Art Works for sale. Are you interested? Send an Email of your request to nikyjone@gmail.com Let's encourage a friend and fan...

I can still remember my first night at the NYSC Camp...hmm. I arrived late and like other late comers, I had to sleep outside without a mattress, on the chilly fine sand of Adamawa with my bag for a pillow. That night was a nightmare.  I was depressed, disillusioned, heartbroken, alone and lost. Even the glittering stars dancing in the night sky could not obliterate the discomfort I felt from the stones piercing my skin, the soundtrack of the mosquitoes and the cold that seeped into my bones all night. I don't even know how I managed to sleep. I just know that I woke up with sand in my mouth and hair. Those were the days. Anyway, this is not a story about my NYSC camp experience, so I will try not to derail again. After exiting camp and landing a POA (Place of Assignment), I met and bonded with youths from different parts of the country. I was more at home with some Muslim young men and women from the Northern part of our country.  Their optimism and gregarious nature endeared

Babbie pulled out the chair next to mine and sat down. I looked up from my book and noticed she was sulking. "What is it again?" "It's my mum. She threatened me again today. She gave me till the end of this month to find a husband. Nikky sometimes I wonder if she is my real mother. Anyway it Will end this year. You remember that Reverend I told you about? He said I will be married by December. I just can't wait..." I was getting ready for my Bar Finals and could not understand what my friend was going on about. Initially I had concluded that Babbie was just being dramatic and would laugh very hard at her stories and facial expression. But her battle with her biological mother turned out to be true. Her mother had abused, starved and locked her out of their home severally for refusing to get married. She had dragged her to several "men of God" for cleansing and deliverance. Babbie was in her early twenties, young, living in hell and hated

Pic credit: www.nybooks.com I heard that the war lasted two and a half years. I also heard that many souls were lost. To be specific, we had One Hundred Thousand military casualties and between Five Hundred Thousand and One million Biafran civilians died from starvation. Those are statistics I got from the net. I was not there at the time. The truth is; most of us chanting war songs and heating up the nation were not there during the civil war. Another truth is that most of us are so used to living the good life that it would be impossible for us to survive the throes of a civil war.

Okay, I think its time for me to talk about the popular death trap on our roads. Before I start, I must state categorically that I have nothing against anyone who owns, drives or boards a tricycle popularly referred to as Keke Napep. It is actually a great youth empowerment program, and should be applauded. However I have witnessed several road accidents and heard of numerous deaths occasioned by the reckless operators of the Keke. A friend got a broken hand and I just witnessed a lady being lifted from underneath a keke that rammed into a vehicle! What happened to the Law restricting Keke from plying major roads in the FCT? What happened to the mechanisms that were put in place to regulate Keke and Okada operations in the Territory? Is there no age limit to driving a keke that any kid can now wake up and jump into the road with one? They are worse than Okada riders! They lack the basic training needed for maneuvering or driving a vehicle on the road. Most of them drink concoc

This story by an NIB fan made my day. Please read on I could not wait, to get home and out of the shower. It had been a long day but still incomplete without the vibrations from the other end of the phone. My lover; I could not wait to join her. ​ Fast forward, 2 years later; after the marriage; vows had been exchanged and babies were made; two cute angels in rapid succession; a boy that looked just like me and a girl, just like her. ​Beautiful beings. There would be nothing, absolutely nothing, to compare with this love. Something set in, was it the revelation and the understanding of not being able to love again? Something inexplicable. But you know what? It is a sacrifice, never to say an abusive word to her; never to lift a finger at her. Just like a great teacher taught me, she is an incubator; whatever you give her, she multiplies and gives them back to you. ​ ​

Dashing into the room, I grabbed my phone and with a flirting gaze at the screen, answered the call I had been yearning for.The grin on my face widened in response to that enticing deep voice at the other end. The melodious giggle struck a note in my heart; a heart that was throbbing with endless love. I could not control the sudden sputter of laughter that escaped my lips as I listened attentively to that exquisitely-charming sonorous voice. My lips tingled and yearned for his eager ones as the thought of them devouring mine set my body aflame. My soul was his. Time stood still and nothing else mattered. I was a woman in love.

Happy Democracy Day Nigeria!

You are just good at pretending." I looked up and met his critical gaze. He dropped his cutlery, folded his plump arms across his chest and in the process rumpled the paper napkin he had tucked into his collar. "Everyone wants it. I want it almost all the time so how can you say you don't crave it? That my dear is a bloated lie from the pit of hell!" He finished with a snort. His voice was loud and attracted curious stares from other diners at the roof top lounge. The soft music playing from the concealed speakers was perfect for my troubled thoughts. The thick pellucid glass shielding guests from the weather dulled the noise of the bubbly city. A city that never sleeps. "Hey! I am talking to you! Say the words." It was my birthday and we were at the best restaurant in town. The bill was on me, the meal was appetizing and I could not wait to give the luscious dessert sitting beside my plate my undivided attention. I had wanted a quie

Have you gotten to that point in your life when you are suddenly tired of being the shoulder everyone leans on, the strong person who thinks showing emotions only makes you weak? The one that takes all the BS so everyone gets to enjoy their comfort zones? The one who shows up when you really do not want to, the fragile you who says you are okay and acts really tough when everything is going downhill and the people you always stick your neck out for are the ones hurting you? The one who accomodates and fixes all the broken people, the human messiah who gets backstabbed and smirked at by the same people whose baggage of failure and ineptitude you are bearing gallantly? The one who has to dim your shine so others would shine like fake diamonds they are, throw shades at you and yet not feel threatened by your radiance? Well, I finally got to that point with you. 

I woke up this morning and didn't want to leave my bed and its not because I love that bed. No way! Truth be told, I actually love my bed, very comfy; perfect size; lovely sheets; soft cuddly pillows and dozing off in it feels like sleeping in wonderland but before now, getting up and about on a weekday was never a problem. So what changed? www.saludtoday.com The Easter vacation was a perfect chance for a dash out of town and being in that rare mood, I jumped at it. Where I visited is a gist for another day and yes; I enjoyed myself. In fact, like Oliver Twist, I even want some more!! The snag now is that it's been two days post Easter celebration and I still cant shake off the Easter mood! Its like having a hangover for two straight days and not being able to find a cure for it!! Nothing seems to be working. My usual early morning stretches and sipping my favorite cappuccino only made me want to dive under the duvet and shut out the dancing image of files on my

They said time is supposed to heal all wounds, but not mine. You were still new and the memories of celebrating your arrival are still fresh. I was told to let you go. I was told you would hurt me, yet all I wanted was to bond with you. To flaunt our union, to dance on the streets with you. How am I supposed to live without you? Where do I start from? It has been two hours and thirty minutes that you have been gone and I am still fighting down the tears threatening to mess up my makeup. Watching you shattered, forlorn and alone was my worst nightmare. This void can never be filled by any like you. We were perfect together and nothing could have prepared me for this loss. I loved you above all others. My heart is indeed broken. Nobody can patch the broken seams. Damn it! I don’t want you patched. I want you whole again but it is too late and yes, albeit so soon, I have to move on.