The plane was deafening. He could hear loud voices, distressed complaints, of people griped strangely by impatience. His tired eyes searched around. An Indian girl was smiling vehemently at a Nigerian man in his forties, who was about to take the seat beside her. A large Chinese woman struggled in haste, approaching Michael, through one … Continue reading Sydney
Michael got up as early as 4am, switched on the light and sat up staring at the tattoo on Okafor’s back. Okafor’s snore beside him was quiet. As gentle as his looks. Michael’s eyes glided over the rest of Okafor’s nude body which was smooth and mildly dark. Okafor was the first full African Micheal … Continue reading Dent
On the home page of my facebook account, I came across a link to a blog post that my friends, Raymond Elenwoke and Onyeka Nwelue, had shared. It displayed the luxurious lives the sons of Nigeria’s petroleum minister, Diezani Allison-Madueke, were having in the U.S, meanwhile some Nigerians at home were dying in poverty, and … Continue reading A Bitter Tomorrow For Nigeria
My Name is Lola I married my husband a virgin. He was the best thing ever to happen to me. I remember the days of our courtship. We were both in the University of Lagos. He was so dashing and uses flashy cars his rich family showered him with. My hostel mates always had news … Continue reading My Name Is Lola
I dust my bag And the day began with a journey For my honeycomb I last saw some moons away Hours away my desires for you was tall Taller than any neighbouring tree For three hours my desires steamed For hours my thoughts drew your beauty On the pieces that had been invented beneath my … Continue reading Aroma of the Niger-Delta
I am glad to get an autographed copy of this novel from the author herself. She is such a mother! I look at the cover and, the title, ‘TRAFFICKED’ gets me wondering. It’s a gripping name but it already tells me a huge chunk of the story before I read the first lines of the … Continue reading ‘TRAFFICKED’ A novel by Akachi Adimora-Ezeigbo
My dear, my Christmas greeting stands in front of my abrupt reply. Not a complete swerve of mind; I rather swallow the question this way, ‘Why that swerve of interest in me?’
Who wants to serve? Who wants to get busy? They all raise their hands up. N.Y.S.C! Can’t they see? They are all blind. The corrupt lane of the country, waves yes to the ages of those delayed by strikes and witchcrafts of lecturers. NYSC! See, they can’t see… No hope. Get a life and move … Continue reading Nysc
I was shocked when I heard Ayo had disappeared with the sum forty-million naira. It was a Tuesday morning, and I had started attending to customers who were in hurry to withdraw money before heading for their places of work. Ayo had always hated the banking sector, no doubt, but I never expected him to … Continue reading Pretty And Ugly
The first track of Asa’s second album introduces the listener into her lyrics about life’s happiness, sadness, worry and so on… Her voice which struck the world by storm with her first album four years ago, did not have the surprise effect that leave questions like, ‘who has such an awesome voice? Is she really … Continue reading An Encounter with Asa’s Second Album, ‘Beautiful Imperfection’
You used to be a quiet catholic boy. You used to attend Mass everyday to your father’s disgust. My son, can you remember when you used to be an alter-boy as a kid? Do you remember Father Amos, the priest who had baptised you as a baby and later became your best friend before his … Continue reading No Love for the North
My tongue can’t speak your languages My skin has betrayed me All I have is my pen I suffer the torment raining in my heart I long for the rain To wash over the blood that has replaced my sweat Stares are now stabs against my presence
4 It was her legs encircling him in an act of intercourse. It was his waist jerking unstoppably. It was her call for his jerks to accelerate. It was Ozoemena and Nwamaka in stark nakedness. He was tapped. And he woke up from his dream. He was mad. It was a nurse waking him to … Continue reading No Love For Biafra – 3
2 Can’t you remember me…? I’m your brother, Nurse Kandibe. I have been treating your wounds since they brought you back from Lagos. Ah… You have developed what the white doctor who had passed me through training would describe as ‘loss of memory’. Soldiers dumped you in our compound with blood all over your body. … Continue reading No Love For Biafra – 2
1 Ozoemena did not consider himself an Igbo man. Every man he called an Igbo man behaved like his late father in one way or the other. He had hated his late father so much. And even hated the man’s grave more. The late father had caned little Ozoemena in the past, sometimes for no … Continue reading No Love For Biafra – 1