HE CAME TO ME

Hello Hi,

First of all, I would like to say a big thank you to those of you that voted for me in the etisalat flash fiction of 300 words max. If you haven't read it yet, you can see it here:-

http://prize.etisalat.com.ng/a-mothers-bane/

Last week, Bella Naija also published one of my writings (http://www.bellanaija.com/2014/11/27/ugochi-ukah-i-am-what-my-grandmother-ate/).

Today, I have a new story for you and as usual, please leave your comments here and don't forget to share, below. Thank you and Enjoy:-

Photo credit: babyworld.co.uk

“He came to me” Amaka said, looking a tad flustered.

“What came to you?” Nkechi asked uninterestedly, barely looking up from her novel and sipping her drink.

“Uncle Joseph” Amaka replied.

“Mhmm?” Nkechi grunted.

“He tried to rape me.”

Nkechi was so startled that she spilled some of her drink and almost choked on it. “Is this a dream?”

Amaka nodded slowly.

“Haa!” Nkechi sighed aloud. “Okay then but I’m not in the mood for any scary moonlight tale. It’s nearly midnight and I want to finish reading this book so that I can return it by tomorrow.”

“Just listen please; it has a happy ending” Amaka said.

 “Please make it short.” Nkechi said, pushing her novel aside.

Amaka continued. “He tried to rape me again…”

“Hold on. You said ‘Again’. So is this a recurrent dream then?”

Amaka nodded again and continued.

“This was the third he had come. I was lying down on my bed, half-asleep. As usual he did not knock before coming into my room. He used a chair to wedge the door so that no one could come in and then, he quickly undressed. Thereafter, he pounced on top of me and before I could scream, he covered my mouth with his hand. Then he asked to dance and every time I refused, he hit me hard. So even though there was neither music in my ears nor in my heart, I danced, and danced, and dan…”

“Okay I get your point, you danced! What happened next?” Nkechi interjected impatiently.

“Yes, I danced with as much strength as I could muster although I felt dead inside. I hoped that the dancing would make it quicker so that he would go away but instead he continued; much stronger and striking me even harder, even though I was dancing.” She took a deep breath.

“He struck my cheek once again, making my face turn to the right. Then, my eyes beheld it! In the midst of my tears and sorrow, it was as if my prayers had been heard and answered. I looked at him; his eyes were tightly shut, his sweat dripping all over my body like midnight dew. So I danced the best I could, so that he could enjoy his music even more. I slowly reached out for it and whilst he danced along, I pierced him, just at the right place, with the right depth. His eyes suddenly opened and this time, I was the one that quickly covered his mouth before he could scream.” She paused. “And just as he lay still on my bed, I woke up.” Amaka added smiling, concluding her story.

Nkechi did not look amused and her mouth was agape. After a short pause, she cleared her throat and asked angrily “What part of this story is happy?”

“Oh! It is very happy for me because I know that he would never come to me again. And I forgot to tell you what the best part was. It was you who saved me! So thank you” Amaka replied cheerfully and hugged Nkechi before walking out of the room as if nothing was amiss and leaving Nkechi open-mouthed again.

Nkechi shook her head and tried to resume reading her novel but she could not concentrate anymore. She had always known that her cousin, Amaka, acted queer most of the time but she found this story very disturbing. Could she have been talking about a spirit husband? She had heard of such stories but had never really believed them. She shrugged and decided to go to bed without finishing the novel.

***

It was as Nkechi walked past Amaka’s room the next morning and stopped to check if she was awake, that she froze at the door. Amaka’s stepfather, Uncle Joseph, was lying on Amaka’s bed in his pool of blood with a knife in his chest; the same knife that she had used to peel some oranges the previous evening and had forgotten in Amaka’s bedroom.  Nkechi let out a scream and Amaka who had been sleeping right next to him woke up.

Have a beautiful week :). Follow me on twitter @vivio_gogo and IG:@ugochiukah

A Hero's Tale

Hello Hi,

I hope you're doing great. I wrote a short story (300 words) for the Etisalat prize fiction. Please read, share and vote for me; you can also vote everyday. Thank you. Here's the link:

http://prize.etisalat.com.ng/a-mothers-bane/

I was going to put up a short story today but my friend sent me a beautiful poem which I could not resist especially as I find poem-composing very challenging. He chooses by go by his pseudonym - ucsmile (some of you may know him or may have seen his other lovely works). So please enjoy and leave your comments below.

photo credit: www.wattpad.com

A Hero's Tale

Such stories are often told

By the wizened ones of old

Who with backs steeped in age

Recount battles fought on life's stage

Reminiscent on the eternity of youth

Toes tingling for dancing shoes and boot

But with a lesson to impact

On those with bodies still intact

This story has never been told

For none could conceive something so bold

Or even perceive the workings of a man's heart

Determined to play a part

In utter disregard of the applause

Which some need to stay on course

When placed on the spotlight

In a quest for the fairest and white

This is a tale of man’s bravery

One whose end can vary

Depending on the path that one should tow

Or the mouth from which the tale is told

Of an adventure in the Jungle of Ardor

Whose key is strength and valor

And the price the rarest of all

The lone bloom in the Fall

She is like a flower

Which some see and cower

Words fleeing down parched throats

Sweat dribbling down hot clothes

Feet tapping in a confounded pattern

Wrapped in shoes spick-and-span

All set to dazzle the fair maiden

The pride of the garden

Her body was enshrouded in vanilla

Which sent each warrior to Nirvana

Her voice that of a nightingale

Piercing each heart and mail

Her touch was the gentle wind

For which each warrior yearned

Her eyes a seamless deep fountain

That a multitude of warriors cannot drain

Each warrior sought her

Leaving behind a grisly nightmare

As they tear through the jungle

Every step, a pleasant struggle

Undaunted by the prick of the thorn

Nor perturbed by armor that is worn

With shredded skins they went on

For the maiden is just for one

Some turned back the trail

For their pace could not match a snail

A few fell on the way side

Content with another as bride

Others went off to a new quest

Convinced that they will fail the test

And alas our hero is left

But with the bravest and heft

They searched high and low

Till they came on top a brow

From which summit they could see

Our maiden bathed in a sea

Of golden rays of morning sun

Reflected in the eyes of a python

This was poised to end the life

Of a creature with so much love rife

Without a pause our hero moved

And enwrapped the maiden as she stood

Even the pain of the python bite

Could not weaken the hand that held on so tight

And with eyes misted with love and warmth

He strove to say with his dying breath

My love, I die joyful knowing you are alive

With the thought that one like me did live

ucsmile®

Have a great week ahead.

Twitter: @vivio_gogo  IG:ugochiukah

I HEAR SO I SPEAK

Hello Hi,

It's been a short; thank you for your patience. Last week Bella naija published an article of mine:

http://www.bellanaija.com/2014/11/04/bn-prose-turn-down-for-what-by-ugochi-ukah/

So this week, I am posting an article from a young, talented writer - Etoh Collins.

Please leave your comments below and share. Enjoy:

 Photo credit: Grupyolddeafies

As usual my eyes quickly ran straight to this young boy that was always around me. He was always in the same house with me, showed the same affection I did show to my parents, slept in the same room with me, entered the same car with me when we went to church, eats on the same dining table with me and always smiled at me like it was going to make my day. I was surely older than him, because he treated me as such; at least he was always getting me everything I needed, and ensuring I lacked nothing when he was around. He greeted me every morning, and sometimes bowed his head in respect when he came asking me for something but the most significant of all was that he was smaller in height compared to me.

Although I wasn’t there when he was born, I had gotten so used to his face in the house that talking to him wasn’t as important as getting to see him look pitifully at me; we had this chemistry which proved we could connect even in silence. Even when he looked upset and seemed to be shouting, I would always smile at him and show him I didn’t care if he was angry. This I did because I noticed that anytime I got angry at him, my parents would act displeased and disappointed at me.
It wasn’t easy being an elder brother even when I doubted my position in the house. I sometimes never got to know what was been served for breakfast or lunch until I was at the table. I never was told anything until I saw it happen. I never was to go anywhere unless someone accompanied me. It was more like I was much cared for, even beyond my expectation. Most times I felt relaxed in troubled situations; at least I always or never was aware of it until days or weeks after, in some occasion months after, and other times I never even got to know. And these things beat my heart so much that I would almost want to give out a loud shout but what could I say?

I was the quiet type and I didn’t care if my being quiet was something that was to trouble me. The times I felt uncomfortable and uneasy was anytime I was out of the house and mostly in areas with so much people; because I was quiet, people won arguments I was involved in, even before I uttered any statement. One of the few times I went out alone, I boarded a bus and made sure I paid the fare as I always do  when I was alone, but my change wasn’t given to me. I guess it was because the man thought I didn’t care, or that he was bent on cheating this quiet boy, or probably like my daddy would always illustrate with his hands gesturing in the air the unrealistic nature of how things have gone hard in recent times. But I guess he took advantage of my quiet nature, and made the most part of me by refusing to give me my change.

So many times I have tried to speak up at injustices and about the evils people perpetrate in my presence and sound absence, and still I all the time choose to be quiet and watch in awe. So many people I think misuse the idea of speech in today’s world. Everyone wants to speak up all at once, but the bad thing is that they all speak either of the same thing or of nothing at all. I watch my parents talk and laugh, I see my brother shut his ears with a rope-like thing as he seem to be talking in a style that resembles one singing, and my mom would always have to hit him before he noticed he was being spoken to. I notice people talk hard and then fight and then laugh and then talk some more; but no one seems to be changing anything. As for me, I still wait for my chance to say so many things on my mind. I await my great chance to speak out even for one day. I plead unto the omnipotent to grant me the power just like Samson in the bible to use just one more might to exclaim something…anything just to ease this burden I have carried since I was born. And until I do so, this world still remains the quiet world it has always been to me. And as I count on my eyes to also do the hearing and the talking, I still brush my teeth daily, and use the cotton bud on my ear holes, hoping that someday, they would become useful, and I would no longer be referred to as the ‘deaf and dumb boy’.

Thank you and have a beautiful week ahead.

Follwo on twitter @vivio_gogo and IG; @ugochiukah

VANTAGE POINTS

Hello Hi,

I have heard people say that there are always two sides to a conversation. I sometimes believe that there are more than two sides or ways to everything, depending on how you look or the type of glasses you wear e.g. 2D, 3D etc. Hee hee! Anyway, it was Nigeria’s Independence Day about 2 weeks ago (October 1st) and some conversation I heard inspired this writing. Enjoy:-

                                            Photo credit: blog.ourchurch.com

                                                          

                                                                 Curtain opens...

Man: Why are you dressed in green and white?

Lady (smiles): Because it is our Independence Day of course and I am supporting my country, Nigeria.

Man: What is there to support – that we lack electricity, or water, or that we are still a highly corrupt nation? Let’s face the fact, this country is useless.

Lady (sighs): oh well, I guess you are right. I just wanted to be patriotic and this green top is really nice (she clutches her blouse) or don’t you think so?

Man (ignores her question): You know, I wish we had a man like J.J Rawlings in Nigeria.

Lady: J.J? The footballer?

Man: You don’t know the Ghanaian Rawlings; that helped Ghana fight against corruption?!

Lady: Oh! I did not hear you clearly; I thought you said something else. Of course I know him. I wish we had him too.

Man: Yes, yes! Nigeria would definitely be a better place (He shakes his head)

Lady (She shakes her head too): I completely agree!

Man: But to be fair, Nigeria is trying a little bit at the moment. At least we are beginning to emulate a few good habits from abroad.

Lady: Yes, I was about to say the same. Did you hear about that Lagos guy that proposed to his babe in the cinema?

Man (looks confused): What are you talking about?

Lady (clears her throat): I was just mentioning some ways that Nigerians have improved like the western world (she sips her soda).

Man: I meant like having isolation units for infectious diseases and raising awareness ever since the Ebola outbreak.

Lady (looks slightly embarrassed): Oh! Ebola things! And that as well. They are all improvements!

Man: Anyway, I would definitely love to run for president sometime in the near future. I think I can make this place much better or what do you think?

Lady (pauses): Can I be your first lady?

Man: Huh?

(Awkward silence follows)

                                                        Curtain closes

Don’t forget to leave your comments behind and share please. Happy Sunday people :D

Follow on twitter @vivio_gogo, IG:@ugochiukah

NEVER SAY NEVER

Hello Hi,

Last week, I had a new article posted on Bella Naija. If you missed it, you can view it below:

http://www.bellanaija.com/2014/09/24/ugochi-ukah-finding-your-african-root/

You can leave your comments here if you prefer.
I have something new for y'all today. As usual, please leave your thoughts in the comment session and share. Enjoy.

She met him in Spanish class; the moment she saw him she knew she was attracted to him. He was dark and good-looking and when he stood up to help her get a chair, she noticed that he was also tall and gentlemanly. She had been the last to come into the class that day because she had come straight from work, which was quite far away. She knew that the distance from her work place to the lesson venue may be a problem for her, but she had decided to take the lessons because the cost was the cheapest she had found so far and she really wanted to learn Spanish. It would be an added asset to her natural brain and beauty, and would open more doors to working overseas; so she had registered for the class at the last minute, just before the deadline. She sat down quickly next to him and muttered her thanks, barely looking at him.

The class was made up of eight people and the Spanish instructor, Mr. Nicolas was a smallish, amicable man. He handed out some learning materials that he had printed and as she reached to grab a copy from her neighbour, she noticed the band on his wedding finger. “He is married and out of bounds”, she said to herself. Mr. Nicholas asked the class to introduce themselves to their neighbours, in Spanish. She turned to him and their eyes locked; it was then that she noticed his hazel eyes and for half a minute, neither of them said a word. He eventually smiled and introduced himself as Pablo. She smiled back, introduced herself and asked him how come he was taking Spanish classes when he had a Spanish name. He laughed and said that his country of origin had been colonized by Spain in the past but their official language was English and so, he could barely speak Spanish. The rest of the class was fun; everybody was friendly with each other and when it was over, they said their goodbyes.

She left the class a little later than the rest because she stayed behind to ask the instructor some questions. As she walked out of the building, Pablo was standing outside. She wanted to stop and talk to him but it seemed like he was waiting for someone. So instead, she passed by him and said “Adios”. He smiled and responded back in Spanish. As she made her way to the bus station, she wondered if he had been waiting for her but she could not fathom any reason why he would be; besides he was probably married and she did not like being too friendly with married men.  When she got home, she quickly dialed her friend’s number to return her missed call. “So, how was the Spanish class?” Anna asked. “It was great, cool teacher and nice students. I actually saw a good looking guy…” she began to describe Pablo excitedly. Anna sounded excited too as she talked more about him until she added “…but I think he is married; he was wearing a ring.” Anna sighed “Oh well! Out of bounds.” Both of them laughed and talked about how hard it was to find a good, fine, and successful young and single man.

The next week came and this time, she left the office earlier and arrived half an hour early. As she made her way into the building towards the class, she heard her name. It was Pablo, sitting at the reception. He said that the classroom was still locked and so, he was waiting for the instructor. She sat down next to him and tried to do the assignments that Mr. Nicholas had given them the week before. Pablo laughed at her and said he had only just completed his too. The conversation got rolling, with both of them finding out that they had similar educational background and interests. He had a Bachelors degree in Psychology, just like her and now he was studying Law just like she was; only that he was a year ahead of her. They were both foreigners in the land and had similar dreams of going into entertainment law in the future. They talked about their families, most of whom were in the United States and how lonely it was being in Australia. He was very easy to talk to, with a good sense of humour and she found herself enjoying the conversation so much that when their instructor arrived, she almost wished that he had not. They sat next to each other during class like the week before and after the class, as they walked to the bus station together, he asked her if she had any relatives around. She answered no and inquired about him and even though she knew what the answer was, she was surprised at her own disappointment when he told her that he was married with a kid. They parted at the bus station and she tried hard to push him out of her mind on the way home. She spoke to Anna again that day. “Hmm… please be careful, you know he is married” Anna said, not sounding pleased. “I know, and that’s why I did not ask for his contact even though we are in the same department. You don’t have to worry about me; I can never have an affair with a married man. Never!” Anna was not convinced “I know you have never done that but still, keep your distance please.” “I will, I promise. That is way below my values and standards” she said confidently and they moved on to other topics of interest. The next couple of weeks passed by; Pablo was her closest friend in the class but she made sure she kept it official. They usually took the same bus back home after class and although, she always got down first since her house was closer, she never invited him into her home.

The end of the school term drew closer and deadlines were approaching for final assignments and exams. She and her study group members were struggling with a particular question that their Law teacher had given to them. It was then that it occurred to her to ask Pablo for help as he may have done the course the year before. So after the next Spanish lesson, she spoke to him about it on the way home. He gave her some good ideas and references to look up, which she found useful and so she asked him for a favour - to teach her more, when he had the time.  He agreed and asked her to meet in his office the next day after work hours. She was desperate for solutions and saw no harm in meeting at an official place; she had also grown to trust him as he seemed like a responsible man. However, she decided to go with one of her study mates, Eve, to his office. The meeting was fruitful and they booked another for the next day and the day after, same venue, as exams were fast approaching. The next day, Eve canceled because she fell ill but she said she would definitely make the day after. So she met alone with Pablo. He was an intelligent man and she found the session alone with him even better than yesterday’s. Time flew by and it was 11 pm, so they left to continue the rest on the following day with Eve.

The following day, Eve was still ill so she and Pablo met and resumed from where they had stopped the day before. Nothing odd happened the whole time and she could not have been more grateful at the end of the session. And so it was out of gratitude that she hugged him that night as they stood at the bus station, waiting for their bus. “Gracias, you do not know how much you have done for me. I owe you one” she said and then released him. He smiled as usual and for the first time since after their first day in the Spanish class, their eyes locked again. It was then that they kissed; a kiss so long and sensual, probably the best she had ever had and yet the one she knew that she would always regret. They did not stop until the bus came and when she got home, she blamed herself bitterly, although her body still had Goosebumps from the thought of him. She had crossed the line and broken her “values” and she knew that she would never tell Anna or anybody else. She never got to find out how he felt about everything, as she never called nor picked up his call afterwards. She quit the Spanish class; which she told herself that she should have done after the first class anyway.

Thank you for reading and have a beautiful week.

Twitter: @vivio_gogo. IG @ugochiukah

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY

Hello Hi.

This weekend was my parents' 33rd anniversary so I decided to write a little something. I'm not much of a poet, I prefer stories because I like gist but who cares anyway? :) Enjoy and please share. Don't forget to leave your comments below. Thanks.

I took dance lessons

But I did not learn the right moves

I enrolled in singing classes

But they did not give me a new voice

I made lots of jokes

But I could not laugh at them

I baked many large cakes

But they could not fill me up

I travelled around the world

But I could not find a clue

I asked many questions

But I received not an answer

 I fell on my knees

With my face to the east

Only then did I realise

That my life was made with you

Dedicated to my father, Engr C.B Ukah

(Never late, never past; because you’ll always be...present...in my heart)

Have a great week.

Follow me on twitter @vivio_gogo and Instagram IG: ugochiukah

WILD CALM

Hello Hi,
Last week BellaNaija published another of my article, thank you guys for reading. If you missed it, please find the link below.
http://www.bellanaija.com/2014/08/19/bn-prose-the-work-place-by-ugochi-ukah/

I also had a previous article published by them about a month ago too (http://www.bellanaija.com/2014/07/17/ugochi-ukah-my-colloquial-mishap/).

Today I have a beautiful story by a talented writer who has chosen to remain anonymous (I do not understand why though :p). Anyway, please read and share your comments below. Don't forget to share with your friends too, cheers.

                                                                                

Her name was quite simple. Simple to remember and simple to pronounce. After all it was quite common in the western hemisphere. In truth her name meant: “Defender of men.” But everyone called her Anna. His name meant...she was ashamed to say that she could not remember what his name meant but unlike her, his name had been chosen for its meaning  more than anything else. She did not know much about him except that the difference in career between them could be summed up in this manner:  he sought to get into his client’s head in order to break them, while she sought to walk with hers in the hope of empowering them so that they could walk without her.

“Happy Easter, Happy Sunday!” he said,  she turned  with a smile, thinking what lovely low, husky and well rounded voice he had, the kind of voice every man should have, she added to herself before murmuring, “Thank you. Same to you!” and laying her hand on his arm she said “excuse me, will you?”She made a beeline for the glass door where the little muffin had just run through. She caught her just as she poised to exit the back door of the Church. She grabbed her beneath her arms and tickled her until the child was screaming “mummy, please stop, stop mummy!” “You love her with your life don’t you?” Her head snapped around at his voice and she found him standing behind them. Lowering the gleeful child to the floor, she again smiled but this time she lowered her eyes. As the child walked away and they turned to watch her, he said boldly:” I would like to have your number.” Once again her head snapped back up so that he could see the question in her eyes. He saw it and replied: “look, you stand out among all these women, you are a product of your own creation and every time I see you, I keep wishing that you were single.”

Shocked, flattered and intrigued she said: “Well I am single. I am a single married woman. And a mum.” As he smiled she countered: “Are you married?” He shook his head.” Do you have children?” she continued. He broke eye contact with her and turned to look at the child happily murdering a yellow flower that she had picked out from the arrangement by the door. “He was silent for so long that she feared she had trespassed on sacred ground. “ Are you okay?” she asked, concerned. He turned and smiled at her and finally said very quietly “No, I do not have children”. She smiled and got out her phone.....

That had been on their first meeting, Anna thought now as she lay awake in bed and sighed. She was tired; exhausted really and yet sleep still eluded her. She sighed again, turned over and reached out to pick up her diary from her bedside table. Reaching for her phone she switched it on before walking to the light switch to switch that on too. Then she came back and re-arranged the pillows on her bed so she could sit up. Comfortable, she reached for the pen case that she kept on the dressing table but eventually found it on the floor next to the prayer book she had been reading before sleep claimed her earlier. Slowly, with a soft smile, she picked it up and opened the case. “Wild Calm” she read as she traced a finger along the engraved letters.  Gently she placed the cool metal against her cheek, somehow the coolness warmed her and she pushed back the tears that for weeks now, never seemed too far away. Uncapping the pen as she sniffed she said aloud: “Where to start? What can I say?”

It had been very brief, six weeks from beginning to end - six enchanting weeks of laughter, “pure heaven” and “Adagio”; adult conversations and steamy moments. The weekend away stood out as one she will never forget. Their regular evening walks in the nearby park, the attention he had paid to her baby (in truth she had adopted the child mere weeks after her birth), the special way he talked to the child, the way he made her feel like a woman: sexy, wanted and cherished, the flowers he brought her “just because..”, the way he confided to her of his childhood memories. The surprising way they seemed to know what the other was thinking even before they said it...There was a dozen ways that they were good together. “How could something so “right” be so “wrong?!” She asked herself again as she had for the past month or so.

“We were too different,” she wrote. “His family would never have accepted me and he would never have fought them for me”.  As tears gathered and cascaded down her cheeks she put down the pen and allowed the memories to wash over her. She remembered the day he sang Bryan Adam’s “Please forgive me “to her. That had been after their second fight. Their first one had been just one week before the second one, when over the phone he told her that he had a girlfriend back in his native town. That night she cried herself to sleep, woke up and cried some more before finally deciding that she was going to show him. And perhaps that was where the origin of their third and final fight laid. It reduced them to two intelligent and God fearing people, with one professing his love, yet both of them unable to do the “right” thing as in that instant they disagreed on the definition of “right”. She had demanded that he come clean with his girlfriend or end it with her. He had been firmly reminding her at every opportunity that “I want to make love with you Anna.” And she had stalled. Apart from the existence of his girlfriend, he had been reluctant to undergo the HIV/AIDS test she had suggested they had. It had been sexual frustration and the desire for more and better that had pushed her into cornering him to take a stand. At that precise moment, Anna hated herself, for being so...so freaking principled!  If she had not, they would still be an item now, she thought as fresh tears raced down her cheeks and fell on her diary. “But you still would not have been able to receive Holy Host”, a small voice in her heart whispered.” Yeah, there is that” Anna thought now and grimaced as she looked up at the A3 photo of the Sacred Heart of Jesus on the wall at the foot of her bed. “I did miss you Jesus”, she whispered to the photo but I loved him so! Even now, four weeks after we have gone our separate ways and two weeks after I came across him and his girlfriend walking arm in arm in the park. “Our” park! Why did he lie, Jesus, How could he love two women at the same time? How can any of this be right? Now that I am at it, why did you send him my way?!  I am so unhappy that I cannot even be happy that we did not do “it”! And I cannot even laugh at the fact that his girlfriend is twice my size and half my height!”

The tears were flowing so hot and fast now that Anna put the diary down and turned face down on the nearest pillow to muffle the sobs that she could no longer suppress. Once again her heart was in tatters. Once again she was the loser in the “game of love” or was it the “game of lies”? She thought sarcastically.

So profound was her self-pity that she failed to hear tiny feet walking across the corridor to her room, until a small voice finally penetrated the mist-like gloom around her.

“Mummy?  I cannot sleep. Mummy? Are you crying?”

Anna jumped and swiftly wiped her palm against her cheeks and she rubbed her face across her pillow to dry the tear tracks. Quickly she reached over the side of her bed with a smile curling her lips:  “Oh baby, she said, “come and give mummy a cuddle.” And plucked the child from the floor. With her face hidden by the innocent sweetness of her daughter’s selfless hug, Anna vowed that no man, no man will ever break her or her baby’s heart again.

From the author: I was up at 03:00 in the morning one Saturday morning with this story line playing chaos in my mind. It simply would not let me be. I not only wanted to write I had an unprecedented desire to have the story published. In those wee hours when most are in dreamland I got in touch with Ugochi and well as they say the rest is history.
By and large this is my first ever real story. The stories I wrote previous to "Wild Calm" were in my English language class or exams about 16 years ago. ( I have never mastered the fine art of writing summaries. Give me a 2000 word limit and I can usually do a decently entertaining piece.) Unfortunately I do not have much time to write these days except when I want a good emotional cleansing. God willing someday I will take some writing courses (then I will sit down to write the book that I have promised myself I will.) For you see I know that I have talent- the kind that comes naturally, I suppose the kind that one is born with) But I have no skill- skills , to my way of thinking, is taught and can be learnt and in order to do justice to the art, I need both. Your words of encouragement warmed my heart. Thank you! Someday I will write one and I will sign it. "Wild Calm" however is best left unsigned. Until then keep me in your prayers. I will do same.
I hope you enjoyed it. Have a blessed week.

Please follow me on twitter@vivio_gogo and IG: ugochiukah.

THE MORAL

Hello Hi,

I hope you have been great. I shared a voice note today with a brief thought, dedicated to my sister (you know yourself :p). Please listen and enjoy the story.

She pulled him by the waistline of his trouser “Give me feeding money or else you won’t go to work today!” He raised his hand as if to strike her and she began screaming “You want to hit me, abi? Hit me o, beat me! Neighbours, come and see!”

His two children ran out of their bedroom to watch. “Daddy, please leave mummy”, the eldest daughter said; she began to cry and her younger sister joined in, even though she did not understand what exactly was happening.

“I’m not holding your mother. Can’t you see that she’s the one holding me? Tell her to let go off me. I’m running late for work” the husband said.

“You’re not going to work today, until you give me that money” The wife responded.

“Mummy, please leave daddy alone” the eldest spoke again and her younger sister echoed “mummy, please leave daddy...” she was only five years old while her elder sister was nine years old.

“Keep quiet! Tell him to give me money or else both of you will not eat today. No cornflakes for you!” The wife said, pointing at the younger daughter.

The little girl began to scream loudly, adding to the chaos. The thought of her not eating was too much to bear and cornflakes in the morning had always been her favourite. So the elder sister had to cut in at this point, “If you don’t stop fighting, I will tell the priest on Sunday.” That sentence did the magic as both parents let go of each other immediately although the wife ran quickly to block the door. “You’re still going nowhere until you give me money” she said.

“How much exactly do you need?” he asked, exhaustedly. “Ten thousand Naira, I won’t accept anything less than that” she replied. The husband opened his briefcase, counted some notes and gave them to her. “Now, can I pass please?” he asked. “Wait o, let me count it first” she answered as she licked the tip of her index finger on her right hand and began counting the notes. When she had finished, she unblocked the door way and said to him “So you had the money. You just wanted me to shout this morning.” He said nothing and passed through the door.

“Thank you o, ese! Have a nice day” she said loudly while he drove off, without responding.

The End

So what was the morale of this story to you? Leave your comments below please :), Thanks. Have a lovely weekend. Ps: I was kidding about bald people in the voicenote.

Twitter: vivio_gogo IG: ugochi ukah

WEDDING INVITATION: YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED!

Hello Hi,

Welcome to my wedding invitation. Oh well, that is the title of my post. Gotcha! lol.  Since you're already here, please continue reading..hee hee. Sorry I've been away for a while, school and work! Anyway, please read, share your thoughts by dropping your comments below and share with your friends as well.

‘You are cordially invited to the wedding ceremony of Effiong and Blessing…” that was what the card read. Chika had just received the invitation by post and to her dismay; her ex-boyfriend Effiong, was finally getting married. He had everything she wanted in a husband – good-looks, great job, intelligence, god-fearing etc but her mother had refused to let her marry him because he was neither Ibo nor catholic. They had dated for three years and those years were the best years of her life. She knew that if she have pushed harder and insisted on marrying him back then, they would have been married by now. But instead, she had watched her mum humiliate him and ask him to leave the family house. To make matters worse, when Effiong had tried to calm her mother down, she had joined in the shouting, saying that he was disrespecting her family. Sometimes when she looked back, she wondered what had possessed her on that day; his family had been very kind to her and she knew he was a good man who did not deserve such treatment but then, she had always been very close to her mother and did whatever she was told regardless of whether she knew it was wrong or right.  So today, a year after their break-up, as she opened the envelope, her eyes welled up with tears. She picked up the phone and dialed his number.

“Hi, I got your invitation. I am very happy for you” she said with no iota of happiness in her voice.

“Thank you” he responded.

 “I don’t know if I can come though” she continued.

“No problem, RSVP when you’re sure of your decision”

“Can we meet briefly, I would like to discuss something with you?” she asked him.

“That won’t be necessary. If there’s anything urgent, you can tell me now because I would not have the time to meet you before the wedding”

“Okay then, I just wanted you to think again before you go into this. You know you still love me” she said smugly.

“I have thought well enough and no, I don’t love you. I loved you before and now I love another. Get over it!” He said harshly. After amoment of silence, he told her that he had to go and hung up.

He was pissed off; she had the nerves to call him and tell him to re-think about his decision, after all that she had done to him over the years. He had loved her like no other and convinced his family to accept her even though they wanted him to marry someone from his tribe, but that had not dissipated his love for her. He had always known her to be selfish but that had not bothered him either and he gave her all that she wanted and even more just to make her happy. He had invested so much in her and had even bought her the type of expensive engagement ring that she wanted, which she had not bothered to return after they broke up. Three good years wasted being in a relationship with her and yet, her mother had walked him out of their house screaming “Stupid Calabar boy! You want to come and marry my daughter!” and Chika had joined in, clapping her hands like a village woman. What had puzzled him the most was that her mother had known all the while that he was dating her daughter and so his visit was not sprung on her out of the blue. He used to bring her gifts on his previous visits which she had accepted warmly. Therefore, he could not understand the unforeseen change of mind or the sudden realization that he was not from the Ibo tribe, especially as both mother and daughter had called him by his Efik name – Effiong. He had still loved Chika after that episode of drama and tried to reach out to her until the day she told him proudly to his face that no matter what she did to him, he could never leave her or ignore her. After she said those words, it was almost like a spell had been broken and finally he became aware of what he meant to her - a toy for playing with, a bank to give her money, and a shop to pick free items from. Only then did he understand what his whole family and friends had been telling him about her for a long time - that they thought that she did not truly love him. Oh well, his eyes had been opened and he decided to end things with her completely. He began to ignore her calls and text messages and one day she showed up at his place after some months, requesting for a huge sum of money. He transferred the money to her bank account but continued not to speak to her. He was that kind of man; generous to a fault that he let some people take advantage of him. Money was never a problem for him anyway as he came from a wealthy background.  

Some weeks after his break-up with Chika, Effong met Blessing at the bank. She was nothing like Chika; she was selfless, homely, not vain and from Akwa ibom. Both his and her parents approved of their relationship and they got engaged pretty quickly. It was Blessing that had suggested sending a wedding card to Chika because she had met her once, the day she had come to ask Effiong for money. That was the kind of person that Blessing was; she hardly found fault with anybody and despite the spiteful gestures that Chika had made during her visit, Blessing had still urged Effiong to give Chika the money. That was why he had transferred the money into Chika’s account and warned her never to come to his house again nor request for anything else.  So he was not shocked when Blessing, out of her good will, had asked him to invite Chika for the wedding. He reluctantly obliged after she persisted although he silently hoped that Chika would decline the invitation.  After that call that Chika made asking to see him before the wedding, which he had turned down, she continued to try to reach him. He never responded to her calls or messages and up until the wedding day, it was unclear whether she was going to attend or not.

The day of his wedding came and all the guests were seated. Effiong stood close to the altar looking good and nervous just like almost every groom did on their wedding day. It was time for the bride to walk down the aisle and the orchestra began playing the Pachelbel version of the famous Canon in D major record. It was at that moment that Chika chose to show up in a white dress. She was not wearing a wedding dress exactly but it was a lovely dinner dress; one that a bride could wear on the evening of her wedding.  She looked stunning in it, with her figure well accentuated in the dress and her hair and make-up perfectly done. She walked in slowly, drawing in attention like she was the bride. In fact, if one did not know who the bride was, one might have mistaken Chika for ‘her’. Effiong signaled to the orchestra to stop playing the music and stooped low to whisper to his little groom. He looked up at her and smiled. She smiled back smugly before taking a seat close to the front row; her plan had gone well and she had been noticed by him just as she had wanted. It was signaled again that the bride was ready and so the orchestra resumed playing. Blessing walked into the church with her father, looking resplendent and the wedding ceremony began shortly afterwards.

It was time to exchange the rings and vows and the pastor asked the usual question “Is there anybody who has a reason why these two should not be married? Stand up and speak now or forever, hold your peace.” Chika tried to stand up but sat down suddenly, as she realized that her wig had been quickly pulled off her hair. She tried to put it back on but the little groom picked it and ran out of the church with it. The children around laughed and pointed at her ridiculous wig-cap which she had worn underneath. Some people turned to look at what had happened and she bent her head in shame. The distraction was brief and since no one had spoken, the weddings vows were made successfully whilst Chika sat with her head bowed until everyone else left the church.  Effiong saw her as she sneaked out of the church whilst the couple was taking pictures with their family and well-wishers. He smiled genuinely for the photograph with his heart filled with joy. His weakness may have been him falling for her previously but he knew that her weakness lay in her lack of hair and her love for wigs. He had learned well from his relationship with her and so the moment she had shown up seeking for attention; he decided that he would give her all the attention that she deserved. Thanks to his little mischievous nephew who served as his little groom; Effiong promised to get him a present as a reward.

As for Chika, she never showed up in his life again and just like a fairytale, he lived happily ever after with Blessing.

The End

I hope you enjoyed reading and don't worry for the aproko people, when it is time for my wedding I will put it up here on my blog so watch out :P. Don't forget to follow me on twitter @vivio_gogoand instagram IG: ugochi ukah for more updates. Enjoy the rest of your week.

NOT A LANGUAGE BARRIER, MY COLLOQUIAL MISHAP

Hello Hi,

I wrote a short article which was published in Bella Naija. The title above was the original title and originally, I had a longer story as well but I had to shorten it due to word limits. I know some of you have read it but for those of you who did not, unfortunately due to policy agreement (or whatever it is called, lol), I cannot share it here or elsewhere. So please find the link is below. I also know some people did not feel comfortable posting their comments there, so you can always post them on my blog.

http://www.bellanaija.com/2014/07/17/ugochi-ukah-my-colloquial-mishap/

Henceforth guys, the deal is whenever I write in a column, paper, or another blog etc I will share the link on my blog for that week but other times, I will post my stories here directly (hopefully weekly, except when school gets extremely busy; it almost always is :) ). So next week, I shall have a new story to share with you guys. For now (as today is Sunday), I just want to share few messages that I got from church today during the homily:

• ·         Bodily or worldly pleasures cannot give you happiness, only Jesus can
• ·         The devil tries to deceive/tempt by choking the word of God out of us
• ·         It’s okay to possess money or possession but do not let them possess you
• ·         Do not lose faith in God or get discouraged because God is never discouraged with you
• ·         When you come to receive God, allow Him to receive you too
• ·         Only when you come to God will you receive true peace and tranquility 

Thank you always and don't forget to share with your friends, like the page and follow me for more updates (twitter: @vivio_gogo, IG: ugochiukah). Have a lovely week and remain blessed, xx

INSIDE THEIR MINDS...

Hello Hi,

It's been a busy while; school, work.... I have definitely missed writing; I'm beginning to enjoy it more and I hope you enjoy reading them. One of my friends recently said that I love to paint men as villains, lol, au contraire! it just happens that I write better from a feminine perspective (or so I think). Today's story was inspired by a funny true life event; nothing feminist or male-attacking here oh, hee hee. Enjoy and please like the page, share, comment etc. Thanks!

“Allow me to introduce our last but of course not our least speaker, the first and so far, the only Nigerian-born and bred actor to win an Oscar award – Mr. Chuka Madu!” Loud cheers and applause followed as Chuka walked to the stage. The ladies were whistling so loudly; it was incredible. It was obvious that he was very popular although this popularity may have been attributed more to his good looks and the fact that he was single, rather than his acting talent. Regardless of what anyone thought however, he had achieved his dreams and even more, and now to add to his accomplishment, he was standing in front of thousands of people as a guest speaker at a TED; something he had never even dreamed about. He finally began his speech:

“Ladies and gentlemen, I can’t tell you how much of an honour it is for me to be standing here before you today. This has been one of my dreams amidst many others. When I was in my teens, I developed sudden interest in reading books outside my usual school book and my two favourite books were “Rich Dad, Poor dad” by Robert Kiyosaki, and “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho. If you have not read them before, I’d suggest that you do because those books truly inspired me.”

He paused to drink some water from the bottle on the stand; people were nodding vehemently with approval. Looking at the audience, even though he could not see all the faces because of the multitude of people, he could feel their admiration. The room was so quiet that one could hear a pin drop and he could tell that they were all eager to hear his story; of how he made it to the top. This was evident to him at least from the few faces that he could see clearly because the light reserved for him on the stage also shone on their faces. Four of whom were sitting directly opposite him - a middle-aged gentleman with an eager look, a lady in her late twenties with a constant smile on her face, an elderly woman with no expression on her face and a younger lady in red who had tears welling up in her eyes. They looked like they were listening with rapt attentiveness and so he continued his speech even more confidently:

“You know there were times I wish I had the Rich Dad in that book as my real dad. I have always dreamed of making it in life but I never really loved going to school so I knew that I had to do it in a different way. My dad did not support my interest in acting but sometimes, you had to break out before you can achieve your dreams...”

The middle-aged man’s mind: He was truly listening; every word that Chuka was saying made sense to him. He had also once been an inspiring actor but his family did not give their support him; therefore he could completely relate with the speech. If only he had pursued his dreams, he may have been famous by now. However, he had other responsibilities and he needed a steady source of income to send his younger siblings to school unlike Chuka who originally came from a wealthy family. Life was not fair truly...

The “late twenties” lady’s mind: She watched him with admiration; he was exactly her kind of man. His physical build and thick lips, his manner of speaking and his ambience, and of course his wealth. If only she had waited a few more years before marrying, she might have met Chuka and made him fall in love with her. Her friends had persuaded her to marry the middle-aged man next to her saying that he had potentials; potentials that still had not borne any real success to her for the past 2 years they had been married. If not for all the societal pressure – that she was getting old, that all her friends were married and that her family was expecting the same from her; she would not have married him. Now, she had lost a great opportunity...

The elderly woman’s mind: She listened to him in anger. She did not like the way Chuka spoke about his late father, her husband. He  deserved more much respect from Chuka; he had been a great father and husband and although, he did not support Chuka dropping out of his Master’s program to pursue his acting career, if it were not for his wealth and affluence, Chuka would not have been successful. She had pleaded on Chuka’s behalf even though she also did not think acting was a good idea, especially not after the money they had spent sending him to ivy-league schools in the states. She would caution Chuka, he had to stop this insolence...

The lady in red’s mind: She could barely concentrate; there was nothing new to her that he had said; the same old inspirational story of how everyone who became successful in life had struggles on the road. She had barely slept last night because she was helping her friend who was one of the event organisers to carry out final arrangements. She was so tired that tears rolled down her eyes. She wished he would stop talking so that the event would come to an end; his speech was too long and she needed to go home and catch some rest because she also had work to do tomorrow. If only she had known, she would not have sat at the front row so that she could easily leave the auditorium but her friend had specially reserved that seat for her. It was moments like this that made her wish that she could sleep with her eyes open...

“And so ladies and gentlemen, I hope that you have learned from my story that giving up is never an option. You must fight to achieve your goal in life! Thank you”

Loud applause and cheers followed again, with standing ovation from the audience and many people seemed thrilled. It was time for the reception and the after party, an opportunity to meet and chat with any of the eight speakers. People went after the speakers they were most interested in, with most of the young ladies closely following and fluttering around Chuka. The lady in red could not have been any happier to be freed at last; she glanced at her wristwatch, it was already 9pm. As she looked up, her eyes met with Chuka’s, he smiled and she smiled back confused as she was not sure if it was her that he was smiling at until he walked up to her. He had been attracted to her from the moment he saw her as he stood on the stage.

“Hi, I’m truly pleased that you found my speech today inspiring” he said with a confident smile. She raised her eyebrow and he laughed “Oh yes, I must confess that I saw the tears in your eyes. Don’t be shy; it’s okay for one to get emotional during such great talks.” It was her turn to laugh; she did it in a polite way nonetheless and because she did not want to lie to him nor be rude, she responded with a courteous smile “Of course! I’ll be sure to share my own version of your inspiring story.”

Don't forget to share please and comment. Have a beautiful week :)

IG: ugochiukah
twitter; @vivio_gogo