Author: Osemhen

Brother's Keeper

Published by Osemhen

 If you asked me, it, the beginning of the end, started one Sunday evening, with a phone call from my brothers’ principal that said Datonye and Damiebi had been suspended for a month. They could have been twins, my older brothers. Odd, considering their different mothers. Datonye, my half-brother, was a year older than Damiebi and the result of a fling my father never spoke about, not even to my mother. If she resented this or him, she hid it well. Damiebi – her firstborn, her pride – was, after all, my father’s legitimate heir. If Datonye resented this, he hid it even better. They were close, for half brothers. Best friends, confidants, twins if you didn’t know better. And so perhaps, you understand why they did what they did. “What offence this time?” my father asked, his face a mask of irritation. Two boys had been sighted kissing in an empty classroom on Friday night. Both had escaped, one without his ‘D. Carpenter’ monogrammed sweater. On one hand, there was Datonye, with his tattoos and love for …

God Has A Sense of Humour

Published by Osemhen

When I do my daily prayers, I try to make resolutions based on the promptings I receive. Nothing major. It could be to call someone I haven’t spoken to in a while, or to write someone a letter. It could be to give up social media for a day, or to eat no sugar. Just normal stuff. Well, yesterday I resolved that I would be cheerful all of today, no matter what. I promised God I would smile through out today. Guess what? I woke up late. I flew into and out of the bathroom in record time, dressed hurriedly and then began to throw all my stuff into my sling backpack. Books. gadgets. Wristwatch. External Hard Drive. Everything went into the bag. Then I rushed to breakfast. Half an hour later, I realize that the cord for my hard drive has broken at the connection point to the drive. No wahala. I remove it. Try a new cord with the hard disk. It doesn’t work. I realize that one of the pins is bent. …

Some Stories Shouldn't Have Titles

Published by Osemhen

There are many ways to destroy a life. Stop. It’s just life, you see. Just life. Everyday. Wake up, eat breakfast (rice), fight with little brother on the way to school, sit through boring classes, get caned by the soldiers ’cause we’re all such noise-makers, go for lunch break (meatpie and Coke), sit through more boring classes, submit assignments, go home, wash dishes, wash uniform, eat dinner (eba and okro), watch the news with Daddy, gossip with Mommy, sleep. It’s just life. Stop. Ordinary. Boring. Simple. Sitting in mass and wondering. Wanting more. More. More of something that doesn’t even exist. The sameness. God, the sameness. Homework. Books. Dirty socks. Missing earrings. Why is life nothing like American movies? It just happens. Someone’s birthday. Something different. Not so different, these parties are all the same. Too much rice, chicken fried too dry, Coke, Fanta and because someone is feeling cool, the occasional beer. The music will be too loud, and everyone will shout, “YAY!” every time the song changes. And sixteen is too young to …

I'm Sorry…

Published by Osemhen

I can’t help it, the pictures are everywhere. The Aluu4. And from the first time I saw the bloody pictures, all I could say was, “I’m sorry.” I don’t know why I apologize. To Tekena, and Ugonna. To Llyod and Chidiaka. I didn’t try to watch the video; the pictures gave me goosebumps and made me cry and I figured the least I could do was respect the boys by not watching their death. And all I can say is, I’m sorry, so sorry, so sorry, so very sorry. And I don’t care what they did, or didn’t do. Because I have brothers, I have cousins, I have friends. And I think I can imagine how hard it is to be a guy in this country, and stopped by policemen for no reason other than gender. And no one deserves to die on suspicion. No one deserves to not have a second chance. I’m sorry Nigeria is the way she is. I’m sorry we’re grooming a people who think nothing of killing another. I’m sorry we …

For the Aluu 4: I'm Sorry…

Published by Osemhen

I can’t help it, the pictures are everywhere. The Aluu4. And from the first time I saw the bloody pictures, all I could say was, “I’m sorry.” I don’t know why I apologize. To Tekena, and Ugonna. To Llyod and Chidiaka. I didn’t try to watch the video; the pictures gave me goosebumps and made me cry and I figured the least I could do was respect the boys by not watching their death. And all I can say is, I’m sorry, so sorry, so sorry, so very sorry. And I don’t care what they did, or didn’t do. Because I have brothers, I have cousins, I have friends. And I think I can imagine how hard it is to be a guy in this country, and stopped by policemen for no reason other than gender. And no one deserves to die on suspicion. No one deserves to not have a second chance. I’m sorry Nigeria is the way she is. I’m sorry we’re grooming a people who think nothing of killing another. I’m sorry we …

Dear Random-Guy-Who-Asked-If-He-Could-Share-My-Mini-Umbrella-At-The-Busstop

Published by Osemhen

Dear Random-Guy-Who-Asked-If-He-Could-Share-My-Mini-Umbrella-At-The-Busstop, I don’t judge you for not having your own umbrella. I don’t even hesitate when you ask if you can share mine, despite seeing how small it is, and how it really is only meant to shelter one small person from the rain. Me. I don’t complain that I have to raise it really high now, to accommodate your hulk, or that my genuine L. Credi bag is now getting wet. I don’t complain because I’m only doing the Christian thing by sharing. There is love in sharing etc. etc. etc. However, you stretch my charity  by presuming that because I’m sharing my umbrella, then I am open to conversation. Please understand. Do not feel obliged to fill the silence. It may not be companionable, but it is certainly not awkward. I was lost in my thoughts before you came along, I will continue to be lost in my thoughts. Your attempts at conversation are, at best, distractions. At worst, annoying. “It’s like you’re not in a good mood,” you say after giving …

Riddle

Published by Osemhen

A king has 3 prisoners in his dungeon. They are to be executed but at the last moment, he has some mercy and proposes a game. He brings a bag with five tee-shirts. Each shirt is white in front, coloured behind. There are 2 shirts with red backs, and 3 shirts with blue backs. He has them all blindfolded, and then each prisoner has to pick a shirt and wear it.Still blindfolded, the king tells them that if a prisoner can correctly predict the colour on the back of the shirt he’s wearing, he will escape execution. The three men are told to stand in a straight line, one in front of the other. The first man, standing at the front of the line, can’t see either of the men behind him or their shirts. The second man, in the middle, can see only the first man and his shirt. The last man, at the rear, can see both other men and their shirts. None of the men can see the back of his own …