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Dugo #10

The last thing Dugo wanted when she returned home after a tiring day was a chat with Ace’s women. But that was exactly what she did. First it had been Joana, and then, her friend, Titi. Dugo had burst into the house, wondering which she wanted so badly. A shower or a drink of water. Or maybe even a full body massage. Luper had taken her to get one of those the weekend before. She had forgotten to ask the name of the spa and the directions to the place. Now that she was driving on her own, she needed to do these things for herself. She dumped her handbag in the living room and barged into the kitchen for a drink of water. Standing before the sink and peering out the window was Joana. She turned. Their eyes met. Dugo opened the fridge. “Hi,” Joana greeted. Dugo closed the…

This Thing Called Love #3

Read previous episodes here RACHAEL AND I were in love, crazily in love, with each other. It was pure bliss. I was residing on cloud nine, sharing my life and aspirations with the girl of my dreams – or so it seemed. From the moment we actually became a couple I assumed full responsibility for her. You see, I was raised with the notion that a real man ought to treat his woman with utmost respect, handle her delicately, and take great care of her – meeting her every need, as humanly possible as he could. My father perfectly modelled this concept. What better example did I need? None! So, with this view firmly tucked in the recesses of my mind, I paid for Rachael’s campus accommodation because she lived quite a distance from UNILAG. I regularly bought her gift items such as clothes, bags, shoes, jewelleries, and other related…

This Thing Called Love #1

Hi fam! Here’s a new one from Ikenna Igwe. Please read and drop your thoughts. It runs for the entire week! BEFORE I BEGIN my story I’d like to say a few words about love. Yes, it’s a beautiful thing. And yes, being in love with someone who genuinely reciprocates it is nothing short of divine. So, when you do find true love, hold it dearly, nurture it carefully, and, more importantly, treat it with the respect it deserves. It’s true that love hurts. But let’s not forget…it also heals. Here is my story… I was reliable informed, by my parents, that I exited into our planet on a rainy Monday night, in the month of July, in the late 70’s. My mother had just finished eating dinner, and was about to drink a glass of water, when she felt some contractions in her womb. Yes, that was me, poking…

Dugo #7

Church was uncomfortable. Dugo had issues with organized religion and with God altogether. Her beef began a couple of years after her introduction into the world of sex slavery. She had spent nights in endless prayers, for God to come rescue her, but what she got was excruciating silence and darker nights. Her flickering faith fizzled out when her maman, the woman who ran the brothel in which she was held, took her to church on a cold Christmas morning. At that point, she had taken a liking to Dugo and allowed her the privilege of living with her and servicing choice clients. Still Dugo remained a slave, and even the visit to the church was without her consent. She would have found herself flogged and starved if she had refused. The Mass that morning had been torturous. Dugo picked out a few faces that frequented the brothel, including the…

Dugo #6

Breakfast, being a combination of sliced bread and burnt eggs, tasted bland. Ace wasn’t into it, having engaged himself in a phone call with a friend. It was one of those, quiet wet mornings when one could hear the sound of the rain over the roof. He picked his cup of Masala tea and left the dining table to the living room. The television was on, but the cloudy weather made viewing most of the cable channels difficult. Ace switched off the television and sipped what was left of his tea. He listened to his friend for a while longer before putting his phone away. He went to Dugo’s door. He had heard her moving about earlier, which was an unusual thing for her on a Sunday. She usually stayed in on Sundays, coming out only at noon after studying. He knocked on the door. “Come in.” He pushed the…

Say You Will Stay #9

*** *** *** Biba had gone out by the time they woke up. When they heard voices downstairs, Isio and Kanyin piled at the top. The first-floor balcony’s thick railings made it easy to stay up there unnoticed. Another grand feature of the house, it opened into metallic spiral stairs. Spiral stairs that were curved like stacked up rings. Damian and Biba were hugging in the living room whilst their son chased his toy car about. The car veered underneath the bottom of the stairs. Pete looked up, saw Isio and squealed. She met him at the bottom of the stairs, picked him up and embraced him. “Peaches.” “Issy! I miss you.” “I have missed you too.” Pete kissed her cheek. His cheeks were flushed red from running around. He looked more like his South African, Dutch descended father this morning. His affectionate, lively personality, he inherited from his…

Say You Will Stay #6

*** *** *** Obinna ended his call after she whispered his mother needed him. She had gone to get his mother’s flavoured water, insulin injection and honey jar from the fridge. He said goodnight to their last lot of guests: Idriss and family, a Scottish man and Miles who came on his own. Then he joined her on the way upstairs. Whilst Isio fed his mother a spoon of honey, Obinna fired questions her way. He didn’t let her answer. He sat on the bed next to his mother and peeled off her wig. Her blouse and face were drenched in sweat. She was telling her son her discovery in Igbo. Chibuzor’s name, Biba’s and a phrase with Chineke in it told her as much. Tufiakwa followed twice. “Mama, calm down.” Obinna held one of her hands in his. “Please.” “I’m calm my son.” She was moving her head…

Say You Will Stay #3

Read previous episodes of Say You Will Stay here *** He was quick. Too quick for her. She was thinking of getting off the rug when he lowered himself next to her and kissed her. Or something that could be described as such. His reeking mouth closing over half of her face and slobbering all over it. He was touching her, trying to climb on top of her when she slapped him. “What is wrong with you? Get off me.” “Issy, you can slap me.” He slurred, grabbed the hand she slapped him with and sniggered.  “You can bite me. That will only make me wanna fuck you … more.” His eyes were bloodshot and he smelt of the strong Harp drink her aunt’s husband reeked of whenever he came home all those years ago. When she tried to push him off her, she found him surprisingly heavy. He moaned…

Say You Will Stay #2

*** *** *** Obinna waited for his mum to finish in the bathroom patiently. She was in a kaftan, holding on to the towel rail, breathless and hunched over when he went back in. “Mama,” he rushed over, picked her up and carried her gently to her bed. “Why didn’t you ask for help?” “I’m fine.” “You are not fine.” He picked up the hand towel on the bed and dabbed her wet forehead with it. “Should I go and wake Isio? Is it time for your injection?” “No, don’t wake her.” “I’m sure she won’t mind. It’s her job.” “Nna, don’t.” His mother crinkled her face in a smile for his benefit. “Isio is never late. She will come and give the injection when it’s time. What I need you to do is get me a blouse and skirt and then put them next to me.” She pulled…

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