My grief is a mask behind a smile mask behind my sad face. In my worst moments, I'd close my real eyes and dream, I'd let the tears flow and wipe them just as quick and no one would know because I am happy - always. My grief is a scream suppressed in my throat … Continue reading MY GRIEF



You are on your way home where you'll be spending the Christmas holiday. Your friend, who you paid a visit, sees you off to the park and waves goodbye as he watches the bus leave. You adjust properly on the seat where you are cushioned between a very fat woman who's wearing cheap, tight bracelets … Continue reading FICTION: COLOURS WASHED AWAY


Until that visit, I had never seen a reservoir. I heard people die in it. A little girl once died in a reservoir in Adigbe so mummy made sure we fetched water only from Iya aladura's tap. From the balcony, I noticed the sitting room was in need of a thorough makeover. There was a heap of sand that formed a mound outside, just beside the reservoir. This heap, i  would later realize was Alaba's grave.


At that instance, we make silent promises not to commit sins like we used to, we decide to ‘live right’ but it takes a few days and we are back to our old ways, occasionally remembering who died and shedding a few tears, then moving on, sometimes taking flowers to the graveside depending on how close we were to the deceased.


MR IBEH ANDRE NNANNA IS BACK AGAIN. I MISSED HIS WRITINGS... READY OR NOT, HERE WE GO... I swear to God if I knew she had a terminal ailment I would have given her more attention, ‘oh God this suddenness, see how pale she looks, God, oh God please let this cup pass over me, … Continue reading JUDE’S CROSS