Malik Ademola

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'...

  [1] They picked their cutlasses and hoes, And threaded their path to the fields, To impregnate the soils with the seeds, And waited for it to bore its friuts. The wait was so long, And the practise was stressfull and incessant Their spinal cords melted, reforged, and solidified Thus, their postures destabilized And in the end, the gain was a stipend. "O you black nigga!" you said, "why do you still thread the path that is obsolete Here is farm marchinery for your salvation" And they grinned, Embracing you with exurberating heart. [II] With exhiliration they've cuddled around you And their care for you is intensive, But in return, You cause their forgetfulness That their daughters look beautiful in ADILE Their wives gorgeous in ASO - OFI  Their sons, elegant in ASO - OKE Their skins' radiance glow with ADI - AGBON And that they ever have an heritage to preserve. You place before them, another world, One they seem is much more ...

13th February, 2017. "The sun scorched so much and I was dehydrating exponentially. The entropy in my body aggrandized and there was an urgent need to restore orderliness. My movements were flabby towards the nearby shop, sought for shade and awaited a hawker of "pure water" for revival. Then fortunately, he walked past me, a human hawking "pure water" and I beckoned to him with the last joule of energy in me. He scurried towards me and asked, 'how many?' I replied gesticulating with my fingers. Without further ado, he handed over to me two sachet of water and allowed me to gulp it down my throat before requesting for his money.  'owo mi nko? (where is my money?)' he asked after I regained my composure. Then, momenentarily, my photoreceptors set to work and my brain processed the impulse. I now recognised who stood before me, it was a boy (name withheld), probably of age range 9 - 11.  'owo mi nko?' he asked further and consequentl...

Whenever people say cliches like "if you want to change the world, change it with your hands" do they mean that if I desire a changed world, I should sheath my sword and spill  blood? Or perhaps they mean I should instil a change putting pen to paper? The world has been thrown into turmoil that arises from this cliche, people misunderstand it, and twist the meaning to suit their courses. Are they worthy of blame? No they are only wallowed in lust of their so called revolution. Even that they sheath their swords, spill their bloods, leave their bodies turn carcasses to be feed on by scavengers, the public still reckon with them as altruist for they think their rights are fought for. But I call them egoist who have been devoured by the luxury of their revolution. Violence, so the saying goes, begets Violence. You can have a change with a sword but it will only last momentarily, why? You achieve the change but you've left a scar which is deeper than your countless imagina...