#Nikesh-Writes

Brother Chike managed to drag the faulty motorcycle to a distant place where the mechanic’s workshop was located. I and obinna walked behind him quietly; for the whole moment we walked silently, obinna kept giving me an irritating look. If eyes could kill, I would have been a dead boy immediately. That was the second time I really felt sorry for my size and how out-of-shape I looked like.  “Oga we have to change the wheel rim, before pumping the tyre” “Ha!! Has it gotten to that extent?!” Brother Chike queried the mechanic. Well, the mechanic explained that whatever had happened, imprinted a really bad effect, not only on the tyre of the motorcycle but the metallic rim which supported the rubber material. Uncle Chike turned to look at me; I felt like peeing    on my shorts.  “Tolu you have to find a way and reduce your weight, if you must go far in life” The mechanic burst out laughing; “Na this small boy wey do am?!”  “My brother he’s the one o” uncle Chike rep...

While I slept, with my eyes tightly shut. It was an imagination of chickens all the way; fowls for Christmas. Christmas was in two days time, and obinna my neighbor had told me of his brother’s plans to make the year’s Christmas celebration a memorable one. Brother Chike was his elder brother and they both lived alone; not too far from where I resided with mum and Bisi my elder sister. They never lived with their parents; which I never had an opportunity to find out why; or perhaps it mattered less to me. “We shall buy as many chickens as possible; and brother chike will make chicken stew and pepper soup with it. At the mention of “Pepper soup” my heart tinged with excitement. Food was my catch; I had already started salivating; It sounded like ding-dong in my ears; everything seemed like fantasy.  —————————————————————— (A day to Christmas) “Tolu! Get up from that bed!”  It was mum, she had been banging on my door for some minutes now while I was still wrapped in my dreams. “...

I am  Emmanuel;  I recently graduated from the community secondary school . It  was close to my house ,  in the village where we  lived.  A t the moment , there was no money  for me to further my education in the university, so I stayed at home, helping out in  the  little ways I could. My father was a farmer and a member of the village governing council. On week days, he would wake up early in the morning and wash his face; he would have breakfast which was usually a  leftover food from the previous day. Then he woul d leave with his hoe and cutlass to the farm.  On weekends, he would go for important meetings at the Igwe’s palace.   Sometimes , towards the month ending, he would make so much money from his farm produce that he would even give us some, to buy ourselves new cloth es. Other times he would make very  little income from selling the farm produce that he  looked so sullen and wouldn’t even respond to our g...