Love so deep

 Feb. 26, 2021.

Love is a man with many faces,

It made me shine my thirty-six,

Till it's withering knife grow its wings,

And it became a bird that perches on trees.

Its nest is supposed to be my home,

But every day it roams,

And every night is just another home,

And a time hope as to boom.

I have lived in this body so long,

Now time to shatter my longing,

All the hole that love has dug,

I could swear it isn't its doing.

Yesterday I nearly said I was done,

That I have found the one,

Everyone agreed that the seed was sown

But now, I couldn't see it to own.

Say it that my greediness has born a baby,

That my moves are slutty,

Maybe it is or messy,

I know everything knotty.

Will end with joy(After every difficulty there will be ease).

Note:

I hope this calm you for a little while.

Flash Fiction (300words)

 Between Life and Death

When I saw the smoke I was struck at once, my throat tightened and hurt. I couldn't even swallow my own spit. I gripped the door with my shaky hands while my heart raced at 360°. All my thought was my child locked up in one of the rooms, and his cry that broke out as I arrived. I battled the door repeatedly for some time, and when it refused to open, I jumped around the house, slided the louvers, removed the net while the fire razed and the smoke became huge. I wasn't afraid to die, but his muffling between the withering of the fire made my mind travelled fast. 

I ran out for help,  my phone was also locked up in the smoke in my baby's room and the estate was silent as a grave. I moved like wind, banging gates upon gates.

 "Fire, fire, " I screamed with all my might, " Egbami, egbami, omo min tin jono", (help, help, my child is burning), I shouted repeatedly and my weakened legs transported me to the estate gate where the two security men rushed at me and held my arms while I tried to tell them that my child mustn't die in the fire. 

"My child must not die," I kept saying, but it seemed not enough. My eyes kept  flowing hurt and I began to choke with my heavy heart in my hands. My brain limped and my body numbed.  I lost my senses that the blaring of the fire service tank and the running of the fire service men were like a drama playing before me intermittently. My mind was far away and the last I remembered was my baby in my arms in a white room on a creaky bed.  

Flash Fiction (100 words)

 Cross

These past days were mirage. I felt light headed and I wouldn't stop vomiting. I stayed back in school trying to think, afraid that I will have a baby like Virgin Mary and be chased without recourse. The thought alone was scary because just the other day I attended a festival and I took a drink my friend later joked to have had a Codeine.  I couldn't even remember that I took a drink or more to make a baby.

Oh God! I know a baby is a blessing, I started saying but I couldn't hope more.

Review

 BATTLE LINES: The Autobiography of Chief Olusegun Osoba.

I was young and just trying to get hold of my environment when we woke up that morning to hear about the assassination of Chief Funsho Williams. Everyone was sensitive and lamenting his death as if he was a close relative. Chief Funsho Williams had come to a close by for his campaign a week before and the people had fallen in love with his speech and his charisma. The people loved him and that I guessed led to his assassination. One question that tails his death is: Who killed Chief Funsho Williams?

My neighbours predicted the killer to be one of his closest friend, but the law that freed the Abacha goons and called Sergeant Rogers' confession for the murder of the many a nationalist like Alhaja Kudirat Abiola unfounded, couldn't even point at the muderer of Chief Funsho Williams and many more of other deaths that continue to go unmentioned.

Is it not the unpersecuted culprits that give birth to the full blown terrorists and vices that keep putting the country today on  crossroads? Check it.

 This case and many other political cases are what Battle lines by Chief Olusegun Osoba reminds me of. The book is a true history of Nigeria that needs to be studied by all.

Battle lines is a complete book of resounding and profound years in journalism and Nigerian political sphere. It reminds me of the principles of journalism, objectivity being the major, comes to fore when he narrates the court cases between the state and some Abacha goons (Sergeant Rogers, CSO Hamzat Mustapha etc.), the death case of Chief Funso Williams and Alhaja Kudirat Abiola among many others which till today are still inconclusive.

 This book get me wishing to tread like the dynamic and passionate young man that sweeps Alhaji (Dr.) Ismail Babatunde Jose, the then Managing Director of Daily Times Newspaper, and General Ibrahim, the military governor of Kwara state that wanted  him to  help resuscitate the Nigerian Herald newspaper from a local to a national paper, off their feet. His belief  and prowess are worthy of emulation to every young and aspiring reporter. 

It is worthy to note that his proficiency in news writing, editing and editorial decision come to rule his life in politics  and when writing this book after so many years of hardwork. I must say that  there is nothing as good as having the ears, nose and body for news like him, and you know what, I am also dropping my thought of studying law for the newsroom. If you want to know why, read Battle lines.

I was entrusted with this autobiography titled 'Battle lines' by a journalist and my very father on Wednesday, 30th of December, 2020. I was told it would be a good read and I, having known about his political stance, accepted, thinking it would all be about political antagonism.

As time goes on, I start to read and at the dedication page when I find that the book is dedicated to Apostle Ayo Babalola, the founder of Christ Apostolic Church (CAC) who happened to be his maternal uncle, and Alahji (Dr.) Ismail Babatunde Jose, the then Managing Director of Daily Times who sighted his gift and sponsored his path in journalism, I become more committed. I feel there is more to him and you can call it sentiment.

The rider that is written  below the title of the book, adventures in Journalism and Politics, didn't prepare me for the great exploit of his life, but his preface get me hooked and the subsequent chapters did  not release me. The book is a real page turner!

Wait, do you know that General Ibrahim Babangida, Chief M.K.O Abiola and Chief Olusegun Osoba were friends? Yes, they were. They visited clubs together and he, Chief M.K.O Abiola sought Gen. Ibrahim Babangida's approval before contesting in the election that was annulled by him. He did and he approved on conditions.

As much as I really wanted  to know how Chief Abiola died, the book isn't exact on the cause of his death and so didn't debunk all I have heard about his death. 

I know that Chief Ernest Shonekan was appointed as the interim President and Gen. Sanni Abacha remained is Minister for Defence after General Ibrahim Babangida. I know Shonekan didn't want Abiola to come back to Nigeria from the United State that  he ran to, and I know that  Sanni Abacha deceived him to come back, deceived because he overthrown the reign of Chief Ernest Shonekan after the two weeks of Abiola's return and his take over meeting plan. I know about that and the introduction of Afenifere in to the political sphere, but I am not sure if I still want to know about the cause of death of Chief M.K.O after knowing that there would have been no difference in his rule based on his enunciated qualities. Thanks to the Battle Lines.

This also lead me to the question: Who is free from nepotism, ethnicity and favouritism; Is it  the Northern governors that wanted Alhaji Shehu Shagari back in government against the peace of the nation, Chief Abiola -naira for naira case -, the Egba people or the present day people, between you and I?

 The internecine wars in 1842 between Oyo empire and the Fulani adventurers as noted in the Battle lines summarizes the state of Nigeria then and  now. We all are people craving to use power selfishly.

Let me assure you that this book 'Battle Lines' do justice to the 30-month civil war story of 1967 to 1970, so if  you have read 'There Was A Country' by Chinua Achebe, you need to read 'Battle Lines' to balance the story you have read.

If you want to understand the cacophony in your work place, read about anti-Jose group of Daily Times, the case between Chief Abiola and Chief Awolowo, General Innih's interference In editorial decision of Nigerian Herald Newspaper, the calumny at The Sketch Newspaper and the election of 2003 in the Battle lines. There you will understand the power of individual differences and patience. They are invaluable tools to work with people.

While reading, I couldn't but shake head for the role of Chief Olusegun Obasanjo and the incumbent Governor of Ogun State, Gbenga Daniel among many others. That time alone is enough to put an end to the recycling of the old because their presence in government asphyxiate everything that should work in Nigeria. 

Oh Lord, please, deliver Nigeria from people who are drawer of battle lines in secret and in open.

Battle lines cannot not be read again and again.

I wish you happy read!

Flash Fiction (300 words)

Saturday, 9 January, 2021.

 "What if he didn't show up, what if he canceled on me the last minute again?" Tamara's worry began to grow. She couldn't deny herself the truth that stared at her two years ago after spending months and hours planning the big day that never happened. Remembering how Israel defiled her before the wedding and used her lack of virginity as an excuse for not showing up for their wedding give her goose bumps all over that she began to shake. She has promised herself not to walk down that same road again, but she was doing it again with no much difference, and for that minute, she felt Kingsley would be no difference. She felt it deep within her bones as if it was happening again before her. "What if I am making the same mistake again!" She thought aloud, but before her makeup artist could read meaning to it, she ran out like a mad woman to call it off, but no one was there. Her mind faltered, she couldn't hold back the tears again and as she cried, the driver of her awaiting jeep horned. 'Oh God!' she muttered.  She looked up, ran to the Jeep and hopped in while trying to tell herself that it would be over soon. 

She was still crying and telling herself she would call it off when she saw the only person she had had her mind fixed on since the day before, smiling in his black tuxedo. He was looking calm and more handsome than before.

Tamara couldn't believe her eyes, right there in the hall was the man who truly owns her heart. She jumped on him and he picked her up. They began to giggle like teenagers infront of everyone, but you know what, neither of them mind.
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Dear Daughter series 2

 Sunday, 6 December, 2020.

Dear daughter,

I was hoping to wait for the new moon before I would write to you my warmest and newest feeling about you as a child  in my arm to cuddle. But the tornadoes rocking the world have refused to calm, and  the government has become catastrophic.

Imagine the killing of 62+ rice farmers in a country whose borders have been closed on food especially rice for two years, and the government who is supposed to secure lives and properties  blaming it on lack of caution of the farmers. 

Let me make it clear to you, we thought we have a messiah to rescue the north east and deliver Nigeria from poverty, until the change government started parading the shamble of our years of deception.

We celebrated the defeat of Boko Haram that has been killing indiscriminately in the year 2015, only for  them to massacre communities while they take cover from the same government in 2017, 2018, 2019 and till today, only we who live know that our lives are on the line. Should we continue to fool ourselves?

Imagine a country that continues to grant terrorists  amnesty but orders killing of the innocent youths agitating for their freedom from the brutality of the country's special anti-robbery squad (SARS). They tagged them as hijackers and gunned them down like fowls without root. This is my country!

Hope you now know that my teeth which have been damaged by stones will no longer be the price to pay, because my stomach may not even have any to stomach for years, and your germination may be unhealthy if the government continues its controlled capitalism strategy.

 I didn't want to write to you about this at first. I wanted to give you a glad tiding about our relationship, I wanted to tell you about my new found name for you like what an eager mother that I am should do, but I guess you will bear with me, I love you.

Your Mum.

Dear Daughter Series

                                              

6th March, 2020. 

Dear daughter, 

Trust you are doing fine. Alihamdulillahi! It's good to know that you are still up there waiting to be born into this world while things are like this. Mother can't wait to welcome you in her arms and at the same time will like to share with you a tip from her experience so far of being a girl child. 

Dear daughter, mother is becoming wary everyday about the stereotypes surrounding the girl child, and the threat it poses in her life and yours. Everytime she tries to close her eyes on a girl being thrusted with so much house chores, she sees another woman being battered and ripped off of her rights and that of her children. And at uncountless times, other girls being abused on the platter of love and uncountlessly also, others being raped and mocked either as a child or grown up, for their vulnerability and every other ingenuine excuses the perverts have been tendering. 

My daughter, in this world, a woman must be a superhuman, she must be stoic, silent and never to fight back. If she fights back, she is a feminist. If she tries to change her narratives, she is a prostitute, and if she pushes further, a witch. 

Dear daughter, every woman is blamed for men's adversities. If a male child rapes a woman or a 2 year old girl, the victims are either loud or lewd or both they must have dressed obscenely to provoke their rapist. If a male child slaps a woman older or younger, the woman or the girl probably lacks manners and to the extreme, 'They forced him to'. If a woman gets a job or favourable position above the men, she is a prostitute who sells her body to the top or better still, she uses her witchcraft. For every man's mischief to the women, the women always deserve it. 

Dear daughter, education for a girl child is a privilege and not a right. If she is given education, it comes with conditions and education with these conditions are likened to a young child who is given a sweet with the right hand for it to be immediately collected with the giver's left hand. Or rather I say, it is like the Nigerian government who gives palliatives and collect it back in multifold with taxes. Is that a world you will like to come? 

Dear daughter, mother is not scaring you. No. Life is full of adversaries and at the same time there  are things worthy to be lived for such as love, procreation, and professionalism. All these give her joy, they give her pleasure and that should be enough reason for any woman to live. 

Dear daughter, to tell you the fact, mother's dream of breaking into the world, of being an entrepreneur or better still, an independent woman is terribly shaking and at the point of collapse. Do you see why you need to wait for a little while before coming? Mother will, at regular interval, brief you as events unfold and tell when the life is safe to live for you, dear daughter. 

Yours.