Klint's

With my head resting on her bogus frontals, I really was deep in thought. I tried hard to remember her name: not the name of the present chick; of course this one's name is Naomi but the name of some chic that I had met on bbm about 3 years ago (I eventually deleted her after 6 months). She was sort of skinny or at least that's what I could figure from her pictures. Sonia was her name and I couldn't quite believe how someone I hadn't even met claimed to have such deep feelings for me after just 3 days of talking. It was barely a week after we started chatting and she wanted us to meet which I readily accepted. The D day came and some random lecturer had me pissed after he fixed a test for the next day. Now, I normally wouldn't have bothered but I had missed the previous test and I had not even opened the book yet so I cancelled meeting Sonia so that I could at least try to catch up. I know with this, you would feel we met later that week but shit happens becau

“Ronke!!!” he screamed with all his might, the room vibrating to the thundering of his voice. His hands were sweaty and juddering, with his chest making fast-paced rhythmic movements as if dancing to a tone. Was he going to strangle her, or should he just send her packing? – Vile thoughts crept into his mind. Ronke, still petrified on the bed had beads of sweat trickling down her neck and was naked save for the bed sheet she pulled over her chest which still gave a perfect view of her underlying cleavage. Her hair was ruffled as though she had been in a fight and her lips were quivering in obvious fear. “Dabor, am so sorry”, she whimpered, hot tears streaming down her face. Her lover, their gate man had long stolen his way through and out of the house. That was obviously his last day on the job. Having an obvious look of disappointment on his face, Dabor walked out of the room into the sitting room and turned on the television.  He wanted to engross himself in his favourite soap ope

Strangely, I have exercised restraint in writing about the 2017 Anambra Gubernatorial election. This is attributed to a number of factors: first, I am not from Anambra (at best, I am but a passerby) and generally because my relationship with Anambra state has been most abusive. For starters, I will give a brief account of my most painful experiences with the state that is described as the Light of the Nation. Way back in 2012 while I was going to write my Post UTME at the Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile Ife and accompanied by my father, we fell victims to the touts at the dreaded Upper Iweka. It was a particularly painful experience and we ended up spending two days on the road. That experience scarred me and it made me hate Anambra state and Onitsha in particular. The other experience I had that further reinforced my disinterest in the State took place in 2015 as I was travelling home for Christmas and I fell victim again to the hoodlums at upper Iweka. This time, I actually came

It was your first day in your new school: one that you had dreamed of since childhood but was deprived of the opportunity to attend earlier because of a rather strange Federal Government policy. It was senior High School, the one they referred to as Senior Secondary School back in Nigeria and aside coming to dominate the academic circle in this school of your dreams, you really wanted to have a taste of love. In your previous school, you had seen close friends “fall in love” and “enjoy” their relationships and you wanted to have this feeling…It was not like you didn’t “fall in love” back then but the problem was that it didn’t take you more than a week to “fall out of love” with them girls. Perhaps, that was why you “fell in love” with virtually every girl in your class; Nnenna, Jennifer, Nkiruka, Jessica, Oluomachi, Chinecherem, Chidimma, Chinenye, Oluchi, Chioma and so on. In fact, you resolved to “fall in love” by any means possible in this your new school and it appeared as th

The ship of life sets on sail, Commemorated by the piercing cry of a babe – Larinka, her name: Young, promising and void of flaws, Except for that default aura – the Adamic nature it was called. Innocent as the word gets, voices try to shape her choices; A lawyer you will be! Oh no! A doctor you should be! Still malleable, Larinka giggles in excitement, As if mocking the hypocrisy of what they called parental guidance. She grows, having inscriptions and engravings Etched on the very fabric of her existence, Her environment and experiences being dutiful craftsmen of the trade. Ignorant of circumstantial reality, And oblivious of evidential frailty, Larinka dared to dream. Oh yes! A dream, so similar to that of Martin Luther King. Barely halfway into her virtual reality, Life started dealing its cruel and fatal blows: Father – an infidel, Mother – a chronic adulteress, Family – at the brink of collapse, Neighbours – certified rapists, and oh yes she has had a taste.