ktravula – a travelogue!

reflections on the world

Blues: Of Love and Losses

For Granny (d. January 14), and Aunt Banke Akintunde, PhD (d. March 15)

How does goodbye begin? With love? With a kiss on the lips or a warm hug in public places?
How does goodbye begin? Sour drops of tears in the beer of a familiar place or worse?
Or streams running down the ugly face of a twice-recurring moment without a sound?
How do goodbyes begin? Do they run like a silent brook on a gloomy day, or bubble
like the fresh waterfalls of a once-forgotten hill? Do they fall like raindrops on a desert?
Do they hum like bees after the smell of fragrance, or like light glowing out of a burning wood
Do they burn? Do they pinch like flakes of snow? Do they, like birds, just pick up and fly?

How does goodbye begin? With a whimper? With a wave of hand or a cry in the night?
How does goodbye begin? Babbles and laughters that rise about the dark lonely room
When days and night merge into one, and strangers write the lines of tomorrow’s song?
How do goodbyes begin? Do they wander in the air, elusive to touch and description
like the wounded butterfly across the sight of an elder? Do they soothe or do they excite?
Do they waft across the oceans like a forgotten dream, or like the tired membrane of a drum
Do they tear? Do they itch like the rash? Do they, like birds, just pick up and fly?

There is a painful swelling in the dead of the night on my heart, ripe like a freshly open weal.
It is the goodbye mark of gems, with smears of the now bitter tears, too hard to heal.

(c) Kola Tubosun 2011

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It’s Not Going To Be Easy

There must be more to life than sitting idly in front of a computer waiting for the guy from the Chinese restaurant to make a delivery. I have looked at the date and it is NOT Thursday. It is still Monday. No, I refuse to believe that this holiday is going to be harder to take than I previously thought. I’m going to gain more weight for sure. Maybe. It is definitely not going to be easy to keep my mind functioning without deadlines to meet, students to teach, to grade, and classes to attend. I had considered going with Ben and Mafoya for a Burlesque show in St. Louis two days ago, but I had fallen asleep before it was time to leave, and Ben had refused to wake me up. In any case, I doubt that semi-naked women could have made that much of a lasting impression. Sour grapes, I know. There is always a next time.

My grandmother is dead. The news got to me in a text message on Wednesday the 16th from my sister. I don’t know how old she is, and neither does she, but from the age of her children, I would say that she was over ninety. In some culture in Nigeria, the saying is “Don’t worry about it. You have no more grandmother to lose now.” In my case, it is not totally true. My dead grandmother is actually a step-grandmother. My non-step grandmother is alive but not as strong as she used to be. And she doesn’t know that the other woman, her co-wife, is dead. She mustn’t know or it would be too hard to take, considering how long they’ve both lived together under the same roof with the husband, my last grandfather, who is still alive and strong.

My friend Olumide lost his mother in the same week as I lost my grandmother. But unlike my own (albeit also unexpected) loss, his own was not inevitable, and it came too suddenly. I met her for the first and last time in the University during her son’s convocation ceremony not too long ago, and she was fun, warm and jovial. Her death has made me reflect on the meaning of life, and what it’s all worth when it’s spent and done. I wish Loomnie the strength to bear the loss.

I’m writing a new poem on the theme of loss, distance and changes, but I’ve become stuck after the sixth line.

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On My "Six Flags" Trip

I have just returned from Six Flags, a famous theme park/amusement park in the heart of St. Louis. It is Missouri’s answer to Neverland and Disneyland. To say the least, it was breathtaking. I had fun, and for the first time since I got to Edwardsville, I didn’t use my laptop for more than ten hours. I have just opened my email only to see hordes of well-wishing messages concerning my malaria. I feel better already, even before I swallow these two tablets for today. What would I do without these friends and family? I appreciate all the suppport and well-wishes, and I’ll be getting across to you personally. Just as soon as I sort out all these paperwork and I can use a phone that is mine. And so I should begin to tell you about the experience at Six Flags.

Batman Ride

I should start with how I won a basket ball. With a little fee, one was given twelve basket balls to throw into the net from a certain distance. Depending on how many you succeed in throwing in successfully, one got a gift of a new basket ball. Out of the twelve balls – four from each of the three sides of the court – guess how many I was able to put in: four! My gift is a new Hoyas basket ball which I promptly collected, and took with me as we went towards the rollercoasters. First we went on the fast and extra exhilarating ride at called the Batman, a fast-speeding demon that spins and twirls, defying gravity and taking you on a 360 degrees ride that lasts only about two minutes but leaves blood rushing to all your body parts, and your heart in your mouth. It is not for the weak-hearted, as the signs conspicuously warned, nor is it for the pregnant. Half the time you are upside down, and screaming. By the time we left there, I had a new profound appreciation of life. We all did. It was scaaaaary. After two minutes in the seats of many of those rides, I can tell you this: you would definitely reappraise your appreciation of life. Like they say back home, “your life would never remain the same again.” (Note: I’ve never confirmed whether that phrase always described a positive thing.) Check out this YouTube video of a Batman Ride at Six Flags and decide for yourself.

Tony Hawk

I should also like to tell you how I chickened out when we got to the Superman Tower of Power: “an extreme free-fall ride that carries you to the top of the 230-foot tower, giving you a bird’s-eye view of the park. Then, after a few seconds of gut-wrenching anticipation, you plunge down at over 60 mph.” I could not handle it. Neither did a few of us as well, and it was up to Paul the Kenyan and Mary to test their hearts against gravity. They survived. Then we went onto Tony Hawk’s Big Spin, the radical ride that twirls you as it hurls you down a 1,351-foot track. We survived that as well, then Mary and Paul took us to the scariest of them all, Mr Freeze. “Brrr. Prepare yourself for extreme thrills and chills. Mr. Freeze uses super-cool new linear induction technology to catapult you from zero to 70 mph in about four seconds. You’ll blast out of a 190-foot icy tunnel and travel through 1,382 feet of track at spine-chilling speeds, twists, and turns. Then do it again in reverse.” I couldn’t handle that either, and I, along with a few other students, sat and just watched them. Check out a Youtube video of that experience. Again, this is not for the fainthearted.

gateway-arch

Then I should like to tell you about the water parks, how we swam, drank all-you-can-drink soda and lemonade, and how we enjoyed sliding through the three six-storey, high-speed body slides into the water down below. None of this can be adequately described until experienced. A second reason for my difficulty in successfully describing this experience is the loss of my Canon digital camera. Within nothing more than thirty seconds of leaving a spot in front of the men’s dressing room where it undoubtedly must have fallen off while I was removing my jeans pants in preparation for swimming, we got back and couldn’t find my camera anymore. Someone must have picked it up immediately after we moved away from there. At first I was optimistic for getting it back, then I became realistic: a theme park of such number of people numbering up to thousands from different backgrounds and upbringing could never be a place to leave a precious gadget even if it is for a few seconds. I went on to make official report/complaints at the Lost & Found section, and would expect their call if an unexpected miracle brings it out. A part of me has already given up on that possibility though. Now what would happen to all those nice pictures I took today and hoped to put up online tomorrow? How will I be able to prove that I was at Six Flags? That I saw the magnificent Gateway Arch with my own two eyes?

This camera has been "flagged" off

A common catchphrase from all the vendors and workers at Six Flags was “Have a Six Flags Day,” whatever that means. I sure had one today, but at the expense of my precious point-and-shoot. I like to think it was “flagged” away by unknown aliens, and not the nice honest Americans that I have known. But now, whatever shall I do but remember today as the Saturday when I won a nice basket ball, and lost my precious camera all at Six Flags St. Louis, Missouri? You win some, you lose some. But what’s more, I survived. I’ve just returned from Youtube to read that a freak accident at the Superman Tower of Power in St. Louis some time ago got the feet of a little girl cut off. This must be why I love the country more than I do the city.

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