Tag Archives: STORIES




Mel’s funeral had pretty much happened in the snappiest way possible. Her mother and family members made it clear that as a defining practice in their culture, dying from suicide and being pregnant were the last state of the human form that were never viewed or laid in state. The reasoning simply stated that the evil of the act had to be cleansed and really quick too so that the family involved will not be haunted by the demons which drove the act to happen in the first place or give room for them to still loiter around possessing other potential family souls. Most families who had not adhered to the rules were sometimes considered pariahs and ascetic in the community.


As much as Catherine and Dinah wanted to spend more time with the remains of their best friend and sister, her family had made the ultimate decision as soon as the body landed at the National Airport. Her remains were taken directly to their village for burial and the ceremony was held later that day at their family residence in Douala. It felt very unreal and unbelievable that her body never got to their residence – a place she grew up in and called home.

To Dinah, the emptiness was devastating like an endless abyss of pain, but who were they to make any remarks contrary to what the family had agreed, Dinah sat at the reception in Mel’s home looking through childhood memorabilia’s including pictures , there was a hush hush-ness about the atmosphere, the mourning seemed to have dissipated and was replaced by some sort of unspoken silence almost mystical  like some evil still lingered there – that just drove chills through her bones.

The Beynang’s were there, from Dinah’s family, Candice and their mother were present, Desmond their mother’s long time driver who was like the uncle that never departed from their mother’s side was there to support. It was such a huge relief having him there and every other familiar face with reassuring words of consolation.

The part that completely disintegrated Dinah and thawed her emotions was the unplanned presence of Tate, who she fondly called Tata, an accolade for a respectful male of the family. They had pretty much grown up together and went to same primary and secondary school – he was the brother and son Mrs Beynang never had. He gave Dinah the biggest most consoling hug ever, for the first time that day she had cried on his shoulder like a baby, Mel was truly never coming back and to this day, she knew nothing about the pain that had driven her to her death and how she could have helped her as a friend.

Tate’s arms were strong enough to hold a crying Dinah, but his raspy baritone voice did nothing to console her, instead it awakened a weakness in her that just made her breakdown, not sure whether it was for Mel or for the fact that she had missed him for so many months and odd years.



Remember when our parents/ grandparents told us tales with a life lesson – these picture stories take us way back to that era – true African folktale that will make you sat – ARABIAN NIGHT _ ENTERTAINMENT – meet the one with men who’d follow any skirt home or better still men who know nothing about women and make them their brides – then start running like their lives depend on their legedisbenz!!! 😆

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Miror -ron gilad


Mirror Mirror on the wall
I look into you for answers
The face who's stolen my voice and soon to 
steal my breath
The face of the one who holds the answers 
to my predicament
I know why I cannot see my face
My body is dust and I have become wind
Yet I stand infront of you and see a silhouette
A faceless Silhouette - a feminine silhouette
The face that I cannot see but she lingers
The face who has left me in Limbo land
I beseech you for clarity
I beg of you to appease my soul
I appeal for one last chance to see the 
face behind the silhouette

Lucia had sent her maid to the market that morning hoping to make the best meal for her husband and her mother-in-law who had come into town the night before with a new maid… The kind of village local champions (Dumebi) who made herself known by her huge size, the thudding of her XXL feet and the absolutely giggle of her whole body as she walked her ass though was on another planet, it could comfortably sit 2 toddlers with no help! beseach

You could hear her walk across the lounge to the kitchen or outside the house… She was just a ball of energy – to ignore – Loud, brash and uncouth and she smelled of kitchen spices mixed with body sweat and a little feminine thing which made her very powerful presence nothing to ignore even if you tried.  Because she was linked to the mother-in- law, she was important, a very important ally, so Lucia made it a point to pay attention to her.

She had always said to her mother-in-law that Agatha her present maid was a good maid who had lived with them for so long and she found no good cause or reason for a dismissal – but the old lady always insisted on a hard working girl from her village who will cook the kind of food her son loved eating and look after the house while Lucia worked in her boutique in the town centre or travelled around Dubai stocking her boutiques with gold jewelries and latest home decors, which made sense, but the sarcasm and the innuendo in her voice made Lucia apprehensive _ very !

Her mother-in-law’s countenance betrayed some sort of subversive  secret she could barely put her finger on. Though she had lost a pregnancy earlier in her marriage, It had become impossible to  conceive and bear a child for over 7 years _An issue that has always been the white elephant in her mother-in-law presence … She barely talked about it with Lucia, but Lucia had eavesdropped a couple of confrontational moments between her and her son along the lines of -;





I held DANTE’s hand and the kiss lingered for seconds, then minutes and longer than I predicted – it deepened and heated and I had tears in my eyes _ why were these emotions overpowering me right now – I had a very hectic day ahead of me and when I saw his text I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do, see the groom on the wedding day? But I couldn’t resist – I couldn’t stay away from Dante even if it was the last thing I had to do on this wedding day – it was simple, straightforward and direct and it read

‘ Hey suckle, I know you are the broken one but I am the one who needs saving, I need to see you tonight – come and see me Afrie I need to see you’

I had spent the whole evening worrying about what he could be getting up to at the bachelor’s eve, I made it a point not to call or ask and not to speak of it, as we prepared frantically for tomorrow I knew deep down that I looked and felt unsettled but tried my best to hide it to the girls, there was hair, makeup dresses to try on and above all there was a room full of bridesmaids who needed to be told what to do and there was the wedding rehearsal – so what? My day was pretty much messed up worrying about Dante and my sanity – his text message was a time saver, it was like a ding-dong to my pants!!

When I got to his hotel room I knew inside me it was all messed up and I made sure no one saw me a night before the wedding with him, so I snuck around pretending to be so busy and insisted I wanted to retire early to look fresh for the night _ if only they all knew that I had spent the night saving Dante from himself, I am not sure how that works but if there was any saving I am pretty sure he saved me _ everything that happened that night was an act of mercy and nothing would have made sense or mattered if I had not seen him that night, even if he had killed me, it could have been classified in court as mercy killing because I would have died a smiling elated horny corpse.

As we kissed goodbye in the morning I settled my mind on one thing _ today was the wedding and I have to go with the flow and believe in a day when the world wouldn’t give me and Dante any chance to be together – just me and him, it was the day when family friends and enemies alike packed full to just witness and spend a joyful ceremony together – so let’s focus, but as usual my thong stayed with Dante and he joked about using it as his handkerchief at the alter _ a fine man who makes me live, love and laugh!



Hawt Summer!!


When he walked through the smoky glass doors, the spinning floors of the 20th Avenue OBAR nightclub became a lot slower than I imagined… As I danced my way into the night the moment held a terrible stillness … The rotation of the pendular-like floor was sent into limbo, slow motion entrapped and encompassed every action… everything was so slow I could practically see the air rush in and out of his nostrils – virtually!

He walked like an astronaut on the moon, so slow, so slow that every wince, and wink was eminent from a distance, I am not sure what I did while I saw all these please do not ask me, maybe I stood there mouth ajar and drooling – I trust myself, I can make a real beef of myself like no other 😳  😳

I followed his bodywork to the counter as he leant in and ordered his drinks… I dared my nostrils not to let me down, but from that distance I could smell a strong cologne that left me sniffing in his direction to be sure it was he’s … embarrassed not to look towards his direction, my eyes screeched to a fast halt, I just starred at the group of people dancing by the bar like I knew them (Where???) – I did a circular motion of the room to make sure that no woman was heading his direction nor was he meeting someone there – reassuringly enough he was all alone, there was no sign of a date – but who was I kidding!!! HE was a MAHHHNNNN.

His presence … Disturbingly awakening… whatever this perfume was should be banned from human existence, its one of those scents that make you see one thing and one only – a naked man… I am not sure how perfume companies do it, but they are out to destroy women and vice versa.

I had to get to the counter , I had to get his attention so I  danced closer and asked a few friends what they wanted from the bar, sincerely I have never been that generous and intrigued a few of them found it ridiculous and laughed off my offer , I was making useless chit chat with my eye on the game, I beelined my way like Husain-bolting and spider-womaned myself through the crowds to the bar before his next move changed –  to get his attention and found a reason to approach the counter.

My dreams had suddenly left my head, mind and pillow and was sitting right in front of me in a night Club, Sweet dreams or beautiful nightmare but it was right here… So I decided on a louder voice and sexier accent to place an order – for the drinks and for his attention – ‘waiter, I need two shots’  with loads of ice to calm the fire in me right now was all the words running through my mind …

‘Waiter can I have the usual… Make it slightly stronger and dirty…dirty martini…’ I winked and from the corner of my eyes could tell that he was staring at me, I almost shouted ‘thank you Cupido’ (did I actually say dirty martini? what the hell is that and how does it taste?)- my spiritual being was pushing his spiritual being to take a dive in the pool of my presence with all his clothing on… I pushed and pushed him.. And bammmmmmmmmm!! He fell with a splish splash splosh…



 You are wife material – #proverbs31  Don’t let your emotions, impatience, or doubts get in the way of the kind of life God has called you. It doesn’t matter if you’re 16, 26, or. 56: Keep calm. Be patient. And don’t awaken love before its timing (ref. Song of Solomon 2:7).


The most antiquated expressions used these days amongst, African Men, African parents and families is the ‘Wife Material’ line – we crave a clear boundary between a wife and a mistress but Hellas! – every woman a man is bedding knows she is wife material, there is nothing like ‘side-chick’ it’s all in the man’s head and imagination. Every side chick wants to be a wife every wife wants to remain a wife – outside na ginger!! I may come across, as anachronistic but aren’t divorce rates the highest at present? Or is this a trend that fluctuates along the same lines as childbirth and population explosion?

Marriage they say is a sacred journey travelled only by the wisest and the bravest – that equation simply eliminates all the endless lists that women and men concoct in their minds about the absolute life partner that they all wish they can have and with or without pain or gain episodically get through the hurdles of life, coming out on the other side multiplied and divorced, multiplied and together, multiplied and unmarried or multiplied with other conscious couplings and swindling’s involved – Yes in a very unorthodox way, Africans have slowly embraced many values which would rather have remained unearthed by generations past.

The process to get to the altar is a ridiculously singular journey – no two are the same – which is baffling when some people think they have answers to a successful dating or marriage life – no one has the answers. It starts with a couple or more consumed by love and lust which in a selfish greed to satisfy both end up with sexual intimacy if unrestrained by religion or better judgement. This act then seals a sense of belonging especially in women who begin to feel like they are special and chosen, suddenly there is the urge to announce, to plan to even dream of little patters of footsteps with no assurance as to the authenticity of the relationship. It then moves to a next chapter of ‘The Alter’ and more, or the opposite – sometimes rushed and other times hushed.

Then the puns about Eros and romance starts sizzling like the coke that slept on your counter for days reality dawns and if the faintest of hearts is in despair the murk sets in and proper chaos is born before their first child or later on after a child or two – the quicker and wiser get out fast – some trudge along thinking it’s a curse that’s indifferent regardless of the persons concerned – deal with it and move on with life –reality about love and lust becomes nought! I say this as a result of my subversive squalid imagination that roams in and out of situations – seeking answers.