silifat"s alterego.......................saturday morning.....................

untitled.......................................the fates

Foreplay

This is a Yoruba song. This is Silifat’s favorite song. If there was any spark however minute, in her fallow consciousness of being, this song could possibly set it alit. But soon enough the role play of the obedient self-righteous girl from Abule-Egba would drown the diminutive ignis fatuus to obscurity.
· Romance? This is the foolish day dream of an unbeliever.
· Orgasm? This is a word coined by the infidel westerners with no literal translation in Silifat’s language. Its implications cannot be conceived by Silifat.
· Sex? This is a duty/offering a woman must submit to her husband to relieve the sacred itchiness in his groin. Silifat thought of it as dirty, otherwise why was she required to wash afterwards?
· Music? If it is not religious then it is the language of seduction of satan.
· Wife beating? This is a form of discipline and reformation acceptable for submission in communication. “If she does not listen then slap her face and she will understand.”
These are lesson her mother taught her through the grace of telepathy.

But when Silifat hears this song, she admits the quiet enjoyment of her imagination. This she shall openly enjoy in heaven as her reward. This perhaps is wishful thinking and contrary to her belief. Her heaven is a grandiosity of a harem, where she shall be made a virgin again and shall remain pure through all eternity. She must pray for forgiveness, her pitiable wandering thoughts. Maybe the heavens will permit her this one song, playing over and over in her head.
It is not entirely her blame. Her cousin from Lagos city, whom she silently admires, has put a hole in her clouds. Seki wore paint on her lips and fingernails. Seki never wore a head scarf, far be it that she should veil her face. Seki had a loud unusually deep voice. She used all of her vocal cords to speak with little regard for whom might pick her words. When Seki listened to music, she danced gyrating her hips to imitate sexual intercourse. Seki always played Silifat’s favorite song. Seki had a boyfriend. Seki told Silifat that she had kissed him and allowed him fondle her breasts. She called it foreplay. In response to this, Silifat had promised to pray for Seki’s most definitely condemned soul. But they remained friends.

Silifat always pinched herself when the thoughts of jealousy crept into her quiet place. She must not be jealous of frivolities. But could she be jealous of the freedom to choose her own life partner? She reminded herself of her reward in heaven. Seki spoke with such autonomy that made Silifat almost uncomfortable to be with her. Seki had her own opinion about, love, romance, sex and cooking. When Seki spoke, Silifat would whisper” God is merciful” under her breath. There must be a separate heaven for people like Seki. Silifat liked her too much to have her in hell.

Talk of wife-beating, Seki would say, “If my husband or boyfriend should ever have the guts to hit me, I swear I would punish him, he would rather die! I will grind the coca-cola bottle to fine powder and feed it to him with his meal!” This one she shamelessly concurred with. This is why she wept deeply to her marrows the day her supposed husband slapped her. He is her supposed husband because she was given to the old man as a gift. She consoled herself praying she deserved it for listening to that evil song.

Her husband was too old to kiss and too impatient to fondle her. He never fooled around but aimed straight for the bull’s eye, even with clothes on. She had hoped this night would be different. She had imagined how to conjure foreplay from this man. She wanted to show off her ample, enviable bosoms, he never had the pleasure of groping.

She laid the table and she served him his meal. She bent over so that he could see her bare breasts revealed through the wide neck buba. He got irritated; she must kneel to serve him. Bending over made her head higher than his, this was discourteous. As she poured his soup, she spilled some on her wrapper. This was intentional. The soup was hot so it burned through her wrapper. She had to take off her wrapper. This was also intentional. He was still irritated, she was clumsy. She dished more soup and gracefully poured some on his laps. In her amorphous preparations the concurrent response was to take off his pants. Could this not have been the relevant circumstances to initiating a sensual foreplay? She standing before him with her bare buttocks so close to his face. No! He slapped her. He called her good-for-nothing.

He was a hungry man. Her mother had warned her about the hungry man.

Seki was to blame. Music was a path to foolishness. Seki will always be her cousin, she will be forgiven, but this song, Silifat will never play.