The Masked Poet

by Albert Enang Eng Usang

  in vernacular or the lingua franca

  A poet interweaves syntaxes

  her poems, an architecture of statements

  her lines, a design of patterns.

  A poet is a diction composer

  his poems are poetry's symphony

  his vocabulary, poetry's orchestra.

  A poet is a word pianist

  his poems, fusion of soulful chords

  her characters, punches of apt notes.

  A poet is the spirit-soul crier

  of the individual, family, or nation

  the timeous motivator, who can also demotivate.

  A poet is a timeless conscience

  aptly grasping the tenor of the times

  the moral check of the spiritus mundi........

  On the other hand, the beauty queen was having the season of her life as she moved from one end of the country to the other, from one hosting to another, and from one celebration of her to another. But somewhere along the line, she discovered a slight unease within her. All the celebrations could not swell her inner satisfaction to the maximal point and the reason isn't far fetched - she misses the Masked Poet. To her, it was most annoying the man she misses so much isn't even her lover, yet he had taken over her to the extent of cutting short her full feel of deep satisfaction. The intermittent calls between them this period, did little to assuage this anger as such are all premised on a friendship and lacked the very emotional sensitivities she craves for. There were no romantic exchanges, just platonic ones; not even the simplest of them like 'I love you sweety or deary or cupcakes'........et all. In fact, there wasn't one moment of a slimly mistake to that effect.

  'This nonsense must stop!' She told herself at every possible interval. 'I must bring it to an end! A beauty queen like me? Without a corresponding loving prince charming when the unassailable prince charming is at close range? I won't let it be again, I must have my joy in full!'

  Then she prayed the schedule of celebrations quickly ends so she can attend to obviously more important matters - the matters of the heart.

  CHAPTER 21

  The staffs at the Emotional House were happy to see the international beauty queen for the first time since her last heroics and they expressed their feelings with the brightest of smiling countenances and sweetest remarks. So also, was the Masked Poet. He arose to give his friend a warm embrace after Ann had ushered her into his office. But Delight, though not refusing his embrace, suddenly went cold, a stark contrast to the high spirits she reciprocated to all else in the Emotional House. He noticed it.

  'I've never seen my friend this cold!' He complained. 'Is there a problem?'

  'Yes MP, I have a problem.' She replied. 'And if you asked me, I think though not larger than life, it is at least as large as it.'

  - Really? Then share it with me then, or what are friends for? I promise I'll stand by you you and do all within my power to help you solve it.

  - Are you sure of your assertions?

  - You should know me enough by now. Tell me; am I a joker or a deceiver?

  - Actually you are none of those.............

  - Exactly what I mean, you should not doubt my sincerity then.

  - Ermm....... I wasn't through actually.

  - Sorry. Please continue.

  - Yes. I was saying you are none of those but ermm.......ermm..........

  - But what now? Say it na, I won't bite you.

  - But you can get very angry and.............stop me from seeing you again.

  - Ha ha ha ha ha........... That won't happen again, you have my word.

  - Okay! That's reassuring. You see, MP, I want you to write me a forlorn poem.

  - What? I wonder what my queen is talking about when she is in the season of her life? My queen, what really is going on? You get me tensed.

  - Particularly, I am requesting for a lovelorn poem.

  - Lovelorn? Ha ha ha ha...............

  - Stop laughing.

  - Now I see what this is all about............

  - I said stop laughing, I am dead serious!

  - I'm sorry. Truly I mean no harm. In comparison to a life threatening issue which I thought it would be, it is kind of funny.

  - Well then, know it now it is a matter of life and death.

  - Calm down beautiful one, it is not as bad as you make it sound. Now tell me exactly what the nature of this lovelorn is.

  - I want you to write me a poem; there is a guy I have fallen for, but who doesn't love me, or so it appears.

  - Wow! My friend has found love at last!!!...... But how unfortunate this lucky guy doesn't know!

  - My exact feeling; a reality which gets me mad!

  - I guess then, you want to find a way to let him know your feelings for him right?

  - Yes, and as well remove all blinding scales so he can see my love for him.

  - Okay. But just a little question.

  - Yes?

  - This guy, is he white or dark, from the Netherlands or Nigeria, fr....

  - MP!!

  - Ha ha ha......... Tell me na! Is he a white guy? Really I've been praying it should be an onyibo* so he can get me internationally connected after you've introduced us to each other......

  - He is black; a Nigerian. I bust your bubble. As it were, I can't love a white man.

  - Aaaaiiiiyyyy........... So disappointed! Anyway, I'll write the poem, but you'll get it tomorrow.

  - Good! Another opportunity to see you tomorrow...........yeah, yeah, yeah. Meanwhile, please honourably take me out.

  - What? You should be the one taking me out! Abeg, spend some international cash on me jare.

  - Ha ha ha ha................ You are actually owing me.

  - How?

  - The reception performance na. Didn't I connect you?

  - Yes, the very reason you should take me out because for such a grand performance, I thought I was underpaid.

  - Then settle that with the government; they organized the reception.

  - You, Miss Delight Same, are now a government pikin!* Please pay up for your father's indebtedness.

  - Ha ha ha ha........... Okay o, I'll take you out then.

  - Yessssss......... The best statement ever!

  That night, she barely slept, thinking what the content of the poem will be. The next day, she couldn't wait. At 10am, she was seated directly across the Masked Poet's table demanding for the poem she booked for the previous day.

  'The way you are rushing eh,' the Masked Poet observed. 'This guy must really be "shaaking" your head!'

  'You see, it is a matter of life and death like I posited yesterday.' She replied. 'So unfortunate you only realized today. Please read the poem;

  I earnestly can't wait!

  *onyibo(pidgin = white man) *pikin(pidgin = child) *shaaking(pidgin from shaak = intoxicate)

  - Read? Take it to him and read it; that's part of the terms and conditions of this service

  - Eeeeh............ Is that? Okay, give it to me.

  He handed it over to her but instead of saying thank you and walking away, she opened it and started reading it. The title read: 'TO AN HEARTLESS IGNORER.'

  Before I was born, I was destined

  destined by the divine order

  destined by my very make up

  destined by my own society

  destined by structured humanity

  I was destined for many things

  ranking most important is:

  to meet a cute prince charming

  my incredible prince charming.

  I am no Cinderella

  left to nature's intrinsic nurture

  rather, I was bred for my prince

  I was trained for my prince

  personally, I refined my excesses

  as I awaited my prince charming.

  I am no royalty

  betrothed to another royalty

  I am no traditionalist

  betrothed at birth to a magnate

  I am a lover, a
natural lover

  who's ne'er seen her prince charming

  yet'll recognize him instinctively, anon!

  at the unblurred sight of him.

  But I waited and waited

  I searched, over and again

  but there wasn't a sight of him

  many handsome princes wooed

  from remote and far yonder

  but none was prince charming

  where is prince charming?

  This fragile heart lamented

  or is my destiny a farce?

  My dreams became a mire

  one of a desperate lovelorn

  one of possible irredeemableness.

  But true to that eternal line:

  "as the story always goes,"

  I met him, rather suddenly

  on a sunny day, or a wet one

  I can't quite remember

  but I met him, and suddenly.

  He was the sun, he was the moon

  he was the ocean, he was the sky

  he was earth, he was heaven

  he was the rainbow across many skies

  he was the iroko tree which can't be felled

  he was the territorial lion king

  he was the terrorist soul bomber

  constantly suicide bombing my heart

  he was the saxist jazzing my emotions

  he was my dreamland of paradise

  he punched my senseless love buttons

  his warmth conquered icy Antarctica

  his serenity, the heat of the Sahara

  he ticked all the right boxes

  and I less than three him.

  I threw my heart at him

  I winked him loving eyes

  I smiled profusely at him

  I turned on enticing gaits

  I showed him max respect

  I addressed him most politely

  I dressed to kill for him

  I gave him my love

  I did not stop there

  I went a step further

  I betrayed gender etiquette:

  I sent him flowers

  I flashed the green lights

  I set up the love hearth

  and all he needed do,

  all he needed to do.......

  was kindly lit the hearth

  so the love fire flames!

  But he would not do it

  my prince charming wouldn't!

  Why, why, oh why?

  Why, prince charming,

  have you defied destiny

  you princely kill joy?

  Why, dear prince charming,

  are you an odd terrorist

  having lovelessness for bombs?

  Why, cute prince charming,

  were you so perfectly created

  but enlivened without a heart?

  Why, prince so charming,

  do you transform to an assassin

  to murder a budding love life?

  But I am a die hard lover

  a determined destiny child

  a firm believer of predestination

  so look I beyond wet blankets

  to pray for my prince charming

  that blinding scales'll fall off

  so your eyes may see love

  so your lost soul be discovered

  and your heart be found again.

  She started crying as soon as she finished reading the poem; I mean, real big time.

  CHAPTER 22

  The Masked Poet was a bit surprise.

  'You have not read it to him yet and you are already crying?' He teased as he laughed.

  'Stop it! Stop it, you heartless ignorer!' She stammered. 'Why are you so blind you can't see the bold writing on the wall?

  - Excuse me?

  For a reply, she took a clean sheet from the heap on his desk as she continued crying, got hold of a pen, and wrote:

  every time his pen clashes with a sheet

  he puts my heart to the sword

  reminding me of that good old word:

  "the pen is mightier than the sword;"

  and his mask is his face's sheath.

  Then she passed it across to him. He received and read it.

  'What does this mean?' He asked.

  'MP,' she replied, 'why have you been ignoring my love advances? What more should I do to show you I love you dearly? Die?'

  He was stunned, and couldn't utter a word for a whiff.

  'Do I look so terrible?' She continued. 'Am I so odious? Am I too financially powerful? Do I contrast your academic abilities? Should I have been light? Am I not your type of girl? Tell me, just what is wrong about me that's making you shun me so detestably?'

  She cried again, all over. The atmosphere was emotionally thick, it was tensed as well. After sitting motionless for a while, watching as she spoke and cried, he finally did something. He got up from his seat, moved over to her, and wrapped his hands round about her stomach area while she remained seated. That calmed her a bit as her sobbing reduced. With his head bent, resting on her left shoulders he told her:

  - There is nothing wrong with you. You are perfect; every man's dream. Please stop crying, I don't like to see you in this state.

  She obliged him, stopped sobbing, and turned slightly for a face to face, eye to eye contact. Then she asked him:

  - Still, I want to know why you don't want to love me?

  He looked intently at her for a while as she also stared at his mask. He told her:

  - I truly want to love you.........but........but.......... I can't.

  - My very concern. I know you love me by your acts and particularly your poems, but you never left the indication gear. I want to know why?

  He unwrapped his arms around her and walked back to his seat.

  'I don't think you can love me.' He told her.

  - MP, you are certainly capable of a better answer. Please hit the nail on the head. Confide in me, am l not your friend?

  - I have been made to believe a woman can't love me.

  - Really! By who? And why am I loving you then?

  - May be because you don't really know me.

  - Hold on. First, that person who made you believe you can't be loved by a woman; is it based on a past relationship?

  - Yes?

  - Was he male or female?

  - Male.

  - Well, for whatever reason he concluded you can't be loved by a woman, I am here to break that myth and God knows I love you crazily. Whatever it is about you, we can work it out because there is no problem in this world that cannot be solved and for love, for you, I'm that ready to go the whole hog. Just give me that chance.

  - But I still insist you don't really know me.

  - Well then, that is the more reason why you should love me so I can know you more! But if you asked me, so far, I can't see a major deviation from the little I have known of you and whatever other reason there is, can't stop me because it can be worked out.

  - Oh my God! I knew this day would come! (His hands on his head).

  - MP, please give me a chance to love you! You are my man, you have all I want. I love you. In my life, you are the missing link; the only one thing I need to be truly satisfied. Please help fulfill my joy.

  - You would say it is ironic right? An emotional soother not knowing how to express the most powerful of emotions abi?

  - I do not judge you. All I want is to love you and you loving me back; and I will do what is expected of lovers - stand by you. MP, why are you doing this? You stress me because I love you?

  - No, no, no. I'm not. That is why I never raised it in the first instance because I never want to subject you to this.

  - Then the best way to assuage me is to do the needful: declare your love. Make it fast, I can't wait.

  - You are also stressing me emotionally.

  - I really wish I can push you to the wire. Once again, I'm waiting

  - Okay. I'll think about it.

  - No! I didn't come here to leave a loser. I'm getting your love, then a bu
rgeoning relationship, and nothing else; or I won't leave.

  - Please be considerate. As you can see, it is a difficult situation for me. Give me sometime to think it through.

  - I can't believe the abnormality going on here. I'm supposed to be the one playing hard ball and you, toasting, but look at what we have on our hands now.

  - It wouldn't be the same if l could love, that is.................

  - You certainly can love and be loved!

  - Whatever, please give me some time.

  - But MP, talk to me: does this have anything to do with the fact you are still a virgin?

  - I don't think so.

  - I just wonder then what could be so frightening?

  - With time you'll know, but now, I need to consider a lot of things.

  - You have only one day to think it through.

  - No naaaa....... I need a month.

  - What! Who's going to stay loveless for a month? That's too long. I can only permit a week.

  - Lets get one thing straight here. I am still undecided as ever. I am not saying I will start loving you in a month. I may still opt not to love and remain emotionally status quo.

  - Then get ready to be guilty of murder! I am serious; it is a definite promise. These days, it is easily carried out. All I have to do is leave a note behind. Your name will be on it.

  - Can you please give me a month to think through things?

  - MP, don't abscond or prevent me from seeing you.

  - I won't.

  - Promise?

  - I promise.

  - But please remember: I love you dearly and the most handsome man in this world cannot distract me from loving you. You are my prince charming.

  - I'll remember that and more...........

  The next three days were hectic for Delight with lots of endorsement deals to wrap up and hosts of honour invites to attend. Every evening, she returned home totally exhausted and the only thing on her mind would be to catch some sleep and recoup some energy for the next day. But before being overcome by the press of sleep, she always remembered to dial the Masked Poet's phone; however, it was consistently switched off. She would allow sometime elapse, hoping to dial it again later on, only to be woken by her phone's alarm the next morning obviously after a heavy round of sleep, and the next thing would be to rush off to another round of a hectic day. On the fourth day, she had sometime on her hands and without second thoughts, allocated it to visiting the Emotional House and spend it with the Masked Poet. But her disappointment was immeasurable when she was informed the Masked Poet hasn't shown up at the Emotional House for the past four days. She was ushered into his office for a confirmation of his unavailability when she doubted the information. Upon inquiring further, she was told he instructed staffs to inform clients he would be unavailable for at least a month. 'What?' She exclaimed. She cancelled all other appointments on her schedule for the day owing to the ensuing disappointment. She had a case on her hands, and from her psyche, she knew she wouldn't be able to concentrate on any other thing. She made straight for home and spent the whole day brooding and sulking. She dialled his phone again, but it remained switched off. Reasoning that although he switches off his phone most of the time, he would find moments to switch it on so as to communicate with certain unavoidable contacts, she opened her whatsapp account and typed a poem to him, believing he would see it whenever he switched on his phone. The poem goes thus: