“What’s that? A painting?” Ahunna, my wife, has a habit of asking questions and providing their answers in question format in the same breath. Her behaviour used to throw me during the early part of our relationship, but not anymore. “Are you going out? Where? Hanging out with your boys?” Three blissful years of marriage have familiarized me with her ways. Nowadays, I relax until she’s done with her barrage. Then I answer the very last one. I had picked…
Sometimes, life for many feels a lot like running out of road. The intricacies of living become such a fractious exercise, akin to wheels missing spokes, that people start to feel a certain way about holes and strokes. Imagine how enticing it gets, to look at the business end of a Glock and fantasize about pushing a few inches of the barrel inside a hole, as your hands eagerly roam all over the mesmerizing chrome. Imagine the battle of wills…
A few days ago, I accompanied my wife to her favorite Christian charity, and there was a new face behind the service counter. “Where is Conor,” she asked the new attendant. “He’s not on duty?” Conor was the guy who normally met. An Irish man, he was always bubbly and made everyone feel welcome. He even learned to pronounce my wife’s name. “Boooola,” he would boom, and laugh aloud at himself. “He’s gone,” was the reply. “Gone, where?” “Gone back…
It is funny how the more things change, the more they remain the same. You think you have left the past behind, only to find it following you everywhere you go, like a shadow. “Check your phone and wallet!” That was the thought that flashed through my mind as somebody bumped into me in the process of getting off the bus. Pulse racing, my hand flew to my pocket to confirm if it still held its precious cargo. Of…
Have you ever written a love letter? If yes, do you remember your very first one? Mine was many moons ago when being gay meant you were happy, and life was still pretty simple because there were only two genders, male and female. So, there was this girl in the next class (primary 6B) that I was feeling that year. She was a fine specimen, with her close-cropped hair, pinhead earrings, well-ironed uniform and clean socks. She was brilliant too,…
A second nudge on my arm came only a few moments after the first. It was no less annoying, but my focus was fixed on managing the storm inside of me. The bumpy bus ride wasn’t at helping my already precarious state. Each time we fell into one of the innumerable wells which littered the road and made it such a nightmare to traverse, a wave raced towards my throat, prompting me to instinctively clamp my mouth shut until it…
“Her eyes, Dare, they were phenomenal. I just couldn’t tear myself away from them.”“Really,” he replied, not looking up from the notepad he was scribbling on.“Yes,” I said, warmth creeping up my spine as I remembered how Salewa’s eyes had made me feel. “Gosh, it was like metal to a magnet, the way they attracted me. One glance at those beauties, and I knew I wanted them to be mine forever.” That statement elicited a reaction from my best friend….
It was beans for lunch at the office this afternoon, and a bottle of Pepsi came after to wash everything down. A couple of hours later it was time to go home. We filed inside the staff bus and I took my normal seat, plugged in my earphones and started jamming to pass time. Y’all remember the first law of thermodynamics right, that energy cannot be created or destroyed, but can only be changed from one form to another. Well,…
What is your Nigerian story? Forget whatever you may have heard about us on CNN or BBC. They say if you don’t tell your story, others will do it for you and they won’t necessarily be nice. That explains why you’d only see our flag on foreign media when issues like fraud, endemic poverty, and corruption come up. True, those things are part of who we are (which nation doesn’t have its dark underbelly) but that’s not where it ends. …