Monthly Archives: November 2017

If Only – Part 2

Tawakalitu groaned and panted every ten minutes. Her contractions were beginning to come in quick succession. The past twenty-four hours had been gruelling and she was already exhausted. Even in her state, she felt disgusted by her environment. She had pleaded with her husband to take her to the primary health care centre but he had refused. His reasons were that he could not afford their services. She had saved up some money from her palm oil sales in the market but her husband would have none of that. How dare she say she would pay to go to the health centre? He was the head of the house and whatever he said was final.

She looked at the traditional birth attendant and fear gripped her as she saw the sharp instrument in her hand. She began to cry as she wondered if she would survive the ordeal. She was already tired from the long hours of labour and she doubted her capability to push out her baby. The attendant asked her to bear down. She did; panting, groaning and screaming. After about forty minutes, she was delivered of her baby. The birth attendant spanked the baby on the bum but he refused to cry. She hit him again but he was still.

The birth attendant looked at Tawa and shook her head. Realization hit Tawa like a stab to her heart and she let out a long piercing cry of agony. Mukaila who had been waiting outside to hear the cry of his baby burst into the room. He looked at his wife who was hysterical and screaming. He moved towards her and tried to touch her but she pushed him with so much force that he fell back on his buttocks.

Tawa bit her forefinger as she looked at him on the floor. “If only she had refused to listen to Mukaila”. “If only she had taken out her savings to go to the primary health care centre”. “If only Mukaila had not been too proud to refuse assistance from her”. Maybe, just maybe, they would have been rejoicing over the birth of their first child.


To read the first part of “If Only”, click on the link below;


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The Accident

“Gbam.” Tola felt the effect of the crash before he heard the sound. He was in shock as he turned slowly to look behind him. If he had not been wearing his seat belt, he would have slammed his head against the windscreen as the effect of the hit had thrown him a few inches forward.

He got out of his Mercedez Benz C 300 as his emotions tilted between shock and anger. Whoever had bashed him would have to pay. He had just done an overhaul of his car a few days ago. He had also repainted it as it had a few scratches here and there; and a few minutes ago, his car was looking brand new.

He stormed towards the other car in anger; his hands balled into fists. He had the nerve  to sit in his car waiting for him? He hadn’t even deemed it fit to get out of his car to see the damage he had done.

The other guy was driving a Mercedez G-wagon. Tola knocked on the guy’s window with force. The guy rolled down his window and looked at Tola. Tola grabbed the guy by the collar as he shouted as him. “Will you get out of this car before I burn it?”

The guy opened the door and got out quietly.

“What is wrong with you? Did you see what you just did to my car? Tola asked him as he fumed.

“What did I do?” The guy asked.

Tola felt like he had just been slapped in the face. “What did you do? Are you seriously asking me what you did?” Tola shouted into the guy’s face.

The guy looked at Tola as if he was staring at a mannequin.

“Dude, look at what you did to my car.” Tola said pointing towards his car.

The guy walked forward, looked at the damage and was about to enter his car when Tola dragged him back by the shirt. The guy removed Tola’s hand from his shirt and dropped it carefully. He removed his wrist watch and put it on the driver’s seat. He was wearing a blue striped tie which he pulled over his head and dropped on the seat as well. He began to unbutton his white shirt in a hurry and zip down his trousers. He dropped both on the driver’s seat as he took off his shoes, his socks and his inner tee shirt. He was left only in his boxers and Tola began to wonder if the guy was crazy.

As he made an attempt to take off his boxers, Tola stepped backward. “Guy, are you okay?” Tola asked. They were beginning to gather attention from passersby and Tola began to retreat towards his car.

As the guy took off his boxers and became stark naked, Tola opened his mouth. “Ah, wèrè ni eléyìi ò.” He said to no one. He immediately got into his car and drove off. Whatever spirit had entered into such a well dressed guy, he definitely did not want to be a partaker.


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Mind Your Business!

“Wetin dey happen for dia?” Papa Nkechi called out from the window of his bedroom.

He touched the screen of his phone which lay on the floor beside him and it lit up. The time read 11:30p.m. His peaceful sleep has been cut short by the shrill voice of Mama Kudi. He stood up and tied a wrapper round his waist, leaving his chest bare. He moved quietly, taking care not to wake Mama Nkechi who was snoring loudly.

As he stepped into the main courtyard, a basin of iced cold water hit him straight in the face. He froze for a moment as he tried to understand what had just happened.

Mama Kudi immediately fell on her knees as she began to plead. “Baba Nkechi, no vex oh. Yéè, mo dá ràn. (I am done for). She lamented as she placed her hands on her head.

Papa Nkechi looked to his right and saw Baba Kudi struggling to stand upright. Baba Kudi staggered forward and backward like a pendulum. Papa Nkechi looked at Mama Kudi who was still on her knees and shook his head. He turned back quietly and went into his room without a word to either of them.


The next night when Papa Nkechi’s sleep was disturbed again, he turned on his bed as he held his snoring wife. Mama Kudi and her husband were old enough to sort themselves.

Last night, he was lucky. The next basin may not contain cold water, it could be steaming hot water.


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Jollof Palaver

Debola stood outside the door of his room with the cover of a pot in his hands like one in a trance. He looked at the pot of jollof rice still steaming on his stove with his mouth open. This was the second time this was happening and he was beginning to get angry.

Last week, someone had scooped out of the jollof rice he was cooking in the kitchen. He knew because whoever did had tried to spread the rice as if it had not been touched. But Debola knew how the face of the jollof looked when he left for his room.


He had recently moved into a room in the face to face apartments about three weeks ago and was just beginning to familiarize himself with his neighbours. When a portion of his food was stolen last week, he had decided to keep quiet about it. He refused to raise an alarm before his neighbours would ask him if he was calling them thieves.

When he longed for jollof rice this afternoon, he had carried his stove from the kitchen and put it by a corner outside his room. At least, he could monitor his food closely from his room as against when he had to walk all the way to the common kitchen he shared with his neighbours.

He was therefore in shock when he opened the almost cooked jollof rice and found out that the thief had not only taken a few spoons, he had scooped almost half of his food away. He became furious as he looked at the jollof rice. He took a spoon and scooped a little into his mouth. The jollof rice was fully cooked and he used a kitchen towel to carry the pot into his room.


One week later, Debola was about to cook jollof rice again. This time, he decided to cook it in the common kitchen. He pulled out a bottle of castor oil he had just bought and emptied it into the pot. He poured curry, thyme, ground ginger and pepper into it. He stirred the stew before pouring the raw rice into the pot. He came back about 45 minutes later to check on the food. It was almost cooked and half of the rice was gone. He switched off the light under the stove and went back to his room.

An hour later, someone banged furiously on Debola’s door. He stood up from his bed to check who the intruder was.

“Wetin you put for the jollof rice?” Chinwendu; one of his neighbours, asked him.

“I don’t understand what you are saying.” Debola said as he stared at Chinwendu who could barely stand upright.

Chinwendu began to shake his legs as he shouted. “I wan go shit again. I dey come.”

Debola looked at him as he ran towards the toilet stalls.

Chiwendu got to the stalls and they were all occupied. He started banging on the door of the stalls. “Abeg, make una come out. I wan shit.”

“Ahn….ahn…wetin Oga Chiwendu. No be say you jus comot for hia?” A woman shouted from one of the stalls.

“Come out oh. Come out. Chai, I don suffer today.” Chiwendu shouted as he banged on the three stalls but no one heeded his call.

When he could not hold himself again, he saw a potty belonging to one of the children in the compound. He dashed for it and sat on it as his stomach released its contents like a rushing tap.


The occupants in the toilet stalls began to come out one after the other and Chiwendu had to hide his face in shame. He was still seated on the potty and they all looked at him in amazement. Debola had also walked towards the toilet stalls and he looked at Chinwendu with pity.

“Wetin you chop Oga Chiwendu?” The woman who was previously in one of the stalls asked him.

Chiwendu refused to answer as he looked away from his neighbours.

“Answer nau Chiwendu. What did you eat?” Debola asked him.

Chiwendu glared at Debola. “Which kain stupid question u dey ask me?” He asked still sitting on the potty.

“Oh you still get mouth, abi? Next time, it is rat poison I will put inside the food.”

The neighbours looked from Chiwendu to Debola in a bid to understand what was going on.

“Oga Debola, he steal your food?” The woman asked Debola.

“Ask him.” Debola replied as he walked towards the kitchen and trashed the remaining contents of the pot into the bin in the presence of his confused neighbours.


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