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Showing posts from February, 2017

COLORS by issac melchisedek

You have no intention of denying it. Your neighbours are disgusted at you; you, too, are disgusted at them. You both claim the constitution is to blame.
The usual evening breeze that’s blowing shows that the time is around 6:30pm. Your lover is on his way. He will come with all the ingredients needed to cook your desire, and make your neighbours disgusted the more. But you smell of worries and anticipations. Last night, you dreamt that you had a dream where someone tipped off the police about the absurdities committed in your room, and wakes up to find yourself in jail.
As you spread your bed and tidy up your room, you think of running away, far away to a land where there is no government. Although you did not believe such a place exist. You remember arguing with one of your lecturers back in the university, Prof. Dauda. He has told the class that more than 15% of humans living in your country have no link with the outside world. You had planned to agree with the class for the first tim…

Loving Men by Ejiro Edward

(Photo art by  John Wilson)I tried loving all the men in my life,Fathers face was like the map of Nigeria, rugged and cracked with many distinctive contractions that reminded one of earthquake. He always came back from work looking tired and had saggy eyes, he was the first to leave and was the last to come back home as long as he was alive.Father worked in a bottling company whose salary could not feed a house of eight. Father had six children and he loved us, he just wasn’t around to tell us he did, sometimes when he came home I would try and sit on his lap like my neighbors daughter did whenever she played with her father. Father would mouth a ‘how are you’ and would throw me up a little but that was the end of our play and I learnt that was the only way he could, in his little way love me whenever he was around.Papa was age fifty six when he died; I think he was too young to.My brothers reminded me of small clans and tribal wars, mother was the UN trying to maintain peace between …

The works of Young Nigerian Writers do not Often Enter Into the Mainstream of the “Entire Nigerian Literary Industry” - Adedayo Adeyemi Agarau

What brought you into writing "For Boys Who Went" ?For Boys Who Went is a collection of poems after my heart, it started by writing individual poems. Then one became two and three and it became a body. But what I was writing initially was poetry, or to put it right, I was writing poems I wanted to include in a collection of poems I wanted out on my birthday. First aim of the collection was to let out a body of works, something I can associate my name with, a representation, something that I can tell my father I did for myself. Though small, it means a lot to me .What'sThecentralideaforyourtitle ?The title of the collection, For Boys Who Went, was adapted from a poem from the collection, For Boys Who Went and Never Returned. I could not successfully name the collection until I have written about 15 poems in the collection. I wish there was a deeper idea behind it though, something like: a struggle for the under-emphasized state of the boy-child emotions, or for the boys, …

I am in Love with a Married Man by Chinwendu Judith Okafo

(Photo art by  Maurice Evans)I am in love with a married man. He calls me baby. He says his day begins with thoughts of me. And that each dawn heightens his feelings for me. I am in love with a married man. We had dated for two months before I discovered he is married. That this man I call lover is a father to two teenagers and a husband to a petite woman. But it didn't change anything. It didn't. Rather it made me love him more. The excitement and secrecy was like pumping adrenaline. It drew us together like magnet. And before we knew it our passion soared above skyscrapers and became too obvious for people to ignore. I am in love with a married man. My mother says it is an abomination. That I will end up with burnt fingers. But I have no fears. None at all. My rival is a different woman. A meek woman. She came to me in tears but left with the fear that what was hers will never be hers again. I am in love with a married man And I can't help myself. He says that he loves m…

This Future by Darlington Anuonye

(Photo art by S. C Versille)And in those years after the Aburi Accord was signed I became a stranger in this world. When the Head of State said he couldn't understand the language of the Queen and her people, we were certain that hell had relocated to our backyard. The bearded colonel raised a placard that read, "In Aburi Accord We Stand." And then, just then, we all headed for the cemetery road. Bube: (quiveringwithhaste, he glances at his watch) O, Papa, can't we leave this story till evening? I've to rush along if I must meet Zuckerberg face to face and welcome him to Naija. Me: (virtuallysurprised) No. You must be patient. Hear these words; they are spirit and life. Bube: (resignedly) Ok ... but only three hundred words. Is it a deal? Me: (scramblingup) Three hundred what? Listen, three words are never enough chisel to carve the mask that became our history. Bube: (unwillingly) okay.The cracked faces of the soldiers as they jabbed and stabbed the things that …

Lady Bolt by Ifeanyichukwu Eze

He pulled.
She struggled.
He pressed.
She wriggled. Harder he pressed himself on her, taming her wriggling to be free,  ruffling her effort. She screamed a muffled note, whispering a muffled plea.Please sir...Her hands flailed as they struggled from being held down. She weakened. They went down. Don't you dare shout.....I'm not hurting you....Please sir....you have a wife...Shhh....Sir. ..Please. ...Her face felt a clap of his clammy palm on her left cheek,  and on her right too. She went lame. He stood above her on his knees unbuckling his belts, unbuttoning his trousers, pulling down the zip, feverish with speed.She laid thinking. What would she do? She caught his ravenous eyes. Red! She remembered her legs. They were under his astride thighs. Numb! But she moved them anyway. They obeyed. They lifted, jammed the underside of his loins, his hungry yonder. She hit again, and again with a force that surprised her. She wanted to keep hitting, to keep hitting the balls.
He wen…