In The Face of Terror (II)

“Please don’t kill me”

“Please don’t kill me”

I kept mumbling this to myself like it were a prayer.

I no longer had any idea how long we had been driving when we suddenly stopped. One of the men grabbed my arms, shouting impatiently and none too gently dragged me out of the vehicle. I could feel the trail of hot piss flowing over my thighs as they began dragging me along the ground, again. I heard a door swing open just ahead and the floor no longer felt so rough and the voices of my captors seemed to echo as we moved along, as though we were in a corridor.

We stopped moving. I tried to raise my head, to listen, but I was suddenly slammed against a wall.

“Down!” the voice of my captor was a harsh bark. Continue reading

Categories: In Series, Lil Pieces of Fiction | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

In The Face of Terror (I)



This is not a story. So, if you’re one of those people hoping to pass the time by reading this, I apologize. Because this is right here. This is a moment in time.

It began with my last trip to the capital. The news of the day was that of a mass kidnapping by insurgents in a remote part of the country. Protests by citizens abounded, activists and critics alike called for the resignation of those in power, while the government had fingers being pointed left and right in search of the perfect scapegoat.

As an investigative journalist, it is my sworn duty to provide the public with both sides of any story. On that note, rather than follow the path tread by the greater number of my esteemed colleagues – dabbling into sensationalism with catchy front page titles, I decided to find a path that would lead me into the very mind of the dreaded insurgents.

Continue reading

Categories: In Series, Lil Pieces of Fiction | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

Blood Bond

bleeding red rose

Whenever they talk about it, they say I was raped. But I don’t agree. When I tell them that, they say I’m in denial.

The truth is that there was no physical coercion; no clothes were torn off. In fact, he never touched me.

And also, he was a gentleman. I guess that was the problem. He conducted himself with the utmost propriety. It wasn’t that he was trying to be deceitful, that’s really how he was.

We met in a most ordinary manner – at a bus stop. I’m not sure what was different about him. I turned and he was there. Thus began our whirlwind romance.

The hilarious thing was how everybody loved him. He was sweet. The kind who loves your mother and plays with your younger siblings. And he was a looker.

I’m lying on the floor, bleeding. He is sitting in a chair and smiling at me. Continue reading

Categories: Private Journal | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 15 Comments

Fight & Flight

Persuaded?It wasn’t meant to sting, but it stung nonetheless. Not the whispers behind my back, not the thinly concealed mockery, but the words flung at my face. An accusation begging denial. My breathing comes in short gasps, and I cannot find the words to refute them. The accusations hang in the air, and I let them, sagging my shoulders in shame.

My sigh is one of despair. This is all I can do to stop the groan of sadness rising up within me. My first thought is to run and hide, but that won’t do. Nor will my next thought – to throw caution to the wind and fly like a kite without a home.

“You think too much!” he yells at me, as he unsuccessfully tries to slide his hand between my thighs.
“You need to let go and experience things…” his murmurs meet my unyielding lips. Continue reading

Categories: Private Journal | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Any Given Monday


I think it would be safe to say that the last few years of our nation’s history have given magnanimous credibility to the late Fela Anikulapokuti’s definition of democracy as the demonstration of craze. But if we could all take a moment to be honest, would anyone expect less from a government of the people, for the people and by the people? Especially if the people in question are……

Wait for it!

…… “the Nigerian people”.

I sincerely don’t think so.

However if you wish to doubt, which I by all means encourage, please join me on any Monday morning for a jolly good adventure along the highways in our beloved country.

Observe with me, the grim determination on the faces of the drivers stuck in traffic, savagely pounding their horns; and should the need arise, shouting harsh words at each other. Notice the impatient gesturing of the commuters, the shuffling feet of the pedestrians, the shoving and hissing, the muttering of profanities when easy passage seems denied.

Let us feel the longing in the hopeful glances of the hawkers displaying their goods, ready to give chase at any sign that a commuter might be a potential customer. And last, but by no means least, let us not forget the predatory glances of our dear law enforcement agents. All of them have one thing in common – they strive to get ahead by any means necessary.

Now, equate this scene to our politics, and then tell me what you see? Is our government not worthy of us? Recreating our little Monday morning drama on a much larger scale, yet remaining true to the same creed: “get ahead by any means necessary”.

This is how it looks from my perspective: Our Democracy is a mirror reflecting back who we are, and what we are. So the next time any one of us feels the urge to heap insults on our dear President J (I know I will), or our esteemed well-rounded first lady, please take a step back and ask yourself just how many fingers are pointing back at you?

And when you arrive at your answer, remember the words of a wise but misunderstood woman – “There is God oO!”

Categories: Idle hands | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Fifteen Knows



“So, you like this boy?”

“No dad. I’m in love with him.”

Chris gave a short laugh.

“You say it like there’s a world of difference between the two.”

His daughter was now frowning her upturned face at him.

“You know, during my time we never used “in love” except when it was a really heated relationship. And yeah, when we were also much older. You know, marriage kind of older.”

He put on a smile just as Christy’s smile burst into her most outrageous girly laugh.

“Dad, you sure can’t be serious.”

She laughed again, while he tried very hard to keep the smile on.

“Come on! I sure won’t be talking marriage for like another ten years!” Continue reading

Categories: Lil Pieces of Fiction | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Sand in My Whirlwind



Your very existence is elusive, like smoke in dark corridors

With shadows and ashes dancing upon the walls

In a deceptive twirl of distance

Brought about by years of silence and inaction

Dreams with no reaction

Prayers met with no response

And cries failing to elicit succour


So, I watch you dance

And my body seeks to dance with you

You slip through my fingers like water through a net

My watching eyes fill with religious zest

And you keep beckoning me to come forth


So I turn myself to dust and dance with you

Together we whip up the sands into a storm

Together, we all became one; together we thrive



– Omojola Badmus

Categories: Poetry | Tags: , , , , | 11 Comments

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