MARIAM ALAYANDE

Knees knocking, as I beheld my palms, soaked conspicuously in blood,blood of my blood. I turned the tap furiously with my legs struggling against gravity, my stomach trying to keep all my visceral organs in place. I scrubbed and scrubbed in an effort to erase all evidence or any other questionable element. After which I was finally free... or so I thought. 6TH JUNE 2014 Dragging my sore cold feet into the elevator after another exhaustingly cold day in pharmacy school. Sincerely, I was starting to think in doses, sleep with medications and talk in prescriptions. Dribbling through my bag for my keys, unlocking my door, finally the warmth of being home. Left leg in front of the right, as I reached for the lights I felt a slippery surface beneath my feet and in that instant landed flat on my back. In an attempt to feel my way back up, I only fell again. “This isn't water”, I thought to myself while I managed gather a good grip and hit the lights. ***uncut*** I yelled out...

Day after day, Summer after Winter, At the peak of the night when only the stars bear witness of the earth, She passes by the rusty brown castle, As it lingered close to the street like a hunter awaiting its prey, Embedded with tainted windows, Snatching her attention every time - a shadow! Never looking too closely, At the top right corner of the floor it was, Bending over and rising up, Continuously without hesitation, Such energy that must require- she thought, With another shadow beneath, Who or what? - unknown, The peak of night is meant for pleasure, Strictly minding her business pacing faster, Sacrificing only a glance at the tainted windows and hurried to her abode. Every now & then, The eye from the street devours me, I can feel her intense stare pierce through my window pane, Though she couldn’t feel my pain, Never afforded me much more than a glance, All she saw was a game of pleasure, Whereas I laid here, Pick this time to send a message, Be...

I'm a Feminist. I would expect you to understand what that means. Saying that isn't all that matters, being able to live with every aspect of it is, the sacrifices involved as well as the courage to ascertain no one ever utters the rather demeaning phrase - "you are just a woman" ever. If you are against this movement or even remotely indifferent on the subject, kindly board the next available cab and occupy a very comfy seat, thanks. Although I can't help but wonder what kind of world you intend to groom your daughters in; one which sees and treats them as equals and with respect or one that treats them like garbage or an accessory? THE BEGINNING "We're in the 21st century mum, no one does this anymore, how do you expect me to do this? It's like condemning me to an eternity of sadness" Amaka ranted as she broke down in tears and clung tighter to her pillow. "Amaka, you know I love you very much. You are my only daughter and I ...

This is usually one of the happiest times of the year in my village, those who live far away from the breast of culture would find it hard to understand this. See, masquerade festivals may not be your thing but I was born into it. The masquerade festival is an annual ceremony in honor of the dead ,for it is believed that it serves as a means of assuring the ancestors a place among the living. Ever since I was born it has always carried a regular pattern and naturally, I never imagined the story was going to change till one fateful evening. I was fast asleep before my cousin "Eegunjobi" woke me up with two slaps screaming "Eegungbemi, Eegungbemi, wake up wake up, evil looms at our door step", I jumped up quickly as he continued "our uncle is dead, he just refused to wake up this morning". I couldn’t even begin to process the information right, for this is the same person who is to grace the masquerade costume in a few days time. So many question...