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04 – The Song Remains The Same [explicit]
Folder:
Nigerian Diaries Volume II
Ok… so it’s here. The laptop, the drink, the music, the TV on mute… perfect conditions for an outburst. Or a neurotic rant at the very least. Even the bronchial phlegm that’s been plaguing me for weeks seems to be coming to an end. The gin’s going down like it’s going out of fashion. The diarrhoea has been replaced by your averagely solid faeces (although I must admit that the thirty second shit is much more desirable than a five minute one in this fast paced and ever changing world). My personal popularity has reached a level where I can go out to most bars without being hassled, harassed or bothered by leeches & mozzies. I finally, after waiting for five months, move in to a grand apartment of my own; instilling the much needed sense of independency and comfort that I’ve been longing for ever since I set foot in this godforsaken place.
Everything returns to a semi normal state, and then….
Time to go back home sonny!
Yeah, that’s right… time to pack up and go home. Well… only temporarily.
Some slime ball Nigerian fucker stole my passport, which has caused great difficulties to extend my visa. The who, what, where and when remains a mystery, but what is clear is that I’ve been horrendously inconvenienced by this act of cheap thievery. The end conclusion by management, HR and security, was that I’d be best off going home with my replacement passport and applying for a new visa.
Not that I’m crying or anything. I am ALWAYS looking forward to the chance to go home. My only dilemma is that this may fuck up my chances of going home at my preferred nominated time of late-July; the time of my son’s birthday. If I go home now they may not grant me leave when I most want it. I even promised Max I’d be home for his birthday over the phone yesterday. I’m becoming more like my old man every fucking day…
* * *
Boredom and loneliness strangles the wild serpent yet again. Another night of crawling through the treacherous jungle. But as Sigrid said… you can get lost in the jungle.
Just remember… with prudence, the organic waste of today becomes the mulch of tomorrow… suppressing future weeds, preserving moisture, and nourishing the soil.
It doesn’t seem like much – all those bits of waste… but when thoroughly ground, broken down and processed by time… become fertile soil.
When you return to your rightful place – at the side of your son… you need only plant the seeds.
A little cultivation – and a little love… and the soil will be ready to explode.
And you will have time to share and absorb all the nutrients you have obtained until now.
You have tasted the famine of absence… and you will not be quick to return to that state.
~/~
Jaison