Growing up, I wanted a love story that was peaceful. I wanted breezy trees & chirping birds. I sought azure heavens & lulling sunsets. I wanted a tall graceful woman. I wanted her to be beautiful, but not too beautiful. I wanted her to love the river hum as I did...

I didn't want her to be loud because I thrive in quiet. I wanted her to be happy but vulnerable. I wanted to protect her, against her demons, against the world. I wanted to provide for her. For our children. I saw us running on the railway tracks, holding hands & laughing...

I wanted a son. Stoic like his father. Kind like his mother. I wanted him to eat well - for strength to protect his sister. I wanted him to love the metaphysical. Of my little girl, I only asked for intelligence & beauty. To go out & conquer the world. It's all she'd need to do

But Lo! The women I met. They traded peace for the bottle. They painted their face like Okulu the wizard. They would call it foundation. The women I met had no eyebrows. They had bartered those for charcoal. If you pointed them to the river, they scoffed & pointed to the bar.

The women I met hated me for being a man. Long before I declared my love, they had condemned my being. They hated cooking. They said it was socially backward. & when I invited them to my home, they came with tiny beautiful strangers who started calling me "daddy". It was awkward.

There were no rivers. No sunsets. No grace. No chirping birds & no railway lines. The heavens were too grey & the nights too dark. And try as I may, I could never find peace because where is the peace in a woman who's at war? I had to run. I had to hide.