HIS NAME WAS HASSAN

​For a while, I only ever knew him as Mallam. That’s all anyone I know ever called him. “Mallam, Good afternoon”, “Mallam I wan buy sweet”, “Mallam you get battery?”. Nobody ever adresssed him as “Uncle” or “Brother” or “Ibrahim” or even “Musa”, the most common Muslim name the Hausas in my predominantly Yoruba neighbourhood… Continue reading HIS NAME WAS HASSAN

HOTEL UTOPIA

​My mother always says to me in her deep Yoruba accent, “Fola, that thing that you’re looking for, you will find it.” Well, this time, it would seem her words have come to pass. It’s too bad I wasn’t looking for a good thing.                     It… Continue reading HOTEL UTOPIA

ORTOMobiles

​“She deserves better.” The little demon on my left shoulder whispers into my ear. The truth behind those words sinks into my heart and weighs it down. I could swap places with Atlas at this moment and the weight of the whole earth would still not measure up to the immense weight of those words.… Continue reading ORTOMobiles

PRIMROSE PATH

​The hunger Funso felt was as unforgiving as the heat of the day’s sun or maybe it was the heat of the sun that was as unforgiving as the hunger. Either way, he was hungry and in dire need of shade.  The shade he could and would get easily. All he had to do was… Continue reading PRIMROSE PATH

THE MARTYR

​It’s his funeral today. Hard to think that it’s been over 20 years since I first met him. I suppose it’s harder to think that he lived this long; not with the kind of life he lived. He was the kind of man who took Death to dinner every day, ordered him drinks and freely… Continue reading THE MARTYR