
Of Drugs and Death | Chiamaka Ejiofor | Fiction
When Sochima bought drugs from the kiosk close to the filling station, she was oblivious of what drugs did to people. Oblivious of the existence of adulterated drugs. Oblivious of…More
When Sochima bought drugs from the kiosk close to the filling station, she was oblivious of what drugs did to people. Oblivious of the existence of adulterated drugs. Oblivious of…More
We met at Tito’s housewarming. It wasn’t really her housewarming. Her father had gifted her the house on her 19th birthday which was almost four years ago. But Tito would…More
Yesterday was another 14th day of April. Dressed up in my white canvas, blue jeans trouser, blue polo and blue sweater, I made my way to an uncompleted building, located…More
I keep sneering at the words of these oloshis who give me solemn and sagacious looks born of their deep-seated belief that my lungs would soon turn black and my…More
“But she’s not that kind of girl,” she screamed with her hands on her chest, her heart racing as a trickle of sweat ran down her neck.She was right. Chinyere…More
When I was five years old, my mother was critically ill. She was in and out of the hospital like a clumsy drug dealer going in and out of jail.…More
The Mother Whenever Ekwutosi carries her child to the market, she lifts her face up to the sky as if she is sniffing God as she walks. It is her…More
So many times I have tried to kill myself. Not like I really wanted to, like people do these days, but some of the things I did almost cost me…More
1.So here you are, seated on the poorly cemented floor with your back against the itchy wall in this small room that shouldn’t even be for the living. Wet in…More
The choristers chorus the hallelujah song by Handel Messiah, so euphoniously. Sitting at the edge of a long, brown pew in church, your gaze lingers on him. He is the…More