“Echefulem”- a poem on remembrance

See full translation below   Poem written in Igbo Ikwadola? Maka mmeme n’abianu? Maka anwuri n’udo na egwuregwu na abianu? Ikwadola? maka otutu efe gi ga aboro oku, maka aka aga akwuru ndi mmuo? nri ndi na amaghu gi ga eri?   Cheta anyasi, cheta mgbede n’ile mmiri ozizo ruru otu ukwu anyi shiri gabiga…

A rumoured escape

It’s more likely that by this time next year my thighs would be a lot thicker than it is now just like I had thought to myself a year before now. More likely that I would have picked up  new hobbies, read a few more good books, lavished my knuckles in new recipes and my…

The Lesson in innocence

Nigerian Millennial Writing series Ep.2 I was told by my mum that just like in Aba, major Port Harcourt markets still trade following the archaic timings, ‘Eke’, ‘Orie’, ‘Afo’ and ‘Nkwo’. My instinct didn’t dare push my feet to go speak to some of the women in a market nearby on an ‘Eke’ market day….

My name is Itigidi

Nigerian Millennial writing series Ep. 1 I’ve always loved the idea of accessorizing wears, adding  taste to different outfits to get them to look more appealing. This reason made me go into this business. The thought of having both men and women patronize me pushed me to reach a wide audience. I started off in…

The Nigerian Millennial Writing Series

It’s another year I’ll be sharing in this blog the everyday struggles, challenges, stories and achievements of a typical Nigerian especially youthful ones which I hope briefs you on how culture, environment and societal statuses play a huge role in the growth and evolution of a West African, of a Nigerian. Images that will be…

8th Sense

Here, I lie. Counting my teeth with my soft tongue. Waiting for the night’s warm air to turn cold, breathing patiently for my lover. I am always in sync with his sheets, I can tell when he’s ran out of sunlight bar soaps. I’ll remember tonight’s scent, the thick fragrance blooming in this little cozy…

The cut in “GIRLHOOD”

I’ve written a lot about my childhood to you, collating in writing the spirits I had bore at the time when air was fresh to my nose. I’ve dropped attributes I had possessed those times to fit into skirts and blouses, gowns and fancy earrings. I’ve not just grown, I’ve twisted and turned to fit…

South-easterner

  I would have sworn that I never ever thought of handkerchiefs, how white some may appear in their packs, starched and folded for passerby. I chose to wear my favourite flat footwear that very hot afternoon, I forgot how my face looked just like every other day, walking care free with my mini side…

One pile twice in a time

We don’t like being outnumbered in groups or without. We hate to swallow our words in order to spitefully triumph over side talks and bottled lips. Today, like every other day you’d wake up and forget to pray, you’ll rush your feet to a place you feel accepted and perhaps wanted under pressure, hours will…

A company of idleness

Can we talk about the devil’s workshop? In my case it’s not so devilish but still being idle can’t really describe the feelings that pop up every now and then. Some days I wait for my phone to ring, for a staff in the care agency I had worked for back in Brighton to call…

Stained Teeth

It’s been pretty warm this October. I mean what can warm you up more than love felt everyday, felt before and after you’ve touched your loved ones. Nothing beats it for me unless you hand me a small box of Aldi cakes that I still crave some nights under my home-stinking blanket. I surprised our…

Last calls before home

The last seven years of my dear life I’ve spent moving, from home to an old city then to a reformed city and now waiting to run back to where it all began, home. I’ve moved from gain to gain, from love to pain to more love in all. It all seems like there is…