Category Archives: X-Files



…a short story titled ‘Happy New Year’, I wrote it almost two years ago and found it in my archives…enjoy!

Sadia stared intently at the clock, willing its indolent hands to go faster. Midnight drew nigh and she felt the air being sucked out of her as she anticipated that final boom. She had always imagined how she would die but suicide had never crossed her mind. She wondered if 70 hot brothers would be waiting for her in paradise but the thought of another man laying his finger on her caused bile to rise up in her throat. Her stomach twisted in revulsion as she begged the images that began filling her head to disappear. She didn’t want to remember and that was the reason for her haziness the last couple of days. Jemima assumed she was a junky, she saw the pity and disapproval in her eyes but even she knew better than to interfere.
Sadia sighed as she clutched her tummy. It had felt hollow since that night. A part of her had been removed and she wasn’t sure if it was entirely Alhaji’s fault. She spat as she glanced at Alhaji heaving and writhing on top of her, eyes closed, lost to the world. Murder was too good for him, too good for her. It had taken her 10 years to decide what punishment best suited the crime but her mind hadn’t waited that long. The punishment had started the first time the tears failed to come, the first time she didn’t struggle as hard. Alhaji had noticed, she remembered his smile at having broken her finally. She died that day and even the loss of her womb had not been able to provoke emotion, just emptiness. She moaned as the pleasure built up mingling with his in sinful melody. There could be no atonement for her. The jury found her guilty and the more her mind tortured her with feelings of unworthiness; the more she succumbed to the passion that emanated from this single act. She had started planning this day 5 years ago and she knew it would be poetic justice that they die together. She needed to do this for Hassan. She remembered the first time she laid eyes on him…
She had wandered along the busy streets, eyes glazed, oblivious to the blaring horns and hustle and bustle around her. She had come to buy rat poison. She had decided that she would beg Meme to allow her make dinner tonight. Meme was going to her uncle’s house for a wake and would jump at the offer. Hassan must have seen the look in her eyes as she bought the poison. He knew that look, remembered it from days training in the far dessert. He knew deep down that no rat would be dying tonight and even as he warned himself to mind his business, the striking girl with the sad eyes and determined mouth had him enthralled. Sadia was in no mood for chitchat but when Hassan remarked that rat poison was a slow and painful way for anyone to die, he finally caught her attention. He hadn’t asked too many questions, hadn’t provided her with much information but he had done something he thought he would never do, he had told her about his timeline. He had no family, made no friends but had confided in Sadia that in a few years, his phone would ring and his time would be up. He had asked for no money in exchange for his death, just the peace that came with leaving behind his troubled past and a chance at atonement. He didn’t care too much for those he would take with him. They were better off dead anyway. And in a kiss more laden with promise than passion, the deal had been sealed. He would teach her all he knew and in exchange she would carry out her plan without fail or compromise. He didn’t know her story but she believed in heaven, maybe Allah would give them a chance to be together in heaven but if He didn’t then it was all the same to him.
Sadia hadn’t died that day, Rufus had. She had cooked the food with the poison alright, not wanting to stake all her plans on the stranger at the market but just as she turned off the gas, Alhaji had grabbed her bosom from behind, causing her to jump at the unexpected intrusion and her insides had churned with a mix of hate, disgust and desire. Eight hours later, she lay asleep in his bed. Alhaji watched her, Meme would be home soon. He left the room hastily, determined to expunge all evidence. He hastily dumped the uneaten food on the refuse heap outside and never saw or heard the troubled barks of his beloved canine as he ate his last.
Sadia was ready by Christmas but had taken her time. Getting Meme and Jemima out of the house tonight had proved quite a challenge but when she got Alhaji involved, he had made it happen. The sick pervert couldn’t pass up another opportunity to possess his offspring and she closed her eyes tight to block out the lustful curl of his lips. She watched the minutes pass by. Alhaji would be home by 10pm, he had gone to drop his wife and niece himself. Sadia wore a black robe and underneath it the red underwear Alhaji liked. She felt nothing, not even fear, just a cold emptiness. She glanced at the clock again, it was time. Alhaji heaved in her ear drowning out the first chime. She counted the chimes as the third, fourth, fifth, sixth rang in close succession. She closed her eyes and searched for the button on the contraption beneath her pillow. She thought of Hassan and the suicide bombing in Kaduna the week before. The eleventh chime went by, she looked straight into Alhaji’s eyes and with a voice laden with hate she said ‘HAPPY NEW YEAR’ and then pressed the button. The boom was the last thing she heard…


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Posted by on July 13, 2014 in Uncategorized, X-Files


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2. An Open Letter to Boko Haram!


Dear Terrorist,

I see you sitting at a table planning your next raid, mapping out the trail of death and destruction that will leave many orphaned and others homeless. Collateral damage you call it. For a better cause you reason. You turn a blind eye to the weeping mother who lost an innocent child or the confused child sitting beside his dead father, murdered in cold blood.

You want to make a statement, you want the world to listen up, to respect and tremble before your sovereignty. You dream of bringing world leaders to their knees and causing a revolution that your generations will sing about proudly…
  But have you ever stopped to wonder about the lives lost, the sorrow and the pain you inflict on the weakest of mortals who have in no way wronged you? Their only crime is their association to your object of hate. All is fair in love and war you chime. Ruthless and unforgiving is the trademark you wear with pride but permit me to ask; ‘Has there ever been a successful terrorist mission?’ You don’t lack the skills, the men or the firearms but inevitably you lose the war each time even after several battle victories.

  A wise man once said only a fool does the same thing over and over and expects a different result. Don’t you think it is time for a change? Nelson Mandela touched more lives with his love than Osama Bin Laden did with his hate. It is more than mere statistics, only the living can corroborate this story.
   I see the pride in your eyes as you gaze upon your son, I know how much you want to protect him, for you see we humans are not so different after all. We love, we fear, we fight, we hope. The very same feelings your offspring evoke in your heart are the very same feelings that those whose loved ones you brutally take away feel within their hearts. Come reason with me Boko Haram, let’s make love and not war, you can be heard even without the roar of violence. Touching a life with love causes the kind of revolution that generations of blood shed cannot achieve. Let’s fight for peace for a change.
    Don’t be sucked into political propaganda shrouded in religion. Allah would never approve of the killing of the innocent. You kill Muslims and Christians alike which makes a mockery of the religious disciplines that govern your fight. Please don’t be a pawn in the hands of selfish men. They promise you gold and silver and make you believe you are fighting for a worthy cause but what good ever came out of killing off the weak and defenseless in a nation? The people you kill are not the enemy. It belies your strength and colours you in cowardice when you target those who could never fight back.

   My dear terrorist, it is 2014 and new battle strategies are necessary. I need you to take stock of what you have achieved in the last year. Nothing has changed, your demands are still not met and before long the people of Nigeria will get used to your terror the way we have accepted maternal mortality rates and road traffic accidents. Now is the time to make a change. I urge you to see things a little differently. Today I am bringing love to the table, it doesn’t make much sense but within its embrace lies the greatest weapon. Let do things differently, yes we can!

From a concerned citizen!

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Posted by on March 5, 2014 in Uncategorized, X-Files


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