Where had things gone so wrong? Where was that fork in the road that he had taken a wrong turn on? How did it all come to this? Segun thought about these questions as he drove to the office.
African Literature and Lifestyle in One Pot
Day: 21 March 2020
Pen to paper, I’ve lost the words To tell To say To describe This abstract feeling that comes When I know that I really don’t Know anything at all; When I look at beauty and all I see Is sadness. When I look at the…
My Father’s Children My father’s children were fools, the spectacle of my village people. We danced naked under the first rains, savoring the sweet smell of the cloud’s tears on the dry parched skin of the village floor. Our little feet stomped on the muddy…
Darkness used to be cold, but now warmth is all I feel In this enclosed shell of mine. Madness used to drive me on, but now calmness is all I feel I think it’s a sign, I might go, soon. I was used to asking…
Survival, they say, is the first impulse, the first faculty in this side of hell. This is the picture of a heavily lit labor room, of a boy with moist as his first clothing, of a boy who refused to cry at birth. The watchword: “Survival is…
“So… you came…” my father said to me. I shrugged. “They called. I answered,” was my curt reply. My father—dead father looked at me from his casket, his once ebony skin the colour of faded parchment… no doubt thanks to the cool temperature from the mortuary…
Belie *sniff* *sniff* Do you smell that? *sniiiiiff* That… that metallic ting in the air. It’s a little coppery, isn’t it? Oh you smell it now, don’t you? Good. It’s your handiwork. You did it. You should be proud, you know. What, you aren’t proud? Oh… you’re actually terrified? Hahaha, you’re kidding…