i really dont want to post this shit but fuck it.

(this is probably the realest and rawest shit im ever going to write. and it probably wont make no sense. i really had alot of second thoughts about posting this but idc, its my truth fam. everybody has their own demons to face in this lifetime. )

im an alcoholic. been knew, since i was like 17/18. ive never actually seriously admitted it though. it started of as binge drinking but now im like a combo binge drinker/ alcoholic. when i say it i mean it, but ive never said it seriously.

i have a drinking problem. i abuse alcohol and other substances.


my bitter truth.

i joke and normalize it like “ohh my whole family drinks, no big deal” “its the culture”  and that is true. i come from a bloodline that has alot of alcoholics. especially the men, and i was raised by a single father.  im starting to understand that that’s  a big reason why i enjoy going to the village so much during vacation. like yeah i love my family, but i also get to get plastered at 10am off palm wine because thats when the freshest tapping is done. a 5 minute walk from my compound is my cousins bar, which serves as a free all you can drink buffet for my cousins and i. i swear we almost ran that nigga out of business (sorry T). if im lazy, i can always count on my father’s liqour cabinet. as i type this shit im realizing how i’m constantly surrounded by alcohol and i feel sick to my stomach. i never take in the realities of things until i sit down and write about something. i guess thats why ive never wanted to really talk in depth about it but it’s getting out of control.

the thing that kills me is im so fucking smart. like, not to gas myself but im a fucking intelligent ass woman. i know if i apply myself, i can succeed in anything. God blessed me with more than enough talents. but i also know if i continue like this i’m either going to end up dying from alcohol poisoning before i graduate or im drastically cutting down my life expectancy and a destroyed liver and kidneys are gonna take me out at 45.  the scariest part is i dont really care at all??  when im depressed i dont care about shit. like im not looking to die, and im not going to do something harmful that will definetely cause instant death, but if i die..i wouldnt mind. does that make sense?    i have no good reason, except that my brain is messed up and I am honestly tired of having to exist as me every moment of everyday.. im exhausted. im depressed. im numb and cold.

im slowly killing myself on purpose by accident and i dont know how to tell people that ‘hey im not just getting lit for the fun of it, i legit am testing the limits of my body and if i die, oh well.’ i dont even know how to react to me saying that so how the fuck can i tell somebody. “hey i’ve struggled with depression since i was 13 and its getting pretty badddd” especially the kind of person i am, i dont really ever open up to people and i cant say something serious without joking…

ohhhh shit i just had a realization. i would never take my own life. but if i die at the hands of alcohol,  i think in my mind i believe thats a loophole cause i havent put a gun to my head or jumped of a cliff or anything. which, by the way, im way too pussy to fucking do. so dont even worry about that.

my depression and substance abuse are bffs for life. they join hands and spend their time tormenting me. the summer of 2017 it was so bad, i went through alot of personal shit that just was way too much for me to cope with so  i started sipping lean, smoking alot more  weed, drinking a ridiculous amount of alcohol and popping tramadol pills every single day , for two/three months straight in ivory coast. i would literally leave the house at the same time as my father went to work in the morning and come back between 2-4am drunk and high out of my mind. it is actually a miracle that i am a functioning human being today. at one point i was going through between 6-10 pills per lean bottle on a weekday and id have minimum two throughout the day, while drinking and smoking. just me alone. then i would go home in the morning and still pop pills before going to sleep. and if i was with my friends on a weekend? it was a madness.  it got to the point where my dad would literally tell the gateman to put the barriers up so even if i unlocked the door i couldnt get in after 12, but i would just jump from my  neighbours house into ours. or i would come home then sneak back out. smh i actually really put my father through hell.

one of my friends had a mental breakdown from smoking a bad batch of laced weed. another one had a serious kidney issue and was on bed rest for two weeks. two got arrested for possesion of tramadol and weed. another set of drunk friends got into a car accident and one died.  the only reason i wasnt in the car was cause i was too tired to go out that night. all this happened within the same month and yet  i was still there indulging…invincible bad babe living my best life. little did i know, my own pepper was coming and  i was about to go through the absolute worst experience of my life to date.  ive never told anybody except one of my cousins, but i think i need to just write about it and let it go.

when i came back…the withdrawal i went through?? hm, that shit was not funny. i would not wish anything like that on my worst enemy. my memory has gaps, and shit but what i remember is for about a month and a half  i was experiencing the worst of the symptoms of withdrawal and praying for death every single day just so it would stop.  so from mid september to end of october, i felt like shit.  everyday i experienced dizziness and confusion. i would sweat and tremble during the night and sometimes hallucinate. my bedsheets would be soaked with sweat every night. my sleep paralysis got worse. when i could sleep i would have frightening nightmares. i felt like a stranger in my own body, i had no control, my whole body was buzzing and sore and hot. i felt so uncomfortable.. the first 4 or 5 days i was vomiting like a fool the whole time. i could only keep bread down. i really thought i was going to die.  i felt weak like somebody had drained all the electricity from my limbs. i could just barely stand up long to shower before i would start getting dizzy and naseous. i would get a random headache that would legit cause me to s  roll around my bed gripping my head and clenching my jaw with tears streaming down my face. it felt like somebody was cutting down the middle of my brain with a dull knife. my eyes would go out of focus and everything would be spinning. i still get a headache every so often.  i would walk literally from my house to a friends place down the street and feel like i was about to pass out. not to mention im anemic and was not taking my iron pills. til today i still have trouble falling asleep for long periods of time. my memory of 2017 is pfft, pretty much non-existent.

nobody noticed though, because id lost alot of  weight and my genetics blessed me with good skin. i had “glo’d up”. i looked my best at a period in time when i was going through the worst patch of my life so far. looks can be so decieving. the funny thing is at first i thought i had malaria lmao. i was in so much denial that my body was actually craving drugs even though i would spend bare time asking dealers if they knew somebody that knew somebody.

after that month and a half passed, everything started to subside. i would still randomly get night sweats, and headaches and ofcourse cravings. and i was always lowkey sore during that semester but i was always high  or drunk so i rarely felt it until i came down. and i would surround myself with people when i had started gaining enough strength to leave my house. my memory from that period of time is a mess, but one thing i’ll never forget is the way i fucking felt in that bed during those weeks.

even after all of that i can’t lie, as soon as my plane landed in ivory coast in december within two hours i was back on my bullshit. how disgusting is that? luckily, it was not an everyday affair this time as I had to go to Cameroon and didnt have access to tramadol. if not i surely wouldve gone through a bad withdrawal again. i’ve also been blessed to not have run into anyone that sells pills or anything in Canada, for the last year or so. that has really been my only saving grace. because those cravings still hit me Hard. especially when im stressed, or sad, or even happy. any heightened emotion i feel triggers me wanting to get high but lack of availability forces me to get alcohol.

i dont think people understand how deep this addiction thing can be. i legit thought “oh it could never happen to me, im strong enough to not get addicted, its only three months.” see, all of that is bullshit. if you give drugs and alcohol enough time, your ass is getting addicted. especially if you’re depressed, and not in the right headspace.  i dont care if you can use your mind to throw cars around, its still going to get to you. and its so much easier when you’re young, cause you’re supposed to be “experimenting” and “finding yourself”. yeah yeah yeah, the only thing i found was trouble. the way i was pumping my system with drugs and alcohol on a daily. and i had already been abusing liqour before i even went to ivory coast so like..the shit just spiraled out of control. its actually terrifying looking back, cause as i was sitting in the bed shaking uncontrollably i still did not want to admit that i had a problem. its only like maybe two months ago when i had a really bad craving for tramadol after something happened and i was sad and stressed that i realized,  yo…i fucked myself over in those short three months and the feeling doesnt just go away.. its crazy cause i dont even crave lean at allllll.

nahhh withdrawal was actually so bad. im actually crying thinking about it because i was legit calling out to God begging for  forgiveness, can he relieve me of this or atleast let me just die. I would curse him out when i wouldn’t feel instant relief because why would he let his daughter go through this. one time it was so bad i was begging so hard i hallucinated a hand wiping my brow and passed out.

i was always  so angry. my goodness. i was pissed at everybodyyyyy. i was angry at God for making me have to go through withdrawal, like he was the one shoving pills and codeine down my mouth. i was angry at stupid Canadian drug dealers and their overpriced pills and lean. i was angry at myself mostly for being so dumb…not because i took pills in the first place, but because i only brought enough to take on the plane lmfaooo. joker. i actually didn’t go to a single class for  whole month and two or so weeks. sometimes i would really try, and feel myself getting weak less than half way from my house to campus. the only times i felt okay was when i was drunk or smoking weed.  my academics really took a blow. which made me want to drink more. vicious cycle.

do you know what its like to realize that you’re an alcoholic and a pill popper at the age of 21 and have to keep it inside cause it feels like nobody is going to understand. like i wasnt on some “oh let me take ecstasy at this rave” type of pill popping. i was “im gonna sit in my friends garage every single day, watch cartoons and get shitfaced until nighttime then im going to bar/club/restaurant and getting more fucked up.” i was going through alot of shit and  i felt like everybody around me was just going to judge. and like i didnt want to deal with all that pitying and shit. i still dont to be honest. ive already taken responsibility for my actions, i admit wholeheartedly that i have a problem…but i dont want you to talk to me about it …

and now im drinking heavy again because i dont want to live with the reality of myself and face life or the fact that as a result of my past actions im probably going to be dealing with this for the rest of my life, because than i have to start digging and figuring out the deep-rooted issues and to be honest id rather be an alcoholic than address certain things. everyday im realizing, this is not something i can wake up and decide to just “get over”, and i think that is really beginning to sink in and its driving me to want to drink more .on the other hand, whats the point of being a self-proclaimed “intelligent woman” if im going to realize theres a problem and not do anything?? like im really gonna sit here and let alcohol get the best of me and ruin my future?  over my dead body.

this isnt really a cry for help, or is it?    i dont know what this is to be honest. all i know is i can feel myself going down a very self-destructive path and im very apathetic about it, infact…its kind of intoxicating (ha ha *slaps knee*) not giving a fuck. its so much easier than the work i know id have to put in to get better. like alcohol helps me curb tramadol cravings, but theyre still there. and if i decide to stop drinking im dealing with both alcohol and pill cravings, every single day. thats tough and the thought of it gives me anxiety.

i think the part of me thats writing this, is the small part of me that wants to fight for myself. i think i needed to write this, because i needed to speak my truth and also wanted those around me to know the truth without me having to say it out loud face to face.  silence hasnt done me any good and  this has been weighing heavy on me and theres no way i can get help if i dont air out my dirty laundry. and maybe itll help someone be more transparent with themselves and others…..assuming that anyone actually reads this shit lmao.

anyways this summer in august, my aunt who is pretty much my surrogate mother caught on to the fact that i was abusing alcohol. seeing somebody cry for you, because they want you to stop hurting yourself is heartbreaking. and realizing that even the pleading from them has no effect.. is even worse. i felt like shit because i knew my aunt does not want me to be drinking or smoking, but i refused to stop. thanksgiving, she pleaded again. no effect.

until now.

i need help. and by the time your done reading this i’ve already called someone to ask for help. a therapist, a group AA meeting, rehab, i need something because i cant do this alone. ive tried, and failed enough times to come to my senses that my problem is deeper than what a “oh put the bottle down” can fix. also it feels wrong that im trying to better my relationship with God while giving into works of the flesh.

fuck, im so scared. but if i dont do this, im going to end up dead or broke. that is one thing alcoholism guarantees. ive seen enough people get sick/ die as a result to know.


ps. lol my stupid ass wanted to name this “hard pill to swallow” lmfaoo get it????


pss. im just remembering all the shit i went through in 2017, and i actually chested so many things on my own.  i was dealing with so much in silence, while putting on a brave face. im a fucking warrior mehhn. like if people only knew the half of it.


Unorganized thoughts, please bear with me as I try to make sense. I need to share.

I’ve questioned God, insulted God, mocked His followers, doubted Him, hid from Him, begged Him, ignored Him, denied His existence, only to always end up coming back around to asking for his mercy and grace. God has been speaking to me my whole life. Don’t ask me how I know it’s God, I just do. But living in Canada, I can honestly say my relationship with God has been…a joke. Lol, to be frank there really was no relationship until recently. God’s voice has been getting louder and louder in my ear, especially since I went back home to Cameroon last December. I keep trying to ignore it by overindulging in worldly deeds but I can’t ignore signs anymore. There has to be a reason why I keep stumbling back to this point. How many times will I tell God I’m ready to commit?  I’m hoping the third time is the charm. Infact, I know it will.

I’ve been feeling so lost lately. School, social, personal, family, everything. I feel like a secondary character in my own life, like who is really in control here? I’ve just been tired and self-medicating for about a year, maybe two, maybe four. On Monday I woke up feeling absolutely defeated, I dont know what touched me but I just starting talking out loud to God. It wasn’t a full-on conversation I just asked one thing “Please touch my heart in a way that will stick this time, sharpen me so I can be used as your tool.” Left it at that and went about my day, completely forgot I said this, but guess who didn’t?

So I’m minding my business on facebook and I see a post made by my cousin advising people to read Luke 11 v. 1-28. Normally when I see things like this..mehn if you don’t put this verse I’m not going “out of my way” to look for it. Then I remembered what I  asked of God this morning and I just felt like I should check it out. If you don’t know, Luke 11 starts out with Jesus teaching his disciples how to pray. Like guys, is this not God talking to me?? I felt like he was telling me “that little thing you did today is a start but heres the step by step guided instructions.” Basically God told me to step my praying game up. But the part that really touched me, when I really knew that yeah this is God pointing me in a certain direction was when I read:

24 “When an impure spirit comes out of a person, it goes through arid places seeking rest and does not find it. Then it says, ‘I will return to the house I left.’25 When it arrives, it finds the house swept clean and put in order. 26 Then it goes and takes seven other spirits more wicked than itself, and they go in and live there. And the final condition of that person is worse than the first.

27 As Jesus was saying these things, a woman in the crowd called out, “Blessed is the mother who gave you birth and nursed you.”

28 He replied, “Blessed rather are those who hear the word of God and obey it.”


I took this to mean that when you’ve succumbed to the tools of the devil and you finally give your life to God, something will always come back to test you. In fact the devil will fashion a stronger version of that tool to tempt you, and if you allow it to win your condition worsens. The devil loves to make a home out of weak minded Christians to prove his power. I truly feel like this is where I go wrong when it comes to my faith. As soon as I feel like I’m being tested I give up on God. I don’t even realize I’m doing it, it’s as simple as “oh i feel like trash, let me get drunk”, just like that the overindulgence in alcohol has pleased the devil. I’m trying to work on that.

Literally not even 5 minutes after I’m done reading and letting the passage sink in, I go on Youtube, not looking for anything in particular but I see a thumbnail of a Youtuber i enjoy watching. Then I read the title “Testimony: God Saved Me and My Degree”.

At this point I’m just like what is going on today?? I sit through Nehi’s 30 minute testimony and it’s like he made the video specifically for me. Everything he’s saying is resonating, I cant explain but it felt like drinking fresh water. Search it if you’re interested. Usually I listen to people’s testimonies and I’m just like…thats cool I guess, good for you. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for them, but it does nothing for me.

Mind you, this video came out three weeks ago. And I’m just thinking “thats impossible cause I definitely checked to see If he’d uploaded in the last two weeks and never saw this video”. I probably wasn’t even paying attention to keep it 100. But deep it, it was brought to my attention on the same day I ask God to sharpen me, and asked for His guidance.

So at the end of that video he gives like tips and advice for beginning your journey and strengthening your relationship with God. At this point I’m all in, researching the links he provided and expanding from there. I decide that If i’m going to be serious this time, let me do it like exercise you know? Slowly slowly, and build up from there. So best way its daily devotionals. I’ve researched all the devotional apps cause I want it on my phone, decided on one. Cool. I also choose a bible reading program and a daily prayer option. Something tells  me to check the daily prayer of today (October 3rd) even though at this point its only like 1am.

Guess what the topic was. A prayer for Losing Yourself.

Guys. Unreal! It would be too lazy for me to believe that this is all coincidence.

The was a journal topic right, and I’m like “oh I don’t have a spare notebook” but guess what, I have a wordpress. and what is my wordpress called? “actualizingangie”. Please Google the meaning/synonyms of “actualizing” if you don’t know. My God does not play, he’s been setting this moment up for a good two years. Are you shook cause I am.

So yeah. This is not a testimony or anything, just an introduction to my spiritual journey. And please understand that I’m not perfect. I’m still Angela. I got drunk literally on Monday so please if I slip up don’t be bringing up God cause trust me I probably already feel bad. I’m not a saint, I might make several mistakes but I will never turn my back on God again in the way I used to. The Holy Spirit got me.


Chapter 1


“See this lazy child. When I was your age I wouldn’t dare be in bed while the sun was shining.”

Rosemary groaned. “Is this how somebody greets people in the morning?” she thought to herself as she dug herself deeper into her comforters. The dull thuds of her mothers slaps landed on her thighs and backs haphazardly as she tried to focus on sleep.

“Do you know *slap* your mates *slap* have already *slap* fetched water *slap* from the well *slap*?”

The only well Rosemary had seen was the one in the middle of her father’s compound in the village, and even then her family members never let her fetch water. It was her mothers favourite way of letting her know she had overslept, even though the sun had barely woken up itself.

She imagined her best friends, Mankah and Lumsi, carrying buckets on their heads. Lumsi trekking in her designer heels and Mankah with her numerous complaints.

The three had met in elementary school at a meeting for Cameroonians living in Abidjan and had been inseperable ever since. That is, before Rosemary left.

The image made her giggle. Unfortunately, Rosemary made the mistake of letting the laughter escape from her lips. Angered by this, her mothers slaps grew in intensity.

“Oh, so you think what I am saying is a joke. Are we now age mates that you can laugh with me?” Rosemary and her mother, Sita, were in a tug of war with the covers. Rosemary clinging on using her legs to wrap around the covers  as her mother used all her force to drag the comforter back.

“Ok Mummy, sorry, sorry. I’m up. I’m up. Sorry.” She pleaded as she scrambled off the bed. Her mother, realizing that dragging was of no use switched tactics and was now attempting to slap the bare parts of Rosemarys skin not covered by the blanket. The two faced each other on opposite sides of the bed; panting heavily from their wrestling match.

“Look look look, just look at this,” Sita, Rosemary’s mother, gestured towards the three open suitcases on the floor. An ocean of clothes spilled out from the sides and onto the floor.

“You’ve been here for two good days and you still have not unpacked your things. If I come back to this room and these things are not arranged properly…” Sita’s eyes turned into slits in her face, focusing on Rosemary for two seconds before she kissed her teeth and left the room. It was the look Rosemary had feared the most since childhood. The one that said “I will deal with you.”

.She waited for Sita to leave her room before she went back into her bed to check her phone.

No new messages.

“What did I expect” she asked herself.  All her friends in Canada were asleep and she wasn’t as close to her friends here as she used to be. She scrolled through her contacts trying to determine who she was close enough with to message out of the blue. It wasn’t until she had scrolled through the list three times that she worked up the nerve to message Lumsi.


Lumsi jumped up. The banging of pots and crashing plates had startled her from sleep. She got up from bed, tied her wrappa and made her way toward the kitchen.

“Lumsicoco, sorry did I wake you?”

Lumsi said nothing. She stared at her father’s bloodshot eyes and tried to ignore the sour smell of alcohol intruding her nostrils. White spit formed at the corners of his mouth, and bubbled when he spoke.

Her father’s early morning drunken fumbles had become her daily alarm clock. It was one of the only two things she could count on her dad for. She set the kettle, and brought out two mugs from the counters.

“I don’t want too much sugar in my tea.”

“I know.”

She had been making her father’s tea for ten years. It was once  a ritual they shared in the morning. Exhanging ideas and opinions, gossiping and just sitting in silence enjoying each other’s company. The ritual remained but their relationship had slowly changed for the worst over the last two years after her mothers death. She sat at the table as her father silently stared her down, barely blinking. She knew if she looked at him  for too long he would mistake it as an invitation for conversation. She kept her eyes busy by shifting between  him, the clock  and  the kettle until the discomfort was too much and she got up to get her phone in her room.

“Any plans today? I ran into Aunty Sita yesterday and she told me Rosemary is back in town.”

“I know.”

“Have you talked to her?”


“That’s strange, I thought she was your best friend. Did you two fight?”


She could tell from his arched eyebrows that he wanted to ask more, but he knew there was no point. She hadn’t confided in her father in  years. She missed the friendship she had with him but that was a long time ago. The only constant was the nicknames he refused to stop calling her.

Lumsi scrolled mindlessly through her phone. It was too early for anything interesting to happen on her social media feeds. She bounced from app to app until her phone vibrated notifying her she got a text.

“guy i just got back to abidjan. lets chill its been a minute- rosemary”


Lumsi locked her phone and redirected her focus towards making tea. She hadn’t spoken to Rosemary in months. They had tried to keep in contact when Rosemary went of to Canada for boarding school in January, but life got in the way and the communication slowly stopped.

In truth, Lumsi had slowly been trying to distance herself from Rosemary  ever since they had learnt she would be leaving. The move had happened so abruptly and Lumsi couldn’t help but be jealous.  They had only talked through Instagram comments when one of the two posted a picture and now they barely liked one another pictures. Lumsi had grown tired of  all the pictures showcasing Rosemary’s lavish life in Canada. Friends, concerts, cars, boys; Rosemary had it all, meanwhile Lumsi was stuck in Ivory Coast.

“Coco, the kettle is ready.”

She shook her self back into reality and making tea for her and her father. They drank in silence. She watched him sip slowly and sigh with his whole body. She could tell he was aching from the alcohol. His shrunken frame swam in his disheveled, oversized suit. He always looked so fragile when he was hungover.

She reluctanlty picked up her phone, reading the message over and over. She went up the chat and read their old messages. Fights, laughs, advice; just 7 months ago they had been inseparable yet Lumsi felt as though it had been an old memory from a past life.

She finished her cup of tea. Cleared the table and washed the plates. Then sent her reply: “yeah its been a while. lets meet up at mankahs then go to get niems?”.


Mankah checked the time on her alarm clock.


She tried to ignore the buzzing of her phone but the persistent caller only called again when the phone dropped.

“Ooooo C’est qui ca? Ofcourse it’s Lumsi, of fucking course. Just when the sleep was getting sweet.”

She rolled her eyes and let out an irritated sigh before answering the FaceTime call.

“Lumsi, I hope you’re dying that you’re FaceTiming me at this hour.”

“Goodmorning to you too.” Lumsi replied in a sarcastically sweet tone.
“What has the morning done that your saying it’s good?  Only ungodly news can have you calling me at this ungodly hour.”

“Sis, it’s 11am.”
“Your point?”

Manakah sat up and put on her glasses.

“Jesus, this scarf is giving me a headache.”

She unwrapped her headscarf revealing cleanly parted bantu knots underneath.

Lumsi snorted. “Looking like one Calabar witch.”

“Wow. At 11am? You no dey fear God? Abeg did you called me to insult me ou bien? I will just hang up and go back to sleep. No be by force.” She clicked her tongue to emphasized her annoyance and followed it with a grin. Both girls burst into laughter.

“Mankah please I’m too tired to laugh right now.”

Mankah was fluent in Camtalk. The mixture of pidgin, French and English that was second nature to almost all Cameroonians. Despite her parents efforts, she spoke like this in all social situations. This was unlike most people who reverted back to speaking English or French and softening their accents to be more palatable to western ears.

“You know I love you. Anyways, guess who messaged me this morning?”
“Muhammed?” Mankah responded deviously. She enjoyed teasing her friends about the boy who had been pursuing her since the beginning of the school year.

“Abeg abeg abeg, be serious. I don’t like that guy.”

“Sis if I were you I would try to like him ooo. Chai Lumsi, correct millionaire dey follow you and you’re doing nyanga? Wehh Papa God oo, forgive her for she knows not what she does. You dey here dey form ‘money isn’t everything’. Infact, when hunger comes na love go satisfy your beleh.” Before Mankah could continue, Lumsi cut her off.

“He is not the first to have money and he won’t be the last. Anyways auntie, your friend Rosemary texted me to meet so I told her we would come to your place then go for neims at rue de Jardins.”

They had been on the phone for 30 minutes and Lumsi was just getting to the point of why she called. This was typical for a conversation with Mankah.

“Because my house is general market or town center to be doing rendez vous at.”

Lumsi smiled, Mankah was a character and she had gotten used to her dramatic ways. Mankah had a sharp tongue and was always prepared to give her opinion, warranted or not.

“You’re the only one that lives without parents. Oh and si tu m’aime, you will make me puff puff. Bisous.”

“Your head like puff puff.” Mankah retorted as she hung up. She rolled out of bed and went to the kitchen to make puff puff mix.


“Papa, je sort. I’m going to Mankah’s house, I’ll be back soon.”

“Wait, do you have your key and enough money I may be home late today. ”

Maybe and will be had become synonymous for her father. She wondered why her dad forced the pretend act like she hadn’t been cleaning up after him on the days he did decide to sleep at home. Lumsi stared at the 15,000 francs in her wallet. More than enough to cover for her and all her friends.

“I have my keys, but my funds are low.”

“Here.” He patted his pant pockets searching and pulled out an old thick wallet with a clasp that struggled to stay shut. It had been a gift from his wife and he refused to buy a new one even though it was peeling and faded.

He handed her 2 crisp 10,000 notes. Before thinking it over and handing her another one for good measure.

“Thanks.” Lumsi smiled to herself as she stuffed the bills into her wallet. Money was the glue to their relationship nowadays. Lumsi’s cup was never full when it came to taking her father’s money and his pockets were never empty; that she could always count on. They weren’t as rich as her friends but Lumsi’s closets were packed with only the latest and most expensive clothes. “Consultation gifts for being a shitty father” she thought to herself.

She locked the apartment door, and made her way downstairs to hail a taxi.

” I wish we had a driver.” She muttered to herself as her avoided the same muddy puddles she avoided every time made the 10 minute walk to the main road.


“Auntie we don arrive.” Paul, the driver,  said softly as he shook her shoulder to wake her from sleep.  A slim built man with a handle bar moustache and red veined eyes that popped out of his eyeball sockets and made him look constantly surprised.

Rosemary opened her eyes and looked at her surroundings. The car was now parked infront of a large green gate in a residential area.

“Paul, i have told you to stop calling me Auntie.” She said without looking over her shoulder.

Paul rubbed his head and gave a goofy grin displaying a window of stained teeth and oversized dark gums.

“Sorry ma.”

Rosemary let out of a puff of air as she smiled in defeat. She had been trying to convince him to call her Rosemary since she arrived with no luck. It made her uncomfortable everytime. She shook her head and unplugged her iPhone  from the cars charger port. Purposely gathering her  her things one by one to give her time to calm her nerves. She was excited to see her friends but scared everything would be different and awkward and uncomfortable.

Paul honked the car to signal the gateman to open.

“Na who?” A dark figure emerged from a smaller door by the gate. Sweat beads rolled down his face. Light danced on his forehead causing white beaming streaks. His tank top revealed his toned arms and Rosemary could tell he was in good shape. He walked closer  squinting his eyes as he tried to make out the passengers of the car. In a flash, he began to run toward the with a wide smile. It was Ngwa, Manakah’s older brother but he looked different…. She could feel her cheeks warming but stopped herself, “friend’s brothers are off-limits” she reminded herself.

“WOW! Rosemary is that you? You’re a big woman now. How is Canada?” he greeted her with a hug so strong it knocked the air out of her.

“Hi Ngwa, Canada is fine. Very cold.” It was the same reply she had been giving for the last few days. Everything was fine; Canada, school, studies. That was the expected answer, so it was the answer she gave, but in truth she was relieved to be back.

“That’s good. Come in Mankah is making puff puff.” She said goodbye to her driver and followed him back into the compund. He opened the gate and let her go through.

“Ladies first”.

The door led to a small pathway way that opened up into a roundabout garden. On the left was a whole wall of fruit trees and a kennel and enough space to build another house. The right served as a parking space and lead to the swimming pool at the back.

“Wow, I forgot how massive this place is.” She turned back and caught Ngwa eyeing her body. He quickly made eye contact attempting to brush it off and smirked. She smiled back, signaling that he’d been caught but she didn’t mind.

“Not much bigger than yours. Although it does feel huge now that mom and dad are in Yaounde. This way to the kitchen.”

“Everything looks the same.”

“It hasn’t been that long. Only 9 months or so.”

“Feels like a lifeftime.”

“I know what you mean. The kitchen is right there, Lumsi and Mankah are already in there.

“Thanks.” She pushed the door and the aroma of fried dough hit her.

“ROSEMARY! Hm, everybody come and see a Canadian babe.” Mankah leaped at her and gave her a hug. She grabbed Rosemary’s hand and began to twirl her.

“So you have shape now? Which man has pounded your yam because when you left here you were looking like stockfish. Now u don grow bobee, na wow oo” Mankah winked at Rosemary as she playfully pinched her breast.

“Ohhhh, laisse mes seins. Mankah leave me alone.” Rosemary joked as she softly pushed Mankah away and crossed her arms over her chest. She noticed the added weight in Mankah’s cheeks and how her clothes hugged her tighter than before,especially her pants. Her natural hair created a halo effect, framing her oval face.

“Mankah you no well.” Lumsi got up from the seat where she had been watching everything and walked over to Rosemary. Lumsi looked exactly the same as if no time had passed. Her hair was braided in her signature faux locs, her face was beat, and she was dressed for a magazine shoot.  Lumsi had a slim, stern face with an everpresent vein running down her forehead. Her gapped smile brought comfort to Rosemary. When they were in school together, Lumsi would often slither her tongue betwenn her teeth behind her teachers back to get Rosemary to smile.

“Ignore her madness. It’s good to have you back. Come sit. Tell us everything. How was abroad?” She gave Rosemary a quick hug before pulling her over to the kitchen island to sit.

“Yes ooo, how was Canada? I hope you have kept my own husband for me there because I don tire for these Ivorian men and their own palava.” Mankah interjected as she squeezed dough into the hot oil with her hand to create balls of puff puff. “You just went to Canada to enjoy life and left us here for sun to beat our backs. Infact what did you bring for me?”

“Ha! Which enjoyment? A place where I  can be eating bread for 5 days when I don’t have money.” Rosemary could fake her love for Canada for the adults in her life, but when it came to her friends she felt no need to lie.

She reached into her bag to pull out the things she had gotten. A few tops, some jeans, jewellery, makeup and two pairs of shoes.

“This is for you, and Lumsi this is your own.” She handed each of them their gifts and sat back to watch their reactions.

“Chanel? Fenty? Levels don change.” Mankah started strutting around the kitchen with he things draped on her. “Everbody must hear word. My own Chanel is imported from Canada. All you Agigas donnies, every Neke and Bumburry nigga, I rebuke you. Big girl like me rocking Chanel and you want to chat. You no fear?”

“See somebody. CEO’s daughter, my foot!” Lumsi snarked as she waved her hand up and down in Mankahs direction.

All three of them burst out laughing.


Lumsi quickly glanced through her own gifts before thanking Rosemary. Next time it will be me buying the gifts, she told herself.

“Mankah is the puff puff ready?”They turned towards the door were Ngwa stood.

“See, nobody should disturb me right now. Ngwa, let me just tell you, this puff puff is not in your destiny.”

“Thats fine, I’ll share with Rosemary since she didn’t buy me a gift.” He feigned a pout then flashed his dimpled smile at Rosemary.

Lumsi caught herself staring. If you had told her 5 years ago she would have a huge crush on Ngwa she would have laughed in your face and told you to seek help. But puberty had been good to him and she, like many other girls had noticed. The two had become really close over the year, with everything that she had been going through and she had caught feelings.

Ngwa walked over and sat next to Rosemary. Everything he did was smooth and intimidating. The cigarette behind his ear dropped and Lumsi quickly picked it up and set it in front of him.

‘Thanks” he said, not taking his eyes of Rosemary.

Feeling ignored Lumsi made her way over to Mankah at the stove, still watching Rosemary and Ngwa interact.

Jealousy bit her stomach. She always felt second when Rosemary was around. The worst part was Rosemary didn’t even mean to do it, she was just everybody’s first choice.


“So it’s only Mankah that you know?” His eyebrows were raised as he made a mocked inquisitive look.

“Ngwa, its not like that now. You sef.”

“You sef.” he mimicked her slightly Americanized accent. “Don’t worry yo, you’ll make it up to me.”

“How?” It was an innocent but loaded question. Their eyes locked into one another’s. They both knew it was only a matter of time.

“I’ll think of something.” He winked and squeezed her thigh before getting up,  lighting his cigarette and walking out.

“Hey! It’s not because mum and dad aren’t here that you should turn this place into your personal traphouse.” Mankah flung her slipper at him, driving him out.

“Bye Rose.”

“Bye Ngwa” Lumsi replied.

Ngwa looked at her, and nodded in her direction before repeating “Bye Rose” and walking out.

Rosemary tried to stop herself from blushing before turning back to her friends. She caught Lumsi eyeing her and quickly changed the topic. She wasn’t ready for the two of them to already have tension in their relationship. Rosemary hoped it would be different now.

“But guys how have you been, gist me.”

“Well sis, our dear friend Lumsi has a boyfriend named Muhammed.”

Lumsi slapped Mankah’s arms. “Say that thing again.”

Mankah threw her head back in laughter as she scratched the spot Lumsi hit.

“Sorry, i mean she has an admirer slash soon to be boyfriend named Muhammed.” Mankah picked a flower from a vase and presented it to Lumsi. ” ‘ello. I sink u arr very bootiful” she said in a thick Ivorian accent. “can i ‘ave ur numero?”

Lumsi swatted Mankah away with the flower, almost knocking her into the pot of hot oil.

“Small joke, and you want to disfigure me? Sorry madam.”

“Good for you.”

Rosemary watched their interactions feeling slightly left out. This was the first she had hear of any Muhammed.

“He’s not my boyfriend. I would tell you about Mankah but I don’t even know how many men this one has in her roster at the moment.”

“Boyfriend, ke? Please these ones are just time passers.”

“I see you haven’t changed.” said Rosemary. Rosemary had always envied Mankah’s spirit. She truly did not care about people’s opinions and had no regard for normal behaviour in social settings. She said and did what she wanted without hesitation. Unlike Rosemary who went through scenario A-Z before attempting something. Mankah had been the first to lose her virginity, and like Eve brought the apple to Adam, Mankah opened Lumsi and Rosemary’s eyes to the world of men and all things taboo.



*draft over..tbc..im tired as f and idk where this story is going tee bee (h)aych*


  • it really scares me how bad i can be at personal relationships and how  fast i can become emotionally unattached to someone. i mostly develop relationships where ppl confide in me but i share only the bare minimum. in the end im the one losing out and its my own fault and that succs but ohhhh well. whatcha gonna do?
  •  half of me is certain of my future success. the other half is sure that im destned to be a failure. i get really bad anxiety when i try to plan my future. im only twenty but the way this time thing has been in a rush these last few years smh theres none to waste. i feel like school-work-die formula was created by masochists and tbh im  not about that life.  i just need to figure out a way to make money in a way that suits the enjoyment lifestyle i see for myself.. nbd.
  • i should really clean my room and take my iron pills more consistently. thank God for other methods of birth control cause me on the pill would be a joke. not that i even need birth control seeing as God has decided to remove the distractions that are men from my life… even though i didnt ask for all that, but she knows best right? although, it could also be a result of being ugly.
    its cause im weird af and not nice to the men that approach me.
  • do i even want the headache of a situa/relationship? men are tiresome. also i read that the sex life of women is best in their 40s soooo why not just wait.
  • ANYWAYSSSSSSS, apparently im severely anemic which is super cool cause i have a shitty diet and that means ill probably get headaches from being iron deficient for the rest of my life if i dont start eating spinach. joy!!!!
  • next year has to be different or ill actually go mad.
  • fuckkkkkkkk  i just need to get my life together man. im tired of stressing. im tired of wondering how/if things work out. i just want to be allowed to live without all this weight on my shoulders. and having ur parents who think the world still operated like in 1992 add to the stress is….. beyond frustrating. it would be nice if things just resolved themselves now so i could skip these little mental breakdowns and move right into the lounged and drinking cocktails stage but life is a bastard.
  • so many things  and issues and im just really tired and over this whole moving towards an adult life thing that currently happening. life is a blessing but these terms and conditions are looking seriously shitty and i feel like ive been conned.
  • ok im done


Life right now feels like a movie on mute. Im seeing it happen, but i have no idea what the fuck is going on. I’m really not feeling this whole university scam. It drains the joy out of me, all i feel like doing is laying in bed and sleeping. I have no motivation to pursue the things i’m actually passionate about and it’s killing me. To be honest, it’s not even school though, my ass just be getting bouts of depression out of nowhere. sometimes its a week,  sometimes months. i could be in the middle of summer having the time of my life then all of a sudden everything feels black and white. I always know when it’s about to hit me when I feel heavy in my heart for no reason. I start of sad  then the emotions switch off and i’m just flat. It’s like a numb pain; the physical equivalent of the  buzzing of a speaker connected to a phone that’s not playing anything. food has no taste. music sparks nothing in me. I hate it. I always  end up doing reckless, drunk (sometimes hoe ) shit just to feel something. then i regret it. but shit happens and i have too many mistakes waiting to be made to  dwell on my past. my life changed when i learnt no strings sex can be used as a tool for self harm. but thats another story. Sometimes I fear I may be destroying my future but at the same time I just…don’t care? I don’t want to deal with anything right now. i mean i always manage to get good grades but….university -work -death path is not my portion. And it’s not like i can go up to someone and be like “hey i really hate life at the moment, cheers x” lmao. i just feel stuck, like my life is way off track. and instead of starting to build the foundation for my success im just dicking around. i feel like..im not living my truth or at my fullest potential. i dont want to be seen as someone who only likes to turn up and get drunk.  perception really is everything. my snaps can be lit af on friday and saturday but the reality is im boring as fuck lol. i just sit in my room all day scrolling down my laptop trying to kill time and ignoring my responsibilities. im trying to make a change though. i dont smoke anymore and i think i’ve done all the partying i can do until summer. im just going to isolate myself, ghost for a bit while i work on me. then come back with my head on staight. im tryna get my mental, physical and emotional right cause right now everything is a hectic mess. im recreating/reinventing my self for the better and will not be concerned with how others see me. yall dont know me anymore; that angie is dead.(( lmaooo please forgive me if i sound like drake. more lifes been on repeat.))


everyday i ask myself why im up like this hasnt been my life for the past 3 years smh. then my brains starts with the weird shit…

  • half of me really wants nourishing close knit friendship(s) where someone knows me 100% without me being emotionally closed off, and the other half is terrified at the thought of someone knowing me like that. ughh what kind of moist shit lmao.no but fr i need to start taking this friendship thing more seriously before all i have are dogs. anyways whats meant for me will be mine cant be out here forcing relationships for the sake of companionship. inviting all kinds of energy into my space, im good.
  • could i pull of  blonde hair and do i have the balls to do it? i def feel like i have the personality for it but…i dont want to have fuckery on my head. if not blonde then blue, green or burnt orange/red.
  • MEN ARE TRASHHHH!!!!! its not a late night reflection session if i dont touch on how men are actual gutter trolls. which somehow ends up with me fiending to rub back and stroke beard. which spirals into where is the love of my life? im tired of waiting. infact do i really want a bae? just unnecessary headache. but at the same time men are sooo finnnnnnnnnneeeeee. have u heard a man with a deep voice talk before?????  ughhh i hate them. men legit are like beautiful marble sculptures in a public bathroom. what is the point????  but i appreciate you guys still. ( please allow me, life is not easy.)
  • nasty niggas really are the butter to my bread. like wooooow u really tryna suck my toes?? i stir up those emotions in u?? ur disgustingggggggg but i fucks with ur vision, lets collab nd create a movement lmaoo. no but real shit men who cant fuck shouldnt be allowed to run game. ur out here wasting everybodys time.  and nasty is not sucking fingers abeg that one is played tf outtt. we are on to bigger and better. we suck elbows on this side.  ohmygod i need to sleep.
  • swear down i am tired of reading about jollof wars. ur mom cant cook. no vex.
  • can God just bless me with two  friends that can go on adventures?? im tryna reach Wonderland and go go-karting and to the arcade and all that shit before i die.
  •  im really trying to forgive the people who took my mother from me but at the same time you fuckers can really get ur skin and toenails peeled off :). theyre very welcome to sit on a flaming sword. if hot oil should find its way into ur eyeballs that would be a wow. i wonder what theyre up to. do they have children? do they even remember gunning my mom down? do they give a fuck?
  • why am i so pressed to be something in life. if the Earth decided to just start fling itself out of orbit and starts moving mad throughout the universe i cant do shit. wont i piss myself and die like everyone else? at the same time…i need to, my skin will itch for the rest of my life if i dont surpass my potential.
  • how sure am i that im going to heaven?
  • i want to ghost so bad. i dont want to talk to anyone for a good month or two while i completely reinvent myself.  lol this is the same person begging for friendships. im a very mad person.
  • being raised by a single father has my social skills all fucked up. i really want genuine friendships with women but somehow always end up by surrounded by guys. why?
  • why am i like this???????? u really cant tell me God doesnt have a sense of humour.
  • am i extra if i fry plantain nd egg rn?
  •  people trying to cultivate certain vibes and appearances is so drainingggggg . taming myself for others could u imagineeee?? i would be so bored nd sober all the time.  i do need to calm down a little though.
  • stagnancy is not cute, i need to get my shit together.
  • 6am


I’ve had  a bad habit of stumbling back to my ex but 3 years later and it’s actually over, forreal this time. Cross my (semi-broken) heart lmao.

“Angie, the vibe is just off and I just can’t flow with it. Your aura is different… good different though.”

In truth, this break up has been in the making for the last 8 months but I am so very stubborn and it was worth fighting for at first. I was fine sacrificing a little bit  to make it work but a little bit starts to feel like a whole lot when your the only one compromising yourself. You fight for something so long you start feeling like giving  up on it is failure or defeat.You tell yourself, “I  did not stay in a stressful situation for this long just to go and dash the thing.” Stupidity! You know shit isn’t the same and never will be but that break up to makeup cycle is real and nostalgia is the precursor to disappointment.
I was stuck on a forever plan two 16 year old  high school students had made, forgetting that we were not those kids anymore. I had to chest the fact that shit really does happen and ain’t shit you can do about it. Keep holding on to things God repeatedly show you he wants you to let go of and see if he doesn’t chop that hand off one time. I was clinging on to a dying relationship thinking my love would be enough. Pushing through hurt time and time again for the sake of preserving a relationship.  It’s like giving someone diamonds you mined yourself  and they give you seashells. Like yeah…ok…the thought counts but…it’s lacking still.  I felt like I was being selfish by asking for the same treatment I gave him. I started to resent him because nigga why the fuck can’t you love me like I love you??? It can’t be that hard since I do it on the daily. You know?
Note to the wise: love does not conquer all. In fact, that shit is the bare minimum.  Your love cannot be a motivator for someone else to treat you well, just because a guy says he loves you does not mean he is at the mental place to be what you need. Don’t be like me and try to force the thing because you love him, or he asks for another chance. Do not put someone else first then vex because they aren’t as good as loving you as you are them. You cannot feel cheated if you are going to stay in a situation were you continue to be overly generous to someone who doesn’t have the resource/ ability to do the same. I had to look in the mirror and remind myself that I cannot come and die from dehydration, crying over man business.  Same arguments with duct tape resolutions and three days later we’re back at it again. Not my bloody portion.
Today was a day of closure. After a month of barely talking, we’d finally drifted too far apart. Being around him was awkward, the jokes didn’t bang, we barely spoke; you would think you were in a room with two strangers and not teenagers who’d just been professing their undying love for one another a few months ago.  We knew it was time to end things for good but what I knew and what I was feeling were two opposing things.  The relief from fighting for something someone’s not 100% about, paired with the bitterness of closing the chapter of my life that was us. It  has been  emotionally overwhelming (but we thank God for herb and hard liquor). This time it really hit, I  could possibly go the rest of my life never talking to him and only seeing his progression through social medias’ lens. I forced myself to  acknowledge the fact that our relationship was done and accept that this was truly the end. We would not be keeping in contact and unlike the other times, it felt final. Someone who this time last year was in the top 3 most important people knows nothing about me now. Life is weird as fuck man.
I could never regret it though. Maybe I’ll try this love shit again in 4 years and won’t be such a  headless sheep about it. In the meantime, catch me on Twitter retweeting and liking “men are trash” tweets for the culture.