Friday, August 11, 2017

SCARED

Two weeks had passed since the last attack, yet, Adaure fidgeted at every sound she heard or thought she had heard. That morning, she had woken up with hot lines of perspiration running down her face at a sound she thought were footsteps. These weren't thoughts, she concluded, after hearing similar sounds again closing in on her. She opened her eyes and with the nonrhythmic beat playing in her head, a combo of her pulsating heartbeat, the drum rolling in her head and the incessant pounds in her ears, she managed to get a grip of herself and felt her way in the pitch darkness to where her switches were to find light which would guide her to a spot she could find her newly purchased ruger.  On second thought, she decided to find her way to the guest room in the darkness, after all, it was her house. Hands on either side of the wall, she moved her legs. Her right leg led the way and as the left leg accompanied it, she began to count her steps. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7...her hands touched wood and she digested the thought that she was definitely touching a door. She felt for the knob and opened it. luckily for her, the shoes she had earlier flung during her romp with the dandy random man from the bar down the road were still on the floor and of course, that was her guest room. Moving her hands side by side, left and right, up and down, she finally got to her small box which was hidden somewhere behind the bed. She opened it, brought out her ruger and smiled.
However, as she began to retrace her steps back to her room to await whatever fate would befall her, she hit the box and it fell down, making a clattering noise as it was a stainless steel box, specially customized for her. At that moment, she heard the footsteps coming closer. She picked up the box and placed it back in its former location. Standing back to arrange herself, she stood face to body with a structure that she quickly acknowledged was a man.
Before she could open her mouth to shout for help, something slim and cold was placed on her neck...
TO BE CONTINUED... 

Thursday, August 3, 2017

African Daughters

I am walking home from school now. I decided to take the long road today because I feel like walking and I do not want to go the market to grind beans for moin-moin. My trick is to walk very slowly and follow an impossibly long road so that mummy will get tired of waiting for me and send my sister to grind the beans instead. Haha!😏😏
I have begun te long walk. Today, I wrote my final papers for the term and come September, I will be in SS3. Big Girl!
On the other side of the road, a boy is looking at me, one very weird kind of look. Now, he is licking his lips and winking at me. Ehn! I give him a look that would surely give him a daymare and he runs along like a squirrel that he is. Rubbish. Somebody else is coming behind me, walking as if the ground is rejecting his legs. Now, he has walked past me. Its even a guy, cat walking like a girl. "Nneka must hear this", I say to myself and laugh out loud. He turns back at me and I turn back at empty space as if I don't know he is looking at me. Now, a car is coming down the road, a Mercedes. Kai! I will drive that car one day. Now the car is struggling for space to drive on the road. Of all places to use, its my side of the road! I should hang on the air because one useless, ugly car wants to pass. Thunder fire the car and its owner too. Nonsense! I'm passing an old house now and its the only house on this street. One hen is on a mound of sand. It stands like a king and the next thing, it opens its buttocks and defecates. Stupid thing. The clouds have become grey as if its going to rain. I dont care. The cloud has been doing that this whole week and it has never rained. I keep counting my steps. A drop falls on my hand. Then another, another three falls then, the heavens begin to rain upon the earth. I begin to run. The rain gets worse. There's no shop or shelter on this stupid road. I increase my pace and the rain increases in momentum. Now, I'm faster than Ussain Bolt. I curse the rain. I get home. Mummy is standing outside the gate and in her hands are the bucket of beans, an umbrella and some money for grinding. She takes my school bag from me and transfers the contents of  her hands to my hands. I want to cry but I cant.
I'm on my way now and I'm going to grind the beans for moin-moin.

Wednesday, August 2, 2017

DIARY OF A BLACK SLAVE



Held back by the chains that fastened his hands to his legs and created a synchronisation between his feet and head, Gugulethu, moved in slow, painful and agonizing steps. Every time he brought his leg forward, he felt a force push it backward. Soon, he was toppling over himself. Left and right he looked and saw his counterparts, called something like “kolig” by the coloured men that held them and even in his misery, he felt their pains.Melissa, the thirteen year old daughter of uncle Sabo was taken along with them for “pleasures” as the masters had said when she reeled out in pain at the feel of the long wire on her father’s skin. Yes, he shouted and screamed and in his beating, he yelled and struggled for them not to take his beautiful Melissa. As if taking her was not enough, she was stripped naked and raped turn by turn by the two masters sent to take us. At that point, her father, uncle Sabo stood up and forced himself towards one of the white men. He killed him of course but, Uncle Sabo was finally shot to death. People will say it in later years that one black slave had the guts to fight a white man and his name will be recorded in history. That’s if they even spell his name correctly.

On my right side was Boubou, the 20year old village bully. Somehow, I am very pleased that he was taken. The way he picks on children quarter his size is disgusting and well, nothing has been able to stop him all these years. When he was brought out, he tried to show he could wrestle but, one hit on his back with that big, fat cane got him sprawling on the ground. I laughed at him and pointed my finger at him in mockery. I didn’t know I would be next because, well, we weren’t told that 8year olds would be taken too.

It was my turn and this time, because I wanted to be brave like Uncle Sabo, I ran as fast as my legs could carry me. I wouldn’t give up without a fight. No! Even if they finally caught me, I thought it would be nice for my name to appear in historical records that I made the white men run after me. That would be something very nice, right? However, they caught me and beat me till I fainted.

It’s been five weeks now and somehow I wish none of us were taken. I want to go home to my mummy. I want to eat kenke, prepared by the woman they say is from Ghana, Maame Mensah and maybe I could get to taste that Igbo woman from Nigeria’s “ofe oha