Your name has never been easy for people to get considering your origin. You’ve tried to understand why your parents chose it over every other name they could have picked. But it doesn’t matter to you because you know what it means to you.
Your life has been a series of storms, each competing to win the trophy for the most cataclysmic.
I’ll share a few things about self-organisation, focal points and internal coherence, and how one can benefit from them.
Self-organisation is a process where global order arises from the interaction between local parts of a system. But these interactions are not influenced by an external force or body; rather the local parts intuitively know what the next move should be.
As several local parts exhibit this order, it begins to take form on a global scale within that system.
She picked up the phone, waited a few seconds then dialled the number. She heard him pick up.
“Hello?”
She stayed quiet, taking in the sound of his voice, the richness of the baritone. It had a nice ring that made her head spin.
“Hello?”
The moment the word came out of my mouth, I realised what a big mistake I had made. She turned dramatically, like in slow motion, her brows furrowed. Slit-eyed and arms akimbo, she looked like she’d apprenticed with the Witch in Snow White.
“What do you mean? No, no, no. I mean, can you explain what you just said?”
Her voice was barely above a whisper but the coldness in it sent a shiver down my spine.
The moment she walked into the restaurant, the room went silent for at least two seconds as everyone stared at her. But she didn’t mind. She didn’t seem to be bothered by the attention. Her eyes searched the room until they spotted me. I waved shyly and her face lit up and she waved back and headed my way.
“Emeka!”
Mr Balogun’s sharp call drew Emeka back to reality, making him jump. The class laughed quietly.
“Sir?”
“I asked you a question.” Mr Balogun said.
“I-I’m sorry sir, I didn’t hear the question”.
“Apparently, since what I’ve been saying since doesn’t concern you, right?” Mr Balogun said, walking up to Emeka’s desk.
The rain came early this year, but that was not the problem. The problem was that I had forgotten about the leaking garage roof. And that wouldn’t have been a problem if we had not moved some boxes out of the house to the garage pending the time we would “sort the wheat from the chaff” as Funmi delicately put it.
Call me a hoarder but I like to keep memories in boxes.
