Viewing life through the eyes of Mr Death
“It kills me sometimes how people die” says Death compassionately as he marches along
Join Mr Death as he narrates his side of the story through this Nazi German streets in WW2
Mirror, Mirror on the wall.
“Have you ever seen a little child before a mirror? Do you notice how taken by the mirror they appear?”
Shana faced the room as her little boy tugged at her sleeve
How else can a melancholic get high?
“Babe, your magic potion is ready” cooed the heady aroma as it wafted sensuously round my room
I followed its trail. And allowed myself indulge in the fragrance. Then climbing out of bed, I shuffled back to the kitchen.
of love languages and feeling unloved
Friday 02:26am Sitting up in bed. Listening to the Hausa song #Rahama by Kaestrings This song – one of my 2024 discoveries – has been playing in my head for days on end. Maybe because I have been immersed in studying the Biblical stories of 1. Blind Bartimaeus 2. Dorothy [my name for the faceless…
Africans, stop forwarding this expired message!
Sometime in 2023 after I mentioned Online that I was walking the road of Cancer, someone forwarded this WhatsApp message to me. They said nothing else. I did not need it but I had someone in Nigeria then who did. Figuring it would come in handy I thought of her immediately. Verifying Accuracy However, since…
emotional intelligence is overrated: knock down the restraints
It was my then best friend Ojochide who first pointed out my self sabotage. Unfortunately, my save-the-world glasses were still on then. Teenage friends who met in Jos then transitioned to Lagos. We were at the Tejuosho market, Yaba, that day when I began berating her. Again she had lost her cool with one of…
the song and dance of battles vs blessings – a lesson from the seashore
Gamziavo! That was my father’s second favourite mantra. Mr. Gamziavo, as he told us the story, was a stoic who puzzled all the villagers. He always seemed unnerved by happenings around him. While others rejoiced, he stood aloof. When others cried, he remained unaffected. Why was he like that? According to Mr Gamziavo there is…
help me! i do not want to kill myself
Today, December 30th, would have been two years I left this world. That was the second time I came close to ending it that year. It was some days after radiotherapy. I had been struggling for the last few days with the thoughts. It was a feeling of someone holding your head down under water….
enslaved. abused. deported. a tale of the vulnerable migrant.
“One more footstep and all these will be over” Hajara looked at the sea entreatingly “You are too young and still have your life ahead of you” her heart remarked “What life does she have? Is this a life?” her head jeered “This life. She is here. Things can turn around, you know” “Ever the…
the dilemma of human longing and the emigrant
My soul is out there wandering the streets of Jibowu, Yaba in Lagos, Nigeria. But my body sits on this bed typing and listening to songs. I peer at the time. 03:02Hrs. A time when normal men sleep. However, sleep is far from me. I sit here watching myself go back again to Jibowu as…