WHO FEELS YOUR PRESENCE? (PT 1)

Have you ever needed someone's presence before? Someone who would make you feel their presence by merely breathing or snoring when they sleep?

Do you know that unmistakable comfort you feel knowing someone is present in your life? Someone who may not be there with you physically but you still feel their presence on your skin anyway?

Can you remember how you felt when you sat alone thinking and wishing someone would call to check on you?

WHERE CAN I GET A PHONE FOR #350

My mum is 64 and since she started using GSM, she has lost or damaged 21 mobile phones.

I am tired.

I can't remember how many my brothers and I have purchased. They are just too many to remember.

I am tired.

I think my mum loses her phone three times or more in a year and because she is far from all her children, we replace the phone almost immediately she loses it so we can keep in touch.

I am tired.

JACK THOMAS?

If you are in Abuja or have visited Abuja, it is likely that you know Wuse Market. This market is located at the center of Abuja. Every commercial bus and cars all converge there as their last bus stop from various suburbs around Abuja.

Normal markets in Abuja are known mainly for buying and selling activities but Wuse Market is not a normal market. It is one of the most organized market in Abuja and is said to be reserved for the rich who are not fond of shopping in malls. This market is also known for the sale of trendy and glamorous items. Although buying and selling goes on there, there are other interesting activities that bring people there.

CHIGOZIRIM: THE MISSING STORY

In my penultimate post where I talked about Chigozirim and the pickle he found himself, I purposely left out parts of the story because I was really disgusted by them and didn’t want to disgust my readers. However, some of you wanted those parts so here you go:

After 2 years of misery, Chigozirim was enrolled into primary 4 at age 14 because he barely had any formal education and could hardly communicate in English, his classmates were below 9. His enrollment into school at the behest of Papa Collins who, regardless of how Mama Collins hid it, discovered that he had not been going to school. Chigozirim was not happy because that was not his dream, his dream was to become a trader, a successful one at that. However, because he had no choice, he could not complain. Enrolling him into school was not a big deal for Mama Collins, oya come and go the school nah!

THE SEARCH FOR IK

He was 5 years old when he got missing and my family was torn apart.

My immediate younger brother, Ikechukwu (the screwdriver) was a good spirited, gentle and smart lad. Still is. Although he was an introvert like dad, he talked more when he was around us than when he was around strangers. We fondly call him IK.

I had three siblings and we all lived together with our parents in Jos as one big happy family. Everything in our lives was hunky-dory until one cold Saturday morning after my mum fed us hot akara, bread and hot akamu. While eating the classic family breakfast, my siblings and I chattered away, laughing and telling several jokes like we normally do which always annoyed dad. He would always caution us that one should not be seen talking while eating, "nni ga agbado kwa unu" he would say. He had gone to work that

READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

Chigozirim is the 3rd of 7 children who lived with their parents in their ancestral home in a village in Imo State. Poverty spoke loud and proudly in the family. His Father was a palm wine tapper while his mother was a palm oil extractor.

Because of the agonizing level of poverty the family experienced, none of the children could go to school except the eldest child, even the free community school could not take them because they barely had cloths on. They were always seen running around the village in their underwear.

I SLEPT WITH HER, I HAD TO DO IT

When my dad passed away more than a decade ago, I had to live on my own for a while before my mum returned from the village and my brothers had both returned to their bases. It is difficult to be alone when you lose someone close, but I had to because I had no choice.

When I returned to the house, I knew sleeping alone won't work. I couldn’t possibly sleep on my own because of fear, that was the same house we lived with dad,... no no I said to myself, nmara anonwu kwa sosom. I was also depressed. Even staying in the house alone during the day was wahala not to talk more of