OBIAJULU.

Obiajulu.

There are days you will never forget.

Those days are not always the grand adventures that bring rivers of adrenaline and a pounding in your ears, echoing your rapidly beating heart. Sometimes it’s a quiet day, a peaceful morning with your belly full of food.

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I Get Place to Borrow

This morning, I heard Collabo somewhere and I realised that I had forgotten my erstwhile favourite Nigerian song, since then I have played it back to back twenty-four times, it’s playing now as I type. It’s a song I can listen to for a whole a day without getting tired – I’ve done it several times before. Continue reading →

Taking On Aretha.

We hadn’t spoken in more two weeks, it worried me slightly because while we had intervals when we wouldn’t speak, this one seemed colder than all the previous gaps. We often spoke for hours, about nothing, about everything, about God and antimatter and all the things between heaven and earth. But we could not speak of Aretha Franklin.

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Sisi and Bobo- Part 1

Sisi in red framed glasses and tall thin bobo are sitting beside each other in a danfo descending Eko bridge into Marina, Sisi and Bobo have boarded the same danfo several times and Bobo always gives someone else his change, just before she asks. She is tired of his apologetic smiles so she makes faces at him when she sees him. This is the first time they’re sitting beside each other. Continue reading →

Ten Years Don Waka

I was working hard at being me- unruffled in any storm of things that do not concern me, when Marian called my name.
Adaeze!” She floated into the scattered room that had me in the middle of it.
Ada is there anything I can help you with? The truck is almost ready to move and you haven’t packed anything.”
“I’m good” I tell her, a smile dancing at the corners of my eyes at the concern in her voice
“I don’t want them to say you’re the one who’s delaying the movement, you’re my friend and I don’t want them saying things about you.” Continue reading →

He came second.

A Facebook post reminded me of something I’d forgotten, a memory lost to time and the worries of life.

 

We were in primary four and he was my best friend in class, I talked about him all the time- my dad even teased me about him, calling me Lekan’s wife until the day I went to him as he washed his car and told him I didn’t like being called Lekan or anybody’s wife because I was too young to be married to anyone- I was just eight and a very serious child. Continue reading →