#Nikesh-Writes

  Photo by  Christian Holzinger  on Unsplash Zara was a thorn in the flesh. I learnt that she wasn’t an approachable individual, that she was harsh and usually insulted other colleagues occasionally.  Once, I was told that she was involved in a fight with one Mr. Robinson, a high-ranking officer in the organization where I worked in. The fight had taken place a few weeks before I was employed, and I also got to know that she had gone home that fateful day with a swollen face. “That day was something else,”  Mr.Obiora, one of my colleagues said to me. We sat around my table; my laptop facing me; while we talked. “It was even recorded” he added. “You mean she fights?” “Ha, you needed to see Mr Robinson’s clothes that day; all torn and in a sorry state” “Didn’t they relieve her of her job?” I asked with more curiosity and surprise. “Shhhh!” The expression on his face indicated that I wasn’t meant to say such and that I should never say such again.  Mr Obiora q...

  POEM BY AFOLABI MIRACLE AYOMIDE (mimiafo25@gmail.com) Left so sudden Leaving a name Days come and go;  Yet, memories remain  Hoping to rest now  But wishes remain A life to remember Celebration became my part The sun's warm touch,  The breeze's gentle sway,  The beauty that surrounds,  I wish you were here to behold A heart at peace Your legacy stays  Forever cherished Forever loved We rarely spent time with her. We only saw her once in every century. We all called her “Mama”. Every Christmas, Dad would drive us down to his hometown to see Mama (as he fondly called her too). Therefore we tried to cherish every moment with her because the next time of seeing her would be after another 365 days. When I was younger, I remember vividly that she was still managing to walk with a walking stick. That stick (which we all called “Mkpara” ‘a mighty staff’ in our local dialect) was powerful, or that I perceived it to be. Mama was hot-tempered. She would sh...