I used to love her, I did. Africa; that lady. Beautiful and proud. I loved her in my childhood, when all I knew of her, were warmth and juicy fruits, when I was kissed gently [...]

The studio went dim, and then there was that sound that has become the trademark of the game show. Then it was all silent. I felt my grip on the arms of the black swivel [...]

Chief Iwuchukwu paced around his luxurious master bedroom in agitation. This was not good, he muttered to himself. This was not good at all. Had he not contributed thousands… no, millions of naira to the [...]

Soon, the driver jumped onto his partitioned seat. I noticed he was not the pot-bellied man. He was a tall muscular giant with very large arms. He turned the ignition on. The engines gave a [...]

Early morning harmattan has come and with it an overwhelming dryness, which gnaws at the sides of the eyes and attempts to solidify the eye wax.  This dryness also rests on the lips and makes [...]

An African twelfth month!
Salons overflow with women;
Wigs, weavons & make-up are sold out.
Broke boyfriends cook up quarrels
To avoid footing Cupid’s Christmas bills.

Happy New Year to YOU…

Oh dear!
Does that mean a Happy New ME?

I wish I could say
I’ll be better;

I wish I could say
I’ll be nicer;

I wish I could even say
I’ll be sweeter…….

Quite Naturarily, the first thought on my mind was to flee. Unfortunately, there was only one window and a door in my room and both were no options at all as the two men ‘seemingly’ [...]

Dear Aisha

I’m moving out of the house and into a lil’ hut

Don’t worry about me, success is my only option; failure’s not

I’ve worked my butt off long enough

But I need to be brave and hex away this curse

She was here.

Right here,I say.

like weeds on my barn

scattered over my orchard.

Her voice I hear,

weaved around my head-

like yam leaves in my farm.

As we enter into the New Year

Our roads are still the same

With its pothole and street light on it

The air we breathe in is still the same

As we enter into the New Year

Our roads are still the same

With its pothole and street light on it

The air we breathe in is still the same

When Love turns sour
each visit to see her becomes a chore
climbing Mount Everest is an east feat
as to getting on the bus to her abode!

its innocent me alone

thats left to atone

for the deed of ancestors

long lost in earths stores

I lie silent, making no sound, save the swishing that is my restless legs sliding across the palm fronds scattered around the bench on which I lay, while inside me rages a tempest. Words I [...]

Onitsha town flew past. It was noisy with the yawns of multi-directional motions. From where I was crammed at the back of a heady minibus, I continued to watch as its spinning form sped by [...]

The Journal: Things are not going very regularly around here for me. And I guess you think it’s a good thing since it definitely means something interesting is happening, but that’s not the case. Far [...]

By howyoudey Naija Tales from Los Angeles is fiction set in the city of Los Angeles, in the state of California, USA. The characters in the stories are members of the resident or transient Nigerian [...]

My Dear Unborn, Even though you have not been conceived, it gives me great joy and fulfilment to write you these words of prayers, blessings and love. God bless you. I can’t wait to carry [...]

I remember that night
We took a leisurely walk around the estate,
The dim street lights and soft shadows
Crafted by effect, a flirty twilight.

I missed home today for the first time in the Diaspora and the reason is the experience I had with a certain family, the Boltons who invited a few of us over for a festive [...]

Fed well by the baobab
Protected by the iroko
Strengthened by the bombax
Yet incarcerated in parenthesis

‘Knock, knock’… That was the sound that woke me up that morning. It was so gentle and soft yet loud enough to being me back from dreamland. At first I thought is was part of my dream but after a few more gentle knocks that sounded like the sound of a foam being hit on the mouth of a pot, a common musical instrument from the eastern part of Nigeria, I realised I had returned to the real world…

I can’t stop staring at you

Your aura rings so true

The sound of your voice is like dew

So fresh, it makes me feel renewed

In many ways this wishing
Wishing the distance can be curtailed
As you are far in my seeing
Two hearts becomes one cries

He stared at the screen, trying to make sense of the figures on it, same thing he had been trying to do for the past three hours. For some reason his mind was not cooperating, [...]

Chapter Two The road to the stream was a long, winding one. There was a shorter path, but it went through the thick, forbidding Ukwe forest. Noni thought to herself that it was not yet [...]

A STORY BY Henry Chukwuemeka Onyema The road to Golgotha began almost four months ago when I popped into Sanya’s quarters at Kiru barracks that fateful Saturday evening. Sanya was my best friend. Both of [...]

‘Hey’, he heard that voice again and turned. There she was. The only word worthy enough to describe her was perfect.

‘You came’, he replied nervously.

‘I said I was coming, didn’t I?’, she said and melted him with that same smile. Why does ‘same’ even come into the smile, he wondered..

I could have been an area father

Having no joy in peaceful situations

Or a professional freeloader

With no life, no goal, no aspirations

I dreamt that we had church in a place so bright like it was in heaven
The large site had gay decorations and teemed with a cheery gathering
Mum led a choir dressed as white-winged angels
Which sang of a great joy born to the whole earth

I drink to relieve my eyes of dust caught from battles
I drink within my garden that lies on a pinnacle
I see all the beauty of my reign
My cleared eyes catch a naked woman bathing

I get to music player, click on Ministrations then click on David Olukoya’s message and pray as I bathe and make-up. My attire for this Monday is a pair of coffee brown pants, a brown camisole and a cream empire top. I pick up my brown belt and clinch my waist. Going through my jewelry box, looking for and wearing my pearl bracelet, white bangles and my ever present Farafina wrist band that I wear everywhere even to big-shot weddings… Who cares?! My hair all brushed and pinned to a bun at the nape of my neck, I slip on my American eagle flats and hand bag, I leave for the parlour to greet my uncle because I hear him talking to someone on the phone.