I wonder what you think of how I look at you. How my hands linger when I touch you. I sometimes wish you’ll fall into my hands in total surrender, just like the cashew fruit.

The room felt as if the earth had veered off its axis. The fan yet swirled. And Alice’s heart beat erratically in her chest. She had a voice, but she seemed to have lost it.

There were fat men, enormous men, short men, men with bald heads, men with full beards, and gaunt, ashen men. They all had one thing in common. Seated or standing, they had their legs splayed and were contorted in various stages of pain, their expressions a montage of horrors.

Alabi’s face began to take on a malevolent contour, but then he got a grip on himself. The poor boy was not responsible for his problems.

I think of her eyes, wet, as they bade me goodbye from the neighbourhood we shared for a year. A proximity that had made my night visits possible, spontaneous.

We let silence speak the words our mouth cannot; we let it tell the tales of her pleas and my forgiveness. Mayme might have been my citizenship insurance at first, but now, she is my wife, the woman I love.

Winner of the Afritondo Short Story Prize 2020.

A few months back, it would have been a death sentence just to walk these roads—gun or no gun. The war seemed to be truly at its end, and I was on the right side of that end.

You had gone to pick up the ornaments and decorations for your photographs and the two beautiful matching pyjamas you had ordered for yourself and him.

She was between the devil and the deep blue sea. The deep blue sea that led to Europe was better than the devil at home.

Courage was foreign to me. It was something I couldn’t grab and make mine. But not that Tuesday.

Monde was left to race against the sun, for the moment it set, the night entertained the dead.

ChiUkwu is called ChiUkwu for a reason. He is the only god with “ukwu” attached to his name. The Great. The Supreme. And what does a man so weak that the rains had beaten the melanin off him know about greatness?

They preach prosperity year in, year out, and during election tell you not to vote for a Muslim if you are a Christian. Or not vote for a Christian if you are a Muslim. Election is next year, you will see with your two eyes. That is if you do not leave the country oh. Anyway, you can watch from over there in the abroad.

Ice got him to stop talking

But your father wasn’t always like this. Before your birth, he was one of the sweetest men I had known.

I am not sure he can hear me above all the noise: the honks of vehicles, the murmur of roadside traders, the barbershop loudspeaker, the screams of the conductors.

This book blends the fabrics of living the American dream, African (Ibibio) spirituality, and modern Nigerian reality to create a novel that captivates and leaves a lasting impression long after the final page.

Before you were born, your mother had had three miscarriages and two dead children: one was a stillbirth and the other lived for only one year.