Showing posts from April, 2016


An eight or Nine year old girl walked up to me on the street and asked me if I had seen her parents. I was a little taken by this; 1.  I didn't know her and 2.  she was wearing a funny looking Barney suit with weird colours smeared on the front. She looked like she'd escaped from  a childrens' lets-see-how-much-paint-we-can-get-on-our-costumes birthday party. It was the middle of the day and the Port Harcourt sun was in a bad mood. The Barney costume must've been like a  sauna in there; but the girl wasn't sweating. I wiped my hand across my dmpp skin, there goes my brown powder!


The air was a weird orgy of delicious food aromas, designer perfumes and scented candles.The restaurant was full, but as always relatively calm. Chatter levels were barely above whispers. On most tables were couples on their first, second and  tenth dates. Mariam's eyes followed a beautiful slender waitress  gliding between pristine tables draped in fine  purple cloths. The slender girl carried a tray, on it was a steaming bowl of what she assumed was soup. The music wasn't bad. Jazz, always jazz. It was supposed to be soothing. But She was too pissed off to give a crap.

" You've lost your appetite?" Richard asked softly.

She stared at the untouched plate of noodles in front of her.

"Your powers of perception are outstanding" she shrugged.

Richard sighed and  dropped his fork. It clattered unceremoniously into his plate. The music switched to soft rock.  She didn't bother looking up. She knew   he was staring at her with those steady eyes of his.


"Fuck this!" Broholo hissed. "

The sounds of approaching  vehicles.

"Cool it, Broholo." Zikah cautioned. " Just stay exactly where you are. Don't try anything....."

But Broholo was already running towards her.

"Stop, you'll step on....."

"Shut your trap old man!" Broholo  cut Micheal off. He crouched by Zihka's feet.

"What are you doing?" She hushed. There was a tinge of panic in her voice. "Get out of here, now!"

"Every landmine works the same way" Broholo said hurriedly as he flicked out a small knife. 

"If I can just replace the pressure....."

"We're shit outta luck if you get it wrong!"

"Just fucking Shut up and, let me focus Zikha"

The sounds of the vehicles were louder.

Micheal  counted at least four distinct vechicle -engines.  The soldiers would see them for sure. Even without their present predicament, a  gunfight  would be suicide. He doubted …


Very crude. Sokha thought. The boy's head was nearly cut in half by what could only have been a machete. He hated crude kills. Death was a gift that should be given cleanly, he thought.
He crouched next to the body and stared at it for a long time. The blood was still dripping from the teenage corpse. What piqued his curiosity was the boy's broken arm. The splintered bone still jutting out of torn flesh. Judging by the angle, he surmised that it had been the result of a single blow. He recognised it because he'd inflicted a similar injury on a soldier only weeks ago.
He touched the boy's skin. It was still warm. The area indicated that it had been previously occupied by twenty to thirty people.


The lights went off and I shut my laptop down in anger. I had wasted a lot of time typing out reports trying to meet a deadline and just when I needed to submit them, the laptop ran out of power and the mifi didn't have network. So I was justifiably angry wasn't I? I sat up, looking around my office as the heat descended.


Today is another Saturday, a lot of marriages were celebrated today, but there is a problem, a lot of marriages don't survive the first year. So what is the solution? Where has our generation gone wrong?


Do I look like I am joking with you? Peter asked in that icy cold tone. Hilda didn't bat a lash. She rolled her eyes and flicked her hair. In the first few years of their marriage, the tone had been enough to shut her up, not anymore. His famous Kryptonite Rock weapon had become as flaccid as soft "Fu-Fu".