the MESH

The Phunkiphanization of my Muse.
The first time he saw her, nothing really attracted him to her, except her dreadlocks. They were neatly folded. Maybe if she had worn a melancholic look there would have been nothing that would have attracted him to her. She didn’t have the popular most accepted figure 8, she was not fair and she didn’t wear make-up. But as he was about to remove his gaze from her she smiled. Her faced broke into million fragments of stars or sun. Whatever it is, it was bright. Just then he noticed he has been starring at her for long. He couldn’t help it, he smiled back. Her face shied off. As if recovering a realm he looked away. They were in a class. He had never noticed her, he wondered why. He didn’t take their smiling at each other to be anything. When the class was over he hurried home. When he got to his room, her smiling face kept replaying in his head. He smiled to himself. He has not had time to look at girls. For some time he had purposely decided not to have anything to do with any girl. He had always thought girls meant trouble. He didn’t take her seriously. The next day at school he didn’t see her, he didn’t look for her. She was gone. Like the rest of the girls appearing and disappearing in school she was gone. In the middle of his thoughts someone called his name out, the voice sounded like Ashley’s voice he turned and saw Ashlely. She was with the mystery lady and when she saw him again she smiled, again her face broke into million fragments of stars or sun. He smiled back. Ashley waved. They both exchanged glances and he faced the board. Professor Yemi walked in to the class, looking young as ever at 51. He mounted the podium and wrote on the board ‘gesticulation’. He asked ‘who can explain this in the theatrical term?’ No one said anything for the first 1 minute, until Ashley raised her hand and gave it a shot. Prof liked it but he was looking for something more accurate. He started writing on his pad when Prof said ‘yes you on dreads’. He heard her. Her voice was cool. Like the face of a flowing stream. Cool. He turned his head and she was there. It was her. After answering Prof’s question she smiled at him again and sat down. He felt overwhelmed. He started writing. It looked like poetry
Thus have I met the real Helen of Troy
The Greeks died for nothing.
Dare say it’s a ploy, to tie me down with her smiles.
Even Apollo would become man again to steal a glance of her face
But I it was who was first lucky.
Prof noticed him writing so he coughed and said ‘Dotun, which girl do you fancy in the class?’ he looked lost. He wasn’t expecting the question so he replied ‘excuse me sir?’ Prof repeated himself ‘I said which girl do you fancy in the class?’ he heard Prof clearly now. Maybe it blabbed out of his mouth or something he didn’t know but he turned back and pointed to the girl on dreadlocks. Her face was down, on her book. He wanted her to see. But he didn’t care. He turned to Prof who asks again ‘and how would you tell her, non-verbally?’ he thought for half a minute and said ‘a smile’ ‘the most natural, gesticulations are important to actors because they say more than what words would say’ Prof said. He sat down and read through his poem again. He had not written anything like a poem in months. He tried to tear the sheet of paper but he liked it. What he wrote. He read again, smiled and turned to her but when their faced locked she didn’t smile back. He felt it was lopsided. Anyway he barely paid attention throughout Prof’s lecture so when the bell rang he jumped out of his seat and went to his room. He read the poem again.
The next one week he didn’t look at her. Though they look at each briefly but it was not consciously. He kept to himself, he didn’t want trouble. He didn’t want any woman’s trouble. But one day while talking to Ashley the mystery girl came and was talking to Ashley, he tried not to look at her. But all his energy was poured into here eyes. Her dread locks. He kept looking. As if being overwhelmed by his gaze she spoke first ‘why re u looking at me?’. He felt embarrassed, all he could mutter was a lazy ‘sorry’ and continued talking to Ashley who seemed displaced and asked ‘do you both know each other?” he couldn’t stand it anymore. He walked away.
When he got home he wrote two poems, one about her, the other about living. He tucked it under his pillow. In class the next day he gave one to her. He walked up to her and said “hi, I wrote something last night, I think you should read it”. He dropped it in her hand and walked away. When he got home he told himself “you should talk to this girl Dotun, are you scared?” he dispelled the idea and continued writing. For every time he saw her or heard her voice he scribbled something down. It was like madness.
The next day she replied, with a note. He liked it. He wrote back to her and like that they continued writing to each other until one day when he was about to give her a poem she said “we should talk. Re u shy?” her voice was like a kiwi, a violin. He couldn’t make it out.
Dotun; what about?
Dreaded One; you’re really talented. I like your poems. All of them. They’re very romantic. It’s not common in this modern age.

Dotun ; thanks. How do you tell by a poem that I am talented?

Dreaded One: I’ve seen you act a part in a play before. Your expressions are wonderful. I also saw you rapping the other day and you’re hella funny

Dotun; wow, sound like you know so much about me already. How come I don’t know you? What’s your name ?
Dreaded One; Phefunkified

Dotun ; what. Is that a name?
Phefunkified; just call me that.

The conversation went on and on. They continued writing each other. Then one day, she came with anger in her hands. Returned his note and said “I don’t like when people think they are smart. You have a girl”. He took the note and walked away, leaving her where she stood. When he got into his room he buried his head in his pillow. He couldn’t sleep. What was she talking about? Who was she even talking about? He couldn’t make anything out of it so he slept trying to make sense out her rage earlier in the day. The next day when they saw it was in the midst of preying eyes. He took her to a corner, his eyes searching her mind. He wanted to know what was going on in her head. What she heard who she had been listening to. They hadn’t gotten round their first sentence to each other when Jaye walked by and came to them. He never liked Jaye, he was a snake. A green snake under any grass, green or not. He walked up to them and tapped her by the shoulder; she looked at him and smiled. Dotun was there with his mouth opened. Confused he kept trying to get her around to talk to her so he’ll know what she was talking about. Later he saw Ashley and told Ashley what had happened. She told him she had heard some horrible things about him, she got scared, Jaye came along she sort of like him. Jaye lived opposite his room. So when she calls him he makes it a duty to speak loudly, sometimes coming to the corridor to talk just so Dotun could hear their conversation. Dotun would be in his room raving mad like a dog with rabies. One day he showed up at her door unannounced seeking to talk to her. She came out and Dotun told her all he was, did, ever did “you should have given me a chance. You crucified me before even knowing me. I really like you and I was thinking we could make it things work” she smiled. He didn’t expect to get her to smile.
For weeks they kept talking but Jaye was in the picture. She has grown to like both of them. It became a fight of who could love her most. He didn’t want to play it. He kept telling himself he didn’t want to compete for her love. But he kept writing. He liked his poems. He thought of her often. He hated himself for it. Everything had happened too fast, too quick and had gone too far. He wanted to hate her. Her heart was divided. He thought he had her heart to himself. He was tired. It was emotionally exhausting. The girl she had asked him about was a friend. She wouldn’t believe him. Too many water, even blood had gone under the bridge. He kept writing.

 

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