DEAR SKIN MATE,

Today is Sunday. Yesterday, the rain and the sun could not agree on which should come first. So, the two, like impatient bus drivers, came down same time. As I write this in an almost empty LT, I'm thinking, was the tiger giving birth (tales from childhood)? Or the rain and sun were just selfish?

Oh, did your read about the choirmaster of the changing church and his visit to China to extend the begging bowl? How's that Saraki's case coming up sef? For so long, too many things have hindered me from writing to you. I finally prevailed, hence this letter. Hope you're good? I'm well.

I heard of your clamour and desire for fame and public attention. You want the Tyler Perry crowd and Bishop Oyedepo's force. This is a good thing. I think Maslow would also agree. But, allow me to show you a note from my most interesting course yet (Arable Crop Production);
"Africa is however not important for wheat production. Since wheat is the only grain with enough gluten content to make a raised loaf of bread, wheat quickly became favoured over other grains". So, here's the question; what value do you bring to the world's table? It is your importance that counts, not your desire. So get your attention-seeking arse to work and give the world a reason to look at you.

It's good for your Zara gown to perfectly fit your athletic body. Yeah, it's okay to be sexy. I've been like the way you so meticulously treat your hair that they look like a makeshift for noodles. I like your Chloè bag too. It adds to your sassiness. I'm impressed. I really love your white timberland and your gold neck chain that glows like that blue flame they use in making michai. I understand this fancy and cozy lifestyle. Yeah, I probably want it too. But is that all? Like seriously, is that all you've got? 

What about the white matter in between your ears? Do you ever clothe it? What do you live for? What do you want to die doing? Have you ever really thought lately? Have you observed that our grudgingly stocked libraries and sagging bookstores are no longer in vogue? Did you take note of the hundreds of drinking parlours and clubs that have quickly become the cot of friends? Do you see how gerontocracy is feeding fat on our green and white cake as we anciently wait for tomorrow? The former prime minister of Singapore, Lee Kuan Yew asserted, "The new divide in the world will be between those that have the knowledge and those without" You simply can't act more than what you know. What do you know? What would you do differently?

You see, you should believe your geography teacher. The sun is the center of the universe, not you. I remember what you ranted to that fella that injured your frail pride, "do you know who I am?" Well, I thought about it after I left you; if you have to remind anybody about who you are, then maybe you are not. Try and go to a place far away from here and also quieter. When you get there, ponder about the celestial beauty of the sun and how it does not sing to us every morning about being the sun...it simply shines. Add to your pondering list, the over 7 billion people on the side of existence and how to effectively serve them. Yeah, you read right...serve them! Or you get another idea?

When we went out that day and you recounted how good you were in bed and the contemporary sex style that you have both learned and invented, I was almost impressed. So, recently I did a micro-research. I wanted to know how the penis, vagina, and their union have helped better humanity. Guess what I found...nothing! On the contrary, it is the power of the brain that has since been shifting mankind not the efficiency of the waist. It will be a shame if the only thing you can do well is what's responsible for the world's regression.

Finally, you can call it a letter within a letter but make sure you give it to that your friend who told me about her many woes.

"Hey Uzodinma,

I'm black. I'm African. So the world will understand when I fail. After all, I have had to struggle for everything, even to talk and breathe. My dad still sees me as an expected mistake. Mummy almost agrees, except that I'm the only girl. 15 years ago, I was 10 years old. But my lesson teacher didn't think I was too young, he had his way one too many times. That's when I first died. I like the university for one thing, the lucrative upgraded prostitution. The earthen pot-bellied old men who come to pick me up from my hostel with their fast cars say I'm pretty and they can have enough of me. And that was the second time I died. Education is a myth for me, it's always going to be in the kitchen. So, damn the certificate! I don't think I count on God's big plan. Or so I thought. Everything has since changed. I found out that my story was not my problem. My perception was. So what's your story? It's your choice how your story turns out. An excuse or a motivation? You choose!

For the first time, I've started living. I'm still healing.

Your friend,
Former victim. "

I really would love to continue but, let me leave you now. I have just been told that some weeds are planning a coup d' etat against my plant. Even as I send this to you, I'll keep a copy for myself. Ensure you write back. 

Happy Sunday skin mate.

Regards.
...

I dedicate this work to Success Daniel NDU whose discussion and friendship gave birth to this work, salute. And also to my roommate, Noah Aghedo for help in trimming some syntactic cancer, thank you!