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 Read More

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 Read More

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 Read More

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 Read More

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 Read More

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’ Read More

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 Read More

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 Read More

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 Read More

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 Read More

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 Read More

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 Read More