The door opened to reveal a smiling face—the face of Mama Chibu, the village florist. Ayo’s eyes widened in surprise. Mama Chibu had lost her family in an auto crash many years ago. Years later, she opened her home to orphaned children in the village. She was always kind to everyone and the villagers loved her.  He had never stopped by her shop but when the roses became persistent, he had thought of asking her for the identity of her customers. Ayo dropped the idea because almost all the villagers patronized her on Valentine’s Day. Was she the one behind the roses and the notes? How was this possible?

In the rush, the hood slipped off—revealing Zara, the village’s deaf and mute girl. Ayo froze. Zara? She was the girl known for her gentle nature, her pleasant smiles, and the small woven baskets she sold at the market. It was also no secret that she could not read, write, or speak. So, how could she be the one leaving him roses with handwritten notes? She looked at him, her round eyes filled with uncertainty, as if she had been caught doing something forbidden. Ayo let go of her shirt and slowly took a step backwards. "Zara?" he asked, his voice softer now. "You... why have you been doing this?" She smiled at him, blinking rapidly.

Ayo hated Valentine’s Day when the world turned red and pink, became plagued by a parade of cliché love proposals, boring grand gestures and an anthem of cheesy love songs. The most annoying was the exploitative prices of chocolates and basic commodities.  He always made sure not to have anything to do with all the drama, but for the past three years, a mysterious single red rose had appeared on his doorstep every February 14th. No name. Just a perfect, fresh rose with a sealed note waiting for him. The first year, he had thought it was probably a mistake so he ignored it. The second year, he found it irritating and kicked it off his doorstep. The third year, it drove him crazy. He dumped it inside the trash can. Whoever was doing that was testing his patience, he had scoffed, angry. By the fourth year, Ayo was frustrated but curious. Yet, he didn’t let it show as he ignored the items at his doorstep and went about his day, thinking little of it. But when he got home and met it st...

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"Today was fun."  His voice was smooth, almost sensual and it warmed up my insides. I love this man's voice and I could listen to him speak forever. But, wait a moment. why does his voice suddenly sound different? Could it be the alcohol in my system toying with my ears or just my hormones? I reasoned with myself. "Did you hear what I said?"  He asked while his eyes held mine in search of a response... so I nodded briefly, unable to utter a word.  At that point, I had given up on trying to extinguish my fiery emotions. I was a furnace ready to ignite anything, anyone...yet, there we stood—outside my door, instead of inside, where we could let our souls harmonize to the eternal tune. Just kiss him already or go inside, you both look ridiculous just standing here at your doorstep; my mind nudged.  "Can we do this again?"  He asked while his finger gently ran down the length of my bare arm to find a resting place around my waist. Kiss me already! I wille...

It has been two years since we started dating and he was becoming more restless. He had recently complained about how my busy schedules were interfering with our relationship. That was a first because he'd never complained before. To make up for my lack of presence, I took the initiative, got the day off and convinced him to do same. I planned everything—the day off, the dinner, the fun activities. Dinner was at an expensive restaurant. 

I am from the Western part of Africa, Nigeria to be precise. I grew up speaking my mother tongue so there was no struggle of finding a cultural balance, Having friends, neighbors and people from the same ethnic didvide as mine made communication easy so I am definitely fluent and deeply grounded in the Igbo culture. However, with Nigeria or Naija being a multicultural society, I have had to learn how to speak, relate with and embrace other cultures particularly that of the three main ethnic groups.

As we celebrate the birth of Christ, may your homes be filled with love, peace and joy and your hearts with glad tidings. Merry Christmas from NIB More On NIB December to Remember  Christmas: Reasons to be Merry German Christmas Market Experience 

For most Nigerians, Christmas is a season for hosting of extravagant events, attending unending glamorous parties, indulging in expensive shopping and vacationing, engaging in social media show off of real and unreal gifts. There's also  the usual exodus to country homes and villages where huge sums of money are donated or pledged during launchings and meetings for different feasible and infeasible projects.  It is always a season to "loud it" in order to be seen as the happiest person and biggest spender which is why many are wondering how we are going to celebrate Christmas in the face of the daunting hardships plaguing us. When I published the post, Recession, Christmas and You  in 2020, we all thought life was hard and survival was a feat reserved for the brave. We struggled, wept and felt it would be our last woes. Sadly, the swift movement from truly bad to worse has left us yearning for the years we dreaded.  The current situation in Naija has made us to reali...

I was patiently waiting for my number when I heard the sound. My snoozing brain rebooted and started running; I've heard that sound before, but wherefrom? It sounded like hard wood on hard polished floor.  The type of sound those wooden shoes we used to call "akpola"shoes made back in the days; my brain shared a search report.  Yes! I could remember those shoes. The same type my grand-mum and mum had back in the 60's or 70's. I know this because I saw pictures of them posing with those high wooden platform shoes and was privileged to try them on as a little girl trying to walk in my mum's shoes. They were called akpola . I think my dad had them too lol!  Who could be wearing akpola at this day and time and at the hospital of all places.  My eyes scanned the feet of those walking past me but none matched the sound which was getting closer. Suddenly, the sound stopped and instinctively, I looked up to see a tall white man with neatly trimmed grey hair. I placed...

Click here   HOT CAKE 3   to remember the storyline  ***************** Hot Cake 4...The Story So Far Recent Time- The moment I stepped out of the airplane, something came alive within me. The fresh but hot air I used to complain about back then filled my lungs and brought tears to my eyes. Despite all the crisis rocking my Naija, I really missed her and finally I was back home. The joy I felt at that moment was overwhelming. Well, that was a week ago. After spending a week at home with loved ones, enjoying the endless gists, my mother's traditional delicacies and being pampered by everyone, I was ready to announce my arrival to friends and well-wishers. But who was in town and who was I ready to mingle with after all these years? I decided the best place to start from was my school group but somehow I was hesitant to announce my arrival on the group especially since I was a silent observer and some would think it was a joke.  Ditching the idea of a broadcast on the g...

Growing up, I heard stories about haunted houses, the living-dead, spirits and tales of people who embraced the welcoming arms of death screaming, yelling or fighting for an extension of their earthly timeline. As a Christian I grew up learning and believing in what the bible teaches about death, resurrection, purgatory and so on.  As an inquisitive teen and young lady, I read books and stories on time travel, souls departing the physical realm and saw movies like The Omen, I know what you did last summer, Hammer house of horror, Back from hell (I never had the heart to finish that one), our own Willy Willy and Nneka the pretty serpent which by the way always got me screaming my lungs out and yeah, there was Mel Gibson's passion of Christ which was a detailed (in my opinion ) portrayal of the agonizing death of Christ. That movie  had me crying for days.  Between the movies and the books, I would say the movies were more impactful because they vividly portrayed in picture...