friendship – Festival King

Fair Weather or Forever Friends: Conditional Love

You know how you always scroll and skip through terms and conditions when you first download an application? I think people approach fellow humans like applications. They download, see long terms and conditions, skip the details, click “agree,” and jump right into the goodies within. Then, they exit the moment they need to make payments or deposits, just when they should enjoy the premium package. Making deposits becomes the hard part because you now have to be super intentional about what you want out of that app.

Humans forget that beyond the aesthetics, sweet-smelling perfumes, golden smiles, and stunning outfits, there’s an ugly side to every person you find. So, you approach people thinking they’re flawless like angels. How do you forget they’re humans, too, and just like you, imperfect?
Relationships get better when you’ve weathered storms together. A friend who cannot stay through tough times is a fair-weather person, lacking in loyalty and commitment.

It becomes contradictory when people “agree” in the beginning, only to chicken out and show they never really signed up in the first place or exhibit their ignorance that relationships aren’t a walk in the park. They mask their fears with pragmatism or realism, fearing to stay the course — a fear birthed from lack of faith, perhaps, or an easily influenced or feeble mind.

Personally, I take my time when choosing people, I select those I’m willing to do life with. From the onset, I start out with plans to go the extra mile when the need arises — always! If I can’t stick by you, why then am I in your life? I intend to do long-term with everyone in my life, bearing in mind that if the earth quakes, I will stand with you. My approach might be flawed, and it may seem like I’m setting myself up for heart-wrenching times, but who does life without expecting tough times? When hard times show up, we need people who can hold our hands and say, “I’m willing to stay with you on this one” and mean it to their bones, not throw us under the bus when we need to prove the relationship means something.

Fitting into shoes: Enter Alex and Jordan’s.

The bass thumped rhythmically, sending vibrations through the crowded dance floor. Amidst the swirl of colors and the blur of dancing figures, Alex and Jordan moved to the beat, their laughter mingling with the music. To any onlooker, they were the epitome of friendship — inseparable and in sync.

Alex, ever the protector, watched over Jordan with a mix of admiration and concern. They had always been there for Jordan, through highs and lows, celebrations and heartbreaks. Alex’s feelings for Jordan ran deep, born from a place of genuine love and dedication.

Jordan, on the other hand, was a whirlwind of energy, attracting people like a magnet. Charismatic and engaging, they often found themselves the center of attention, leaving Alex on the sidelines. It was a pattern familiar to both: Jordan diving into new experiences and friendships, while Alex waited patiently in the wings.

As the night progressed, Jordan’s attention drifted, captivated by new faces and conversations. Alex watched from a distance, a familiar pang of neglect stirring within them. Despite this, Alex remained steadfast, their loyalty unwavering.

But beneath the surface, questions lingered. How long could Alex continue this dance of being there for Jordan, while their own feelings were overlooked? Was their patience a strength or a vulnerability? And for Jordan, would they realize the depth of Alex’s commitment before it was too late?

As the night deepened, the dance floor became more crowded, pulsing with energy. Jordan, ever the social butterfly, danced freely, their laughter echoing above the music. Alex, though enjoying the rhythm, kept a watchful eye, their protective instincts always attuned to their friend’s well-being.

In the midst of the vibrant scene, a new figure emerged, sliding into the space beside Jordan. This person, with a too-eager smile and an encroaching manner, began to dance a little too close for comfort. Jordan’s smile faltered, their movements growing constrained as they tried to politely distance themselves.

Alex, noticing the subtle change in Jordan’s demeanor, felt a familiar surge of protectiveness. They knew Jordan’s tendency to attract attention, not always welcome, and how it sometimes left them feeling overwhelmed. Without hesitation, Alex moved closer, their presence a silent but strong statement.

“Hey, Jordan, there’s someone I want you to meet,” Alex interjected smoothly, offering Jordan an out. Grateful relief flashed in Jordan’s eyes as they eagerly followed Alex away from the unwanted company.

As they moved to a quieter corner of the party, Jordan let out a breath they didn’t realize they’d been holding. “Thanks, Alex,” they said, a genuine smile returning to their face. “You always know when to step in.”

Alex shrugged modestly, but their eyes held a deep care that went beyond simple friendship. “Always got your back,” they replied simply, but the sentiment carried the weight of their unspoken feelings.

In that moment, the dynamics of their friendship were crystal clear. Alex, ever the guardian, was there to protect and support, while Jordan, often caught up in the whirlwind of life, sometimes failed to see the depth of Alex’s dedication.

Imagine yourself a “Jordan”. You enjoy the vibrancy of life, often getting caught up in the moment. You rely on Alex, sometimes without fully realizing it, and perhaps take their constant presence and support for granted.

Now, become the “Alex”. Feel the depth of your unwavering commitment and the pain of often unacknowledged love and protection. Understand the frustration and patience intertwined in your actions…

Meet Maame!

Hi people!

Permit me as I introduce a VERY talented young lady in today’s post. Her name is Hazel and is also known as “Maame“.

Well, the heading on her blog says a lot about her: “Adorned in African beads and riding a kangaroo, I am an African Australian“. To be more direct, she is Ghanian, but was born and lives in Australia. 😉

Besides her poetry she is also an aspiring Public Health Practitioner; Her hobbies are dancing, coloring, drawing, reading and writing; She loves kids, pets and traveling.

One of the many things I admire about Hazel besides her wide smile and cheerful nature is that though raised in Diaspora, she constantly holds on to her African heritage; You can even tell from some of her poems 🙂 … We communicate on Skype, and I can tell you that it is ALWAYS a thrill when we get to chatting in Pigeon English 😀

Meeting Maame on WordPress has been a blessing as I have found a friend and an online African Sister in her 😉 … I’m glad that she is very much in love with the color of her skin and the many cultures it encompasses.

Below is one of her earlier pieces, which I still find very intense till this day:

Ramblings of Children in Diaspora – Binta and Yataa

Ramblings of Children in Diaspora:
“War”
Pa,Pa,Pa that is a noise of war.
The sound of a shotgun killing the acquitted.

Ta ta ta that is a noise of war.
The sound of a man’s hard leather boots.
Moving across the wooden floors boards in our abandoned house.

Sh,sh,sh that is a noise of war.
The sound of a young men luring innocent girls into their dungeons.

Hm,hm,hm that is a noise of war.
The sound of a mother worried about the welfare of her children.
As she drinks dirty polluted water after giving her children the last bottle .

Can you hear our cries? Can you picture our lives?
As we run, we run as far as our swift small feet can take us.
We pray as we sleep the dirt of the earth becomes a blanket.
But when we sleep we can still hear the noises of war.
They are a never-ending soundtrack that replays every day in our heads.
As we awake from our nightmares we are forced to a life of confinement.
Refugee living.
Our mother died from cholera. We prayed and prayed for god to save her.
But she didn’t survive.
Our father shot by the soldiers and now we are orphans of war.
Without parents we sit and wait for someone to take us to a distant place.
As we wait,we pray. As we pray, we lose faith.
Week by week.Hour by hour. Day by day.
Finally we are rescued by a long lost aunty.
My sister and I are taken away to the promise land.
Memories of Sunday school in the village fill our minds.
Surely God had remembered us like the Israelites.
We thought we were going to be so happy.
We love eating bread and jam, milk and chocolate cake.
Truly Living life in London is a blessing
But war still haunts us.
We still see the soldiers who killed my father in our dreams.
The rebels who defiled our lives and robbed our sacred pride.
This scares us and we feel like the living dead.
walking amongst the people of this cruel world.

Drip,Drip,Drip this is a result of war.
I am a young child, Binta 12 years old
Yet I still wet my bed every night.
In fear for my life.

Shake,Shake,Shake this is a result of war.
I am Yataa, A young teenage girl who cannot speak English
on her first day of high school.
I have been stigmatized , ostracized and traumatize.
since that day I have never been the same.
I find it hard to talk to strangers often get scared of the slightest noise surrounding me.
I am just a small girl yet I have viewed more than most adults have ever seen.
We hope one day that war will cease to exist just like our childhoods were diminished.
By;Maame Afrique