Maimuna opened the door and enfolded her in a hug that should made her flatter than an ATM card, Dr. Ibrahim was smiling as he walked past them into the house, his arms laden with the fruits he’d stopped to buy at the market. Maimuna guided her inside and settled her on her favourite armchair – the one Yohanna had called her throne. Continue reading →
On the first Sunday of this month, I got a WhatsApp message from a man I’ve had a business relationship that has spanned nearly five years. He said he’d made a transfer of three hundred and fifty thousand naira to my account on the 24th of June and he wanted me to confirm it. I wasn’t particularly worried because I knew nothing like that had entered my account.
It was the way his khaki moulded his buttocks that first caught her eye, they weren’t big- the buttocks, they just seemed very firm. She imagined they were soldiers on sentry duty, each of them facing opposite directions, resolute in their calling to hold him upright. Her eyes trailed down to his orange jungle boots with its black base contrasting with the red sand of the market floor, she wondered briefly if the NYSC had given him this pair of khakis that were so tight that she could make out every muscle on his calf and thigh or if he had stood in front of a tailor, telling her to make them as snug as possible. Continue reading →
The last time I did a proper fiction series has to be in 2016, since then I’ve done a couple of random series that went nowhere. I’m starting a new series as promised in my last post and it’s set in Bida. It’s about a woman who has to make very tough choices at a difficult time in her life.
Enjoy the first episode and I hope you’ll enjoy the series and the characters I’ve created.
She hated the white walls of hospitals, why couldn’t they paint them something cheery and less sterile? Something like cotton candy-pink or purple like ripe wine grapes. Perhaps the colour of the wall wouldn’t bother her so much if this wasn’t the place where people came to die.
The title of this post is taken from the title of one of my favourite songs and the album it’s from. Stevie Wonder the aptly named Miracle, penned and sang the song in 1985 – a couple of years before I was born. I listened to the song as I typed the bulk of this post and I’m just discovering on Wikipedia that Earl Klugh strummed the guitar for this song.
I don’t like ice cream.
That is not exactly true, the price of the kind of ice cream I like gallops every month. These days, anything that isn’t essential like Coca-Cola can rest in Spar, while I move on. So I settled for Ooh La La ice cream when I worked at a hospital a few metres away from their GRA store and when the hospital moved to the island, I gave up on ice cream.
Only two paragraphs are fiction, can you guess which two?🤔
Na Coca-Cola cause this wahala.
An hour before I met him, I had been pleasantly surprised to be entering Onitsha without incident and walking along Upper Iweka clutching my bag without being harassed. I called out my destination to the bus conductors and they all kept saying I couldn’t find a direct bus at that time, I would have to break my journey. By the time the fifth bus pulled out, I decided to listen to them.