Chioma (excerpt from a WIP)

The moon dotted generously and flattered the New Ritzy spot, the marble columns seemed to glisten as the moon poured down graciously on them—it was a beautiful place. The fact that it was an open space with the evening zephyr coming at intervals made it all the more sensual. To Chioma’s eye this place was much too grand for her and the waiter who obviously had more flamboyance than she did appeared to have agreed with her.

ONE NIGERIA

"Relax Ikemba, this is a personal story only few people have heard.” he said after he paused to look at my face. “And I’m sure you’ll find it interesting.”

Jerry Obiagbor, a renowned professor of History, was heading to Abuja for the Independence Day celebration when his car broke down on his way to the Akanu Ibiam International Airport, Enugu. It was my wife, Adekemi, who first spotted him leaning against his car along the Emene express.

I had insisted on a souvenir; especially since I was going to turn back towards old Abakaliki road. After some light-hearted haggling, my wife suggested he give us a significant, personal story, only very few people had heard. He thought for a while before he found a story; the story of the Nigerian Civil War.

Day of Revelations

Udochukwu’s awed eyes stared on, following the singer’s every move. Ngozi, a sister from evangelism stood by her side with both hands raised in worship, “his voice is angelic, right?” she said when the worship ceased, bringing Udo back to the real world. Udo sat back down without responding; she wasn’t sure what Ngozi meant.

Udochukwu was such a woman who had not much to regret in her short beautiful, yet experience

The Italian Wife

Title: The Italian Wife

Author: Kate Furnivall

Genre: Historical fiction

Setting: Italy 1932

The Italian Wife is set in 1932 in the midst of Mussolini’s hunger for a new Fascist Italy. In a fictional town named Bellina, an addition to the five cities Il Deuce built after draining Italy’s Pontine Marshes in the 1930s. It was an engineering feat that actually employed 124,000 men in 1933. In this intriguing tale, a woman Isabella Berotti is one of the famed architects, the only female. She focuses all her attention on her work relishing the transformation of the town built on the once mosquito infested marshland. She was married to one of Mussolini’s infamous soldiers, the Blackshirts.

If Mama had talked about it

Today is Mothering Sunday and this year marks the closest mama and I have ever been. WhatsApp has definitely contributed to building communication between us. Yet while we talk more, we still don’t talk about it (sex) all. We have never gotten around to talking about my experiences with the drunk uncle who tried to sleep with me, I have never shared my feelings of self-hate with her or that her comparing me to her friend’s children all through childhood greatly contributed to this. Despite similar body types we have never had an honest discussion on our bodies (and even as I progress on the journey to loving mine I wish she had loved it first and hers as well) most especially, we’ve never had any pertinent discussion on sex. Not the right to it, not the enjoyment of it, and definitely not the questions of self-doubt and requirement of self-confidence that come with it.

Being a Man 2

I kept walking towards the bend in the passage when I heard her raised voice and that of a young man two doors behind me. I peeked through the keyhole and saw my wife pointing my pistol at a relatively younger man not more than twenty-nine years of age; I could not believe my eyes. I hesitated before entering the room; I hid myself in a small crevice between what seemed like a sitting room and the bedroom to listen to their conversation.

Being a Man 1

“City lounge”. I almost forgot how much I loved this place; I had driven past even as I clearly heard the bold sign post beckoning on me. Today is my birthday and I just quit my job as the vice president of the country; one of the steps towards fixing all the mistakes I have made lately. Everything is coming back to me now; after three shots of Johnnie Walker Blue. Jack looks surprised to see me, in the over two years he’s manned the bar he had never seen me on a Monday not to talk of being here this early.