STANZAS, SCENES & CHAPTERS

The time was 5pm in Sekoukou, a village near La Tillaberi in the outskirt of Niamey, Niger. The sun was, as expected,  generously smiling at 42  °C. The hot semi-arid vast last stared at us with the absorbing heat from the graves of the sahel- soil, beckoning us into it's embrace. T he indigenes, predominantly, sorghum and millet farmers had just returned from their respective farms, some, with the help of their  camels  or donkeys to till the land and to carry heavy loads.  My mission was to do series of  impact stories of social interventions with beneficiaries of a green hydrogen project currently providing them electricity and potable water through solar installation and execution. While you may think French is a given language  in Niger, the people of Sekoukou only speak Zarma and Hausa- the two most dominant  local languages . So, obviously I was bereft of my my hope to tap into  my elementary French to str...

Sharm el-Sheikh:  the Egyptian city on the southern tip of the    Sinai Peninsula  on the coastal strip along the  Red Sea . This was where believers in fighting climate change (and skeptics alike), across the phase of the earth, gathered for arguably one of the world’s most populated conferences (Conference of Parties- COP27), to deliberate, dialogue, canvass for support, garner activists, and find lasting solutions to fight the common enemy. Climate Change. For those unfamiliar, COP is not your routine conference, typically held in one conference room with break-out sessions and coffee breaks. COP is a mammoth gathering of almost 40,000 people, the world over, with more than 197 countries; and 500 media houses stationed at a designated pavilion, relishing  full internet connection, thanks to Vodafone and Orange. It is an imposing gathering! Participants awoke from their stunning resorts and hotels to a bustling city with local and international commuter...

Even before we completed university, Naki’s indescribable prettiness and awesome cleverness had secured her a job in one of Ghana’s leading mining companies. Indeed, she was a real definition of beauty; not make-up fanatic, but her countenance shone like a polished chrysolyte with her favourite yellow colours, always making beam like a platinum. To be walking with such a lady to lectures, chatting and enjoying her uninterrupted smiles, for us (Capacity, Suberu and I) , gave us the-feel-good factor; and earnestly she was the kind of girl all of us coveted at a point. It was revealing when we gathered one afternoon to confess in nostalgic stupidity, how we have secretly tried to win her heart. Naki had the habit of smiling with anyone she met -real broad smiles. Obviously she was aware that she had very beautiful teeth that sparkled so white, with the colour of her eyes as white as the meat of a coconut- and that sent tons of miscommunication to most guys, including myself. ...

The beauty of Lucy possessed a physical taste of the average African Man- that kind of beauty that easily entices men. Naturally endowed! Irresistibly cute!! And so here I sat in the trotro at the Achimota bus terminal waiting to be driven home. My eyes began to wander, until it fell on the striking beauty of Lucy, lurking around. She was so pretty I reflexively stopped munching my favourite nkatie burger just to stare at her wondrous charm. And she was not shamelessly dressed. “What a beauty!” I soliloquized. I began to fantasize, hoping she would board the trotro and sit by me. As silly as it may have seemed, it was soon to become a reality.   Before I could take my eyes off her, Lucy had come on board and seated next to me. Her spongy flesh touched my body in the name of pushing for space for other passengers. Jeez! It was as though 140,000 megawatts of electrical power had hit my body. My heart bounced in sheer ecstasy. “I surely will get her contact number”. I mu...

A NII COMMEY HANDWRITING Meerhhnn!!. nurse papapaaa A middle- aged woman, obviously, the nurse assigned to us that morning came out from one of the several doors that lead to the Out Patients Department (OPD). She looked too much of a model to me than a nurse, for I felt a great sense of modeling in her walk. She looked like a finalist of a beauty contest, who had been given the daunting task to flaunt her vital statistics: our medical folders were shoveled under her armpit like a fanatical university girl bigheadedly walking into a Linguistics  Lecture Hall. Her eye lid, dependably demarcated with green lipolipo to match up the characteristic green and white nurses’ uniform; her upper and lower lips transparently glazing with a succulent lip-gloss; admittedly her uniform was distantly promiscuous, per the standards of the nursing code of dressing- too body-hugging, too sketchy, too skimpy. “What a nurse!!!” I exclaimed with the lips of my mind.  ...