Malik Ademola

Sooner than he had expected, the stormy tides of life caught up with Mr Badmus. It started with the anticipated call about the change in management of African Petroleum Plc, which was bought over by the business tycoon Femi Otedola and subsequently changed the name from the initial to Forte Oil Plc. It proliferated when his tenure in office came to end and no allowance for re-election into office. He had to live by the two trucks he managed which brought him the daily needs of him and his family. Some things had to change for his source of income had been affected, and the effect of that was utmost on Jamal.  The beautiful evening that was about to get spoilt has Its calmness at its peak, the one that couldn't seem to look gloomy afterwards, and whose breeze sang melodious song to the ears. Jamal was seated at the dinning room devouring the meal his mother had prepared, which only happened once in every millennium. Did this instigate that the evening would become sour afterwards...

Lonesome and gruesome, the days would had been if the rule of not using a mobile phone was practicable at home, but that was only applicable at The Vale College. Christine had helped Jamal had a wonderful holiday, and a day wouldn't pass without the two talking over the telephone. The intimacy had grown stronger, so also the trust and confidence. Consequently, Jamal cared not about the wrongs at home again. And once again, though the wrongs were still very much feasible but his home seemed to him, a purgatory, or rather someplace far away from the usual inferno.  Jamal had found a reason to live a happy life again. He had forgotten the trauma and thraldom of his broken home and had rather clung to the accolades and unprecedented ecstasies from Christine which had hastened his resuscitation.        "Do you know I live in two worlds?" Jamal began when Christine sat with him at the verandah of the dorm during the siesta. They were supposed to be taki...

Have you ever wondered the infuriating responses you'll receive when you ask a youth, precisely someone in his late twenties or early thirties, the question "what do you do for a living?" one of such provoking responses is "I'm a politician." then I wonder, what could have led to such a response, or perhaps, he or she is a well-to-do person who only hide behind the mask of being a politician? My curiosity withers when I realize he or she depends solely on the stipend he or she receives from these millionaires, billionaires, who only use being a politician as a cover. It is no more a fallacy that these days, almost 80% of the population venture into politics, why? Because they see it as avenue for amassing wealth and a forum to give their filthy lives a farewell. Now that their motives have changed, so does the way I view them change, from altruists whom the people call Freedom Fighters, fighting for the liberation of the minority, to egoist who only is ...

Despite the voice spoke loudly over the radio, there was still an embarrassing silence that hung over between the father and son. The normal chitchat had been replaced with silent soliloquy. The details of the last night incident was still afresh in his head, the response had left him perturbed since yesterday stretching through the night, till the moment he was behind the wheel driving Jamal to school. Jamal on the other hand felt exuberant and anxious to reach The Vale College. He had missed his friends, the gossips, breaking and mending the rules, and the lifeless but enjoyable hostel life, he grinned as he thought, perhaps that (the Vale College) was the only haven he had on earth.      "how do we get through to you?" Mr Badmus had asked severing him from his thought.      "You can do that through the hostel master" Jamal replied, alighted from the car, his backpack held on one side and the luggage on the other and scooted towards the dormit...

Jamal  retired to the balcony amid awaiting the call of his name when the food was done. It was a sunday with a drizzling evening, with the rain having satiated the earth in the afternoon. Now the breeze had complemented the calmness of the evening and he had savoured it also. He sat on the cushion meditating, (that's if a deep thought about downturn of his life be regarded as meditation) but there was a lot to meditate about. He picked his jotter and pen and tried scribbling some words, aimed at finding solace putting pen to paper. But his mental state had gone beyond seeking solace by penning out his worries to a mere paper. Momentarily, he dropped the pen, rose up and motioned outside, taking a walk might gain him little relieve. "Jamal!" his younger sister had called him, but thirty minutes later, there was no response. The family had finished taking their dinner except of course Jamal who had not returned from his walk.  The evening got darker and their...

  I got to ask a group of students what success is, and behold, I was astounded by their responses, the book types replied, having excellent or outstanding academic grades, while the bling bling types replied, using iPhone 7, driving a Jaguar, and living in a mansion. Weren't they right? Ofcourse they'd defined success base on their exposures. Should we hold them accountable for that? No, there's only need to change their orientation. What orientation?  In real conception, success goes beyond having academic grades or possessing the luxuries you desire to live an affluent live, but success as possession of luxuries isn't the topic for discussion today. In a broader perspective, (success lies) beyond academic excellence, but apparently these days, the procreative minds of individuals have been tainted with the conjecture that all around academic excellence is where success lies comfortably,  but could they be right with this perception?  In the contemporary...

I wish I could wake up to a Nigeria  Where the rich would not extort the poor And the nobles respect the ignoble And the interests of the minors are protected.  I wish I could wake up to a Nigeria  Where I won't have cause to lock gates at night, And the solder won't keep a vigil Over us while we sleep,  And peace, they would pray for and not war. I wish I could wake up to a Nigeria  Where education wouldn't be for preserve of the rich And the commoners who get chance to school, Would serve themselves and not them.  I wish I could wake up to a Nigeria  Where the homeless are not left to scavenge  In the devouring jaws of the street,  And the rich already satisfied,  Wouldn't feign indifference to their wanders.  I wish I could wake up to a Nigeria  Where in the north; The cities won't be shattered into pot-shards And in the south; Vandalism rampage won't be incessant And in the west; Abduction won'...