The stories in this blog are first draft stories with minimal editing, sort of like a practice blog.

Monday, 29 December 2014

Surprised by love- Alero's odyssey

This love story thing is kinda challenging for me, how do I show two people falling in love without it looking  corny or cheesy? It'll probably get easier with time and I I'd finally be more fluid in my delivery and the stories will be smoother...

Sunday, 28 December 2014

Surprised by love- Chidi's tale

Hiya fam!
 How was your Christmas gbedu? I hope it was everything you could have imagined and more. If it wasn't then work towards making new year's gbedu special, aiit?

Friday, 19 December 2014

Gracie- Sayonara

  Today's Gracie's funeral and I can't bring myself to cry for her or even feel any sadness. She would have disapproved of overt displays of emotional distress. She's probably frowning at my younger siblings and their spouses who were all weeping copiously. My wife and children were huddled together and trying hard not to weep, they'll miss Gracie so much. She had a bond with them that I can't quite understand.

Wednesday, 17 December 2014

Gracie 3

A sudden sound wakes me up, I realize it's someone pounding on my door and I shove my head under my pillow to continue my beautiful dream of winning a five million dollar jackpot.

Thursday, 11 December 2014

Gracie part 2

  I shouldn't have answered her, she was an annoying good girl. The type who finished her assignments that same day, tutored academically weak students, helped children cross busy roads, visited the elderly... You get the drift.

Sunday, 30 November 2014

Gracie- Part one

With groggy eyes I grope for my phone, who could be calling me at 3am? I have no family or friends and so couldn’t be called to identify a corpse or spring someone out of jail. I finally answer the phone, for the first ten seconds the caller doesn’t say anything. Could he/she be observing the ten second rule that my friend G liked to talk about day after day, when you’re angry don’t say anything for ten seconds. I’d rather use those ten seconds to punch the lights out of the person, well to each his own.
Then I hear her voice, a little raspy, a little hoarse, you can tell she’s been crying. 

Saturday, 29 November 2014

You- Chapter six

I'm changing my business, no more fixing for me. I was very nearly arrested yesterday for drug dealing. My saving grace? One of the drug enforcement agency operatives had a sister living in Aduwawa, I paid her children's school fees as part of my corporate social responsibility. The minute he saw my name on the sting operation he called his sister telling her to warn me.

Wednesday, 26 November 2014

You- Chapter five

My name is Gaius and I'm a hustler, basically all I've done since the day I was born was hustle. I hustled to get colostrum from an indifferent mother, hustled to survive the childhood diseases that were a rite of passage in the noisy slum of Aduwawa, Benin-city, hustled to escape the fists of my elder brothers who'd beat me when they got bored, hustled to escape the crushing poverty in my family by doing anything, anything to get ahead.

Wednesday, 19 November 2014

Meant to be

  I see my husband's smile, his father's look of pride, his mother's sense of satisfaction and I can only wince inside. They are all very happy, at last I have given them an heir. A son to carry the family name into the future, to ensure that the bloodline continues to infinity and beyond, his birth resurrects the dying family pride.

Tuesday, 4 November 2014

Me- Chapter 4

  Rats were on her mind, not the type you'd see in virtually every gutter in Lagos Mainland those ones were as big as rabbits and always made her wonder why anyone would believe there was poverty in the land. Even the rats were chubby and looked well fed, she smiled at her silly train of thought but sobered up quickly. Poverty was a huge menace in Africa and making such jokes were only counterproductive.

Monday, 3 November 2014

Me- Chapter 3

    She was sitting in the cyber cafe and tapping her foot as she waited for the page to open. She was about to start biting her nonexistent nails when the page opened. Tears filmed her eyes as the effect of what she had just seen sunk in, she had passed her WASSCE  

Sunday, 2 November 2014

Me- Chapter 2

   She was making spaghetti and tomato paste when she heard the knock on the front door, she knew it couldn't be her mother, not at 5pm. She wasn't expecting any visitor either so she was slightly irritated at the intrusion into her time. She flounced to the front door and checked thru the peep hole, she was surprised to see Bisola and her boyfriend.

Saturday, 1 November 2014

Me- Chapter one

"Zen! you're stained"
Zenobia ooooo!
A young girl was calling her friend who was a few feet away, her friend usually lost touch with planet earth and she was used to calling her forcefully in other to gain her attention. Zen looked up in irritation, she was indulging in her favourite fantasy- becoming the first female president of her country and all the changes she would make in office. She definitely didn't welcome the intrusion of Bisola's shrill voice.

Thursday, 30 October 2014


And you say to me time and again "you're as hard as nails"
I look into your eyes, those soft brown pools I'd drown in without regret
That bring to mind molten chocolate and the pleasures it brings
And wonder "how can you be so blind"
It's hard to believe you can't see beyond the window dressing
Beyond the flash of diamond plating, I had such faith in you...
To the person who carries scars of forgotten wars
To the soul and heart beating in the shell of bronzed steel
Well you're only human, aren't you?

Monday, 27 October 2014

Worth it?

She's waving to the crowd; a plastic toothy smile firmly in place, her tiara reflecting the flashes of camera bulbs. She's just been crowned Miss Africa beating out fifty other contestants. Her eye catches that of Amb Zumokolo, he responds with a leer that hardens her eyes. She dismisses the twat from her mind, she'd only stood the midget to wear this tiara, stooping to conquer. Listening to Kris drone on and on about literary classics wasn't an entire waste of time and brains.

Tuesday, 14 October 2014


The voices roused him from the fitful and deep sleep, he'd been dreaming of eating fried rice and dodo with spicy grilled chicken and washing it down with sangria laced fruit juice. He could discern snatches of yoruba, ibo and pidgin English, their voices were heated. "What are they quarrelling about by 5am" he wondered aloud as he walked to his balcony to get a good view of the drama.

Thursday, 9 October 2014

Twenty random facts about me

I was tagged by the hilarious Ms Cookie to do the twenty random things post. I can't find sleep and thought it would be fun to do this rather than tossing on my bed...

Saturday, 27 September 2014


Its 1:27am, a young woman sits in front of her tablet trying to write a post to commemorate her reentry to blogger, however nothing pops out of her tired brain.

Wednesday, 24 September 2014


It's raining in Benin when I get in, it's always raining in Benin. I find that I shouldn't have rushed down, I'm actually two days early. I drop my things in the place I'll be staying and decide to go and get food in Mat-ice, I've been fantasising about their fish and ice cream for sixteen months.  
As I walk through the corridors of UBTH- on my way to Mat-ice, I'm assauged by an avalanche of memories. It's raining steadily, no one carries an umbrella, the rain never gather muscle as they'd say in Benin. I suddenly realise how much of my memories have been shaped by rain. Me at eighteen, with a crush on the cutest guy in fellowship, luckily I didn't know it was a crush, even luckier that he didn't take advantage of me and my feelings. The long walks after fellowship when we'd talk about everything under the sun, his voice washing over me, his brilliance and humour kept me magnetised. He left that year, I didn't mourn him too much though, I had already falling in crush with someone else. 

Friday, 12 September 2014

A long walk

You come down at Ajah park, a frown of confusion on your face, this isn't one of the bus stops your father had given you directions from. Crossing to the other side with your khaki trousers digging into your sides, you find yourself in front the UBA head quarters, a little disoriented. "where do I go from here" you whisper softly and then call your father, he doesn't pick up, he forgot his phone at home but you don't know that at the time. You call your mother, her number is busy "who could she be talking to that's more important than her first child?" You listen to your thoughts and shake your head in amazement at the way your mind works.

Tuesday, 2 September 2014


It was a hot afternoon, probably around 3pm- the writer cannot be certain because many years have passed since that fourth Sunday in January in the mid 1990s. A beautiful six year old girl was crying at the top of her lungs, it was another Sunday, another day when she faced the biweekly daymare. Her aunty was about to plait her long and thick hair.
This girl's hair was unfortunately rather hard to comb due to its thickness and its tendency to tangle,  she also had two major problems- a tender scalp and a very low threshold for pain. The result was a crying spell that lasted from when the old hairstyle was loosened till when they finished plaiting the new style. This had gone on for years without fail.

Sunday, 31 August 2014


On a beautiful evening in the middle of January in the mid 1990s, a brother and sister were playing happily in their living room. They just finished watching "tales by moonlight" on television, had their evening cornflakes and were expecting rice and stew in an hour, life was good to them. The girl had turned six only two weeks earlier and the boy was only four and half. They were the best of friends and the worst of enemies, their fights were the stuff legends were made of. However no one with brains ever tried to come between them, they were ruthless to their enemies- real or percieved.

That Sunday was not a run in the mill Sunday, their mother had gone to the hospital to bring them a sibling. Each of them wanted the child to be the same sex as them, it would change the balance of power in the household in favour on the sex with the higher population. As you can imagine it was a tense evening for the siblings.
Around 7:30pm their grandmother's neighbour walked in, they ran to hug her. She was in her early thirties and was the first wife of the four year old boy, and an honorary aunty of the siblings. She's full of smiles and announced to them that their mother had had the baby and it was a girl. Instantly there was an eruption of opposing emotions in the children. The girl jumped on the table and danced while the boy sat on the ground and cried. Eventually they both calmed down, ate their dinner and slept off while waiting for their daddy to come home.

The next morning their daddy wakes them up, it's a school day. "Your mummy has delivered the baby" he tells them, "it's a boy!". The girl is stunned, she refused to believe her tender ears. It had to be a prank, daddy liked telling jokes and funny stories, he was only teasing her. "It's a girl" she tells him, her voice full of conviction, "aunty Tina told us yesterday", "aunty Tina kor, get ready for school jare" he replied. She finds her mummy's friend in the living room, she reckons the woman will tell her the truth, unlike daddy who had a hidden agenda.

She calmly asked her what her mother had, her aunt smiles and tells her it's a boy. Our heroine was devastated, like Rachel she refused to be consoled. She wept and threw the worst tantrum Lagos had ever seen in a six year old girl, she said she wasn't going to have her bath or eat or go to school. Her father had no patience for her histrionics, he put her on his shoulder and carried her to the bathroom. She was bathed, fed and bundled to school in tears. Her brother wisely said nothing,  he probably didn't want to be a victim of misplaced aggression. By the time she got to school, she'd calmed down and even began to plot. It wasn't so bad, mummy could have twin girls next and power would be in the hands of the girls again. Another brother wasn't so bad, the poor girl didn't know they'd not have another sibling.

When our heroine got home, she was even happy she had a brother. She'd even decided on a name for him, she'd named him after her uncle. The uncle had a sister who bore the same name with her, she liked the idea of her brother and her being an ordered pair like her uncle and aunty. As soon as her daddy came back from work she tells him of her decision to name her brother, he agreed the name was perfect. He told her they were going to see the baby that day, she smiled wanly.

They flew into their mother's arms the minute they got into the room, she hugged them like she hadn't seen them in years. After the hugs they went to see the baby. He was the most beautiful baby ever born, his hair was curly and long, his face was that of an angel. The little boy got bored and went back to his mother. His sister couldn't get enough of their baby, her beautiful, beautiful baby. 

"Mummy I've given him a name already, his name is Chibuzo".

 Her mother considered the name, she liked it and agreed with it. Our heroine smiled warmly, turns to the baby and announced to him "Your name is Chibuzo" , the baby smiled in response. Her parents told her she'd only imagined his smile, she didn't listen to them, she knew what she saw.

Tuesday, 26 August 2014

Beauty in the eyes of a market woman

I heard about a certain lemon and ginger drink that would help me breathe better, I've had respiratory issues for a long time, and I was willing to try anything that'd help me live a better life.
I searched high and low for lemons, my mum was of the opinion that since it wasn't lemon season I wouldn't find them. "Why don't you use limes instead" she said, she'd even gone to Mushin market to find them for me but she didn't find any. The recipe called for lemons and not lime, I wasn't going to use any substitute, I wasn't taking chances.

Saturday, 16 August 2014

Windsong- the awakening

Today is the day I became a woman, my blood stained dress confirmed it to my mother when I got back from the stream. I didn't even know I'd been bleeding, only felt funny sensations between my legs and now my mother tells me I'm a woman.

   What does that even mean? Is the blood the rite of initiation? I don't ponder for long, my mother provides me with rags to place between my legs and demonstrates how to use them. It doesn't even occur to me to ask her why I'm bleeding or have become a woman by this flow of blood. This is 1949, Nigerian teenagers were still dumb- mothers had it good those days, don't you agree?

Tuesday, 22 July 2014

No mosquitoes in heaven

The doctor removes her stethoscope, the look in her eyes tell me all I need to know. I hear Kade's shout, hoarse and bitter with his dashed hopes, unanswered prayers and crushed dreams swirling in the layers.The doctor's mouth is moving, she's saying something, probably offering sympathy, probably telling us she'd done all she could. I hear laughter, mirthless and empty seemingly coming from a distance but I'm startled to find its coming from me. Hot tears sting my eyes and roll down my cheeks, could this be me? Crying? The sudden fog that descended on my head refuses to lift, its safe weight is welcome and shielding: I've just lost my only child. 

Monday, 21 July 2014

Tricks and toothpaste

She's five years old and can't wait to be six, she'll finally be allowed to dress herself. She has a pesky little brother and her mum has her little sister (turned out to be a boy) in her belly. She likes fried plantain, cornflakes and jam doughnuts, hates eba, egusi soup and boiled fish, would rather die than eat avocados and pawpaw. She loves reading and daydreaming, bossing her brother and watching her father wash his car, drinking Ribena with digestive biscuits

Sunday, 20 July 2014

The preacher's wife

    I'd always hated hats or head coverings of any kind and longed to attend a "come as you are church" where I could worship God with my bare head. I could stand headscarves but hats? No!

    Alas, my great grandfathers were among the first CMS (Anglican) converts in the old lower Niger mission. the cathedral church of the diocese of Mbaise is in my village, in my ancestral land to be factual. In other words, leaving the fold was unthinkable.

Saturday, 19 July 2014

A five minute story

She sits by the window, watching the game across the street. The lads are energetic, playing like an Arsenal scout is watching. She shakes her head at their enthusiasm, "life will drain you soon enough" she mutters.