Book II is finally out and ready to hit your hands…well, technically, your devices which you hold in your hands!
So…I’m not crazy.
If you’ve been here with me before, thank you. You can buy Lẹ́bẹ́ Book II: Second Strike here: Second Strike.
If this is your first time, WELCOME. Check out Lẹ́bẹ́: The Series here: The Series.
And here’s a small taster from Book II: Second Strike:
“I am Sensei Uloma, the master of this dojo. I hold black belts in four martial arts including Taekwondo, Wing Chun, Aikido, and Kick-Boxing. I am honored to meet you,” she said and bowed. Straightening, she smiled. “I have heard a lot of you from him,” she threw a thumb over her shoulder. “However, I would like to see what you can do.”
She stepped onto the mat. Lanre made to follow – but she held up her left hand, palm facing Lanre. He stopped and she pointed at his feet. Only then did Lanre notice she was barefoot.
The Converse he was wearing put up no protest as he untied the laces, and soon he was standing on the mat in stripped socks. Uloma walked up till they were arms’ length apart and stopped.
“This is a light sparring match, therefore no heavy hits. I’ll be mostly trying to touch your chest, shoulders, and head; you’ll be trying to do the same. No kicks, just hands. I want to see how fast and skilled you are.” She paused. “Understand?”
Lanre frowned and turned to his left. “Oga Kelvin, is this the pessin I come and meet?”
Kelvin nodded. “She just introduced herself – she just told who she is. She is the trainer I’ve been telling you about – “ he stopped because Lanre was shaking his head.
Kelvin frowned. “What is the problem?”
“I not fight girl,” was the muttered answer.
“WHAT?” Kelvin said, rather loudly. “What do you – what are you talking about now?”
Lanre had stepped off the mat and was bending over his shoes. “You say I need training, no wahala. You wan’ me to fight beta, no yawa. But to fight girl?” he shook his head this way and that, speaking in time with the shaking. “No, no, no.”
A hearty chuckle stopped Lanre. Uloma walked forward and stood beside him, silently making him straighten. “I understand how you feel,” she said softly, “I also understand this is important. So this is what we’ll do; we’ll do some light sparring for one minute. If you can hit me five times in that minute, I won’t train you. In fact, it’ll mean you deserve more than I can give you. But if you don’t, then you’ll stay and do whatever I ask of you.”
“This is absurd – “ Kelvin began to say.
“Please,” she implored, facing Kelvin. He nodded and she turned back towards Lanre who was looking at her, arms folded across his chest. “What do you say?”
“Five times in one minute, you say?” At Uloma’s nod, he grinned. “That wan no suppose too hard na.”
“So you accept?” Uloma asked.
Lanre nodded, kicked off the one sneaker he had started to put on and assumed the classic boxer stance; knees slightly bent, one hand defensive, the other offensive. He watched the girl closely and regarded her loose stance with puzzlement. She didn’t look like she was about to fight. In fact –
In fact, she looked just like Tattoo Man did before he kicked his ass*.
I hope you enjoyed that!
It’s Out Now! Click: http://okadabooks.com/book/about/lebe_first_cut/13423 and buy Lẹ́bẹ́: First Cut!
This is where we fight for the right to express.
Here we go again. But this time, it’s me with a new product from a known team.
In collaboration with Metamorph, our business consulting company, we’re putting together something known as *drum roll*
the underline academy
Thank you for the warm applause. I’m humbled.
the underline academy was created out of a need to help writers/creatives maximize their earning potential, making the most of their gifts and abilities. It started as a mashup exercise – a combination of several courses of interest with the intent of seguing into more specific courses and training as the school advances.
Bottom line: this is here to stay.
The first in a number of training programs is story wars I. It is a mashup of almost everything I know as far as writing goes (songwriting would have been in there but people prefer screenwriting so) with some really professional people instructing the classes.
But – Don’t take my word for it. Check this out:
Sure looks good don’t it?
Well. Invest in now.
To find out more visit: the underline academy
Something crazy this way comes.
I couldn’t make up my mind whether to post a review of Dawn of Justice – or post something that missed my This Ain’t Poetry release.
In case you missed it; download This Ain’t Poetry here!
Seun, don’t go near the water!
Chill jare, old woman is the response that jumps into his mind – but who born monkey? So he would just mumble a subdued yes mum and sit miserably while the adults laughed and swam and danced.
He sits unmoving now, trembling; his grown behind stuck in six inches of wet sand. He can see lights of various ships; winking and signaling their way through the wet darkness. The evening tide rushes forward and drenches him again – for the one millionth time.
It does not matter.
Seun; why are you in the water?
He almost shoves sand-sticky hands into his eyes in surprise. He looks heavenwards, self-consciousness hunching his shoulders. He comes back to himself – and laughs at his foolishness. Of course she cannot see you; he admonishes himself. Stop feeling guilty. At least you tried.
“I tried, mum…” he begins to say but cannot continue as the tears start all over again. He is convinced; more than anything else that his mother would be heartbroken if she could see him. In spite of the black sheep that had somehow made its way around his name – in spite of all the fights and yelling contests and other things – he was her favorite.
Ah mama, if you could see me now.
“…Caro your body necessary…ah necessary/Caro carry leave story….ah leave story/Caro dey make my head dey turn…” some ridiculously-named Dj’s speakers scream and yell somewhere on his left. He looks that way – and sees an indistinct blur of human bodies seemingly mashed together. He closes his eyes; an attempt to think of what is waiting – but the noise keeps intruding.
What a song to exit to.
He knows it will be days – even weeks – before anyone notices his disappearance. He couldn’t have planned it better. Usually his sister would know – because she once made it a point to talk to him in the morning and at night.
Or easier still, nothing lasts forever.
“Nothing lasts forever,” he says out loud, enjoying the feel of the words on his tongue. He says it again and again; as though repeating it will make it stay a while longer. He stops talking and immediately the words disappear.
Of course they will; he thinks, laughing at himself.
Finally he stops trembling. His racing mind slows down and finally stops. He smiles as he remembers the ‘will’ he’d scribbled and left on his table – as though he had a lot of worldly goods to share with anyone. A few thousand books, a few thousand comics, clothes, love letters –
His smile slips as he remembers his laptop – the stories on his laptop. He had insisted that it goes to his PA; she was about the only one he could trust to do anything with them. He smiles again; thinking of how he will be remembered.
Edgar Allen Poe?
His legs shake a little as he climbs to his feet – but there is no hesitation anywhere else. The water uncurls and spreads cold – cold but nonetheless loving – arms towards him in an eternal embrace. Something nags at his heart; slowing his steps – but he cannot stop thinking about the peaceful dark offered by the ocean’s hug. He starts to run –
And something smacks him in the knee.
It is not as painful as it unexpected. He cannot decide whether to keep running or to stop and inspect the knee – as though he can see anything; as though it actually matters.
In a second of indecisiveness, the tide surges and pushes him over. His flailing left hand lands on something – something that rolls away – and he splashes into the water.
Pushing free and spluttering, Seun staggers to his feet. Salt water stings his eyes, scratches his throat –
This is going to be harder than I thought.
Something gently bumps into his thigh and he looks down. There’s just enough illumination for him to see a huge bottle – a huge bottle with something inside it. Wiping his eyes best as he can, he carries the bottle and makes his way towards land.
I can die another day. This; I gotta contemplate.
Carrying his burden gently, he makes his way towards the lights, looking down every two seconds, checking how visible the bottle’s contents are. And as the blur that were human bodies becomes features and body parts, he stops and looks at the bottle, holding up against the lights from the distance.
It is a book.
It is THIS book.
Read tales spun from the finest of distaffs by fifteen of the best writers ANYWHERE.
Comes…an exciting new series…
Don’t Miss It!!!!
I had the privilege of speaking at the first TEDx Unilag event earlier this year – and I spoke on an issue that matters to me; an issue that affects all of us – whether we know it or not.
Rape and Rape Culture In Nigeria.
You can watch the video here – and share your thoughts, opinions and so on.
Also share with your friends, so they can share with theirs.