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Prose -
Short Stories
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Written by Dave Chukwuji, Writer & Poet
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Sunday, 31 January 2010 20:28 |
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Everybody is a moon,
And has a dark side
Which he never shows
to anybody.
Mark Twain
The room is dimly lit. She can barely make out the burly figure of her father-in-law, the Obi of Nnobia, on a high bronze stool. Beside the Obi, a little to the background, the diminutive Okuocha, the Obi's chief priest, sits coiled up on a mat made of leopard's skin.
The chief priest is hated and respected far and near, a man reputed to see through to the remotest part of every heart; a diviner, a seer, who stands in the presence of gods for the sake of mankind.
She walks into the room. There is a low stool covered with cloth in a corner. Drawn by a force, a power other than herself, she floats across the room and sits. |
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Prose -
Short Stories
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Written by Olumide Akinwunmi-Oke, Poet
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Sunday, 31 January 2010 10:31 |
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Shale sat slumped in his chair, mulling over why he felt like the bottom had dropped out of his life. His eyes closed, two fingers splayed over his left temple, he was totally motionless.
He had been in this pose for a minute or two when he began to feel the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. He felt like he was being watched. Snapping his eyes open, he found himself gazing into the clear smiling eyes of the object of his thoughts.
A sharp look of surprise was quickly replaced by a tremulous smile that spread over his chirped lips.
“Here comes the one that troubleth Israel,” he murmured in a lazy drawl, the smile still working the corners of his mouth. |
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Events -
Conversations
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Written by Administrator
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Sunday, 24 January 2010 22:09 |
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“What we call little things are merely the causes of great things: they are the beginning, the embryo and the point of departure, which generally speaking, decides the whole future of an existence.”
This statement by Olu Amoda may in fact describe the very essence and meaning of Olu Amoda the artist and his artwork.
His current exhibition, Template, is on display at the Skoto Gallery in Lower Manhattan, New York, through January 30. In Template, Amoda ‘explores the complex pathways of what is arguably Wole Soyinka’s most significant work, Death and the King’s Horseman.’ The play based on actual events that occurred in Nigeria in 1946, depicts some of the cultural conflicts between Yoruba traditions and western colonialism. When the king dies, Elesin, the king’s horseman, must kill himself the night before the funeral so he may accompany the king into death. But conflict arises when the District Officer in Oyo State, Western Nigeria, tries to prevent the ritual killing. Amoda tries to ‘encapsulate the spirit’, rather than illustrate or describe, ‘this Soyinka masterpiece’.
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Poetry -
Pain & Suffering
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Written by Olumide Akinwunmi-Oke, Poet
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Sunday, 24 January 2010 16:38 |
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I know a man they called moneybag
Even I thought
He ate cash in his bulbous cheeks
He borrowed millions
From the Kinsman
Who stashed a people’s cash
In his private vault |
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Poetry -
Hope & Change
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Written by Dave Chukwuji, Writer & Poet
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Sunday, 24 January 2010 16:26 |
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It’s all gone away now
the time we spent on the mountain is only
a memory recalled on days the rains keep us in
we are in a valley now
fired only by the ashes of wayward youth |
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Prose -
Short Stories
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Written by Jideofor Aluka, Writer & Poet
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Sunday, 17 January 2010 21:56 |
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Eddy tried to push you out of his office. When his hands reached your chest, you found it hard to swallow. In that instance, your mouth clasped. Everything ran out, away from your mind. It was hard for anyone to accept. For what?
Madam was the first to rush into the office. She was screaming. No sir. No sir. If she put herself in between you she would be ruffled.
Rogers came in. With the table that had tripped you to the floor, he kept your fists apart.
Did you not walk into this place on that Monday morning? You and Eddy. It was Eddy’s first day in office as the Commissioner for Social Welfare. The PRO led you two with your entourage. Those who followed you were the commissioner’s orderly, a police corporal whose club you said was broken and worn. And seven other people from Eddy’s kith and kin. |
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Poetry -
Life & Creation
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Written by Olumide Akinwunmi-Oke, Poet
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Sunday, 17 January 2010 18:53 |
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Clad within mist-capped hills
Shrouding earthen-ware huts and houses
Content with their age
Like a molo whose secret is pinched
The paths take the murmur
Of these sunny winds |
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