Ornaments Around My Neck

One beautiful night, as the fireflies danced around, and the owls sang the songs of the night, I sat at my father's feet enjoying the chilly night breeze. "Baami, Baami, Baami", I repeated continuously just like every small impatient child would call the parent. He laughed and his entire body shook with his laughter. "Akanni Ade, you know I can hear you if you call me once", he replied. I smiled and I said "Baami, it's time for you to tell me a story". He laughed once again, his eyes twinkling in the glow of the atupa and said "your father has not forgotten, I've not grown so old, my child".

 "Open your ears now, Akanni, and learn from the story I want to tell you", he added. I nodded obediently and prepared to listen with rapt attention.

Once upon a time, in the land of men, when the sky and the sea were still good friends, there lived a farmer who was known by all as Àgbeloba, he had some plots of land which he used for planting every year. It was just the start of the planting season, and so, he went to the market to buy seeds, as was his tradition every year.

The next day, he planted the vegetable seeds on the farm first, then he planted few maize seeds and very few cocoa seeds just beside where he planted the maize. After doing all this, he prayed to Olodumare for rapid growth of the seeds.

Day after day, the seeds were growing, only one maize seed germinated and grew into a young plant, likewise the cocoa seeds too - only one cocoa seed germinated. The maize seed grew very fast into a seedling, and thereafter into a young plant. It even started blossoming after few months. Meanwhile, the cocoa seed had only become a seedling even as the maize plant had started blossoming.

The cocoa seedling wasn't happy and one day, he went to the maize plant lamenting

"How is it that you have started bringing out flowers and I'm still a seedling?"

The proud maize replied "You're just too slow, your seed isn't too fine like mine".

The cocoa seedling lived in misery every day and his growth started to decrease with time. There was a wise old orange tree that was planted not too far from the maize plant and the cocoa seedling. It had been observing all that was happening, and so it decided to interfere.

"Young one, don't despair, for in this life, you see, there is a time for everything, your time to bloom will come. Besides, this maize plant will soon die but you'll live much longer. Don't compare yourself with the maize plant, just have some patience. I also waited for some years before I started blooming with flowers". The cocoa seedling hearkened to this old tree's advice.

After one year, the maize produced some maize cobs and soon enough, it died. The cocoa seedling was surprised and then, got encouraged to have more patience. After three long years, the cocoa seedling woke up one day to find some flowers on his branches. The cocoa seedling was overjoyed and knew the time had come. The cocoa seedling thanked the wise orange tree for the advice.

Then said "Truly, there is time for everything. One must wait for his/her time". The end.

"Wow, Bàámi, such a beautiful story", said Akanni. He replied "Thank you, Akanni, always remember there is a time for everything. No matter what problem you have, always remember that the good times are not far away. Have patience, my son and you shall be successful..."

My father's voice echoed in my head as I remembered this story. I sighed and remembered how life was "worry-less" as a young child. Now, I'm living in one room in a "face-me-I-face-you" house, without a job. I was still holding the sack letter in my hand as I remembered my father's words. The company was going through tough times and had to lay off some members of staff. I stood up with newly found courage as I adorned my neck with ornaments of my father's advice. I went out to try and solve my problems, there is no giving up...

Baami - my father

Àtupa - lantern

Olodumare - God

O-REY

Fiction: Lovers of the People by Olabode Oladapo Samuel

Like a cruising car showing off its efficacy to the passers-by, they waddled and chatted down the street. Things were really changing here. Hopes were high; the birds were singing sweet melodies; people were happy. 

For the past four years now, they’d realised and would continue to realise that they hadn’t made a mistake. The steps were so skillfully calculated and obviously its rewards were visible to the blind and audible to the deaf. The government was working. Soon, all the remaining social amenities would be provided to their town. In the blink of an eye, this town, their town, would be swiftly turned into a city. With the way things were going and moving faster, their seemingly unquenchable expectation for the establishment of a tertiary institution would be fully and adequately satisfied. Their economy which was depreciating day by day would be drastically improved. This government was clearly open-handed. Cash was flowing, their town would soon become popular. Like that, they chatted their way towards a market.

“Have you heard that the governor is coming today?” Labake asked Royeke.

Labake and Royeke were friends from childhood. Through times of hostility and reconciliation, they still managed to get along. They’d caused each other pains and had vowed never to converse together again, but with the movement of time and the healing of bruises, they’d realised the impossibility of ending their friendship. They spent virtually their whole lives in the town. They knew how things worked around there. They were never devoid of information nor oblivious of a minute development in progress. The only visible disparity between them was that while Labake was fat and of average height, Royeke was slim and beautiful, though some people considered her lanky.

“Today?” Royeke repeated like someone unpleasantly pressed to a corner. “Okay, I thought it’s supposed to be tomorrow.”

“He should be around in less than two hours,” Labake said.

“Seriously! I don’t know why he’s disturbing himself. He has people’s mandate already or what do you think?”

“Abi nao. Just that politicians like showing off.” They smiled.

As they were entering the market, they greeted passers-by, traders in their shops among others.

In less than two hours, the governor would be there with his entourage and convoy, campaigning for his second term in office. His good works preceded him. He recently started the construction of a two-lane wide road passing through their town straight to the government house. Power supply was stable, taps were running. He truly was the government of the people by the people and for the people. People adored him and highly respected him. He was coming to see his people, his citizens and most important, people who believed in his cause.

“I heard the governor is at the garage and is moving down here. Did you see him?” Mrs Duroti inquired as the duo were approaching her.

For more than two decades, Mrs Duroti, Labake’s mother had been selling “ready-made” clothes in the market. She was born here, lived here, worked here and probably would die here. She knew every route in the town. One thing that was peculiar and sacred to the people of the town was their market day. Market day was always held in every five days. The market was considerably large enough to accommodate other traders from neighbouring villages, towns and cities to showcase their goods. It was a den for cheap goods, especially farm produce. This was apparently the main reason why some outsiders couldn’t stop patronising the town.

“No Ma. We even thought he should be here in the next two hours.” Labake replied and greeted her mother. Royeke greeted her too. 

Customers came around and there was no time to socialise. Labake and her mother attended to the customers while Royeke left them for her mother’s shop which was directly across Mrs Duroti’s. Fifteen minutes later, screeching of tires, blasting of horns and sirens coming from the rally were becoming audible. Villagers in the market engaged one another in light conservation. They gathered in twos, threes and so on. Their lover, the lover of the masses was coming. They were elated and the more the sound became audible, the more they gyrated, showing their support and allegiance.

The governor, his entourage together with his party members and supporters got to an open space at the centre of the market. They were surrounded by market people who either gathered to watch the governor or halted the process of buying and selling goods to watch him.

As planned, a makeshift podium was quickly and somehow mysteriously arranged for the governor to have a good view of the people and comfortably address the throng. A microphone was affixed to the podium. He wore his party vest and a pair of blue jeans. He covered his head with a fez cap, having his party’s logo on his right hand. Finally, to show his solidarity to the people, he wore a pair of neatly shined black shoes and his stomach was moderately protruded. He repeatedly chanted his party name and slogan to which the people responded accordingly and enthusiastically. After they were all calm, he started.

“Good morning my people.” He began slowly. “As you all know that the governorship election is fast approaching, I hereby come here to solicit your supports and most especially your votes.”

He took his time lecturing them on how imperative it would be for them to come out to cast their votes. Although he strongly believed that the people were for him, if they didn’t come out massively on the day of election to cast their votes, God forbid, the opposition might win.

“You have all seen what our administration has offered and done so far.” The crowd nodded and chanted with approval. To that, he waved, smiled and continued. “If you all come en masse and cast your votes for us, we promise to continue the good work. You are only witnessing a tip of the iceberg. If you vote for us for the second time, we promise you much more of what we have been able to do in the first term.”

He went on, pointing out the roads under construction with a promise to finish them. He assured them of opening the newly constructed primary and secondary school blocks. Their administration would ensure that the power supply get better and better. There would be improvement in water supply too.

He took a breath, stooped closely to the microphone and with the consciousness and awareness that this was what the mass had been expecting, he said, “If you look around you, you will see that work has already started. We are determined in ensuring that we construct a new market for you people, our people. And to this promise we will surely fulfil. Modern structures and shops which are under construction already will be firmly established in this town. Furthermore, if you vote for us for the second term, we promise you strongly that we will ensure that an institution of higher learning is brought to this town. Also, we are going to ensure the availability of job opportunity for every citizen of our state.”

With that and other few more promises, he majestically concluded his speech by shouting the party’s name and slogan to which the people loyally responded accordingly and cheerfully only for them to realise the truth of the matter a year later.      

                                                                 

She looked up into the sky, vividly saw an approaching bullet, and many thoughts ran in a jiffy through her simple brain. To blame or to act? To react or to calm down? To ruminate about the past or to save the future? She was indecisive, not because she didn’t know what to do but because she was high and dry, highly frustrated.

“Ma’ami! Ma’ami!” Labake called her, bemused by her mother’s stationary position. Instantly, Mrs Duroti was jerked out of her nightmare back to the dreadful reality she tried to run away from. “Are you not going to do or say something?” Labake asked, almost crying.

Since a month ago, the market had been really burning, emitting heat greater than the Nebuchadnezzar’s furnace. Friends had and were becoming foes, smiling and hopeful faces being gradually metamorphosed to austere and depressed appearances. Their lives and what they’d cherished for ages were steadily being ruined while they were still alive. Their situations were getting worse and things were getting really weird.

The last market day before that market day, things couldn’t really have got worse when Labake mounted on Royeke like an angry mob pounding on a pickpocket. It all started like an inquisition. Then it became the free-for-all. Who actually began what was to be a feud was actually a matter for debate but Mrs Duroti firstly voiced out. 

“Mummy Royeke, why did you shift your counter towards us? You know well that your shop doesn’t extend to this place.” Mrs Duroti was addressing Mrs Ajala.

Mrs Ajala was Royeke’s mother. Just like Labake and Royeke, they were childhood friends. Probably that was what fostered the intimacy between their two daughters. Although they still maintained their relationship cordially, marriage had had its pound of flesh on their closeness. Sometimes, when the occasion arose, they did attend ceremonies together, sewing the same attires and same designs. Mrs Ajala was a grocer. Recently, things hadn’t being going well with them.

“Don’t tell me that. You’re the one at fault here. You are the one that couldn’t maintain you boundary. When I came to market this morning, Royeke informed me about what Labake did.” Labake, who was busy spreading the “ready-made” clothes on a counter, together with Feyi, Mrs Duroti’s apprentice, looked up at Mrs Ajala in disbelief and shifted her gaze to Royeke who was four feet behind her mother. Their eyes met. Royeke used her hands to guard her waist, questioning Labake’s strength and probably challenging her to a fight.

“Mummy I didn’t do anything!” Labake exclaimed, trying to defend herself.

“Shut up your dirty mouth!” Mrs Ajala shouted at her.

“Mummy Royeke, you don’t have to shout at my daughter like that. You are meant to listen to both of them before you conclude, a reasonable elder doesn’t judge having heard from just one party.”

“Let us hear words.” Mrs Ajala cut in. She made the next statement, “Who else will the housefly support if not the one with the sore. Like mother like daughter”, and all hell was let loose.

They proceeded from insulting one another, mothers and daughters, to grasping one another’s clothes. This madness they displayed within a very short period before people in the market noticed them and brought them back to saneness. However, the damage had been done, feelings had been hurt, and the bond had been loosened. That incident haunted Mrs Duroti particularly, being a person of loving, easy-going, and tender character. 

“Feyi! Feyi! Feyi!” Mrs Duroti wailed at her apprentice who had become the recipient of her distressing situation. “Why are you so sluggish? Quickly park those ready-mades inside the black sack before they get soaked in water.” It’s about to rain.

As she was packing the clothes, she couldn’t help herself thinking, silently cursing the prevaricator that brought this calamity upon them. The promise was well constructed and made. Like hungry fish sighting the fisherman’s fishing line, they unconsciously took the bait. Now, like a vagabond wondering the deserted desert, they were high and dry. Nevertheless, what could they do? Or better still, what could they have done? They’d sold their birth rights to the cunning dogs. They were left to ruminate on the leftovers.

Finally, the heavens opened and there was commotion. People were seen struggling to protect their goods and chattels. The wisest had packed their goods and went home or didn’t bother to come at all. Others were wet from heads to toes together with their goods and chattels.

Mrs Duroti looked around and sprinting tear nearly found its way through the hard walls of her eyes. She wasn’t about to cry because of what she actually saw. She was about to cry because of the inconvenience and defeat she felt within, the agony. She noticed people wallowing in the running mud, trying to pick up their falling goods from it. There were no roofs to shield them from the sun and rain. The government had bulldozed their once cherished, ancient market for the promise of a better one. It’s been more than nine months now and work had abruptly halted. No information about the way forward. The government was dead to its promises; the market was gone, reduced to ruins; the economy was done for; and the people were dead, soul and mind. 

None would certainly believe there had once been a very big commercial centre on the piece of land if that person never saw it when it still enjoyed fame and popularity, when it was full of glories as it was always busy with different forms of trades before bulldozers and other machines were brought from the government’s office.

Mrs Duroti gave up after being mercilessly beaten by the rain, sighted Labake and Feyi and said, “Pack the dirty and soaked clothes. It’s time to go home…”

Fiction: Gossip in the Sunlight

The Eyand’isu market was not calm like still waters – instead, it was running like the hardworking hands of the grandfather clock. The market was another world on its own. Traders were buying and selling, sellers calling out to potential customers with enticing words; even the animals were not left out in this half-chaotic-half-normal world – it seemed like some of them were calling unto God to save them from the call of the soup pot, and the rest had accepted their long-known fate already. Eyand’isu market was a very big market, one could even get lost in the market, especially if such person had never been there before. It was said that in the days of the ancestors of Oloto town, in which the market was situated, there was a man who ate the food of the gods placed in the market place and immediately he did that, he turned into a tuber of yam. From that day onward, the market was referred to as Eyand’isu, which means “a person turned into a yam”. Also, the people of Oloto town stopped eating yam from that very day, for fear of eating a human being or a charmed food; it was a tradition that was upheld till date.
The market had different sections where different goods were sold. It was in this market that Abeni, Akanke and Abeke sold their various wares. Abeni was selling rice, beans, garri and flour in bags, Akanke had a shop where she sold the soap she made daily while Abeke was involved in selling different kinds of drinks. These three were best of friends, and even their husbands were forced to become good friends. Their shops were adjacent to one another, so they saw one another every day. But these friends had a shared hobby which they engaged in when they were not busy in the market place. This hobby was none other than gossiping. The three ladies were popularly known as “Àjẹ mẹta” as they were always found together, when not working, in the business of gossip.

One fateful day in the market, these three friends were found sitting together in Akanke’s shop, enjoying the cool breeze in the marketplace. As usual, it was time to analyze the people passing by- predict their past, present and future, and talk about the latest happenings in town.

Just as they were two minutes into the meeting, a lady passed by. This lady wore a yellow gown and a black beret, she also had black shades on. She was a little bit above the average height, quite busty and her skin looked “multi-coloured”. She completed her dressing with a black handbag coupled with yellow and black heels to match. As she passed by, Abeni burst into series of laughter, holding her stomach as she laughed as if there would be no room for laughter the next day. Akanke and Abeke shared a mischievous look and then started laughing too. Heads turned towards the direction of the laughter; some people shook their heads and smiled, having known the character of the three women, while others questioned their sanity by the look in their eyes. After a minute of continued laughter, they finally came back to their senses and Akanke asked the big question: "Why are we laughing, Abeni?". With raised eyebrows, Abeni answered back with a question: "So in this Oloto town, you people are telling me that you don't know who that lady is?, Wawu". "Ehn, we don't know. Just gist us, Abeni, at least we can't know everything. Ko possible", replied Abeke.
Abeni then proceeded to tell the reason behind her laughter, as her two friends listened with rapt attention. She explained that the lady was quite popular among the area boys, and she was known as “Pepe”. “That girl you’re seeing, in fact, she’s a grade one ashawo, seriously oo”, she started. “Almost all the boys in this area have slept with her – imagine, all those useless, good-for-nothing nincompoops with no future ambition. I even heard that ehm, what’s that chief’s name again oo? , chai, I have forgotten”, she continued. Abeke asked “Which chief are you talking about? Describe him so we can at least guess the identity of the person you’re trying to tell us about”. “He’s not too tall like this, he is as black as charcoal and he drives that old Volvo that sounds like it wants to collapse”, she replied. Akanke quickly made a sound that seemed like that she remembered something; Abeni and Abeke turned to her, expecting an answer. She answered them by saying that she had remembered the name of the chief, and she stated that he went by the name Chief Aroro. With that, the three of them laughed once again as Abeni said “Exactly, that’s his name. It befits him, that stingy man that doesn’t like to spend money. He’ll now be pricing goods as if we buy them for free, nonsense. Akanke and Abeni hissed at the same time, as if it was planned, and they all went into another fit of laughter.

Abeni then continued her narration: “Like I was saying, that shameless chief has also had his share of Pepe’s cake”. “Ewo, you don’t mean it o”, interrupted Abeke. “I’m serious o, very serious, I caught them with my two korokoro eyes acting all romantic – Pepe was rubbing that man’s head repeatedly as if she already had juju in that palm of hers. It was quite disgusting, I even heard from Mama Tobi some weeks ago that someone told her, that Chief Aroro, theChief Aroro we know gave a whooping sum of twenty thousand to that ashana.” At that point, Akanke and Abeke had their mouths open in surprise, and they quickly closed it as Abeni continued the interesting story. “Naso I see am too o, my friends, I was as shocked as you two are now; for that man to give the girl twenty thousand, when his children are on the verge of having kwashiorkor, I concluded that the Pepe girl is a karishika. Anyways, to cut the long story short, Pepe’s life is fried already o”. “Fried, how do you mean?” , asked Akanke. “Hmm, it is true that a man reaps what he sows – a woman in this case; Pepe is now reaping the fruits of the bad seeds she has sown. I heard that she now has syphilis”, Abeni continued. Akanke and Abeke started to laugh, and Abeni joined in. After the laughter had died down, Akanke said that she deserved it while Abeke was of the opinion that it was good so she could change and turn from her loose ways.

“The point is that our young ladies need to stop being promiscuous because Sexual Transmitted Diseases (STDs) are very real”, added Abeni. Akanke and Abeke nodded and they prayed that God in heaven would help the young ones.

As they wanted to continue their discussion, the clouds became dark all of a sudden and raindrops started coming down, little by little until it became heavy. The three friends quickly dispersed as they went to cover their exposed goods from the heavy rain. So, it was that the clouds had adjourned their little gossip assembly, and the rain had seconded the motion.

My Slavery My Story

At first, it seemed so hard, impossible- difficult to do that which I had to; that which would touch lives forever. It was a herculean task for me as it required a lot of courage, but, I had already determined in my heart to do it and I had already given my words to certain people. I am a woman of my word, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint them. So, I got up from my bed half-scared, half-confident and walk sluggishly to the bathroom to have my bath.

 Just before I entered the bathroom, I heard my phone ringing; I smiled because I already knew who was calling. I checked the screen of my phone and my thoughts were quite correct. I picked the call and the first thing I heard was “Good morning, my love”. I don’t think I could ever get tired of hearing that every morning. My fiancé, Jide calls me every morning and we talk for ten to twenty minutes. After fifteen minutes, we end the call and I feel so happy to have someone like Jide, someone that loves me for who I am. He called to reassure me of his support, to encourage me and to inform me that he would come pick me in the next thirty minutes. On hearing these words, I felt better and I swiftly went to the bathroom.

After bathing, I hurriedly dressed up, and checked myself in the mirror for any adjustments. Just then, I heard the horn of Jide’s car, I carried my purse which contained my necessary items – powder, lip gloss, my stick-it notes which contained points for my speech, a black pen, a hand towel and some money. I locked the door and went outside to meet Jide who had already gotten down from the car. He was looking exceptionally handsome today as he rocked a blue and black checkered shirt, coupled with black jeans and a pair of sneakers. To top it all, he had dark shades on. He smiled as I walked towards him and I smiled back, he hugged me and opened the car door for me like the gentleman he was. As he entered the car, he turned to me and said “Sweetheart, you look even more beautiful today”. I blushed like a little school girl and I thanked him. He started the car, and off we went to Jade Majekodunmi Memorial Secondary School.

 In the car, Jide helped me to rehearse for my speech and he calmed me once again with his words. At some point, I totally forgot about the speech because Jide took my mind off it with his dry jokes. At last, we got to our destination and we both alighted from the car. I scanned the surroundings- typical secondary school environment, students everywhere doing one thing or the other; I looked up and said to myself “Adunni, this is it, you can do this”. We were ushered into the school auditorium by a female student who was obviously a prefect due to the fact that she had a badge pinned to her school uniform. With smiles, she welcomed us and she led us to our seats. Soon enough, the vice principal of the school, a kind middle-aged man, came to welcome me and I introduced Jide to him. He thanked me for keeping my word, and he also added that the students were enthusiastic about the programme.

The programme kicked off after some minutes with the opening prayer taken by one of the teachers. Next, I was called to the high table alongside the principal, vice principal and the heads of departments of the school. With a quick glance at my fiancé, I stood up and confidently made my way to the table. After the welcome address, I already knew my time had come. With lots of applause, the moderator called me up to the podium to deliver my talk. I breathed deeply for a second then I stood up and made my way to the stage to do that which I had to. As I stood on the stage, I looked around and my eyes once again scanned my immediate environment. I saw expectations in the eyes of the students, I saw potentials, I saw the future and I saw bright stars that should shine forever and not be tampered with. I started off with a smile and a “Good morning, everyone”. My greeting was met with good responses and smiles; that boosted my confidence and I felt more at ease. My eyes also met that of Jide and I felt them encouraging me and urging me to tell my story.

I started narrating my story of how I was held in slavery with the chains of words. My speech went thus “I know when you hear the word slavery, your mind goes to being held in a place with iron chains and being tortured. I put it to you today that one can also be tortured with words and enslaved.” I explained to them that I was the only child of my mother, who got pregnant with me at a young age. I never knew my father and so it was me and my mother. She never really cared for me and was always blaming me for all her troubles. She would drop me with her mother, my grandmother. This continued until my grandmother died and she would leave me alone in the house; at this point, I was already seven.

No day passed without my mother telling me I was a failure, a mistake and that I couldn’t do anything right in life. From a young age, I didn’t really have any friends. I wasn’t really a bright student but I managed to enter secondary school. I always felt weak, because my mother’s words always echoed in my head. From being an average student, I dropped to being one of the last three in the class. I told them how I joined a gang because they told me they would make me feel strong, and how I used to drink or smoke anytime I remembered my mother’s words. To cut the long story short, I was pulled out of my mental slavery by my school counsellor who helped me to understand that I had potentials and I could be anything I wished to be. It was a tough process but I recovered with time and I broke free. I moved out of my mother’s house into a hostel which was gotten for me by my school counsellor.

I continued by saying “Words don’t define who you are or who you’ll be. You make your own destiny. Don’t let anyone make you feel inferior with their words because you’re special and you’re a success”. I concluded by dishing out advice on how to be emotionally strong and withstand destructive words, then I rounded off my speech “I am Alade Adunni, and this is my story”. Everyone stood up with applause and I went back to my seat with joy in my heart. Question and Answer section was next, and then the programme ended with the closing prayer. I shook hands with all the staff on the high table; I also thanked all of them for the opportunity to share my story.

I left the school with Jide who couldn’t stop praising me and telling me how marvellous I was. Looking at the beautiful clouds outside, I felt very glad that I was able to help the students in my own little way and to build them up for whatever the future held for them. At last, I had shared my story.

O-REY

CHIJIOKE JOSHUA ON THE PREVAILING PATH

                           THE PREVAILING PATH: its pain, its gain.

       A hot day it was as he sat under the shades of a tree tapping to the whiz of the dancing breeze. He sat watching the leafs around him play with themselves as the air tossed them round like its playmate. Suddenly, he doused in thought, taking a ride through the ambits of his mind; overwhelmed by the tune of reality, he chose to undertake an escapade with the pen. Thus, he writes.

      It had never been a smooth path, factually it would never be a smooth path. A young boy driven by the quest to succeed is engulfed in the capsules of thorns as he makes an attempt to scrabble through the rages of life. “MAY YOUR ROAD BE ROUGH” he remembered were the words of a jurist while he grew. Taking an in depth of those words remained of disgust to him as he placed them as vain roots while he climbed the ladder of youthful evolution. He began his quest seeking for success at the peak of comfort, however the thorns of life remained as sharp as ever. “I want to be the best, I strongly desire to succeed” those where his anthem, he never knew the road would be untarred.

      The hate doubled, the detest tripled, Of course his priority became the seed of anguish in the garden of his peers. A youth he was, however he fell into pain and worries as tears became his friend. He had to pay the price for success, it was never his fault as the order of nature had to take its course. The road became more beautified by gallops as the Joseph he never desired, he had to become. “I DO NOT PRAY FOR AN EASY LIFE, BUT I PRAY FOR THE STRENGTH TO ENDURE THE DIFFICULT ONE”, Those were the words of MOHAMMED ALI as they strolled through his growing mind. He had to overlook the pain, he had to face the gain. The years took a journey as they continued to go by. He had gotten the confidence as he buried the cost involved. The passion for what he desired had become his spectacles, they were the eyes he used in seeing. The love had suddenly increased as his friends began to multiply, he smiled to himself knowing it was the pattern of life.

       I  looked up into the sky, staring at the birds as they dominated their territory, I rolled my eyes over my huge edifice, the most successful man in my state I had become.  A sigh of relieve I gave as I dropped my pen, I had written a little of my life experience. I thought of what to name my short piece, an idea popped up in my mind; I looked down , I finally scribbled “THE PREVAILING PATHWAY”.

UCHEAKONAM CHIJIOKE JOSHUA
A 300 Level student of the faculty of law
Obafemi Awolowo University.

[SHORT STORY] A Glimmer of Hope-What future?

In the solitude of his study, Femi buried his head in his table thinking of the disappointment of the last university admission exercise. During these past couple of weeks, Femi had been emotionally down, this was his third attempt trying to gain admission into the university. Failing to gain admission this time surely made admission hopes very capricious, maybe even dead to him. Femi was very passionate about human lives, so he wanted to become a surgeon, but he is feeling very frustrated about his failure to secure admission. It was not that he did not have the intellects to gain admission but the admission was just not forthcoming.

A month later, Femi no longer took into cognizance his inability to gain admission into the university. He braced up to life's challenges, resolving that if university education was not for him he would find something else that would seize his passion-even though to study surgery was his ardent passion. Femi then went into learning fashion designing. The initial weeks were never moments to reminiscence on. He was sent on errands very regularly-both relevant and irrelevant ones. Time which should have been spent on knowing the nitty-gritty of fashion designing was always wasted by his master, steadily sending him on useless errands when an important phase of work is to be carried out. Femi could recall one particular day. He got to his workplace at 8:05am in the morning, got everything set for the day's job. Things went on as they should not until when it was time to cut into shape a customer's dress-which was a crucial stage in the work process, Femi had never known how to cut a dress into shape but he expected to have a knowledge of that in that day. But to his surprise, his master ordered him to clean a shoe which he was to wear next week and take it to the cobbler's place(which was a 30min journey on foot) for polishing, that way he would never be able to grasp the act of cutting a dress into shape. Femi was not only highly frustrated and devastated but also speechless, he wondered what life had in store for him.

That day on his way home, Femi stumbled upon something that accounted for a major turn around in his life. Some distance before getting home, he eyes stumbled on a billboard advert with the theme, “Don’t you ever abandon your passion, it’s your power.” This advert got his head thinking. Resolved, he put his work disappointments into his subconscious, braced up and registered for the upcoming admission exercise into the university. He was more determined than ever to be admitted, preparing vigorously for the exams, not willing to fail in his passionate quest.
Not defying his passion and hardwork, Femi was admitted into the university to study Neurology. After years of disappointments, Femi could now see a “glimmer of hope” for his passion to be satisfied. But for all he has experienced, there was a question for Femi, would his hope phase through and have a reassuring future end? Femi knew the answer to his question, for he knew he had to discern his own steps for his future as an entirely new life begun.     


          A short  story - Adenipo Oluwadamilare.

THE INNOCENT FRESHER: THE THOUGHT

She wasn’t frightened. She was not all right either. Everything around her seemed relatively strange. 

Am I a stranger in a strange world, trying to fit in? If I try to do this, wouldn’t I be going off the track my parents expressly laid down its direction? I want to do this. At least for me to even be in this hall after the end of the normal programmes, that means I really want this. What if someone sees me? Well the light is off and I should be able to participate unseen. But was I brought up like this? I want to do this! I’ve said no to two guys already. Will I still say no to the to-be third person? Surely, I know they will keep on coming. Just like squirrels keep coming to a productive farmland, they will keep on coming to feel some sensitive parts of my body. I can’t believe I’ve only been watching the display for more than ten minutes now. Surely three options are available for me: first, to go home and relax; second, to stay and join them in the display, the fun; or to just stay here as I am now and painfully enjoy the bizarre display.

Out of these three options, the first is the best, just that my body won’t let go of my spirit. The second is what I want, what I feel like doing. I want to do this! But what in the world is holding me back? Why can’t I just join them once and for all? This is my first opportunity and probably the last. I think I know what is holding me back. These impediments include my background; my simplicity; my naiveness; and most importantly I’m from a zealous Christian family. This must surely be devil at work here. Satan is currently tempting me. But I want to do this! I want this!

She thought, totally confused. A giggle from some of the freshers taking a break from the display jerked her out of the puzzling thought. She looked at them with a forced smile and comported herself.

The thought continued. But how will I showcase my talent in this display? Can I actually fit in and have people’s eyes staring at me with admiration? This is all my parents’ fault. 24/7 if I don’t have something educative, religious, and likes to do, I dare not go outside our compound. Only my church brethren are allowed to visit me frequently. My friends are specially selected for me. Two of the criteria among others for the selection are decency and coming from a dedicated Christian background. Little wonder I’m so naive, so inexperience. My attire! It wouldn’t have been funny. All the way, thank God for my roommates who added relatively to my dressings and make-ups, I wondered how I would have looked today. Maybe my horrible dressing would have made me the cynosure of all eyes. Thanks to Adesewa. I remember my secondary school days, days of consecration. I remember school mates gossiping about me, about my dressings, about my fanaticism, about my rehearsed humility among others. Gone were those days. At least with the few weeks I’ve spent on this freedom land, my life has really been changing, changing for better, I think. This will surely be the apex, the zenith of the process of attaining civilisation. To my dressings and make-ups, within these few weeks, my roommates have added new touches. If I partake in this, in this “devilish” act, cessation will surely come to my religion life. But I still want to do this.

“What’s up young lady?” the racy and charming voice of a tall dark handsome guy jolted her out of her world. She looked up at the imposing figure standing in front of her. 

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed. It was Francis, LLB part three. “I’m good, young man,”she replied rather humorously.

Francis was a part 3 law student. He was a part of the orientation committee for the freshers, screening sub-committee precisely. During the screening exercise, she was directed to him to help her arrange her files for submission to the faculty secretary. He was a gentle and easy going man, a man full of life, having no worries. His assistance to her during the exercise, to her, was immeasurable. He took her screening exercise personal. He helped her print the necessary documents that she didn’t know was part of the required documents to be submitted. By that, they’ve become friends, though not that close.

“I’ve been watching you for the past 30 minutes. You’re just seated here, watching. Why aren’t you enjoying yourself?” he asked.

“Nothing. I’m okay like this.” Obviously she was not okay and he knew. “You’ve been doing excellently well. I was even surprised that cool gentle Francis can get people’s attention when it comes to this.”

“Melo Melo ru e lati se,” he commented and she chuckled. Apart from been gentle, he was also a funny guy. Whenever he was praised for anything these days, he simply replied by picking a phrase from Olamide’s recently released song, “Melo Melo”. “Will you join me to make the world go wide?” he stretched forth his hand like a bridegroom who wanted to show off his bride to the whole world.

“No No No,” she instantly replied like someone who was stung by a giant ant. “I don’t want to. I’m okay like this.”

“It doesn’t mean anything nao,” he was partially disappointed. He came to her with the pure intention of rescuing her from her world of boredom. It was her world; it was her choice.

After a short futile persuasion, he found his way back to the world he was coming from. She was alone again, back to her incomprehensible world.

But why? Why didn’t I follow him? Those two guys that came to me earlier were strangers, though I’ve seen them somewhere in the faculty before. This is Francis, my little hero. Why can’t I just have some fun with someone I know? Why? Why am I even seated here if I don’t want this? I could have been in academics reading, in my room cooking or on my warm bed sleeping. I just hope Francis is not offended by my innocuous action. I just hope he understands.

She looked around obviously confused and envious. She saw a guy and a lady going out with the guy’s left hand around the lady, deeply locked up in another world. She searched for Francis but he was nowhere to be found anymore. She saw someone beckoning at her. It was Catherine, one of her roommates that followed her to celebrate this event. She shook her head in disapproval. Catherine simply smirked and continued to enjoy the moment. Everywhere was blooming. Everyone looked free for the moment, nothing to worry about. They have no worries about the past or the future, what they all cared about was the present. They looked so free from science, academics, depressing things going on around the world, free from the complexity of their life and most importantly, free from their beliefs. 

Her eyes continued to search for nothing in particular. 

This DJ, DJ T-Swaggs is really killing the beat. No dulling moment at all. Everything here is just irresistible. What should I do? Should I join them or take my purse and walk away? I think I’ll follow the latter option. Or what is the joy in just watching and not partaking.

Apparently determined, she picked up her purse and slowly moves towards the exit. As she was about to step out, she was startled with another charming voice but a calm one.

“Hello.”

“Hi.” She took a step back and faced the intruder and obstructor. Oh my God! He is handsome. She didn’t remember ever meeting him before. He was a complete stranger to her. Nevertheless, he was handsome and well dressed.

“What’s up Mary?” he even knew her name. “I just came in and I feel like having some fun before leaving. Will you please?”
 

His hands pointed towards the direction of the centre of the hall. She wanted to resist him, to resist the urge but she couldn’t just do it. For her to have won the battle against Francis, resisting this stranger standing in front of her shouldn’t take a second. But the urge was too much and he was just too irresistible.

“No problem. Let’s go the dance floor. After all, it’s freshers’ party.” He was Jeffery, a fresher.

Written by OLABODE Oladapo Samuel (The Smiling Man)