Sunday, 22 March 2015

Sphere Of Time

I was not always alone; I once had friends. Lots of friends. Friends that I played with, talked with and joked with. Friends that I got into trouble and got punished with. Friends that I grew with, laughed with and cried with.
I had tons of friends.

We grew up together and were as close as the petals of a rose. We’d play lots of childish games; we’d chase the chickens around the house, we’d race to climb mango trees, we’d even play hide-and-seek.

But something- a great rift- broke us apart. A great big chasm that neither of us could cross appeared between us, with me on one side, and my friends on the other. My friends grew up while I remained trapped in a sphere of time. I watched as Annie’s parents died and she stopped playing with us. I watched as Abena stopped watching cartoons and reading comics because Annie had stopped doing those things.

Kofi, Danny, Maame and Trisha remained, but they were not with me in the sphere. Kofi grew to be very handsome and he suddenly had no time for us average girls. It embarrassed him to be seen playing with us and when he finally started acting, he left us in the dust.

Danny –who had always loved to learn- decided to focus even more on his books. He became a dull boy and played with us no longer. <em>There is no time to play when I have so much to learn</em>, he said. Danny-boy became a big shot in the field of science with all his ground breaking theories and still I remained trapped in the sphere.

Puberty was kind to Maame and her body developed splendidly. She had as many suitors as the sands of the beach and could not spend time with us single-folks. With kids who knew nothing about the touch of a man. Eventually some guy got her pregnant and she had no choice but to grow up.

Trisha was the last one left, but I knew she would go too, for I was still trapped in that sphere, never ageing, never maturing. Still a child, still frozen in time. I watched as my best friend went to college and I stared after her as she drifted away. I watched as she grew up and the cords that bound us snapped. She no longer read books or watched anime. She no longer laughed at my jokes or played my video games. I knew she was tired of me, but I could not grow up. Try as I may, I could not destroy the sphere. I was still trapped when she told me she was travelling for work and I watched helplessly as she faded away. She never returned and here I remained. Alone and lonely in my eternal cage. Frozen still in my sphere of time.

I was not always alone.

Tuesday, 17 March 2015

Road of Fire

Once on a very beautiful night, while the breeze blew and the band played, I walked the road of fire. It was not engulfed in fire, but lit by it and the fire gave the night sky a beautifully eerie orange glow, much like the glow of the northern lights- if they were orange. As I walked in a group with a few of my friends, I could not help but think of her and how much she would love this. Of how fun it would be to walk side by side-with fire in our hands- and talk about trivial things and joke about everything we see. So when I got home, I told her about the fiery road and how lovely it would be. I pleaded and begged her to come with me. I made sure I went with her to all her events and accompanied her to all her boring meetings until she agreed. I just wanted her to come with me.

Next year came and my friends invited me to go with them, but I turned them down because of her. I wanted to walk the fiery path with her. The day finally arrived but she had to go to work and she promised that she would before six so we would not miss the procession. She was always working you know, leaving little time for us to bond. But today all that would change when we walked along the road of fire.

At four o’clock I was still waiting, but I was not worried because she said she would come. We had planned for a year, surely she would not hurt me like this? I was not worried at all- or so I thought, because even as I thought that I began to draw. I often draw to hide my anxiety. But she would come, she had to come.

When it was five, I took my bath and got dressed. I would get ready so when she came we would not waste any more time at home. My friends were still texting me, asking me to come, but I could not leave her. I promised her I would wait and so I continued to draw.

It was nine and she hadn’t come home-or called. The procession was way over and I had changed out of my outing clothes. I was hurting deep inside so I still continued to draw. Because if I stopped…. I just didn’t want to stop.

She came at ten, looking tired and worn. Said she stayed to volunteer at work.  Said she knew I wouldn’t mind. Even though I did mind-so much that my throat closed and my heart bled- I composed myself, shrugged and said, “It would have been boring anyway. Who wants to watch a big fire?”  

I did. I wanted to watch a big fire.

Thursday, 12 March 2015

Anime Art Of The Week : Epic Fusion: Naruto and Goku

Ever since I started watching Naruto, I have been wondering how a Naruto-Goku fusion would look like. Naruto and Goku are alike in sooo many ways and I think their fusion would be great. I mean the result would have the Kamehameha wave and the Rasen Shuriken, Super Saiyan Kyuubi Mode. Oozaru-Kyuubi mode (hmm I think I'll draw that) and Kaio-Ken and Sage Mode. Saiyan's speed and Shinobi's chakra! I think it would be an epic fusion! And when I finally googled and saw fusion pictures, I realized that they looked more like Goku than Naruto so I decided to take matters into my own hands and create a fusion that looks more like Naruto. So this here folks is my Naruto-Goku(Super Saiyan 1) fusion!!

Tools used:
Obviously pencils and erasers
Black ink
Crayola and Staedtler(just for his face and headband) colour pencils

So what should I name him??
Gokuto?
Naroku?
Goruto?
Nagoku?
Please tell me what you think?

Tuesday, 10 March 2015

Maame Water : Legend Of The Fish Queen (Part 2)


                         PART 2
I was still looking into her eyes, but in place of the warmth I had seen there barely seconds ago was a dark, frightening coldness, a coldness which wrapped itself around my throat and caused me to start speaking without even meaning to.

“My father, the king sent me. Our land…. our land.. it is being threatened by invaders from the beyond the sea. Their skin.. they are as white a ghosts. There are so many of them, we will never be able to defeat them and, and if we do not fight them, if we do not re-resist, we will became their sl-slaves.” I stammered.

“Mmmm. That is indeed  very unfortunate.” Maame Water raised an eyebrow, “But why, my prince, are you here?”

I gulped.

“I- my father sent me here to ask you and your sisters for your help. He said-“

“HELP?” she laughed, pressing me closer to her. “The king sent you here to ask for my help?”

“Yes. He said you were the only one with enough power to… to defeat such a vast army.” I responded.

She pressed the dagger harder against my throat.

“Even if that were true, my dear nephew,” she sneered, “what makes you think that I would help your father? What makes you think that would help save my idiotic brother’s lands after he banished me to live in this infernal cave? What makes you think that my sisters and I  would even dream of coming to the aid of your traitorous king?” She spat the last word out like it was cursed.

The dagger pierced my skin and I felt the warm red liquid run down my neck.                 As the gore of her kill  

“Because, because I-“ I stopped and swallowed.” Because I can break the curse. I can free you from this cave.”

She narrowed her eyes and slowly smirked, “Tch, tch, tch. You lie, my prince. Has your father not told you the story behind the curse?”

He had, in fact and my mind instantly recalled the gruesome tale.
                             ***

       
    Young Warrior, Young Warrior     
   Do not go out to sea;                  
   She will ensnare you with her beauty            And trap you with her song  
Ultimately when you long for breath
And your drowned lungs break the spell….                                          

  19 Years Ago

The man stood at the edge of the forest and gazed admiringly at the sea. He liked everything about the sea; the breeze calmed him and the warring waves made beautiful music when they crashed against the shores. More importantly, he admired the enormous power the sea wielded. He-the sea (for the man never thought of the sea as a female) - could crush even the mightiest of canoes with a single wave and starve the mightiest kingdoms by leading the fishes away from their fishermen. The man was positive that this large stretch of raging water that sent fearsome storms and frightful waves to destroy mighty lands could never be a woman. Only men commanded such power. Yes, the sea was a man, a powerful man like himself.

Indeed, the man was once a powerful warrior, one of the King’s finest until he was made a fugitive. The King had arrested him because the man had taught some insignificant woman a minor lesson in respect. He laughed to himself. Okay, it was more than a minor lesson but the wench deserved it. 

The useless woman, whose only purpose was to please men like himself, had refused to lie with him and hence, had insulted his dignity by implying that she was worth more than his manhood. Unacceptable! She would pay dearly for her insult. And pay, she did.

He had waited till she was alone before he attacked her.

Initially, she had made futile attempts to defend herself by hitting him with her flimsy hands but did she really think her little hands could defeat his war- hardened ones? These same hands that had broken the muscle-bound neck of Ayiteh the Giant. Stupid woman. Eventually when she realized that she would never win, she begun to beg him. She begged and pleaded, expecting him to forgive her insolence. A man of power does not show mercy to a woman. Finally, she resorted to lying and giving excuses, saying that she had never lain with a man before and that she was a virgin.

Even better. The man had thought. It will hurt even more. 

She had indeed screamed and cried out with pain when he begun and he laughed at her anguish. Hahaha. Scream, foolish woman, scream! You will learn respect!
And whenever she stopped screaming or pleading, he would beat her so that she resumed. When the whore was barely conscious and could utter no more than a pathetic whimper, he left her for dead. He did not know then that the woman was the only daughter of Elder Neequaye and that she would survive the ordeal, so when the elder’s men came to his house to arrest him the following morning, he had been quite surprised. Nevertheless, he had escaped his prison the night before his trial, sneaked into the elder’s quarters and slit the impertinent prostitute’s throat.

He had been on the run ever since, raping girls where ever he went only this time he made sure none of whores lived to tell the tale.

Tonight, he was looking for his next victim and he was getting impatient because it was almost midnight and he had not even spotted his prey. He closed his eyes and prayed that the powerful sea would grant him a good hunt. He was therefore only a little surprised when he saw a young female kneeling at the edge of the sea the moment he opened his eyes.
Thank you Father Sea, he thought as he made his way to the black-haired girl.

“You should not be out here. The sea is very dangerous at night.” The man liked to give his victims a false sense of security, he liked it when they trusted him and thought that he meant them no harm. He always savoured the looks of disbelief and betrayal that appeared on his victims’ faces when they realized how wrong they were.

“May I ask why you are here so late at night?” he asked.

She turned slowly, lifting her head to face him. A breeze passed by and blew her hair off her face.
The man stifled a gasp. This girl was truly beautiful, like no female he had ever laid his eyes on. She had a beautiful cloth wrapped around her waist that outlined her shapely hips amd simultaneously exposed her supple legs. The second cloth, which she wore over her upper half, covered all but her face, her hands and her stomach. Light from the moon reflected off her skin giving it the appearance of sparkling gold and her eyes were very dark- darker the shadows of the night. The sea had brought him this golden goddess and soon, she will belong to him. He licked his lips as he took in her dark eyes, smooth skin and bare stomach. She will be mine, she will belong to me and me alone.

“My brother… he has gone missing and I came here to search for him. I-I cannot find him anywhere and he’s a-all I have. I-“

The man knew of the sporadic disappearances of some of the village’s men and if this girl's brother had vanished in the same way, he was sure that her brother would turn up tomorrow morning- with his throat slit. What weaklings those men were! No one could kidnap him in the middle of the night and murder him! He was the king’s finest warrior! He would use the hands that had broken the neck of Ayiteh the Giant to strangle the foolish assassin! No man would dare to mess with him!

“It’s okay. I am sure he is fine.” He had pulled her into a hug and was now caressing her black, black hair. All mine.

“You should worry more about yourself and less about your brother. He is a man. Surely he can take care of himself?”

She pulled away from him and started wiping away her newly formed tears. “Yes. Yes you are quite right. It was silly of me to overreact like this. I-I was just so scared.”
He brushed his fingers across her face, across her cheeks and stopped at her lips. She stiffened.
You will belong to me.

“Do not fear me, girl. The sea has sent you to please me and I promise you, I will be extremely gentle.”

The girl looked around nervously. “Please you? I- I’m sorry I do not understand. I-“

“Do not worry,” the man cut in, ”I will make you understand.” And with that, he gripped her hair and forced her to kiss him. He did not get far though, when he felt a sharp sting across his cheek. The stupid girl had slapped him! He had promised her he would be gentle, but now she had forced him to obtain her the hard way.
The sea sent you to me! You are mine!

He drew his fist back and aimed for her cheek. As he let loose his power, he could not help but think; my hands will taste her flesh, these same hands that broke-

His hand had stopped moving.

The girl… the girl had managed to block the blow with her palm and now she was looking at him in a bored manner –not screaming in pain- as if the blow had not even touched her. Impossible. Even Ayiteh the Giant had begged him-

“You dare raise your hand against me? Do you not know who I am?” she said, her voice booming like thunder as she twisted his hand so that his bones cracked and he cried out in pain.

“Nothing! You are just a filthy woman! You are nothing!” he spat. He should have been afraid. No normal woman-or man for that matter- could have blocked his blow without getting hurt herself but the man was too proud to be wary of this shameless girl.

“You will not speak to me that way. You will fear me!” She twisted his hand again, breaking both of his hand bones. He screamed- like how Elder Neequaye’s daughter had screamed when he had hurt her- but she would not stop twisting.

Finally when the pain died down (for she had released his hand) and he was able to speak again, he said, gasping, “And why should I fear you?! You are but a woman! What could you possibly do to me?!”  

A lightning bolt from above illuminated the girl’s face and eyes and when the man looked into those cold eyes- the eyes he thought were black- he realized that they were in fact bright red…. like the eyes of the evil spirits that dwelled deep the Evil Forest. Trembling with fear, the man turned and run. 
The girl smiled, her teeth glittering in the moonlight.

“Oh, you have no idea what I am capable of.”                                   

                                  ***
Part 3 will come out next week!! Come back then if you want to know more about the legend!

Wednesday, 4 March 2015

Anime Art Of The Week : Natsu Dragneel

I know I said my blog would contain stuff about anime and I just realized that I have only written one article on anime. That's why today I am uploading my drawing of one of my favourite fire-users; Natsu Dragneel of Fairy Tail.

      

Natsu Dragneel is a fire dragonslayer and is a member of the Fairy Tail guild. His best friend is a magical blue cat named Happy, who despite my drawing, is almost always happy. Natsu was raised by the fire dragon, Igneel, who disappeared when Natsu was little; Natsu has been searching for him since then.
Natsu is very strong and is always bursting with so much energy that his ecstatic moods are almost always contagious. He is also not very bright and I find his stupidity somewhat cute.
He is very reckless and he almost never backs away from a fight. Natsu is mostly seen engaging in unnecessary fights with his fellow team mate and ice-user Gray Fullbuster.
Despite Natsu's tendency to joke, he gets very serious when his guild, Fairy Tail, is threatened and he would stop at nothing to payback those who hurt his guildmates.

Ultimate Battle: Spidey and Itachi

When I saw Itachi standing on that beam on the night that he killed his own clan, I was instantly aware of how he looked so much like Spiderman and since then I've wandered who would win if Itachi and Spidey were to engage in a full-blown battle!!
Spidey is super strong and superfast with quick reflexes. But can his speed defeat the Sharingan? Can his mask protect him from Itachi's Mangyekou-the illision technique?  Even if it could, Itachi could always use Amaterasu.. the black flames that can never be extinguished.
Spiderman's Spidey senses coupled with his fast reflexes may help him dodge Itachi's attacks but can Spidey's strong webs penetrate the formidable Susanoo?
I believe Spidey's most important advantage is that the Sharingan and its associated abilities will have negative effects on Itachi when they are used and that Itachi will be weakened by his own techniques.
Who will win? Spidey senses or The Sharingan? Spiderwebs or fireballs? Parker or Uchiha? Spidey or Itachi? Comment what you think below!!

Come back next week for more art by me, and more debates!

Tuesday, 3 March 2015

Bottom Of The Pit

I hold on to the slippery wall
Clinging to it so I do not fall
The voices around ask me to let go
And I am tempted not to say no

I know it would be easier though
To listen to the voices, my endearing foes
When I fall they will comfort me
Just how bad could possibly it be?
If they took away
All my sadness and pain
And erased today
All my worries and shame
I would never be lonely again

Yet when my journey comes to an abrupt end
And my fall performs its morbid finale
The voices would leave me
Broken and bloody
To fend for my wrecked self
At the bottom of the pit itself.

I look down into the black pit
If I give up now I will certainly die
Yet the darkness coaxes me
And urges me to comply.
Then I behold the light that keeps calling
The pinprick of hope that keeps me from falling.
As long as it stays with me
I will escape this pit
But not before I conquer the voices,
The evils that deny me my exit

Monday, 2 March 2015

Pounding Fufu

As I sat peeling the cassava of my relationship, I thought about all the times my mother and I pounded fufu. I was the pounder and she was the turner which meant that all she had to do was prepare the soup, cut the cassava and plantain and ‘ka” (turn) the inchoate fufu while I was pounding it. I did most of the work; I had to use most of my energy to hold a heavy pestle and strike the mixture (cassava and plantain) with it at approximately thirty-five centimetres per second for about thirty minutes. Sure I took short breaks, but work like that expended a lot of energy and all I asked in return was that my mother trust me not to use the speeding pestle to hit her hand as she was turning the fufu. That was all I asked.

Years have passed and I am about to pound a different kind of fufu but now I am the turner and he is the pounder. I realize that I understimated my mother's job  as I cut the meat and prepare the light soup. I realize the folly in my thinking as I judge the number of ingredients to invest in the meal.

When the cassava and plantain are cooked, he will wash the equipment and then hold the pestle-like a weapon- while he waits for me to make the first move. It will be his turn to contribute and all he asks is that I trust him not to crush my hand as he trusts me to 'ka' well.

My mind went back to my mother again: How did she do it? How could she put her hand on the line like that when she knew I might aim wrongly? How could she not vacillate even as I switched hands in the middle of pounding, just to impress?

Trust. She trusted that I would be accurate even when I was not wearing my glasses. She trusted that I would never intentionally hurt her even when I used my seldom-used left hand. Then again she’d known me all my life- enough time to build a lot of trust- and even if her hand were crushed, the meal would not suffer; my sister could always takeover.

But I had known him for barely six months and I did not have a plan to fall back on if he failed. I also could not back out now because I had invested too much time and energy; I had already prepared the soup and cooked the raw materials. I was in too deep. I also knew that my hand could not afford to be wary, to be afraid of getting hit because if it did, it would not take risks, it would not ‘ka’ the food well, and the fufu would come out lumpy and rough. No one likes lumpy fufu.

I look up at him, and he smiles, urging me to put the first cassava piece in the mortar, to take the first step. I could just trust his accuracy, trust his timing as we pound and mix the cassava and plantain, our love and commitment, produce smooth and soft fufu- free of any lumps- and eat our succulent reward with the light soup and the goat meat the soup contained.

Or he could betray my trust and strike my hand and I would lose everything. But he would walk away whole, with his pestle in hand, leaving me- broken and helpless-to pick up the pieces of the fufu he destroyed. He would walk away whole, with his pestle in hand, laughing at my naiveté, my gullibility and lastly my stupidity.