I’m sorry I hate you. I hate you ‘cos you made me this way… I hate you cos you stole my joy and left a bleeding soul. I hate you ‘cos you never cared to mould me. I hate you ‘cos I don’t know how to love you. I sought your love, and hell was … Continue reading I’m Sorry I Hate You.
“Gay?” Daddy said. I froze. WHAT ? I really hadn’t seen that coming. I mean WHAT? Daddy really knew a lot about his kids, and this severely scared me. I knew Obinna was gay but I didn’t expect to hear that from Daddy. For a second I thought I had mistakenly spoken those words. The temperature in … Continue reading The Summons (III)
When Gabrielle Rosenfeld’s doorbell rang a while later in Nawfia Street, the sound awakened her from a light sleep. She looked at the clock, remembered that she had sent Nelo home at four in the afternoon, and reached for her robe. She was belting it around her waist and climbing down the stairs when the … Continue reading Craving Hope (II)
The security guard, Uche, leaning against the wall near the entrance to the stage of the Golden Royale Hotel auditorium, straightened as he saw Gabrielle Rosenfeld come in by the back door. “Mrs. Rosenfeld,” he said, touching the brim of his cap. “We were told you were ill. The chairman would be so glad … Continue reading Craving Hope (I)
“Are you a Homosexual?” I felt the oxygen leave my lungs. My body froze numb. I wasn’t sure what knocked me off the most; the word Homosexual with all its graveness; the entire question that required a Yes or No answer, or the fact that it was Uncle Arinze asking the question, meaning they had … Continue reading The Summons (II)
Helplessly we clung to the voices of hope Because that was all we were left with. Dilapidated houses; a place we once called home. The sands were dry with shattered bones underneath. Our animals were gone; we wondered what next to eat. Resorting to humans gone; I often saw it brought to heat. A … Continue reading Death Of A Future’s Past
“Daddy is calling you, Kachi.” Somadina announced as I was dicing the last finger of what seemed like a breed of plantain and banana. The short fingers were pale yellow, nearly the shade of the bananas I bought on my way back from Nsukka. They transcended in my hands from fingers to circles to … Continue reading The Summons
It is Harmattan; not without, But within me is the cold. Youth and merry fill the air about; It is I that has grown old. Hawks gracing the clumsy skies, Sailing, building without rest. Sauntering down hollow aisles, Seeking a stolen nest. There is silence below the stars; Stars bright enough to burn. Still nursing these scars Like a nestling nun. I am a beggaring gloom; Counting my days in twos. I see now a full moon; A gleam of hope lain loose. It is harmattan; not without; And within she is all. Dusty leaves still burning out; It is Harmattan within after all.