Your Stories. My Stories. Our Stories. Please forward all enquiries to

Archive for September, 2013

Swift Scribbles: Trouble!


To say I was shocked would be the understatement of the century.


Understand; I don’t philander. I am no saint but there are some lines you just don’t cross. Forget morals. Forget religion and concepts like ‘heaven’ and ‘hell’ – just for a moment. This is life.


There are some lines you don’t cross.


Kissing your girlfriend’s lookalike in your girlfriend’s house is one of such lines. Actually enjoying it, is NOT ONLY crossing the line but erasing it entirely. Such a man deserved to be shot.


But of course, I did not know I was doing anything wrong. I looked like Joseph must have looked when the angel told him not to let his pregnant virgin wife go. I mean, could it be more ‘Face Off’ than this?


I was kissing a girl when the girl I thought I was kissing walked in, looking at me like she didn’t know I thought I was kissing her.


Confused? Join the club.


I backed away as though the girl I was kissing had suddenly become a live wire. I felt like I’d just hugged a transformer.


My girl turned on her heel – did a 180. The one I was kissing just rubbed her fingers on her lips and sashayed away in the opposite direction.


Me? I think I floated home and hugged a transformer along the way. After several shots of Alomo, I started to think properly again. Why the hell was I feeling guilty? I wasn’t to blame for anything.


In fact I was a victim. But what the hell was happening?


I needed explanations. And I was going to get them.




Not once


No one


Not without


No soul


But it’s all heart


Through the heat


We pitch


So nine we won’t stitch


We put


All In


What do you think we will get out?



Her voice cut through the background sounds of the rain hitting the iron-clad roof of the Tantalizers on Allen Avenue. “I didn’t…thank you for coming.”


He looked at her face; nervous fluttering of her lips putting in his mind an image of the small bird that smashed itself against his room window all those years ago.


Strange thing; that bird. He was in his room reading a Pacesetter – The Cyclist; it was, when the loud thud! intruded on his peace and quiet. He’d looked up; alarmed, in time to see a bird careen drunkenly off his window and disappear below the edge.


Running downstairs excitedly, he went round the house to the back and saw the bird fluttering weakly, blood spraying from its mouth in spurts as it tried to breath.


“I think…I think we should just end it now. We’re both grownups –“


He hated the look in her eyes, hated the way it stripped him naked and poured hot coals on his conscience. But it wasn’t my fault! he protested.


“You’d told me you weren’t ready for a child…I should have just listened.” Her eyes darkened, and then gleamed with the sheen of unshed tears. “I should have listened.”


He watched silently as her eyes filled and spilled the excess down her smooth cheeks. Her mouth remained the same shape, their upper curve rapidly filling up and letting go of the fluid that didn’t want to stop coming. He could feel his nails biting into his palms underneath the table; shoulder muscles screaming from the pressure of their tight bonding. He exhales loudly and tells himself to relax.


“I understand you don’t love me anymore – I didn’t love myself when I was informed of the abortion sixteen weeks into the pregnancy. But I…I’d hoped…” she finally acknowledged the tears, reaching up and scrubbing her face with the sleeve of her blouse. The permanent pout of her lower lip beckoned to him quietly – and he scolded himself in silent rage. Are you crazy?!


“I’ll come and move my things out…I’ll move them out sometime next week. Just – try and forgive me, okay? I hurt you, and I have no excuse. I’m sorry.”


The cutlery made a rattling sound as her thighs jostled the table, and he reached out a hand to stop her. She sniffed, bumped into the back of the chair as she tried to move quickly, tension lines on her face showing why she was hurrying. In fact, her face looked as though it was coming apart – mouth like Julia Roberts’ when crying. She finally swung out from behind the table, and hurried towards the exit, clutching her bag to chest with the fervor of a mother hugging a reluctant child.


He hurried after her, catching her at the door as she stood for a moment watching the downpour. Allen looked abandoned at that time, no Keke Napeps or okadas or evening taxis cruising slowly, no Danfo buses hoping for the unfortunately soaked passenger who would pay anything to be carried out of the rain. He stood beside her silently, looking at her freshly relaxed hair – and started to unbutton his shirt without a word.


“What are you –“ she started to say, and then gasping as she involuntarily swallowed some rain as a sudden gust of wind blew it over them. He shrugged his shirt off and shivering slightly in his LUX undershirt, put his arm around her and covered both of them with it.


She closed her eyes, tiny nostrils flaring as she inhaled the most familiar scent in the world to her. Gently he moved her into the rain, and with an ease born of practice they stepped together towards the bus stop.


He moved his arm around her waist as they climbed the blockade in the middle of the road and she leaned into the embrace. She put her arms around his waist and he could feel the heat of tears as they spilled from her eyes onto his chest through the vest, and he winced guiltily. The sudden cold of the rain touching his neck alerted him to the fact that his shirt was rapidly getting soaked. He hustled her gently but quickly across to the corner of the road towards Ikeja City Mall to put her in a taxi for Ojodu Berger – where her auntie Sola stayed.


They stopped on a spot just barely past the traffic lights but she did not let go of him. He tightened his clutch around the shirt as another gust of wind threatened to blow it out of his hands, and he leaned out of it, hands waving in recognition of a moving yellow neon sigh which said ‘Taxi’.


The back of her shivering hands touched his as he wrapped the damp shirt around her before quickly hurrying to address the driver of the cab he’d stopped. Quickly he negotiated with the man, and beckoned to her when he and the driver had agreed.


His fingers sank into the wet fabric of his as she turned away, walking on dragging feet towards the taxi that would take her away from him. Say something! his head said angrily, anything but watch her go away from you –


“I love you,” he blurted out abruptly. She froze as her fingers touched the cold metal of the door handle but she did not turn. Her shoulders were hunched as though she was afraid of something behind her.


“I love you,” he said again, looking down at her. Suddenly he realized he was standing right next to her, and he spent a brief moment wondering how he got there. “I’ve never seen anyone cry so much, the last few weeks we were together. Why did you let yourself suffer like that?”


The streets light shined in her eyes as she blinked up at him. “It helped me keep going. The pain was all I had.”


“No. You had me. Why didn’t you talk to me?”


Her eyes shimmered again. “I was feeling guilty…I didn’t know what to say. And you would come home and look at me so unhappily, blaming me…”


“I never blamed you for anything. My wife was dying inside and she didn’t need me. What do you think that felt like?”


She blinked rapidly, pushing out water from her eyes. In spite of the rain, she looked up at him, with a funny expression in her eyes. “Did you say you love me – as in present tense?”


He smiled and pulled her to him. She came into his arms, fitting in like she belonged there.


She said something but the taxi’s horn drowned it out. Quickly he opened the door for her, helped her in before getting in himself. “What did you say?” he asked after he shut the door.


“Take me home.”

Please remember our friends the grieving Kenyans in your prayers. Have an amazing week!



To be. Or to be…


Free. Only free?


True to spirits never seen


In love with a heartbeat barely felt


Eager for next


Not forgetting what’s been


Eyes shrouded in mystery;


Remembering what’s seen;


What is sin?


Who decides what?


Makes choices – dependent on no one


No one. Nothing.


Only free…

Swift Scribbles: E Don Happen For Real


I don’t think the problem was that I was tripping. I don’t think so.


It wasn’t. Maybe I had become too concerned with form – so concerned I forget to question content but I was determined not to ruin this one by over-thinking things through. So I closed my eyes and let go.


Her eyes looked like they had glowworms within them – and the smile she welcomed me with made everything okay again. If I wasn’t sure before that letting the small incident go was the best thing, I had confirmation. I opened my arms to her and she came in comfortably.


Her lips reached for mine with the desperate fervor of a drowning man clutching at straws and I liked it. There was a loud roaring in my head and for a moment I was disconcerted. She didn’t kiss like this. Not like this.


But I liked whatever it was that changed so I didn’t complain.


I should have. I probably wouldn’t have felt guilty when my real girlfriend walked in moments ago.


Of Dreams and Short Films


Don’t ever second-guess yourself. You disrespect God that way.


Last year in December, I released a short story compilation titled ‘For Days and A Night‘, an e-book that received unexpected accolades from several unexpected quarters. I didn’t expect the kind of reception it got – and I was content.


And then a friend of mine said; “you know what? We should shoot a movie off this book o.”


I thought he was crazy. But he sparked something in my head and we chose the very first story in the book. We worked on the script, argued, fought – and the next thing you know; I’m on a ‘set’ watching a story I wrote come alive.


Now don’t get excited o. It’s not some ‘Steven-Spielberg-Universal-Studios-big-budget’ something – it’s not ‘Nollywood’ sef. Imagine a movie set lit by smartphone torch-lights.


Bottom line though:anything is possible. The only limits we have are the ones we create ourselves. A woman told me; “don’t say the sky is the limit. There are footprints on the moon.”



We weren’t professionals, we didn’t have money – but we had passion. And we rallied round an idea. And whether ‘fantastic’ or ‘lame’ we took what we had and did something. That counts for a little, no?


I apologize for the sound and picture quality. We will do better next time.


Without further ado; I present you a short film off the e-book For Days and A Night: Idle Chatter.


My friend, award-winning copywriter and director Ayo Moore did the honors. He tweets here and blogs here. He’s such an amazing guy.


I really am grateful for my friends, the cast, the crew, my team – God really blessed me with some of the greatest guys anywhere in the solar system.


And to you, dear faithful reader. You’re the reason. Thank you.


Big things start small. Go start something. Stop reading now now and GO!


God bless.

Lines For Lara

What Is Greatness?

She stoops to conquer;

All pure; no slickness

How she does it is cause for wonder

Ignore a stranger looking in

It is a blessing for him

To know her; one so special

Pens lines from a heart not fragile

Words come alive on her pages

The kind of flair respected by sages

Take time to read thru the layers

Don’t miss; don’t confuse the messages

What prayer could be enough for one so deep?

What can be payment for one so sweet?

Only; only wishes and wishes for an abundance of rich

The good Lord light her face with smiles life cannot dim.

Auntie Lara

Happy Birthday, Lara!