Can Anyone Refer a Chiropractor?

Can anyone refer a chiropractor (affordable) in Lagos, please? Can they assure me said chiropractor won’t act like my (equally) affordable tailor? Will I go to the chiropractor on Monday, subject my spine to being pressed and rubbed and shifted in ways that would redefine pain, then have to wait till Friday to retrieve relief …

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Stepdad Auditions

Don’t you know I need a man in my life? She said. No you don’t, I replied, twisting my feet on its outer arch—something she’d never liked. I thought the case against him was obvious: the man was making promises he had shown no signs of fulfilling. To make matters worse, he made the promises …

Blood Moon

Last night, there was a blood moon. Some of you are familiar with this phenomenon, because it has been used as a cinematic device in many fantasy movies (e.g Hansel and Gretel). Some are aware of the science behind it: lunar eclipse. But not many of you know today's blood moon was caused by an actual event: a god-man's blood has just been shed.

Monthly Visitor

Lagos bus

“Look at this woman.” He held up a red box that had the picture of a blond-haired Caucasian woman holding one hand to her head and the other to her stomach. PAIN was written below the picture in bold yellow letters. “Every time she sees her monthly visitor, her life becomes miserable. She shouts at …

The Art of Lying to Strangers

Following their discussion threads often feels like slipping into an intellectual orgy; everyone trying to make the other feel as much ecstasy as possible. The idea of spending an evening with folks like that filled me with dread.

Control

Last night I was trying to wrestle a story from the grip of my daemon. I started to call him/it daemon after watching Elizabeth Gilberth’s TED talk. She doesn’t want writers to dies young like they used to, so she asked them to blame their daemons/muse/that voice for their failures. I’m not a writer so, …

Big Boys Don’t Cry

As the canned air of the cabin erupts into a cacophony of prayers, you remember the patronising tone your father employed the first time he told you, “Big boys don’t cry”. You were seven years old and could not help the tears that trickled down your face as you watched the trials of Mowgli in …