Once Upon CrazyNothing (Fiction)

We found love the day we took a bus from Asaba to Eket to watch people dressed in grass skirts with straw hats dancing in the sunshine, because we were bored, had spare money and it was saturday, one saturday in November of two thousand and eleven. We joined in the dancing, picked strange shells from the sand, drank big cold coca cola under large colored umbrellas and took pictures with his camera. At night, we slept in the dark, under a parked lorry because we had no money to lodge and in the excitement, we had forgotten to go home.

We were young and reckless and ready to sail the air. My dream was to go to the moon and his was to take me there. We took long walks and rode his scooter in the dark. I would sit behind him, holding firmly and screaming as he sped, dusty breeze slapping our ears. We stayed out in the cold at night, playing in the pool, then I had fever and was in the hospital but he didn't come even once. Then I found out he had fever too and was in the next hospital.

We shopped often and shoplifted side by side. I liked to steal fancy pens and he would take a broche and we would hide it in our clothes, wink at each other and laugh at the store keepers. We went to silverbird on saturdays and on the way back he would let me drive and I would play music loud in the car.

He painted his room blue and I painted it pink all over and we struggled with the paint until we had blue and pink spattered all over the room. He liked to drink and I drank with him too. We liked remymartins with ice in tall wine glasses and cashewnuts. And when we got stoned, we would throw up on each other, sleep till morning, then clean it all up.

 He lost my contacts so we fought and broke up and one night it was raining and I ran out all the way to his house and he wasn't there because he was out in the rain, running all the way to my house too. We made up and he brought thin papers of pot and we smoked, danced, smoked and the next day went to a tattoo plaza. He got one on his arm, a scorpion head. I got two, cupid's arrow on my neck and a sweetheart on my butt. Then I got an Arsenal jersey and he got a Chelsea. We went to church and I was pinging while he had his earphones on. A certain tall usher with a round face and disapproving look sent us out. On the way home, we argued and crashed into another car and stayed in the hospital for a day, then came out with stitches.

 I can't remember the many times we broke up and made up, because of him, because of me. But we laughed a lot too and had good days of gists, walks, carnivals and music. My parents said he was bad influence. His mother said I was foolish. We cared that they didn't like us so we cried and prayed and made love and the next day we just didn't care anymore.
Back in our country home, we went into the bush beside my grandmother's house. We talked for an hour, ate bitter udara, rolled on dry leaves and took pictures. A heavy rain started and soon we were cold and drenched and I thought of rainmaking. And under one mighty mango tree with many leaves and thick branches, curved as if it was watching over us, somewhere far behind Mama Uku's house, in Arochuku, we held each other a long long time. He had warmth in his eyes, there was fear in mine. He smelt of old wine, I smelt of perfume.

It was a hopeless thing. People knew. We knew. But that was exactly where we found love.