Break The Cycle

“I will NEVER call my son from his room to come and hand me the remote that’s next to me like my parents did.

#BreakTheCycle”- Chike Delic Obi.

 

So I saw Chike’s post on Facebook about breaking the cycle and a certain mocking comment “Don’t worry when the time comes” prompted this post.

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Having Fear For Breakfast.

Earlier today, I was browsing through the videos on my phone looking for redundant videos to delete. I have dozens of videos that were donated to my phone from WhatsApp groups and a certain friend in obodo Amelika who sends me every funny video he discovers and the unfunny, scary ones too. When I got to the December 2016 videos, the thumbnail of one of them brought back memories that had me chuckling even before I opened the video. Continue reading →

Akara Chronicles

I was writing about going to ‘Mango village’ while I was in JSS1 with Glory (I can’t remember if Martha came with us or if she was supposed to be the sentry} but as I wrote, I remembered the story you are about to read and began to write it instead.

 

When I was in JSS1, I was a bony, big eyed bibliophile who had only one bucket, a green OK plast contraption that provided for all my needs which was only one- washing my body. I washed my clothes at the tap and formed a pouch with my house wear, as other girls did, for taking the clothes to the dormitory without needing a container for them. You didn’t need a bucket of water to flush the toilet, you simply needed a paper or leather (nylon) bag and a good throwing arm for flinging the products of your business far into the corn farms that framed the back of our dormitory. If you were not in the frame of mind to expose your tender buttocks to other girls and most importantly, the teachers in staff quarters who used the road a few meters across from Culverwell, you would brave the faecal landmines to have only the budding ears of corn and God as witnesses to your bowel unloading activities. Continue reading →

Of Bridges and Mortality

The bus stops at the bridge in front of the National Stadium and you come down, there’s a woman at the back of the bus who’s insulting the conductor. You don’t linger to hear the end of the argument, it had started even before you boarded at Anthony bus stop and it will continue until she gets tired of shouting at him. You’re very grateful to have gotten to Stadium without losing a limb, the driver had driven with the speed of a man who was pursued by a vengeful ex girlfriend.

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The only thing to fear…

They called it scaling, it was an almost seamless operation with one girl astride the old tank holding a bucket to scoop water. Other girls would carry buckets on their heads waiting to fill them with the scooped water and they would carry the buckets to the small clearing where there were perhaps hundreds of buckets, they would exchange the buckets of water for empty buckets while the girls appointed to keep watch over the water stood silently and menacingly. Continue reading →

Friday Fiction- Gilded Throne-2

I started a series last month that was supposed to go up every Friday, it wasn’t even meant to be a series. I wanted to write a short piece for my Friday Fiction Series but the story kept getting longer and longer. I posted the first part in May and this is the second… I hope I don’t post the next one in July 😉

The saga began here====>> Friday Fiction- Gilded Throne.

 

Adesuwa’s niece was born on her wedding day, Itohan had run away to live with Osarodion the village hunter and occasional palm wine tapper. When Adesuwa asked her sister why she would commit such a foolish act, Itohan stared sullenly at her.
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Five days in the Coal City

I haven’t been here for a while, did you miss me? did you even notice I was gone? 🙂 How have you been? What’s the latest news? yarn me gist jare. First of all (go down low) I want to thank everyone who commented on my penultimate post when I talked about having malaria. I haven’t replied to the comments yet due to a few factors which I’ll explain later. Thanks so much for caring.
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