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Friday 31 July 2015

The Hands of Time by Kolade Olanrewaju Freedom



It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.

(Culled from William Henley’s Invictus)


***

The hands of time often wriggle free of our pitiable ‘had I known’ to heed fate’s audible callings. Perhaps, the past cannot be rewound for correction to have its way; only the present can be molded as clay. As humans, we are victims of regrets invented by past actions and inaction – I am not excluded from this lot. Read my story first before conceiving any fallible assumption in your inquisitive mind.

***

Having completed my Junior Secondary School in a private institution as a high-flyer, I proceeded to Federal Government College, Ikirun to further my education. For me, it was a crossroads where I ought to decide my fate by choosing a department among Science, Commercial and Arts since it wasn’t possible to combine the trio. Being quite brilliant, Science was the undisputable option. Moreover, my four elder siblings had set the trend of studying in the field of Science. I was, therefore, eager to maintain the status quo, and not be an unworthy exception.

During the course of study, I realized Science was a colourful mistake; an error facilitated by fascination. I had no liking for mathematical calculations. Similarly, Physics and Chemistry were my nightmares. For three good years, I was condemned to study these subjects that continually sapped my happiness of strength. While my grades were satisfactory, and I experienced little or no challenges getting promoted to the next class due to my ‘retentive and recalling’ ability, my brain shrank in wits, and my esteem was badly wounded. I was no longer a high-flyer, just a regular student.

Resolute, I made up my mind to follow my passion, that is, arts. But first, I must have that despicable ‘B.Sc.’, I concluded. I wrote my final exams with fear trailing my dreams. I applied to study Applied Geology at Federal University of Technology, Akure in my Unified Tertiary Matriculation Examination (UTME) registration form. When the result was eventually released, success clung to me. Contrarily, my Senior Secondary Certificate Examination (SSCE) result tarnished my hopes. I had credits and distinctions in subjects including my nightmares, but Mathematics was an outcast. A pass was the best I could get from its worst.

Nevertheless, I remained undaunted. I was willing to give my all to acquire higher education. I went back to the drawing board; Arts had to be then not later. I started making preparations to take Arts O’ levels without any intention of enrolling in any school or tutorial. I doubled as a teacher and student – a reflection of Abraham Lincoln’s self-education.

Few months later, my resilience and diligence were rewarded – I had passed arts o’ levels and life’s tests on self-discovery.

***
With the knob of time turned clockwise, the present captures me seated in my room, in the University of Ibadan, writing this story as an assignment assigned to a creative writing class by my amiable lecturer, Dr. Yinka Egbokhare.


If I could turn back the hands of time, I would have initially followed my heart and not be a wanderer in the wilderness like the Israelites discussed in Exodus. If I could turn back the hands of time, I would have discovered myself early enough to make up for the eternally lost years. If I could turn back the hands of time, this story would be breathless. 



Kolade Olanrewaju Freedom was born in the early ’90s in Osogbo, the capital of Osun State, Nigeria. As a child, Kolade fell in love with African literature which inspired his passion for creative writing.His literary works have appeared in such diverse publications as global charity anthologies, magazines, websites and blogs.
In 2013 Freedom was selected as a Pentasi B. World Featured Inspirational Poet, an international honor based in the Philippines. He is also the winner of the first edition of UK’s Write, Share, Be Read Poetry Competition-Category A as well as an awardee of the Janet P. Caldwell’s Essay Contest, underwritten by Inner Child Press (USA).
Kolade has authored two poetry collections, The Light Bearer and Punctured Silence. He currently studies Communication and Language Arts at the University of Ibadan.

Tuesday 28 July 2015

Short Story: Ofada Kitchen by Yetunde Oyelude

   

    
  Demilade kept stamping his feet on the ground in a soundless but frustrated manner. The lecturer in the room, obviously oblivious to his agony, was lecturing the class on the intricacies of human cell division. He cared less and heard less. His attention only responded to the awful growling noise his flat stomach was making. He was terribly hungry, and he couldn't wait to get the hell out of the lecture room to a nearby canteen. He frantically glanced at his wrist watch for the umpteenth time. He was still twenty minutes away from leaving the lecture room. Damn it! He gave a frustrated sigh before taking a quick glance at the entrance door for the sixth time .Yes, he was that famished and God knew he couldn't wait to get out of the hellish situation.

*               *              *

        All the dirty dishes, the endless servings, the ever obnoxious and annoying customers, capped with a nagging boss, were enough reasons for Adesewa to be at her ends wit. She was officially sick of ofada kitchen. All she thought of as she served a plate of rice, beans and boiled egg for a customer, was a way she could quit her job. She only sought for a job at the University College Hospital because she needed some money as a first year student in the University of Ibadan, but now, she was over it. She would rather be a broke freshman than be a suffering rich-man

        "I said plantain, not egg!" The irritated customer before her exclaimed, pulling Sewa out of her pool of thoughts.
          Her hands shook clumsily as she replaced the egg with slices of plantain, simultaneously apologizing to the customer. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." While doing that, she prayed her boss wasn't watching the drama.
          "Sewa! What is wrong with your brain!" It was too late. Her boss had seen the scene. "Why did you serve a customer egg instead of plantain? Do you want to drive all my customers away? Fool!" Sewa's eyes literally had ‘upset’ inscribed on them. She was fed up with the woman. "Sorry jare, customer. She has always been so clumsy. Please, don't be angry." Madam ofada apologized, in between fake-smiling at the customer and rolling her eyes saucily at Sewa.

         The next customer was an angry one and he wasn't smiling at all, but even with a frowning face, the dude was cute. Sewa was stunned way beyond words. He was dark-skinned, slightly built and tall. His glossy lips, of peach color, were adorable. The lab coat he wore perfectly fitted him, and Sewa felt as though she had never met a medical student in their lab coat for the past eight weeks that she had been working at the canteen. Damn, he was a hot doc. to be.
          "Hello? Are you deaf?" Sewa was sent out of her reverie by the customer's howling voice. She blinked her eyes severally like an apprehended pilferer before she got a hold of herself.
          "I'm so sorry, what do you want?" Sewa asked stupidly.
            Demilade eyes darted in disbelieve with his mouth agape. He was shocked. He couldn't believe she didn't hear him despite how angrily loud his voice sounded while requesting for food. "You didn't hear what I said before?" He asked incredulously.
    Grabbing a plate quickly, Sewa nodded slowly, looking like a fool. Demilade couldn't believe someone could be so dumb. He was too hungry to waste his waning energy on her poor composure.
      "A plate of jollof rice, egg and plantain."
      "How much for each?" Sewa inquired.
      "Just give me a plate of food and tell me my bill." Demilade replied, irritated.
        Sewa was annoyed by his indignant irritation, so she replied him similarly. "Mr. Man, you need to tell me the amount of food you want to buy; I can't dictate that for you."
         Demilade was fed up with the attendant, so he had no choice but to do her bidding. The instance he grabbed his food from her, he didn't even glance back at her, and for some reasons, it hurt her feelings. 
        "Douchebag."  Sewa muttered to herself while she keenly watched Demilade grab a seat.
        
         Throughout the time that Demilade ate, Sewa kept stealing glances at him while attending to customers. She found it hard to believe that someone could look so beautiful and still be that rude. Assessing the way Demi ate, she knew the poor guy was only playing to hunger’s gallery.
           Few minutes later, Demilade happily approached the food stand. Sewa quickly readjusted her posture and for some unknown, stupid reasons, her heartbeat synchronized with his footsteps.
          "My change…" Demilade said haughtily.
          Sewa chuckled and sexily rolled her eyes.  "So, are you okay now?" She asked sarcastically.
         "Excuse me?" Demilade asked, not quite sure of what she meant.
          "Your tummy, hope it’s okay now?"  She asked drily, gesturing towards his stomach.
           Realizing what she meant now, Demi took a look at his stomach, then at her, and then, flashed a smile for the first time. Shocked, Sewa's heart literally ceased to beat. She had never seen a guy smile so divine.  Her heart immediately warmed up to the smile.
        "Hello?" Demi said, waving his hands at her. "Are you there?"
         Sewa stuttered awkwardly as she tried reentering the world of reality. "Sooo...soo....so...ory. You said?"

       Demi could not explain what was wrong with her brain psychologically. So he folded his arms and studied her for a moment. For the first time, he noticed her innocent looking wide eyes that made her look like a baby. He found them odd but beautiful. He also took note of how her eyebrows were naturally alluring likewise her luscious lips. Oh Demi, you're crazy, he whispered to himself as he struggled to erase Sewa's face from his head.

          "Hello?" Sewa said, waving at Demi's face. Ironic, it was her turn now, and she had no idea what was running through his mind.
       "Huh?" Demi said, looking like the fool now.
        "Here's your change." Her right hand was already extended to him.
         "Oh, thanks." He collected his change from her and made sure his hand brushed hers. The warmth that he felt from that brief contact was ineffable.
         "See you next time." Sewa said, smiling and at the same time wondering to herself if she still wanted to quit her job. Quit, and you will never see him again, her inner voice told her.
        "Yeah, see you next time," Demilade replied, already fantasizing about another memorable meeting with the attention-luring attendant.
        As Demilade turned to leave, he became paranoid, and wondered if he would really see Sewa again. He was in one of his medical classes when another Sewa-thought sneaked into his mind.

       ‘Fool! You didn't even get her name,” He thought aloud, slapping his cheek-like head. Having realized he forgot to ask of her name, he became awfully scared. However, what scared him more was the fact that this canteen girl was doing something (weakening) to his stoic heart. Something not experienced before. “God, just who the hell is she!”


Biography
Yetunde Oyelude, an indigene of Ogbomoso, Oyo State, loves watching movies, singing and reading novels. She is a prolific writer with an unpublished novel to her credit. She studies in the department of Communication and Language Arts, University of Ibadan.


Friday 24 July 2015

Short Story: Of Love and Woes (Part 1) by Akindeji Ola

“Here I stand
Arms open wide
I have held you close
Kept you safe
Till you could fly…”
           
Those lines kept playing back and forth in my head as I made my way through the crowd in search of my soon to be ex-girlfriend, Aisha.

***

I had met Aisha, a fair-complexioned girl of Fulani descent on my first day in the University of Ibadan. The earth literally stopped for me to feast my eyes on her inconsumable beauty.  Stunned, my knees quivered like a leaf caressed by the wind. My jaw dropped and my mouth formed an ‘O’. My legs threatened to divorce my body, but I played ‘the man’ and managed to pull myself together like a string.
“My name is Toba,” I said as I walked up to her extending my hand for a shake with the hope of feeling the coziness of her palm.
“You don’t offer a lady a handshake,” was the sharp reply.
She turned and left, smiling mischievously, leaving me rooted to the spot with my hand still hanging in the air. I slowly withdrew my hand and let it drop into my pocket while I watched her curvy hips swing from left to right like a pendulum. I was dazed by her haughtiness. How could she treat me like that? I was good looking, neither deformed nor smeared by shit, I thought. I shrugged my shoulders and left for my room.
On the way to my room, images of Aisha turning and flashing me a smile kept flashing through my mind.

“She was flirting with me,” I shouted subconsciously.

Thankfully, nobody else was around. I walked back briskly to my room to plan how to get this paragon of beauty. She was just too beautiful for me to let her slip through my fingers like palm oil. I racked my brain for any idea, but none came. I didn’t get anything from her or let me say she didn’t let me get anything from her. No phone number, BBM contact, I could not even get her name. Was I predestined to just meet this girl and not get to know her? If I was, then God must be the orchestrator of infatuation.
Since I didn’t have any clue on how to reach her, I decided to put the matter to rest by dying momentarily.
I was awoken by the nagging sound of my alarm at 7:30am the following morning. I quickly took my bath, dressed up and hurried off to my first class.
“Excuse me, coming through…”
The voice sounded familiar, I turned around and I saw Aisha running breathlessly towards the lecture theatre. I was elated.
“I was not destined to lose this girl,” I muttered under my breath.
I stopped at the door, bringing myself to face her. Our eyes exchanged words our mouths failed to express when we first met. The foggy atmosphere had been interrupted by the rays of the fully-risen sun. Our love tale began like the tossing of a coin.

To be continued…

***

Biography


 Akindeji Ola is a young writer who hails from Modakeke, Osun State, Nigeria. He presently studies Communication & Language Arts at the University of Ibadan where he hopes to hone his craft as a creative writer.

Wednesday 22 July 2015

Poetry: Oja Ale (Night Market) by Kolade Olanrewaju Freedom


I
Oja ale,
The sun gradually leaves the scene
to get some rest in a faraway abode,
for us to creep out of our slums
to trade pettiness by the roadside.

Our voice, like the buzzing of the bee,
defies the defiant silence of the night
sweetening the ears of passers-by
whose weary feet halt at our stands.

Atupa, our constant companion,
illuminates our trades with fortune
drawing the attention of sojourners
to the good that lies in our goods.


II
Oja ale,
an egalitarian eager to meet the demands of all,
a practical democrat fair and just to all,
a socialist loathed by bloated capitalists,
an illegally legal arm of commerce.

Oja ale,
a necessity necessitated by
the nagging needs of the masses;
an ageless, formless and ‘homeless’ structure
withstanding the winds of modernism.

*Oja ale – night market
*atupa – local lamp
Biography
Kolade Olanrewaju Freedom was born in the early ’90s in Osogbo, the capital of Osun State, Nigeria. As a child, Kolade fell in love with African literature which inspired his passion for creative writing.His literary works have appeared in such diverse publications as global charity anthologies, magazines, websites and blogs.
In 2013 Freedom was selected as a Pentasi B. World Featured Inspirational Poet, an international honor based in the Philippines. He is also the winner of the first edition of UK’s Write, Share, Be Read Poetry Competition-Category A as well as an awardee of the Janet P. Caldwell’s Essay Contest, underwritten by Inner Child Press (USA).
Kolade has authored two poetry collections, The Light Bearer and Punctured Silence. He currently studies Communication and Language Arts at the University of Ibadan.