​Silver lining
 
Surprisingly the clouds will fold up
And the sun turn stern cold,
 
The breeze would cease,
— everything will begin to burn up
 
Like blue fever
Like a desert
 
And the heart will begin its perilous journey
Through the blue sea, through the atomic desert
 
Like Moses with his packs of unbelieving sheeps
Cursed to wander
 
Surprisingly the clouds unfold again
And there is warmth
 
And the eyes re-adjusts for a better view
The glimmering smiles blend into each other
 
And the glamour sinks deep into the skin
Deeper into the bones
 
Deepest into the soul
And the heart heals up, like a grafted tree
 
Surprisingly there appears in the clouds a silver lining
A hue wearing the face of hope

Click HERE to Read Adepeju's Biography on the Nigerian Writers Database.

As a heavy downpour persists, I glance from the window seat of a yellow bus, and there is an inescapable urge to put my thoughts into writing.

The passenger to my right now rests on my shoulder; he probably strained his neck to complete my story. I shift my shoulders to jog him back to reality as his stench announce my surroundings. 

The bus driver smiles at me using the rear-view mirror, assuming my overtly nosy neighbor and I are a couple. God forbid, I entangled with a bucktooth, bean head, idiot.

In time, the stories I must tell, the stories I seek to tell, and the ones I have told, rage.

And until they are out, I do not rest.

​Click HERE to Read Opeyemika's Biography on the Nigerian Writers Database.

I write because I want to kill as many as possible before death comes for me.
​
One Sunday morning, I stared as Pastor Uzor took his seat after presenting his opinion on why we should pay our tithes. Everyone nodded and applauded as he wiped his sweaty face. I stood. I started saying the reasons why I feel Pastor Uzor could be wrong. Mr. Kay left. Mummy Bisi winked at me, the Yoruba style of "sit down you this boy, what do you think you know?" When my Dad looked at me with contempt, I sat and wrote.

Click HERE to Read Oyindamola's Biography on the Nigerian Writers Database.

I have always been concerned that when we sell the idea of child-birth to children, young girls, and women, we don’t sell it from the point of view of a torn vagIna or asshole – so the experience wouldn’t be too daunting if we eventually decide to participate in it.

Thanks to the likes of our president – Chrissy Teigen, whose honesty is the world’s priority, the wind has blown, and we now know all the secrets about our vagasshole the world kept from us.

I will come back to address those who decide that child-birth (from the vagIna) makes a female more woman, wife, or mother, and any other option makes them less worthy of respect. Temporarily, please answer this – Does a torn vagIna or asshole make a female more of a woman, wife, or mother too? 

Book Title: I’m telling the Truth but I’m Lying
Year of Publication: 2019
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers 
Genre: Personal Memoirs
Author: Bassey Ikpi
Reviewer: Uduak Akpan

Bassey Ikpi’s intimate memoir, I’m telling the Truth but I’m Lying, is rendered in pieces of brutally honest and compelling essays exploring mental illness.