Today, Monday, he packs up his belongings and places them on top of a bench in the middle of their compound. Nwanyimma hands him a polythene bag that contains a bottle of red oil, unripe avocadoes, and other perishable goods.
ABA IS A STORY (a short story by Jaachi Anyatonwu)
So, on and on it reels, the wheel of time, churning out plot twists of a beautiful mosaic of everything good, bad, ugly – Aba!
“AT THE FOREFRONT OF MY INTENTIONS AS A WRITER IS A NEED TO ENTERTAIN”: A CỌ́N-SCÌÒ MAGAZINE INTERVIEW WITH OTHUKE OMINIABOHS
At the forefront of my intentions is a need to entertain. Of course to whom much is given, much is expected in return. This means I do not write in a vacuum, or rather I do not ‘entertain’ in a vacuum. There is so much to be said, so many questions to be asked, ills to be addressed . . . so much that even a thousand books will still not be enough to cover it all. So I write, first to entertain, and in the same vein, to question/address whatever pressing concerns there may be.
INCENSE OF DIVINE OMENS (a poem by Akor Agada)
There are times hope turns into rain drops
in the quiet corner of our tongues
Pacifying the thirsty desert
MAYS (a poem by Ambali Abdulkabeer)
May the roads be clear for the air of rebirth
& the streets be free of draping agonies
GRAY HAIR (a poem by Luper Damkor)
It is a marvel, the Grace of gray
It is a cup, like the Holy Grail
Everyone longs… for a taste, they pray
OF REBIRTH IN WOES (a poem by Onwana Chibueze Declan)
When body rises to greet half-dead,
It’s house of will and intellect.
REBIRTH (a poem by Jide Badmus)
I break, heart of egg
into yolk of gratitude
—grain of time,
IN THE WINGS OF SPARROWS, A NEST FALLS & CALL ME HOLY (two poems by Osahon Oka)
Call me miracle. I cough blood into the fist of wind
& it is rain. Yes, call me saint; I have arrived before
purgatory time & time again & its doorknob has
AXOLOTL (a poem by Abasiama Udom)
I find strength to be whole—whole again.
Let me pull away from all I know. Leaving, losing my realities.