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The ceiling leaked with the sound of mismanagement, in her opinion, a staple in all things Nigerian. It was evident in escalators that stood without motion, air conditioning units that hummed only to exhale warm air, patches of concrete on the carpeted floor, and the worst, the humans that fiend politeness in search of tips. The humid air left her brows heavy with sweat, but she didn’t wipe it or complain. This is why she was here, this was what she wanted. It was one thing to be something — it was another thing to live it. Cloaked in the comfort of New York living where she hopped around intellectual circles with the fear of coming off pretentious the height of her worry, she had grown detached from her home without even knowing it. Sure, she checked up on the country over her morning coffee in Starbucks, browsing her favourite sites which included Linda Ikeji’s blog even if she would never admit it in public. On many occasions she would read an article and in a fit of rage attack the keyboard, spewing her opinions on the comment section. It was either that or spilling her latte if she wanted to break something. The latter wasn’t an option. Continue reading “Back Home”

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Hego, Shego and Paradoxes

 

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If you haven’t been lost under a rock with no internet, chances are you have heard of the male ego. That little voice in the mind of the average man that tells him he is the best thing since sliced bread and all creatures of the earth must agree to this and worship at his feet. After all, he was crafted in God’s own image and everything else is just art for art sake or company for his comfort. The man wants to hear that he is the most brilliant being on the planet, he expects his word to be law and any act of challenge is impunity with a semblance to treason. You get the picture. Continue reading “Hego, Shego and Paradoxes”

Home: Colour, Language and Identity

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With a name like William Moore to accompany my light skin in a society where identity is based on paternal ancestral roots, the role of colour and language in identity has always been a part of my life — even if I couldn’t always understand it. For me, the notion of identity went from being something I had never even thought about to becoming a mini life crisis as I grew into adulthood. Born in East Nigeria to a mixed-race father and a black mother, my skin colour had always marked me out as early as I could remember. Even as my age races for thirty, memories of my childhood being dragged along Onitsha Main-market to the sound of traders calling out from their stalls never fade. Continue reading “Home: Colour, Language and Identity”

Lonely Roads Teaser

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PROLOGUE

THE CIRCUMSTANCE SURROUNDING the birth of Afam Udemba was the kind that made you question the existence and fairness of God. From the very moment he was conceived, his life was marked to be one full of loneliness and all the suffering that came with it. He came out kicking and screaming, but perhaps if he knew what the world held in store for him, he might have reconsidered those first painful breaths. Afam was born an osu – an outcast. In Aboh, that made him a walking plague. Continue reading “Lonely Roads Teaser”