80% perspiration

The road smoked a mirage; The tires screeched a skid. The bus made a superb ballet twirl And landed with a big splatter.

Nigerian Politician Herald of a beginning! Insane musings of the irate mob, Nerve numbing screams of the few. Set us free!! These chains squeeze!! Tongue lashings; Saliva splatter... Deadly venom on pink tongue; Killing the makeup of ministers, TV personalities, hungry aides And jaded journalists. We want change!!

 Although the technological advances spearheaded by the western cultures have greatly improved the lot of Africans over time, it is sad to see us forget our own unique identity that made us the people we are. The present generation of children will never know moonlight tales or games; they will never understand the proverbs and nuances of their mother tongue; they will not find fun in the festivals and spectacles of their culture. This is sad. Is there no merging of the western culture with African identity? Are we to, therefore, leave the palm wine for the Chardonnays? *just thinking out loud*

The drab sameness; The cold grey and wet screen Of pouring dew blanketing the view Of nature’s mysteries, As this bus sways along The treacherous road to Benin Is all I see.

  On my way to Auchi Ha! I perceive Atlas In the frowning sky, His back bent with weight. Yes I did perceive the goat-faced charlatan And I laughed. I perceive the smoke from the burnt length On my way to Auchi.

Teaching, for most graduates in Nigeria, is the most thankless job ever. There is no appreciation for molding kids into better members of the society. This has discouraged a lot of young men and women, including trained teachers, from venturing into that area of specialization. The joy of seeing a student achieve greatness can never be quantified though. It is this pleasure, that we can then consider to be true blessing for a teacher.

Broken Mirror Twisted cowries at my feet; The eyes of the gods are red-rimmed. The chalk encircles the window That looks deep into the fiery depths. The tom-tom ululates my thoughts, Fear stretch cold dark fingers in.