Tell it to the mountains // tell it out loud that the world might hear // Wax up the steep and rugged hills, journey the valleys and fountains // tell them! oh tell them now that they are near
I AM JUST A BOY, I AM NOT A BURDEN (AN ESSAY BY JOHN CHIZOBA VINCENT)
So, are boys really a ‘special’ burden to raise? Is Life itself is a lot of work. Is parenting itself is a lot of work. Is raising girls also not a lot of work? What useful thing in this world does not require lots of work? Why just boys? Why not children?
MUTED CRIES OF NIGER DELTA (POEM BY NIMI NISAKPO)
Victims we areOf ethnic majority,Alienation the daily routine,We must unopposedly observeOur agitation for freedom and equality,Branded treason. Echoed thieves,Called oil bunkerersPoachers of our resources,Born slaves in our land.Marginalized, strongly considered...
ON REPUTATION, LIFE & DEATH (AN ESSAY BY OPPONG CLIFFORD BENJAMIN)
It is not death we must pray against or fear but rather sickness. Because sickness leaves us in between standing for life and falling for death. To be sick is to battle for life against death. It means something is coming for your dreams and aspirations, something is erasing your name gradually from the living and at the same time registering your name in the books of death.