Tag Archives: Africa


By Yazeed Dezele`

At peak noon the sun became a ball of molten lava blazing over the cloudless yellow skies of Abuja, capital city of the United African Republic. Skyscrapers glinted pupil-searing bright like towering cuboid mirrors. Hot silver rays of sunlight poured into the still clear waters of Jabi Lake at the city centre and long serpents of steam began to rise into the atmosphere. Spanning this lake was the Balewa Bridge, a marvel of steel cables and graphene tarmac six lanes wide, which lines of remote sensing auto-navigated SUVs ate up. The chiefs, alhajis and madams in the backseats of these cars dozed like fat pigs, their bloated skins fanned by ultra air-conditioners while at the ever-bustling El-Rufai Bus Stop at Berger Junction double-decker buses belching smokeless Afrosol fumes flocked like drunken whales.

Their working class passengers, all clad in reflective long-sleeved jackets and sunglasses, rested their heads on leather cushions, occasionally jerking out of their sleepy trances to see whether they had reached their destinations. Before alighting they would take deep breaths, grit their teeth and put on their government-approved cooler-helmets before dashing out into the streets. They left black footprints of soot on the melting concrete sidewalks as they ran past. There were no taxis. Those green-striped driverless vehicles which operated from the City-Trans headquarters at Nyerere Crescent had been run out of business at the beginning of the heat wave three days ago.

Because the air was perfectly still, as though trapped in a glass vacuum, the only natural-grown tree in the whole city, a gmelina everyone was proud of, was dying. Its gnarled bark peeled off in dry flakes and its branches were covered in a mass of crisp biscuit-leaf hair. As the day wore on, the smell of burning natural-grown grass began to fill the air. The patch of matted green around the tree had suddenly sparked into flames.

In Daye’s living room the air conditioner struggled with the heat-strangled air. He was sitting on the edge of his desk, a shaky index finger hovering above the touch-screen of the flat monitor in front of him. He was glaring at the headline on the Ministry of Environment’s website that screamed: Deadline for surrendering all Organic Waste Elements is 4 pm today. His heart throbbed against his rib cage, cold sweat poured off his body. The digital clock blinked 2:15 pm.

“Organic Waste Element?” he muttered to himself. His finger was hovering at the edge of the screen where there was a highlighted box tagged CONCUR.

“She’s my mother, you bloody bastards!” he roared suddenly at the screen.

Leaning into the E-glide chair he breathed in jerky snorts. The outburst seemed to lighten his head a bit.

He heard footsteps lumbering across the living room towards him.

“Na wetin be dat, my pikin?” came the feeble voice of an elderly woman from behind him.

He quickly switched away from the euthanasia page.

“Nothing Mama,” he said, narrowing his brow at the screen with affected seriousness. Afrinewsia, the government propaganda news page, swarmed into focus. It was showing the pyramidal glass headquarters of the Intercontinental Space Agency. An inset picture showed some space-suit clad astronauts standing on parade, their captain holding the Republic’s flag. They were listening to a farewell address from the Kenyan-born President Ole Sunkuli. Daye wondered if their lunar expedition would be affected by the heat wave.

“You no wear helmet, eh? Na only God go help us for dis kind heat o,” she said, re-adjusting the cooler-helmet she wore.

“Amen o,” Daye’s replied, his lips moving of their own accord.

“When dem say dis wicked heat go stop, sef?” Ma Braimoh asked and shook her head.

Without waiting for a reply she shuffled over to her favorite E-glide armchair and settled her massive frame in front of the ceiling-to-floor TV. She adjusted her spectacles and punched the buttons on the armrest, one at a time. The TV switched on.

His mother out of the way, Daye returned to the Ministry of Environment’s euthanasia page. He knew what would happen once he touched the CONCUR box; within 30 seconds, a Waste Chopper helicopter carrying four green-uniformed men would be dispatched from the ministry headquarters to come and whisk his mother off.

“Na wa o,” lamented Ma Braimoh from her chair. “How dem go arrest somebody go Sahara just because him cut one tree?” On the TV screen the Green Police were holding a press conference to parade the five men convicted of the tree-felling. A Libyan-born officer was briefing journalists.

“This continent will not tolerate planet-killers,” the officer was saying. “Every criminal arrested will go work, for life, on the labour camps of the Green Sahara Project. This should serve as a lesson to others.”

Daye didn’t turn to look; the sight of the Green Police always cast a dark cloud of fear over him. The news took Daye back to his boyhood a quarter of a century ago when his mother would take him to the Mandela Parklands in the foothills of Mount Kilmanjaro. The Parklands had been established to protect the last remnants of some of Africa’s finest species and they would venture far into the vast blanket of natural grass fields to learn their ancient woodland secrets. The reserve had contained natural trees of every color shape and size. Baobab, acacia, flame-of-the forest, gmelina, mango, cashew, shea butter, you name it and it was there. They would stand and listen to the whispers of the rustling leaves while inhaling the sweet aroma of bark and loam.

“Trees dey talk o,” she would say. “Dem dey talk about bad-bad things wey go happen for future.” Then she would point at the skies where Daye would gape at the black-tailed hawks gliding through the evening skies. “See, those birds dey bring good-good message wey go come quench the bad things for ground.”

As he grew older Daye had dismissed her stories as primitive nonsense. But that was years before the natural forests of Africa began to go extinct.

Today the forests were artificially bred in greenhouses and out of bounds to the public – fenced by electric wire and 24-hour CCTV surveillance. Daye wished he could show his own ten-year-old daughter, Cheena, what a live forest was. He doubted if she even knew what an iroko or shea butter tree looked like. Once, in the years after the Tree Crime Act was passed, he had climbed the only natural tree at the centre of his secondary school. He had been expelled as a result.

As if sensing his thoughts, Cheena spoke up.

“Don’t you even have one cookie of sense in your skull, Big Momma?” she asked. She was curled up on the sofa by her grandmother, her tiny eyes peering from under the visor of her cooler-helmet. “Tree-felling is an unnecessary waste of our natural resources.”

Ma Braimoh cleared her throat, swallowed and fell silent.

Daye hadn’t noticed when the little girl had come in. The way she crept around the house these days, like a tiger cub sniffing for flesh, sent a shiver down his spine.

3pm. The dilemma gnawed at his stomach with steel claws.

A soft hand landed on his shoulder and Daye jerked his head to see his partner, Nnena, standing behind him. Her head was turbaned in a towel filled with ice cubes; she hated wearing the cooler-helmet because they made her scalp itch. She looked like she was carrying a mountain on her head. The scent of boiled sweat and concentrated perfume seemed to be fighting each other to escape her armpits.

“How far?” she asked.

“Honey,” Daye sighed and leaned against the back rest. “I don’t think I can go through with this.”

“Oh puh-leeease!” she snarled. “Why can’t you ever use that archaic thing you call a head. We are in the twenty-second century now!”

“I know,” said Daye. “But she’s my mother.”

“Fuck you and your mother!” Nnena barked, smacking the back of his head.

“Wetin be dat, my pikin?” Ma Braimoh asked, raising her voice from the other side of the living room.

“Nothing, Mama!” Daye said, trying to sound calm. Nnena hissed.

“Listen to me, homo-sapiens man,” she whispered into his ear. “We need that Geriatric Compensation to upgrade. Maybe you enjoy snorkelling in this filthy Pacific Ocean of sweat, but I don’t. Cheena needs a Robot Dancer toy, like every other child her age, and I’m tired of eating synthetic rice and beans every day! The stock we have now is the last we have to eat before-”

“Alright, alright! Just let me think.”

“You will have to choose between me and your primitive hag of a mother.” She said and left him.

“My pikin, food don ready?” Ma Braimoh asked as Nnena swaggered past her. Nnena simply tut-tutted and walked into the bedroom. Cheena giggled, her eyes following every word and action.

Daye shook his head, rubbing at the spot on the back of his head where Nnena had smacked him. A mere tap, but it had felt like the club of a sledgehammer. Nnena was right, he thought to himself. His mother didn’t have long to live, after all. Why deny his family’s comfort for her sake? He thought about his daughter. He should be her hero, not her zero. Still, Daye wished his mother were a “primitive hag” as Nnena put it, then it would have been easier.

3:30 pm. Thirty minutes to go. Daye’s heart accelerated its thumping on the church roof of his chest. Eternal banishment to the Green Sahara Project labour camps stared him in the face if he did not give up his mother. He saw himself and thousands other convicted planet killers hunched over the glowing red sand dunes of the great desert planting trees until they collapsed like dehydrated fish in the molten furnace heat.


The thermometer dial blinked the room temperature: 30 degrees. The air conditioner was beginning to resurrect from the dead as the heat wave petered off for the day. It would return tomorrow afternoon a hotter molten ball.

“My pikin, wetin be U-A-V?” Ma Braimoh asked suddenly. Daye craned his neck to look at the TV. In the news the Ghanaian-born vice president, Efua Akwase, was beaming from ear to ear and shaking the hands of three Nigerian-born engineers who had recently been awarded the Nobel Prize for physics. They had invented the Blue Mary, an unmanned aerial vehicle built to transport goods from internet auction sites directly to the homes of customers. Daye felt a glow of pride, a feeling that was axed in half when he remembered his present dilemma.

There just must be a way out. Daye switched to the Mambilla search engine and typed in: How to save your elderly parent from state-euthanasia. As he surfed through the list of solution sites that turned up on the screen, an Afrinewsia page caught his eye. He found his hand giving in to temptation, and before long he was perusing through its contents.

Afrinewsia: the dawn of a new Africa! it read, and went on to describe the achievements of the government. The space program: Soon Africans will be vacationing to space. Afrosol: the first greenhouse-friendly motor spirit to go into public use. He focused on one section that read:

Made in Africa auto-navigated cars now ply the streets. The poorest Africans now live in radiation-proof homes. With the double-digit rate of technological advancement, analysts have forecasted that our Republic’s economy will overtake that of Oceania to become the world’s new superpower in a decade. We Africans should therefore sacrifice to save Mother Africa and the planet. The elderly, the terminally ill and prisoners are usurping our scarce natural agricultural resources. They must be given up for neutralization.  Surrender your Organic Waste Element and do your part for the Republic . . .

He loved the Republic, he really did. But his mother? How many natural resources had she consumed to qualify her as a threat to the planet’s existence?


3:45pm. Daye didn’t feel the itchiness pinching his skin as his sweat evaporated. His heart beat had gradually returned to normal. He had found his solution. It was on the site of a faceless blogger who claimed to be a former engineer for U-54, Africa’s scientific think-tank based in the provincial state of Zimbabwe. The site featured testimonies of customers from all over the continent for whom the engineer had built oxygenated underground cellars to hide their elderly parents – for just 100 million U-R pounds!

It would plunge him in the red, but there was a solution – that’s what mattered. Daye felt the invisible wet towel that had wrung tight in the middle of his stomach begin to relax.

“Cheena, please get me a glass of water,” Daye said over his shoulder, rubbing his palms as spasms of relief surged through his fingers.

“Fuck you, Dad!”

3:55pm. Daye glanced at the digital clock and sneered. Run, run, run, Mr. Deadline! Catch me in your dreams. He was so engrossed on the screen that he did not hear the sound of padded footsteps creeping up behind him. A hand tapped his shoulder and he craned his neck to see who it was.

Cheena was brandishing a silver badge. Her photo was embedded in the badge and carved underneath were the words: Green Police Junior Under-Agent Cheena Braimoh.

Daye’s breath froze out of him, accompanied by hot trickle of urine which dripped down from between his legs.

“Primitive planet killer,” she muttered, her eyes glinting under the visor of her cooler-helmet like molten red slits.

Daye broke into laughter. The kind of laughter you’d expect from a monkey thrown into a wrestling ring with a tiger. He tapped the CONCUR box on the screen without even thinking.


4:00 pm. The spinning roar of the Waste Chopper could be heard above them on the helipad of their roof. Seconds later, four men in green uniforms stormed into the house. They flashed their silver badges. No questions were asked. No statement was given. They hurled her out of the armchair like a bag of garri.

Cheena kept hopping from one leg to another chanting: “Yes! Yes! Yes!” Her mother stood by her, puffing her cheeks and patting her daughter’s helmet-clad head.

 “Eleleleleeee! Wetin I do?” Ma Braimoh cried. “Daye help me beg dem, naa!”

Daye remained statue-still in his chair perusing through the latest updates on Afrinewsia as though nothing was happening behind him. Her wailings floated to him as though through a long underground tunnel.

4:05 pm. The sound of the chopper had faded away into the distance. Silence fell on the house for a moment.

Then the breaking news icon blinked, and Daye clicked on the latest Afrinewsia update. A cloudy video popped up. It showed an astronaut in a spacesuit standing on a dusty silver landscape beside a lunar roving vehicle and saluting the U.A.R flag. The headlines screamed: Kalahari-1 mission successful! Nigerian-born Captain Nzeogwu lands on the moon!

The news hit Daye as though his brain had been plugged into an electric main. He shot up from his seat and ran round the house. He banged his balled fists on the wall, kissed furniture, and danced in circles.

“Long live Africa! Long live the planet!” he chanted. Daye lifted his daughter and threw her into the air as she laughed. “You are a pride to Africa! My little Planet-Heroine!”

Nnena rushed out of the bedroom holding her cell phone.

“I’ve just received the alert!” she squealed. “Big Momma was the 1 millionth waste element collected and the ministry is awarding us a 1 billion U-R pound bonus in addition to our Geriatric Compensation. We are rich! We are rich!” she yelled as she jumped in celebration.

Wild fire seemed to engulf Daye’s head. Laughing like a possessed hyena, he picked up his mother’s E-glide chair and slammed it into the TV screen. He took his computer monitor and smashed it against the wall, making Nnena and Cheena duck down to avoid the shower of glass.

Still laughing, he ripped off his clothes, and charged out into the streets, buck naked.


Yazeed Dezele was born in I991, in Abuja. He is a Social Entrepreneur and former Editor of ‘The Crescent’ (a Mystic Campus zine). He is currently struggling to hatch the stubborn egg of an African Science Fiction novel he’d being laying for sometime now.



Mami Water: Calm Waters

By Kelsey Arrington

“That neverending nurturing you need, the sea has it.” – Nayyirah Waheed

Mami Wata is a water spirit celebrated throughout Africa and the Diaspora.

Believed to be the bringer of good and bad fortune, a healer of the sick and nurturing mother, Mami Wata is a complex representation of good vs evil.

Photo: Kelsey Arrington
Photo: Kelsey Arrington


Often portrayed as snake charmer or mermaid, Mami Wata is described as a woman of excessive beauty.

Taking the form of a mermaid, Mami Wata can be seen splashing in the waters at the end of a rainbow after a heavy storm before descending into the magical realm in which she resides…a whimsical world of unrestrained fancy.

Kelsey Arrington is a photographic and mixed media artist working in  Detroit MI (USA). Kelsey will graduate from the College for Creative  Studies with a BFA in Photography in May 2015. Kelsey's work explores  the intersections of cultural and philosophical ideas about dreams and  identity. Her concepts often involve elements of afrofuturism, magic  realism and the African Diaspora.
Kelsey Arrington is a photographic and mixed media artist working in  Detroit MI (USA). Kelsey will graduate from the College for Creative Studies with a BFA in Photography in May 2015. Kelsey’s work explores the intersections of cultural and philosophical ideas about dreams and identity. Her concepts often involve elements of afrofuturism, magic realism and the African Diaspora.

The 4:15 Appointment

By Rafeeat Aliyu

Olachi’s head popped through the back door startling Taiye. “Your 4:15 massage is here!”

Taiye pressed the red button, cutting short the heated conversation she had been engaged in. Work was calling, village matters would have to wait. She tried calming herself down as she followed Olachi into the building that housed the elite spa they both worked in.

“What were you doing there?” Olachi frowned. “Your client has been waiting for a while now. Better pray Madam doesn’t come in.”

What was on Taiye’s mind far outweighed Madam’s wrath. Her brother needed money for a new laptop since his old one had been stolen, her younger sisters needed money for their school fees, the monthly allowance she sent to her mother was behind schedule…this did not even include the distant aunt who had called just now to demand why Taiye was yet to send the money she promised her into her account, a day had already passed since she had asked. Taiye dragged her hand across her face; at this rate she would be unable to pay the rent.

“This is the woman who will attend to you,” Olachi’s words dispersed her thoughts in four different directions. Taiye looked up to find her client seated on one of the sofas in the waiting area.

The woman’s skin was as yellow as a bar of soap. She wore an incredibly short skirt and a flimsy top that exposed a curved shoulder, her eyebrows were perfectly arched, eyeliner wings steady and lips zobo-red. The air around her screamed affluence and sophistication, she was probably one of those young women running around Abuja being sponsored by their sugar daddies, Taiye thought maliciously. The woman’s lips quirked, one corner lifted up slightly as she stared back at Taiye studying her. The slight movement made Taiye pause; she was suddenly assailed with the uncomfortable thought that the woman could read her mind. Impossible.

“Good evening ma.” she played subservient as Madam said the clients expected. Then came the introduction, “My name is Taiye,” and the apology, “I apologise for the wait. Kindly follow me.”

“I trust this room is to your taste.” Taiye shut the door to the dim room behind them. The scent of sandalwood along with the soft sounds of a gentle rain from the music player surrounded them. “You wanted the shea butter massage, ma?”

“Yes, and I hope it is good.” She dropped her bag on the floor. “I am already unimpressed with your services. It is just unfortunate that my usual spa is closed, I wouldn’t even consider coming here…”

Taiye blocked out her words and commenced preparing the shea butter, warming it up so that it melted and adding a few drops of calming lavender essential oil to it.

“I apologise, ma.” She said finally. “I will give you some privacy now, please take off your clothes and lie face up on the table.”

Taiye stepped out; her hands itched from wanting to slap that woman. It must be nice not to have any problems in one’s life apart from when and where to have a massage. They looked about the same age yet life had clearly dealt Taiye the heavier burden. She walked to the extreme end of the corridor and leaned towards an open window dragging in the dust-laden air deeply. Focus Taiye, she told herself. Five minutes later she was back in the room where her client waited. Shortly after, she started her work first stretching her client’s muscles. As she applied pressure on her client’s stomach, she admired the little ring that adorned her belly button. Taiye worked, kneading at the muscles and imagining how many men must be chasing after this woman, how she must entrance them.

She asked the woman to turn over, that was when things got strange. Taiye rubbed more shea butter on her hands and looked down on the smooth expanse of her client’s back in preparation. Just below the woman’s left shoulder blade was what looked like a painful bump, the kind that Taiye associated with being hit badly. Before Taiye’s eyes, the swelling shifted under skin and disappeared. A sharp pain pierced Taiye’s chest as she stood rooted to the spot, her hands unwilling to continue the massage. The bump appeared again, lengthened so it resembled a snake and slithered across her client’s back.

“Is anything the matter?” Her client’s lulled voice was a testament to her calmed state.

“No,” Taiye breathed. Then she shook her head so her voice came out stronger when she repeated, “No”.

She had to maintain her professionalism in the face of hallucinations. Taiye pressed her hands onto the woman’s shoulders; she slid them down her back and stared in horror as her hands sunk through the woman’s skin. She lurched, moving her hands back and forth but all she felt was lightness and all she saw were her wrists. Crying out her horror, Taiye jumped back pulling her hands with her. The woman lifted herself up on her elbows and regarded Taiye.

“What on earth is wrong with you?” Her demand was harsh but a lopsided smile occupied half of her face.

“I am sorry madam,” Taiye ignored the heaviness in her stomach.

“You seem distracted,” the woman continued. “Is everything all right with you? At home?”

She looked into the woman’s eyes; they seemed to change colour from black to a light hazel. At that moment Taiye thought the woman knew all about her.

“I don’t have all day,” the woman said. When Taiye did not reply, the woman lay back down on her stomach.

Taiye had never seen anything like this before – outside her dreams which, when she had them, always veered into the weird. She was definitely not asleep now. Taiye reluctantly approached her client’s prone form and tentatively touched her shoulder. Her skin was soft but not soft enough for her hand to be submerged in it, Taiye resumed the massage. By the end of the day, she had convinced herself that it had all been an illusion. A peculiar illusion drawn from the horror movie her boyfriend had forced her to watch last week.

She must have looked over her shoulder a hundred times as she walked down the dark street to her one-room home. The prayers she said before sleeping that night were more fervent than usual. They were ultimately useless because when she slept, all she saw was her 4:15 client.


 The only business Taiye could do and excel in was in her trade. On her day off, she kept herself busy by borrowing clients from Madam’s spa, offering them home treatments at rates that were just slightly lower than the standard home-service rates dictated by Madam. She not only borrowed clients, but equipment as well and had her boyfriend drop her when she needed to make things happen.

That day Taiye found herself stranded outside the gates of a high-class estate tucked away in Maitama with a folded table to her left and a box of aromatic oils and butters in her right hand. She tapped her right foot; Gregory had promised to pick her up and he was already fifteen minutes late. Taiye knew intimately how the guards at this estate enjoyed mistreating anyone who they regarded as poor, Nigerian and local, she did not want to give them a chance to embarrass her. The guards had already given her a tough time when she had entered the estate and were shooting daggers at her from their post five feet away. Taiye wiped her sweaty palm on her side and observed a fancy Mercedes SUV drive past her. She admired the dark red colour of the car and thought she recognised the person driving it, which was out of the question; no one she knew personally could afford such luxury. There was a loud screech as the driver pressed on the brake and shifted the car into reverse. When the car stopped before her, Taiye remembered where she had met the driver.

A month must have passed since that fateful day, yet standing in such close proximity to the woman, it felt like only yesterday. In some ways it was only yesterday considering the nightmares that had plagued Taiye since then. Taiye never recalled the dreams in detail beyond the strong impression that this woman had been in them. She had grown convinced that the woman was involved in some kind of occult activity, and that the woman wanted to initiate her – if she had not already. There was no other reason for her to be dreaming about someone she had only spent an hour and thirty minutes with.

“Taiye!” the driver called her as if they were friends. “Imagine seeing you here. How are you?”

“I am fine,” Taiye dared not to look at her. She did not even know this lady’s name.

“How come you’re just standing here?” The woman eyed Taiye. “Come on, let me give you a lift.”

“I don’t think you’re going my way,” Taiye pointed in the opposite direction of the gilded main gate.

“Come on, I can drop you off afterwards.” The front door slammed behind her as she exited the car. “How much longer do you intend to stand under the sun; those look heavy.”

If this woman was engaged in evil, would she be so eager to carry the folded table and deposit it in her car in such a carefree manner? There was always the option to run away, to find protection between any hallowed walls. Then there was the option to succumb, especially if it meant Taiye would be sitting behind the driver’s seat of a car like this Mercedes. There was also the possibility that Taiye’s imagination had run wild. Taiye chewed on her bottom lip and decided: she would only put up the least resistance. She settled into the plush leather passenger seat and reached for the seatbelt.

“I’m Lila.” The car was filled with a strong heady fragrance as she closed the door with too much force.

“Nice to meet you,” Taiye replied.

Lila’s laugh was high-pitched. “Why are you so formal? See you.” She slapped her hand on the wheel. “Sha, don’t start calling me ‘ma’, this is not the spa.”

As the car lurched forward, Taiye was suddenly assaulted by a memory that could only have come from one of those nightmares she had had recently. Lila standing still and nude; Taiye recognised her even though her face was distorted, as if she was wearing a mask. Her eyebrows seemed bushier, her eyes bigger, her mouth wider and higher on her face and her chin long and pointed, curved outward. Despite her grotesque appearance, Taiye recalled shamelessly lamenting to the Lila in her dreams. Her issues with her family and her need for money poured out of her mouth like water from a kettle’s spout. It was always about money, right until she would find herself wrist deep in Lila again but this time Lila’s body took her arms, then her torso and her head. Worst of all, it had felt good. Heat flooded through her, but Lila was saying something and Taiye was not listening.

“…so I will just branch by my place and pick up a few things.” Lila finished.

“Excuse me?”

“I said I needed to pick something from my house, I live in this estate.” Lila snickered. “Or did you think I was here to meet my sugar daddy?”

Taiye squirmed in her seat; luckily Lila did not even wait for her to reply.

“We’re there already. See.” She swerved right and pressed on the car horn in a long and protracted way until the gate shifted.

The black gate was pushed back by an old woman almost bent double. The elder looked like she was going to fall over at any moment yet she continued until the gate was wide enough for Lila to drive through. Taiye’s eyes met the old woman’s sombre ones; surely there was a limit to who should be doing the work of a housegirl. Taiye sat still while Lila jumped out of the car.

“Mama!” Lila screamed at the old woman. “We have a guest.”

Taiye’s mouth fell open. She looked from Lila with her curly weave-on and shiny nail tips to the old woman modestly dressed in an old worn blouse and a faded wrapper around her waist, its dull print suggesting it was as old as the woman. The door to the passenger’s side jerked open.

“Don’t tell me you plan on sitting here, the windows are rolled up, you could die!” Lila laughed. “Abi you’re scared? Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” She winked.

The entire episode was too strange. Knees throbbing, Taiye looked at the gate that the so-called Mama was sliding shut. She could still run away. Then she mentally slapped herself; why, this was an opportunity! Even if there were no occult activities or initiation involved, there must be some goodness that would come her way from rubbing shoulders with someone like Lila. If she looked on the bright side, soon Taiye would cease her lamentations of poverty. She slid out of the SUV. The house was two stories high, and looked too grand for just one person, Taiye could not picture a family behind the bewildering Lila. Inside the mansion, everything looked new. There was no helping it, Taiye thought back to where she lived, her one room with the mattress she slept on in one corner and the stove she cooked on in another. It was a huge stroke of luck that she had her own bathroom.

Lila led her straight to her bedroom on the upper floor with its queen-sized bed overflowing with stuffed pillows.

“I just needed to change…but I’m sweaty, I should have a bath too.” Lila peeled off her jeans while Taiye averted her gaze. “I hope you don’t mind. Mama will bring something for you to eat.” She shouted the last sentence, as if she wanted Mama to hear her from downstairs.

Taiye found herself alone, her feet sunk into the plush carpet as she looked around. There were no personal effects at all; no photos on the walls, in fact apart from what looked like wallpaper the walls were bare. The door opened and Mama entered in carrying a tray of juice and small chops, she set the goodies on a low table beside the bed. Mama’s head cocked as she regarded Taiye.

“You are one of the ugliest that witch has brought home.” Her whisper was harsh and her English was peppered with an accent that suggested some time spent abroad, it completely contrasted with her image.

Taiye frowned as Mama fired on. “You should see yourself, standing and gaping like a poverty-stricken idiot. You must be a fool for choosing the company of that harlot.”

“Mama…” Heat flooded Taiye’s face.

“Don’t you dare call me Mama, do I look like your mother?” She kissed her teeth viciously. “You idiot.”

Taiye flinched at being berated by an elder for no apparent reason. The woman words cut like a knife and she fired on so Taiye had to block her out. She sipped at the juice and marvelled at the smoothness of the mango. Despite her best efforts as she nibbled on a samosa, words like “worthless” and “mumu” passed through her mental wall. She must have really looked like the fool Mama thought she was perched at the edge of the bed, eating quietly while being insulted when Lila emerged from the bathroom with a wrapper tied over her chest.

“Mama is that really necessary?” Lila stood akimbo. “You know better than this, go feed on someone else.”

Taiye watched as Mama shrunk visibly, and despite her harshness she felt sorry for the elder.

“Mama, you’ve grown horns to be insulting my guest in such a manner.” Lila pushed open the door to the closet. “Sometimes it is like your forget it is a blessing that you’re even alive.”

“I have done nothing wrong.” Mama’s eyes followed Lila’s movements, hands clutched to her chest. “I have not eaten in days and you forbade…”

“Will you get out of this room!” Lila eyes were white in rage. “In fact get out of this house, of this estate! Go back there and see what will happen to you. And if I hear that you fed without my permission…”

Lila’s glance fell on Taiye and softened.

“Leave this place, Mama.” Rolling her shoulders, she inhaled deeply. Two sets of eyes watched the old woman as she scurried away. Lila smiled at Taiye, her smile was so wide it reached her eyes.

“I am sorry about that.” She turned her attention back to the closet stuffed with clothes. “Mama can be unseasoned.”

“But should you…” Taiye’s voice broke, she pushed herself to continue. “Should you be talking to your mother in that manner?”

Art by David Motutu
Art by David Motutu


“I shouldn’t, right?” Lila extracted a red top. “But I give her all the respect she deserves by calling her Mama and providing a roof over her head. How did you feel when she was talking to you?”

“I…I felt bad.” Taiye lowered her gaze as Lila lowered her wrapper.

“Imagine, I grew up with that every day. That woman feeds on negativity.” Lila said. “She has not one loving bone in her body.”

Lila had mentioned her mother feeding but it seemed she meant it figuratively.

“Help me zip up, Taiye.” Lila showed Taiye her back. What Taiye had mistaken for a top turned out to be a dress. “Tell me, how do I look?”

She twirled round playfully. Taiye took in her bare feet and let her gaze travel up to the curls she had packed in a bun. She looked stunning. Taiye knew such a look would never befit her.

“You look great.” Taiye breathed. Such skimpy clothes would look horrible on her; there was no need to even imagine herself decked in such a daring fashion.

“Would you like to try something on?” Lila read Taiye’s mind. “Actually I have a dress that would look excellent on you.”

Taiye had to decline. “I have overstayed…”

“Nonsense.” Lila held a green flimsy thing in her hands. “Today is your day off Taiye, let me take you out.”

“The truth is my boyfriend is waiting for me.” Taiye swallowed.

Lila advanced until she stood in front of her. “Forget Gregory.” Reaching for Taiye’s hands, she pulled her up.

“I did not…” Taiye stammered. “How do you know his name?”

“I think you know.” Lila’s fingers were on the buttons of Taiye’s shirt, undoing them one by one. “At the very least you should have an idea. Now, are you coming out with me or not?”

Taiye held her shirt closed with both hands, nodded her consent and slipped into the bathroom.


“Taiye, you look gorgeous.” Lila remarked. “Your skin tone complements this colour.”

This was the first time anyone had complimented her on her skin tone, no one had teased her, but no one had offered her honeyed words for her sepia tone either. It felt akin to sacrilege to put a designer dress on her dirty sweaty body. Her dimpled thighs should not be exposed, and her father would roll in his grave if he saw her wearing a dress that revealed her back. But Lila had called her gorgeous. Taiye stared at herself in the mirror; she looked wild, like an alluring temptress. Was it possible that one dress and a bit of makeup could have this effect? Or was Lila’s aura rubbing on her already?

“Thank you.” She wanted to pinch herself, there was a longing in her voice; she did not want to give up this dream.

“You look delicious.” Lila’s head appeared beside her own in the mirror, her chin burrowed into Taiye’s shoulder. “Are you ready to join me for an adventure?”

Downstairs there was someone waiting before the front door, from the distance Taiye could make out a slim figure shrouded in a green caftan

“Olokunfemi,” the woman in the caftan cautiously turned to face them. “You’re going out to eat and won’t even show the slightest mercy to Mama.”

“Before you start accusing me sister, I have a guest.” Lila stooped to slip on her high heels. “Taiye, this is my sister Yazmin.”

As Taiye greeted her, she noticed Yazmin’s eyes were murky, unseeing. Nonetheless Yazmin was as beautiful as her sister, though plainly dressed in a caftan and without makeup.

“We will have this discussion when you come back.” A frown marred Yazmin’s brow as her blind gaze moved over the wall near Taiye. “I did not notice you had company.”

“That’s rare of you.” Lila let her bought hair down from its bun and dragged her fingers through its mass. “Before you disappear at least come and open the gate for me.”

Taiye would not ask questions. Her nails dug into her palms as her phone vibrated in the bejewelled clutch bag Lila had lent her. She would not ask why her sister had called her by that name, nor would she demand to know the sense behind sending a blind woman on such an errand.

“I can open the gate.” Taiye offered. Lila shrugged and headed for her car.

“Taiye,” Yazmin called out as Taiye followed Lila’s footsteps. “You should know that anyone you meet in this house is more than you can possibly imagine.”

Her hands stilled on the doorknob. “I don’t understand.”

“That is the least you should know if you are going to be hanging around my sister.” A blaring horn startled Taiye into action. She was out the door before Yazmin had the chance to say anything else.

As the SUV wound through the streets of Abuja, Taiye studied her phone. Eleven missed calls, most of them from Gregory. She turned off her phone; if she wasn’t here she would be at home preparing efo-riro for the dinner she would share with Gregory. At that moment Taiye decided she much rather preferred Lila’s company. It must have been the years of repression, the years of taking responsibility for her siblings as the first daughter, the years of looking for work so that money could be sent home after her father had passed away, it must have been a culmination of all her experiences that made Taiye this eager to give herself over to temptation unheeding. As night drew closer, Lila drove them to a inconspicuous-looking house. Past the gates and behind the multi-storied building, a party was in full swing in the backyard. Taiye kept her head down, ignoring most of the crowd as Lila wove her way through it.

“Ah there is Chairman.” Lila reached for Taiye’s hand and walked towards the short man decked in a pricey suit. She introduced him as the owner of a successful supermarket chain in Abuja and Kaduna. To the Chairman Taiye was “my friend.”

The three of them settled down on lawn chairs and as the evening progressed, Taiye felt more out of place. Her two companions were discussing things that were foreign to her, like the benefits in importing used cars from South Korea as opposed to China. There were servers carrying trays of colourful drinks that exploded in Taiye’s head making her groggy. When the Chairman rose to his feet and Lila with him, Taiye mirrored their movements. It was not long before she found herself in a room with the two of them, the intention of the Chairman clear as day.

The penthouse suite of D-Suites in Maitama was a muted affair. It was not exactly how Taiye would have pictured the most expensive room of such an establishment. She barely had time to scrutinise the brown and gold décor of the sitting room when Lila took her hand and dragged her through to the bedroom behind the Chairman. The fluorescent lights on the ceiling and the two lamps on each side of the bed were lit, all of them highlighting the queen bed in the centre of the room.

The Chairman lay on his back on the wide bed, Lila straddling him. It seemed normal enough when Lila lowered her head to kiss him. Taiye had to look at something else other than those two. The colourful clock on the wall by her left was a good enough distraction; it was frozen at five minutes past seven. Even with her gaze somewhere else Taiye could hear them; the wetness of two lips meshing, soft groans and low moans. Then there was a faint gurgling sound like the last of water going down a drain. The strange sound drew Taiye to tilt her head slightly in the direction of the bed in the hopes of catching a glimpse. She blinked. From where Taiye stood she could clearly see what looked like water spilling out from the side of Lila’s mouth, which was glued to the Chairman’s. Lila’s hands were flat on the Chairman’s chest and below her the prone man struggled. Someone as slight as Lila was, compared to the Chairman’s broad frame, should not have been able to hold the grappling man down, yet Lila did not loose her grip on the Chairman until his movements stilled.

“Finally!” Lila gasped, flinging her head back. She turned to smile at Taiye who shook in her shoes. “Taiye help me with this.” She was pulling at Chairman’s tie. When it loosened, Lila’s deft fingers were slipping buttons out of their holes exposing a hairy chest and a slightly paunchy stomach. The sound of her own breathing was heavy in Taiye’s ears. She should leave.

“There’s no way you can leave now Taiye.” Lila placed both hands on the Chairman’s still chest. “Sit down.”

There was a magnet in the lone chair situated near the bed and it drew Taiye’s behind. She sat on it just in time to see Lila’s hand sink through the Chairman’s skin. Lila moved her hands, drawing them apart and down, opening the Chairman up. Taiye tasted blood in her mouth; her teeth had gnawed at her inner cheek. She had seen this before, back at the spa and then again in those nightmares. Instead of guts and gore, a grey light spilled out from inside the Chairman. Lila leaned over breathed in this glow, inhaling the grey through her wide nostrils she moaned.

“Absolutely delectable.” Lila shifted off  the Chairman, kicking off her heels she stood on the bed. “Taiye, see you soon.”

With those parting words Lila stepped into the glow, slipped her foot into the open stomach and sunk into Chairman’s body. The gaping hole sealed behind her. Taiye stared at the bed unseeingly, persistent quivers racked her frame.


Despite it all, Taiye slept. She awakened to the sun on her face, she was lying tummy down on the bed. She was not aware of the exact time, but years of habit told her that she was late for work. It took two breaths for the events of the previous night to slam into her. Taiye jerked off the bed and was surprised to find it empty. The white covers on the bed, the marbled floor and the mahogany bedside desk let her know that she was still in the guesthouse they had driven to the previous night. There was no deadly stiff Chairman lying beside her, Lila too was nowhere to be seen. Taiye’s hand reached for her throat, last night definitely happened. She did not conjure it up. Something so unnatural was beyond her scope of originality.

The loud gurgle of a toilet flushing told Taiye that she was not alone. The door to the bathroom swung open and in its frame stood the Chairman, naked as the day he was born. The sight of his nudity caused Taiye’s mouth to fall open, panic to flood Taiye’s veins. Had something sexual happened between her and the Chairman? But she was fully dressed…

“Calm down, Taiye.” The Chairman’s mouth moved but it was Lila’s voice. “That did not happen, but it can if you want it to.”

The laughter was undoubtedly Lila’s. Flabbergasted, Taiye’s eyes followed the Chairman – no it was Lila that leapt across the room in a movement that would be considered strange on a pot-bellied man like the Chairman. Standing in front of a full-length mirror the Chairman looked at himself.

“No matter how many times I do this,” a hand reached between his legs. “I can’t get over it.”

“What…” Taiye’s voice croaked, she cleared her throat. “What is going on?”

“Haba, you should know Taiye. I thought you were perceptive.” The hand stroked and a light giggle burst forth from the Chairman’s lips. “I am borrowing Chairman’s body. Tell me Taiye would you let the Chairman fuck you?”

“No!” Taiye recoiled. “What are you?”

The Chairman pouted. “You’re no fun.” He stepped away from the mirror.

“Why involve me in this?” Taiye hugged herself bringing her arms across her midriff.

“Because I like you, Taiye…plus it always pays to have a human sidekick.” The Chairman pulled on his boxers but the eyes that were trained on Taiye belonged to Lila. “You knew there was something off about me yet you still came along with me. Now that is sexy and I shall reward you immensely.”

Her ears perked at “reward.”

“You’re not going to eat me, or use me as sacrifice…”

“We only eat emotions.” The Chairman laughed, high and feminine as he slipped on a shirt. “I like lust, Mama eats shame, Yazmin fear – although the goody-two-shoes likes to fast.”

“Do they borrow bodies too?” Taiye felt the knot between her shoulders loosen.

“That’s my speciality.” The Chairman knotted his tie. “I thought it was useless before I discovered that this is the least stressful way to learn personal information like account numbers, PINs and the like.”

Her knees did not feel wobbly; Taiye lifted herself up from the bed. “This is all to steal people’s information?” She helped the Chairman put on his suit jacket.

“At its core.” The Chairman smoothed the silver jacket. “You have no idea how nice this is. You should let me borrow your body.”

Taiye shook her head. “Haven’t you already?” At the Chairman’s raised eyebrow she continued. “I mean in my dreams, you…we…”

“That wasn’t me!” The Chairman dissolved into laughter, bending over and slapping his knees. He sighed. “I said you were perceptive, but could someone have been warning you about me?” he stroked his chin.

“This is not funny.” Taiye began to feel unsure again, just when she had gained some confidence.

“Okay Taiye,” the Chairman pouted. “We’ll investigate that later, now need to go to the bank to effect some transfers.” He winked. “Coming along?”

There were still questions that needed answering: What would happen when Lila posing as Chairman walked into the bank? What kind of reward would Lila give her? Taiye’s fingers dug into her palms, she nodded her consent.

Office worker by day, writer by day and night. Rafeeat is a huge history need who enjoys cooking from recipes, horror movies and the feeling of waking up in a foreign country.
Office worker by day, writer by day and night. Rafeeat is a huge history nerd who enjoys cooking from recipes, horror movies and the feeling of waking up in a foreign country.