Prince’s Lessons From 2016
Happy New Year to everyone. 2016 has really been a good and sad year for me. I have learned a lot from this year. I got into 2016 as a Leader in FECA and as a Final Year Student in the University. Let me explain to you what FECA is and how it’s Leadership works. FECA is an acronym for Federation of Colleges ex Students Christian Association. It is a body of young people who serve God with a sincere passion and a desire to build the values in the society. As a leader of a department, you are in charge of about 5 to 20 or more people. It’s your level of Accommodating people that will determine how many people will come to your Department. We have the Drama, Ministration, Follow Up, Publicity and Publications department amongst other departments. I was a leader in Publicity and Publications Department. I…
THE SUICIDE NOTE 7 (FINAL CHAPTER) BY EDIKAN AKPANTE
“Becca can’t die like that!” I thought. But the doctors confirmed that she was gone and gone forever. The Police man arrested me as a prime suspect but for the autopsy that showed that she killed herself, by hanging. And I was freed. Nigerian Police, a force I so detest for their always harassing and intimidating innocent ones without proper investigation. I didn’t show them the letter. As I lay on Becca’s mattress, in the room Becca and I once shared, our room. My tears wouldn’t stop flowing as I think of my now late savior, that girl who took me in with my baggage of problems or what I thought were problems, when she had packaged and carried a bigger burden than I would ever have in this lifetime, all alone. I only wish she had spoken to someone. But after the humans she trusted and looked up to…
The Udala Tree In Our Backyard by Mirabelle Morah
Sometimes I like to watch the leaves fall from our Udala tree behind the house. Nne is so over protective of our Udala tree, she’s always in the kitchen watching out for the small boys who like climbing people’s Udala trees and plucking all their ripe Udala. I also like to watch when Jide’s father comes to pick him up from school. All the form 3 boys envy Jide’s father’s car and how he’s so overprotective of his car. He never lets any of the students come near his car, talk-less of laying a finger on it. Sometimes I think about me in the next ten years. I wonder what I would hold priceless to me. Will I be a big man and hold my possessions close to my heart just like Jide’s father. What if I spend my time struggling for a piece of farmland in the village, like…
PARTICIPATE IN THE LESSONS FROM 2016
Share a short personal story/experience on a lesson you learned in 2016. You never know, your story may encourage and inspire someone else to be stronger and better in the year 2017. Sharing is simple Send to this email – admin@blankpaperz.com Include a short bio of yourself and a picture (If you want to) OR BETTER STILL JUST SEND IT HERE [contact-form-7 id=”1476″ title=”Lessons from 2016″]
I Wish I Knew by Mirabelle Morah
I enjoy making everyone in my stories suffer, but for this girl, I sincerely cried when I was writing this. This is one story which broke my heart and broke the water from my tear glands. I cannot begin to imagine what real life people in her shoes go through. I was so worried about her, and I still am.
Please if you find another like her, encourage her, love her, hold her and tell her that she will be okay and she has got to be strong.
Violence affects a growing child’s psyche. Let’s stop violence.
WEDNESDAY SERIES | THE SUICIDE NOTE 6 BY EDIKAN AKPANTE
“When you go there alone, he will give you more, these days he thinks I’m playing him ojoro.” My mother said. I didn’t fill the visitors’ form like other visitors but was ushered in immediately. He pulled me closer, after the normal hug, his hands found its way to my breast and he squeezed on it. I shifted listlessly and he urged me to be calm. According to him, he had been watching and admiring from afar and he thought I was big enough now, to handle a relationship with him. I wanted to tell him to go to hell but then, what will I tell my mum was the reason for my coming home without the desired result. He was the source of mum’s income and booming business and I didn’t want to destroy my mother and be the usual evil child once again. And he was as smart…
A Short Story by Ukeme Inyang
It was a cold Sunday Evening, about 5 minutes after the heavy rain that had just hit the surface of the Earth had just gone back to its source. It’s been five years and a half after my NYSC, life has been the way I have thought, my four-year-old daughter and my beautiful wife were both in the kitchen preparing the dinner for the family. My family had been the happiest when I Introduced my wife to them Five years ago after my NYSC, as the lady who would be the mother of my children . “Daddy meal is ready,” said my daughter, I could smell the aroma of the meal that sparked over the whole room from the dining table. I am not a fan of hot meals, my wife never wasted her time to repeat what my inquisitive daughter just said. Getting bored with what I was watching,…
I’m Not ‘Understanding’ This African Time Thing Nigerians Do Again oo by Mirabelle Morah
I offered to volunteer at a friend’s event at Akpabuyo. A few hours to the event I received a WhatsApp message that it had been shifted to the next day. The next day, I got up early, took a keke to an ATM to withdraw some money so I could have enough to get to Akpabuyo (this was after contemplating so much and I finally decided it was for God’s work). Then I dressed up, hung my guitar and after a few calls, we agreed that we were going to meet up at HungerSpot, Etaagbor. I called that I was at HungerSpot and I was told to wait a few more minutes, my brothers and sisters, that was how the few more minutes turned into a full blown hour. After counting a few more minutes past one hour, I jehjehly carried myself and went back home. I tried to reason,…
Lagos Memories: The untold stories about my holiday in Lagos – Mirabelle Morah
You know, in Calabar you can afford to catwalk when crossing Calabar Road or Marian market, but in Lagos, even if a car is still 20miles away, mbok just run for your life because some buses can just perform magic and appear from nowhere. Lagos just isn’t Calabar. All my life I’ve lived in Calabar and so I’m always too thrilled to go away on holidays. I planned my holiday to Lagos long long before I actually traveled. I took up a job and worked for some money. Saved part of it for my Lagos trip and used part for my upkeep, but you know how it is na, before I knew it I had almost eaten up everything I’d saved. I didn’t know anywhere in Lagos. I didn’t have any friends there. In fact, the only time I had been to Lagos, I spent just about 3 days there.…
My Sin By Ekene Ngoka
Chioma’s basket of cassava was at the foot of the river, set away from the reach of water. She turned right and left to pick a peeking eye. She waded into the water, gingerly up to her thighs as she plucked her girdle down her hips exposing the shiny pearls on her laps. The fresh warm smell of her skin filled the air. The waters were lambent through her skin with her; with her deft fingers she loosed her hair and deepened herself in the water. Splash, Splash, she stroked backward as the tide flattered her breast erect, they were ripe with joy, flashing the well structured tiny nipples. Her fair skin, her red coral tattoo, the soothing flow of her limbs wrapped my attention as I hid behind the reeds, with my hands protecting my royal staff from protruding its ugly head. The golden sand produced iridescence on her…
WEDNESDAY SERIES | THE SUICIDE NOTE 5 BY EDIKAN AKPANTE
Soon my uniform was sewn and I eventually went to school with my neighbors. I attended for more than one month yet I didn’t have any note of studies because my teachers were too busy, mobilizing students to cultivate their farms than in educating us. We worked in farms, drummed and played. My father met some persons who introduced him to some touts, who load buses at junctions and roadside parks. Dad joined in tickets marketing. While mum started roasting plantain by the roadside every evening, until her sister introduced her to the big man, Hon. Richard, who was her in-law. According to mum, she did it for us. Because according to her, we were too precious to be like the ghetto children. So my mother started an affair with Hon. Richard, a man whose children were married while some were abroad and a wife who innocently waits for him…
BRING BACK THE JUVENILE BY OFEM UBI
I miss the days when I was like the boy in the picture I miss the days where I didn’t have to pay for my delinquencies because my cradle fingers were ignorant to the consequences of what they were committing I long for those days I recklessly ran beneath the rain like Adam before the apple Taking no cognizance of my being I miss freedom I miss internal liberty Where my mind was as pure as the sunny sky And I didn’t have to turn my eyes to stare twice at her backside because I never really knew what a backside meant I miss sleepy nights Where I didn’t have to stay awake thinking of the future because I was getting close to my grave with the silent alarm of sunrise and set I miss the children Sunday school Where we were given snacks and told beautiful bible stories that…