Part 5. The End. As Sister Nela ushered Senior Obiora and me into the convent’s meeting room, I heaved a sigh of relief. At least now I would have a chance to explain myself. Now I would get justice, I said to myself. “Anita, you have broken the school rules o. How dare you call […]Read more "A pen. A pad. A scarf. My glasses. The clock. V"
Part 4 I ran. I ran as fast as I could to the prefects’ lounge. There he was. “How could you.. do this Obiora, how dare you?! I’m carrying your baby!”, I screamed just as my palm landed on his face.The room was dead silent. It was common knowledge that my aunt worked as a […]Read more "A pen. A pad. A scarf. My glasses. The clock. IV"
It wasn’t a regular Monday, I didn’t have to snooze the alarm clock over and over, matter of fact I woke up before it rang. I kicked off with 150 push-ups and a 30 minutes burn session on the thread mill, in and out of the shower, dressed and sanctified with a few shots of […]Read more "The Lady in Red Shoes…"
Part 3. “Anita talk to me. Who wrote you those letters? If he’s not a coward why would he let you take the heat alone. Hian!” Dumebi pressed on and on. He’s not a coward. He just told Sister Nela he wrote those letters. Will Dumebi believe me? “I’m in pains Dumebi, I will give […]Read more "A pen. A pad. A scarf. My glasses. The clock.III"
Part 2. Saint Mary’s Secondary School was a school for the rich and for the gifted. Automatic scholarship was given to applicants who could pass the entrance exams, while the others had to pay N200 per term. In the 70’s, this was pretty exorbitant, hence only the rich folks could send their wards there. You […]Read more "A pen. A pad. A scarf. My glasses. The clock. II"
Part 1.He was the torch bearer of the school’s legacy. He was the brightest in the galaxy. He was the Senior prefect.I am old and gray. I am the mother of his dead child. I am the victim of Adam’s fall. “It’s break time Anita, let’s go to the dining hall”. Dumebi never understood why […]Read more "A pen. A pad. A scarf. My glasses. The clock. I"
#memoirsOfAKopa It was supposed to be a good day. The state coordinator had told us to be happy and feel privileged for the opportunity to serve our nation. He made a first class in Architecture from OAU. Despite the strikes and killings, he escaped only to be a victim of the government’s indiscretion. “Tk is […]Read more "Where is My Khaki?"
So I have been able to reach different people and sell this blog idea to them. So far, everyone seems to love it! But guess what, that’s just the beginning of more work. The fact that I’ve started the work is a great step in the right direction but then there’s a whole lot of […]Read more "One Week, One Trouble"
The fumes from the Keke Marwas almost choked me. Chaos seemed to be the order of that day, and every other day as I soon observed. As the akara woman suddenly dropped her tray, I stepped backwards almost hitting the person at my back. She muttered some curses under her breath, I was torn between […]Read more "Obalende"
I don’t have the luxury of a camera and free time, else I would be the next Brandon Stanton. However my passion for writing has not died down, writing narratives I mean. So here’s a blog open to diverse authors, to contribute opinions, share experiences or narrate chronicles of their everyday lives. I currently have […]Read more "Hello World!"