Of Biafra, Quit Notices and History Peeping, to Repeat itself ?

Michael Ayua

WARSare fought for divergent reasons. Every battle has its tale; some start wars to preserve heritage , others for ideological reasons they believe are akin to the right to life itself. Whatever the reason, war is a grievous, grievous thing. And so in Nigeria after 47 years of one of the bloodiest civil war in history , echoes reminiscent of kwashiorkor babies, mutilated pregnant women , blown limps and destructed schools are being brewed in pubic domain like a coffee exhibition.

The myriad of problems bedevilling Nigeria are as old as Nigeria itself. Corruption, tribalism, nepotism etc., are nothing novel with the boarders of Nigeria. In fact the foundation of Nigeria had most of these problems as its concrete, and till this day the structure stands.

History, they say, is necessary to understand the present; even the bible starts with ‘in the beginning…’ Thus, the first republic barely six…

View original post 1,401 more words


Wishes of a Star 🌠

I am bright. I shine almost everyday, and every night. I like it, I love it. I watch the children stare at me, full of awe and wonder.

I watch the awe-filled couples as they stare at me. I smile at them, which makes them even more happy. That’s my job as a star. To make people happy.

I am the first star to come out at night. People make wishes upon me, you see. But I can’t make them come true. I am just a ball of gas, sitting in the sky, looking at people.

I have lived my time, and soon, I will die. And when I shoot through the sky, even more people will make wishes upon me, but little do they know, they are too late. A thousand years late.

I wish I could be a human. To find love, to have a house to live in. To eat actual food. To live. To die a proper death.

But that can’t happen. For I am a star, just existing and never to live.

An Award of Sheaths

After a little dispute with my father, I moved out to live independently. I was 35, and had it all already – there was an inheritance which was in billions, but my parents, especially dad, would not rest until I got married.I moved into an estate with a few belongings – the most basic and essentials I needed. I did not really mind, as far as I was living freely.

This was where I met a tall fair boisterous lady with an enormous behind. She drove me crazy, sensually. I was not myself. But who was I to dare the new me, the one who was now virile.

“You’re the new guy?” Jumoke asked.

“Yes,” I replied, “I’m Kator. You live here?”

Beeni, I’m Jumoke, your next door neighbor.”

“Mmmm, little wonder the brightness around here.” I teased.

She giggled. “You’re alone?”

“Errmmm, yes.”

“Hope you don’t mind me staying with you briefly?” She asked, rather suggestively.

It took more seconds answering but I nodded in the affirmative. She went into her apartment for about a minute before she opened my door and walked in. She threw some gestures occasionally and smiled even when I said nothing funny. The more I ignored her, the more signals she sent. I tried concentrating on the “Suits” movie on my laptop, but after a brief silence, she complained of how unentertaining I was, and worst of it, was the boring movie which my eyes were fixed on.

“You can change it.” I told her. It seemed like what she had been waiting for. She stood, despite the many directions leading to the telly, she chose the one from my viewing position. She bent down evocatively and changed the movie to “Spartacus!” A scene came up immediately which put me in the mood. I struggled with the thing between my legs but it would not cooperate with me. She immediately caught sight of it and the game began.

It did not take more than a day before my bed felt a stranger in its space. Although my first, with a good instructor, I was already an enthusiast.

I showered and was relaxing in the parlor, waiting for her to cleanup as well when someone knocked.

“Who is there?” I asked.

“Open, o jare,” was the reply.

I stood, hissed and opened the door. It was the landlord.

“I’m here to tell you about the meeting of tenants. It’ll be by 7pm. You must be there. We’ll all converge under the cashew tree,” he told me.

He was leaving when the screeching of the bathroom door made him turn, only to sight Jumoke in my towel, which was tied up to her chest.

“Good evening, daddy,” Jumoke greeted.

The landlord lowered his glasses, looked sternly at her, then at me, shook his head and jammed the door.

“That’s my father.”

I was utterly dumbfounded.

It was some minutes to 7pm and I walked slowly to the venue. The others were all seated, discussing who will take the usual awards – Most Friendly and Tenant of the Year. The landlord arrived some minutes after 7pm and began the meeting. I lacked composure and kept silent all through, only concurring to the points of others.

The time for awards came. The landlord started, “The Award for the Most Friendly Tenant and Tenant of the Year goes to Ndifo and Kashim respectively.” There were rounds of applause for them as everyone agreed they deserved it.

The tenants stood to leave when the landlord asked us to wait for another. Three packs of different condoms were raised by the landlord. Everyone was startled, then he continued, “And this special award goes to the Horse-power of the Year, none other but Kator!” I stood, not sure how to feel, but could only smile as the others clapped thunderously.


Quite a day…

Michael Ayua

Today was rather funny. Woke up by 3:30 am. Checked the internet; wasn’t working. Tried sleeping back; wasn’t working. Darn Mosquitos tried biting; wasn’t working. But the clock was working, ticking, rather slow I suppose.

I slept back at an hour I can’t recall. Had a dream- all blurry. Eyes opened at an hour past my alarm clock’s duty moment. How come i didn’t hear it ring ? I jumped out of bed, or did it ring? Did I sleep deaf? But the mosquitos rang. Then what? Wish I told you i checked under the bed for it. But I don’t possess, own or wish to borrow an alarm clock. My brain on waking up and initiating its active cognitive process likes to trick me into thinking i owe items which are antithesis to sleep so as to jump start me out of bed

It worked. I hopped into the…

View original post 1,043 more words

That Interloper is My Therapist!

My therapist is the most expensive meal that I’ve ever purchased in my life.

I mean, she’s the copy of my reflection.

I mean, she’s the only one that pisses me and I don’t care.

She has coffee breath.

My therapist says I’m negative,

But I told my therapist that my mind is a darkroom.

That I have a tough time explaining the pictures.

My therapist says that I have self-destructive tendencies,

That I take things the wrong way.

What she really means is,

The last time she performed a test on me,

She found an asylum of malignant explosions ready to destroy everybody.

I told my therapist that I’m very indecisive,

That I have a tough time making decisions.

That my mouth is a velvet rope for the things I can’t take back.

This velvet rope throws moons like a concierge for my regrets.

So I go to therapy because I treat silence as a first language,

But my therapist said I speak fluently.

What she means is,

I talk in small circles and by small circles,

She means I talk in big circles and by big circles,

She means targets and by targets,

She means I wear my victims like a brand new pair of shoes.

But I never told my therapist,

That I have to borrow my mother’s tongue to say certain things.

I have to set her tongue out of a pool of blood in liquor to say things like,





You know – synonyms.

I told my therapist that my dad had a thing where he stuff’s all of our bones.

In a bottle and he drank the spirits out of his family.

Why are you asking me about my family?

They are ghosts now.

They are gone.

They are surfing on my flesh,

And I’m on the shoreline waving them – “Hello!”

Bipolar depression is the birthmark I use to distinguish my bloodline with.

I’ve never told my therapist that I had polite suicide attempts.

I don’t leave cryptic Facebook messages.

I just cut my wrist and bleed poems.

I told my therapist that she said I have self-destructive tendencies.

So I finally decided what kind of combustion I am.

I am a controlled demolishing,

Cleaning my wreckage with a bucket of vodka and a mop.

I told my therapist that I’ve really had a tough time explaining my emotions.

She said, “but you’re a poet.”

I said, “just because I have words doesn’t mean I know how to communicate.”

Everybody needs someone to talk to.

What Did Jesus Say Concerning Homosexuality?

In discussing the biblical teaching of homosexuality, we often hear: “Jesus never spoke about homosexuality.” Sure, Paul condemned homosexuality and Sodom and Gomorrah, according to the Genesis account, were destroyed because of homosexuality. But, Jesus never condemned the practice, and, since people (wrongly) assume that his words carry more weight, homosexuality really isn’t condemned in Scripture. Of course, Jesus sent the Spirit upon the Apostles to guide them into all truth (John 16:12-14); therefore, whatever the Apostles wrote is just as much the word of God as what Jesus spoke.

Yet, the claim is still made: “Jesus never spoke about homosexuality.” While the Lord never directly addressed homosexuality, his statements about marriage clearly rule out homosexuality.

When asked about marriage, the Lord said, “Have you not read that he who created them from the beginning made them male and female, and said, ‘Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh’? So they are no longer two but one flesh. What therefore God has joined together, let not man separate” (Matthew 19:4-6). A careful reading of Matthew’s record indicates that the Lord did indeed condemn homosexuality. Notice:

God made humans male and female.

God created two different sexes for each other. God could have created only one gender, but he created two. Those two genders are to complement one another (Genesis 2:18). A same-sex relationship does not provide the depth and richness God intended when he created man in his own image.

A man shall hold fast to his wife.

Holding fast to one’s wife excludes any sort of same-sex relationship.

The two shall become one flesh.

Clearly from this passage, Jesus pictures a man and a woman becoming “one flesh.” One purpose of being one flesh is procreation (Genesis 1:28), something not possible in a same-sex relationship. Another purpose is to avoid temptation (1 Corinthians 7:5); since homosexuality is sinful, one purpose of heterosexual intercourse in marriage is to keep one from that sin.

Did Jesus ever say anything about homosexuality? Maybe not directly, but his statements concerning marriage unmistakably prohibit same-sex relationships.

That makes sense now, why Mugabe of Zimbabwe made a statement concerning a gay couple imprisoned in the country, that they will be released when they are able to procreate.

God bless!


Where is she now?

She left the world leaving a letter around.

She said it was okay,

She said life was hell and better in the other room.
Could she be in hell because murder is a deadly sin?

Or in heaven because she deserved it?

Why did she have to go?

She didn’t deserve all that pain in her soul.

She didn’t deserve to feel alone

Why did she have to feel so cold?

I feel this way but still I say.


The world says it depicts weakness like tears from a person’s eyes.

But if you knew and felt her pain inside,

You would realize how badly she wanted to die.

“She was selfish,”

But if anything, 

She was selfless.

Because she stood through the pain so long for people to go on.

Where are they now?

Hers was a cry of a teenager in a hell hole,

“Let’s leave her to her demons,
It couldn’t be that serious. 

Her life may just be a joke.”

Till we woke up one morning, and she didn’t.

 Everyone feigned shock,

“But she always seemed happy. What could have made her kill herself?”

We all pretend to have cared,
Because only then, would we have a clear conscience.
But we remain accomplices to suicide.