VALENTINE: MY STORY

‘Happy valentine’ she echoed with a broad and charming smile from a distance, she had expected an equivalent response from me. But she received the shock of the century as my response sent her smiles back to the part of her body they had originated from. Her hands were not spared from the shock waves her brain just learnt, as they were raised up speedily to wave at me but they went down instantaneously; of course not with the same velocity with which it went up, this time a lot slower. Shocked, that is.

‘I don’t celebrate valentine’ ranged on her ears like an old village gong. Her redly painted lips felt the idleness of my response. She had smeared her lips with a quench of red colored pineapple flavored lipstick, the exact look alike of my kindergarten crayon. She had short lips and this made her beautiful. In my much younger age, this type of a lady made me run out of the football pitch. Yes, whenever I sighted them coming towards me, I fled. As chicks do, at the sight of the black feathered predator.

During my secondary school days, a female classmate has said to me in the presence of my peers, “Ezekiel, I saw someone like you close to my house on Saturday, but as I tried to notice the person properly he started running. Were you the one”? She had asked the question smiling, meaning she was almost certain that I was the one.

I was almost embarrassed. I had seen her on Saturday but because I had put on a faded trouser, I ran. Yes, I literally ran as if I was chased by a mob. I had to take a different route to my destination on that sunny afternoon. I didn’t care. All that mattered was that I avoided all forms of embarrassment associated with putting on faded clothes.

I had to look for a way to overcome the ensuing disgrace she was about to unleash on my reputation in the presence of my peers. The following discussion then followed.

‘How can I run from you, are you a lion’?
‘No’
‘Are you a dog’?
‘No’
‘Then why should I run from you’.
‘Sorry, I thought it was you. But just tell me, were you the one?’
‘Are you now a masquerade that people run from?’
‘No’
‘Can you beat me?’
‘No’
‘Am I owing you any money?’
‘No’
‘Then I don’t see any reason why I should run from you’.

My friends actually knew that I could be easily provoked to run at the sight of ladies. But they made sure this girl believed I was not the one who ran away from her and immediately she left the scene they burst into laughter. Well, I am no longer shy. And I don’t run from anybody anymore.

The girl in the first paragraph drew anxiously to know the reason for my principle of not celebrating valentine; of course, after narrating to her, she replied in indifference and left. Just then I thought some persons don’t care about what they do or what goes on around them, they just follow the multitude and play along; sheer Indifference!

The danger in this type of practices, where we rest inexorably on the strength of the multitude, is that sometimes, unbeknown to us, we may just be sitting on a stock of timed explosives; or worse, we may get locked up in our own maximum prison. Consider the mirthless incongruity of having to tear down a prison door to save a prisoner from himself.

I am not against expressing love on February 14. Far be it from that. If it is actually love, then there is actually no cause for this literary boos. But what we see at best is the display of pride, sexuality, and nudeness among our sisters. Kisses and cuddling occurs at every corner of the streets where the trees have decided to offer some shadows against the scorching sun. Ladies become so benevolent with their body parts and carry out scary acts that this writer because of sanity would not dare mention.

Although this writer does not claim to be an emotional virtuoso yet he has failed to see the reasons why some ladies would delight in participating in this yearly routine that constantly feed them with heart breaks and sobs. I cannot help but see the picture of ladies behind bars noodling away in their quiet, lonely world. No, not quite like Kirikiri, Nigeria’s hell-hole misnamed maximum security prison, but a windowless semi-lit enclosure, where a self- imprisoned, languid inmate finds peace and liberty. This is the inescapable image that forms in my mind when I hear of ladies who derive ironical contentment from exchanging romance, kisses and sex with iced creams and stale meat pies. Yet they condemn Brother Esau for exchanging birthright for porridge. My readers may want to compare the financial and economic value of Porridge and meat pies. You will find out that Esau would be a saint when compared to these soulless ladies.

Most bitterly is that some religious body have joined in the disappointing milieu of the rancid indiscriminate undisciplined cry of ‘Valentinic love’. And they organize pharisaical love feast, which I suppose is a subtle means to induce compliance among lust lovers. You may never want to remain a Christian if you dare attend these love feasts organized by these Churches. Religious hypocrites and spiritual apparatchiks!

There are a thousand and one reasons to classify this said date with the day of hatred, anarchy, tears, and immoral imbalances. Innocent girls get heartbreaks, guys do a whole lot to please their girlfriends thereby committing all sorts of moral grievances. They use words, deceitful words, lying words, hypocritical words to deceive these innocent sisters. It baffles me, how they knavishly propagate poetic lines to infest and deceive the hearts of these young, innocent and beautiful girls.

Come to think of it, if love were to be in colors, would it be in red? White would still be preferable. If red is the color of love then what color would be its opposite hate, white? Why would red stand for stop in the traffic light, danger in the road signs and love in social life? It simply does not follow.

For the ladies, I don’t know how you would feel if someone appears in your dream dressed in a red gown and then gives you a wedding ring that is colored red. I believe when you wake up, you would well sharpen your cutlass and give your grandmother a visit. You may want to have her head for dinner.

The day is one of the most controversial dates as classified in history dot com from which I quote “…the confusion over its (Valentine’s day) origin led the catholic church in 1969, to drop St Valentine’s Day from the Roman calendar of official worldwide catholic feasts”. Various episodes of the origin of the celebration abound, some of which are;

A priest in the Roman Empire who persecuted Christians during the reign of Claudius 11, was thrown in jail and later beheaded on February 14. Another episodes has it that, a catholic bishop of Terni who was beheaded during the reign of Claudius 11. The last was, someone who secretly married couples when marriage was forbidden, or suffered in Africa, or wrote letters to his jailer daughter, and was probably beheaded.

The question now is, who among these legends are you celebrating? Assigning a day for love is hypocritical. Live love daily and you would love to live. Visit the fatherless, give to the motherless as frequently as you can. Do not engage in any sort of immoral actions on this day of February 14. Do not be deceived, true love is not once in a year.

Stories used in this piece are hypothetical.
Ezekiel, 400 level Pharmacy, UNIBEN.