERE
DEAR DIARY 2 HERE
DEAR DIARY 3 HERE
Destiny is Pregnant – SECRETS
“Hello Dinah when are you coming back – precisely?”
“I’ll be there in exactly 7 days why” – asked Dinah, quite sleepy and sore from the activities of the night before.
“There is something I need to show you ASAP – the police have returned some of Mel’s belongings and I… I… I feel like we errrrmmmm … should sit down and talk through some of the things I have had a chance to peruse” said Catherine holding back the tension and exasperation in her spirit to scream down the receiver, her hands were shaking.
“What? Is there anything you’d like to talk me through on this call right now? I am disillusioned by the fact that we cannot tell for sure who this guy was and why their split had to drive her to such a tragic end, who is he? where is he based? is he someone we should know or already knew, and why did it take the police this long to say anything or just return her stuff?
“Di, stop with all the questions, there is so much I want to tell you right now I just can bear it, I am shaking, I am uncontrollable, I want to wake Mel up to answer some of the questions herself, I am completely berserk with anger and writhing in pain and confusion, they didn’t split Dinah”
“They didn’t, so what did they do, what happened”
“No, it wasn’t a split” responded Catherine
“So, what happened, tell me and don’t dare go monosyllabic on me, it’s not helping my heart-rate right here and now – please “
“She found out he was ‘married’ Dinah, or knew he was married, they actually got along well in this secret thing but unfortunately he died”
“OMG he died – when how why didn’t she say anything” Dinah asked feeling a stab in her heart for the pain her friend could have endured in silence losing someone so special.
“Errmmmmmm, promise me you’d calm down and do not say a word till you get here?”
“Why, I dare not, she was my best friend, she was our friend our sister we had each other’s back”
“Yes, we did, which is why this revelation is revolting, I feel like she was selfish keeping it away from us or from me or even indulging in the act in the first place, I do not get the attraction, was it the money or the lifestyle – what could have pushed her to find herself unable to detangle and distinguish right from wrong to this extent … she was our best friend”
“Oh no! – Catherine, hang on, don’t be too harsh to condemn her, you know how she always felt judged and scrutinised by us especially you maybe she had a good reason to keep this private. Plus you don’t speak evil about the dead” Said Dinah defensively to Catherine
“Yes, Dinah I am always the judgemental one, right? the rubble-rouser and she was the perfect little miss sunshine, right? – well, how about the fact that the mystery man we never got to meet was your dad? Mel was having an affair with your dad and she was pregnant for him before he died. I’m sorry babe’s but it’s all here in her diary”
Dinah’s shock was so surreal she burst out laughing… Sitting upright on Tate’s bed she pushed the covers away as the heat was suddenly rushing from her legs into her face… Catherine was prank-prone but this was out of the ordinary…
Catherine’s voice echoing something made her sit still and listened…
“Justin was the best thing that could ever happen to me at the wrong time, he was caring handsome kind and very passionate. In his arms, I found a certain kind of peace and calm that assuage the guilt of him being the father of my best friend, I may never be able to tell the world this is his child but I can live with the fact that he loves every fibre of me and is making every effort to make sure I am happy and feel loved. The world can now stop rotating around any orbit for all I care – I love this man”
“Are you there Di, that is an excerpt from one of the pages and this one is better than some of the rated 18+ ones I have read, that is your Miss sunshine – Catherine added upset and spiteful.
What befuddled Dinah even more was that Catherine didn’t seem to be laughing or giving any clues of this being a prank – her tone was bullish and angry, she was blatant blunt and upset.
Finally, Dinah found her voice again and asked “Catherine who else have you told about this?”
“No one of-fucking-course, I have not been able to sleep since reading most of it last night… Did you have any incline at all?
“Of course, not – I probably would have killed her myself. Coincidence never rang a bell but if you remember correctly, all of the times my dad was in Europe she was always travelling and couldn’t meet him, maybe they had other plans to make sure they were never seen together? They must have hidden this really well.”
“Sure thing, they had other plans and she sometimes never travelled she was just locked in a 7-star hotel somewhere in the city” stated Catherine Dinah could taste the sarcasm in her voice and did not blame her one bit.
“Be candid with me Catherine, did my dad strike you as that kind of man?” Dinah asked Catherine looking for any clues that there must have been a certain give away in her dad’s persona that emanated such a man – the type she couldn’t stand!
“What kind of man? The type who dates his daughter’s best friends, Errmmmmmm no, no man strikes anyone like that until they make the forbidden request, some men are absolute “skunklemen” skunks and gentlemen combined – you cannot judge such by their looks and appearance, in that one turn of their literal tails, their scent engulfs the situation like now.
“Fact is, your dad was a charismatic metro man and I could see why Mel fell for him” she finalised with a suspicious unnoticed giveaway husk in her voice.
“Meaning?” Asked Dinah picking a subtle jealous and lustful tone underneath Catherine’s utterance which made her last remark rather out of place.
“No-no I just mean Daddy Justin had swag – Rest his soul”
I wonder if my mum knew about this… if not I’ll make sure she does because I cannot see myself keeping this… It’s too much… It’s overwhelming, how could they, when did this even happen right underneath my nose and I could barely pick up any signs, they betrayed us all.
A text message signal ended her emotional rampage and she looked at her screen and the message summary showed it was from her mother, she dragged the full text and it read
“Hey Di, please come home as soon as you get this message we need to talk, it is PERTINENT that you know you cannot be with Tate, as a matter of urgency please come home ASAP you read this, there is something I need to tell you, I’ll explain when you get here. Xx “
Her mums text message hit her like lightning bolt, she was not done dealing with Catherine’s revelations about her late friend Mel and her late father, now she had to hear her mum broke her heart.
Scenes of her entangled in Tate’s sheets last night, throes of passion, enthralled in his person and all pushed the boundaries of her mental tolerance and she burst into tears, Catherine didn’t soothe or console her because she too was as shocked at her end of the phone not knowing what double whammy just hit Dinah.
The phone fell onto bed as her emotions merged into something terrible sadistic, pathetic self-pity, she was ruined, and didn’t see herself fighting over Tate with whatever her mum wanted to say, she just wanted to go back to her work and life now the UK, her tears exploded, she drained her pain through her eyes and poured her heart out as her body shook in Tate’s bed, she drew the sheets up close as her body expressed the pain in convulsing sobs deep down Tate’s pillow, only this time she was devastated unlike last night when her sobs into the pillow were of pure joy and ecstasy and ‘YES’ to everything that Tate demanded.
POSTED IN: African Fiction, African stories, African writers, fiction stories, West African writer
Most often than not recovery from a state of unconsciousness is sometimes floundering and a tiny bit confusing for the person recovering but in Nene’s case because she was so conscious in her unconsciousness her recovery was imperious – more like she was telling her brain to make it snappy, to open her eyes so she could just one more time, behold the love of her life. She could tell she was unconscious but for how long she was unsure. Yet when her eyes fluttered open the crisp clear rays of the sunlight kissed her retina and she shut her eyes almost immediately from the bright waves the light sent spiralling into her brain.
Slowly like a new creature learning it’s abilities she finally, gradually managed to pry her eyes open and looked at her surroundings, taking everything in in one go and moving her eyes back to the nurses corner. There was no one in the room at the moment, because she was strapped to all sorts of medical gadgets so she stayed put and played her last visuals in her mind over and over again… She had seen a doctor who she could bet on her life was Creed, what if she was imagining things? who was going to clarify her dilemma? How was she going to get about asking the medical staff about Creed, the fear of it all being her mind playing tricks on her made her feel a little damp from perspiration, what if he was not Creed?
In the middle of her muddled thoughts a nurse walked into the room and half exclaimed and reaffirmed in a rhetorical remark
“Oh! I see you are awake? Brilliant I’ll let the doctor know…
Nene felt like a kid in a candy shop… What??? A doctor? Her heart was racing and very quickly at the thought she was going to see Creed again. How she looked didn’t matter – she just wanted to look into his eyes reaffirm her joy that she had seen the love of her life again – the tale of hope, the tale of love in a ménage with her sense of escape and wellbeing, she wanted her tale to be so true – if Creed was the doctor she had seen then she was bent for the love she had for him to conquer all things – unbemused by her excitement she sank her face in her hand and drew a long breath just in case she fainted again at the sight of her heartthrob.
While she tried to steady her mind the door flung open and the nurse and a little lady of Asian origin walked into the room… That’s not Creed, that’s not the doctor she wanted to see… But it was clear she wasn’t seeing Creed this was the doctor on duty and there was nothing she could do about it. The little lady walked straight up to her bed with a reassuring smile as if to say – glad to see you are awake.
Petit and meticulous the doctor came across as very thorough and proper in her work so she cracked on with taking off bandages, making mental notes, tapping bones, palpating pulses, sight, tongue, ears and eyes checks… Through all of it, Nene sat like someone had tied her tongue to her lower lip – only air came out of her mouth because it was compulsory – she had to breathe – speech was far from her as her mind did somersaults about how she was gonna ask these people about Creed, will they know him, will they understand her? were they his colleagues– regardless she could only feel the longing in her heart growing even richer the more her brain sought after him.
After the doctor finished her consultation she blatantly told Nene that she had arranged for her to be interviewed by the police because her injuries were suspicious and if for any reason Nene wanted to speak to a lawyer or a counsellor beforehand the service was also available, she handed her a flyer with the caption
Say No To Domestic Violence call 001277244765967 There is always someone at hand to help you walk away and break free.
For the first time, it looked like someone else was taking measures for her because they probably knew what an idiot… The doctor continued
“Do you have any family members you’d like to speak to about this, is there anyone we can contact on your behalf…
Nene toiled between her friend Liz and her cousin but preferred to give her cousin’s number, it was high time she brought her family in on this whole saga – she was certain deep down in her heart that she wasn’t returning to Richard – even if he was not arrested, she had to find an accompanied charter to escort her to their home to get her belongings or else she will be in the hospital or a mortuary if Richard laid eyes on her.
His logic dictated to her to keep quiet and heal from all the beatings and torture – she had no right to go into hospital, call an ambulance or make any formal complaints – those were his rules and days turned to months and years and he merged their accounts so that she was completely financially dependent upon him yet she made 70% of their income.
Richard had ruined her life, she could in her most hazy thoughts remember how many times she had been raped when she had said no to his advances – he blatantly told her that she was his property to do as he pleased with – some days she woke up in a pool of her own blood because he will forcefully rape her during her period and too tired to do anything she’d fall asleep and wake up to the proof of her stupidity – yet she stayed. Some days he will rape her and make videos of how domineering he could be during sex because he was narcissistic, chauvinistic bastard, use the footage to threaten her and demand more and more inappropriate action from her that her body will repulse of it ever after – Yet she stayed – she was a broken woman, he had broken and fragmented her identity – she barely knew who she was.
POSTED IN: Cameroon sex tapes, Domestic violence, Johnny Depp, Love in Fragments, Rihanna
Remember when our parents/ grandparents told us tales with a life lesson – these picture stories take us way back to that era – true African folktale that will make you sat – ARABIAN NIGHT _ ENTERTAINMENT – meet the one with men who’d follow any skirt home or better still men who know nothing about women and make them their brides – then start running like their lives depend on their legedisbenz!!! 😆
Nothing really matters
I don’t really care
What nobody tell me
I’m gonna be here
It’s a matter of extreme importance
My first teenage love affair
Nene cried herself to sleep listening over and over to Miss Alicia Keys. It was so Creed- it was all Creed. He loved this song to bits. The first time they hooked up in high school she knew nothing about love – she had just met this amazing guy in the same grade and suddenly his presence made her uneasy – she and her group of friends cherished his company more than anything in the world. Something about him was different and very attractive but they all knew the boundaries – if the man didn’t make a move it was a disgrace for a woman to do so, that was the era of her teenage innocent years… So she watched him and she waited, as the days went by she could tell without being told that she had for the first time in her life fallen in love!
Though in the same school, attending a few joint classes, he was science inclined so he spent a lot of his time in the science laboratory with the other cool in-the-know guys who were mutual friends to her group of friends. His name was Creed – not knowing how much he intrigued her and her group of friends he led his activities with very little invitation of anyone in his private space. He was like a demi-god to them. They all loved him and they knew it and talk about it to one another wondering if he will make a move and to who, in a group of five, three were single and all three equally stunning – no one had the courage to tell him how they felt, so they all tiptoed around him all through the first term.
The following term, Nene had basically grown out of expectation and rather moved to the anticipation stage – and her return to school was all about seeing Creed again. Rumour had it he had returned to the US but a close friend confided in Nene it was a holiday – so imagine her excitement when he was the first thing she saw on day one on campus heading to the office with a male elder – possibly his father!
He had lived his life abroad and loved hip-hop and R&B so he walked around campus, Walkman tucked into his jacket pocket and headphones on bobbing his head and hobbling to whatever tune he was listening to. By disciplinary standards that was so wrong but in another universe it made him cooler and different and the defiance on his face something more of a scornful snobbery stare that sets any of them straight and giddy at the same time – Creed!
Nene was shocked when she got her very first note from him… – it was expected as their eyes had caught a few times along the space between breakfast and lunch chats in a different kind of way… Like uneasy but yet heart warming – she thought and believed they had a connection – the note was handed to her by his best buddy Chad who had told her he went on a vacation and not relocation. She feigned being sick just to rush back to the dormitory and read the note in a quite private space – unfortunately, the letter made no sense, he was talking about his jeep and cars that he wanted to ride in… That threw Nene off.
A NORTHERN ECLIPSE
A time when bloodbaths are incessant
When bombs and guns click
Like firecrackers for the blood-thirsty and heartless
A time to die
IF you missed PART 1 Or Need A refresher – CATCH UP HERE
They danced all evening and walked hand in hand to the car where he gave her a warming baby boy hug, wholesome and engulfing and she held onto him like her life depended upon him. She kissed his cheeks and he gave her the boyish smile he always did and said
“Cheer up mother I want to see your smile and not the pain and doubt in your eyes, I will be back before you know it – but I promise to call you every single day – and even twice”
“you?” she laughed ” you get so busy sometimes you even forget to eat, I’d rather you eat when you remember than call me twice, but make sure you call – always”
She held his hands and swallowed her tears as she imprinted with her index finger the sign of the cross on his forehead and gave him a final hug – with a little reminisce of the boy who had so soon turned into a man and now a captain.
From the moment he could choose a career he’d stated that he wanted to be in the military, he wanted to fight. There was no deterring him, so whenever he came home from school with trousers torn in the knee area she wasn’t mad, his teachers said he spent all his time crawling on his knees hiding under desks, tables and flower beds, taking aim at his friends – playing the soldier… no matter where she hid his toy gun, he always found it somehow and took It with him to school. She sewed the trousers she could redeem and tossed the irreparable ones in the trash if she could barely make them into shorts!
That is how he earned his beloved nickname Solja boy!
The day was a beautiful day but the ceremony had come to an end, the guests were all heading to their various destinations and like every good thing – the end was nigh, so they all said their goodbyes and headed to the car for a drive back home.
On the ride home Solja boys mum held Papa’s hand, she knew he felt as apprehensive about the posting, and even far worse than her anxiety and worry, she had eavesdropped on his conversation, calling the general who helped them secure a place for him in the acclaimed NMA – Nation Military Academy after news broke of their son’s posting, asking him
“Should we be worried, is there anything you can do to reverse or delay this whole transfer till there is a little respite from the attacks up north?”
She knew even as a man with extreme courage and positivity, her husband knew better than he purported, that this may be the last time they saw Solja Boy, their adorable boy. The chances were 2:1 like every other soldier in is rank who had come back home in a casket from a roadside bomb or direct confrontation with suicide bombers or Boko Haram militants themselves.
There wasn’t much they could do, so together they stared into each other’s eyes she leaned her head on his shoulder holding and calmly but endearingly asking papa Solja boy
‘‘Did you give him the bible?’’
What qualifies a man for ”HUSBAND MATERIAL?”
Well, Kathleen’s story will not give you the answer but may give you an indication of what the answer could be…read on and enjoy!
‘’Well, your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya
She tied you to her kitchen chair
She broke your throne and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the hallelujah…’’
The congregation would tell you about the best most respectable leading man of the Mountain Ministries, the pastor Rev Nordstrom. He was an exemplary man with a son in the church band _ amazing guitarists, a powerhouse for the very divine vineyard of the Lord. The congregation sang their praises, the pastor was the very reason some people actually went to church, he was a preacher to listen to, but guiltily a sight to behold, his looks gladdened the eye of the good and the hearts of the unkind fluttered. He was very personable.
His voice soothe aches and made brethren’s weep. His Journey had been torrential, plagued with disappointments and failure, he found himself sleeping on the streets of London years after battling with a wrong investment to build an engineering plant to take back to Africa as part of his PH.D project. His investment failed, his funds depleted and funding never came, days turned to years, he lost his house and many personal holdings, he was bent to succeed, but failure wasn’t done with him yet.
Ian Nordstrom had ended up homeless but made sure his singular suitcase had his books and every necessity that could sustain the work he was pursuing, should something come up, should a funder request a report or sample of his failed projects, he was hopeful.
One fine day he walked pass an open crusade on the streets of London when the praise and worship caught his eye /attention ~ He never ever looked back. It was as though the compass of life had pulled him towards the direction of the crusade for an ultimate-lifetime-calling and he had yielded.
To this day, he tells his story with so much pride and humour, but with a certain kind of hearty gratefulness that the Lord himself could smile for such a proud moment! His passion for God was unspeakable.