Sunday, 20 August 2017


Daudi my love....
Tell your wife that you're busy.
Tell her you've been held up in a
critical job meeting.
Tell her that you'll go home next
week then switch off your phone
before she starts to speak.

Daudi my love....
Forget about your two ugly kids.
I want you to take me to a big hotel
and shower me with expensive drinks.
Don't you want me to fold my
glossy lips in between your
sparkling teeth?

Daudi my love....
I told my poor lover to keep off the
girl's hostel.
I told him that when he calls and 
finds me on voice mail,
I'll be studying for my next
Continuous Assessment Test.
Here I am my love... your soft palms
are free to cup the nipples of my
coconut breasts.

Daudi my love....
If you give me the password
to your ATM,
I will open the mouth of
my honeypot for your consumption.
I will stay with you for as long as
you want in any of our vacations.
Even if I'll fail in my final examination,
I will give my lecturers money to
change my poor credentials...

Daudi my love.....
Shall we?

Thursday, 17 August 2017



Dear Prophet!
When you said that God will bless
me with a big land in January,
I quickly sold my only plot
and gave you ten percent of what
I got.
Now the year is ending!
I am sick and tired of waiting.

Dear Prophet!
When you spoke in tongues and said
that my sick son has been healed,
I burned all the medicine that the doctors prescribed to him.
Now my son is in a coma.
With oxygen pipes tucked in his
mouth and nose.
His beautiful eyes still remain closed.

Dear Prophet!
Ever since you said that the holly
spirits have sent you to quench my
wife's spiritual thirst with holly water,
Our last born's belly started swelling
Just like your's.
When he frowned on the face today,
I saw the image of you chasing
evil spirits away.

Dear prophet
You who made me sacrifice my one
and only chicken,
I want you to tell God that I have
given him one week.
One week to make all your
prophecies come true

Tuesday, 15 August 2017

Reviewed by 
Ubaji Isiaka Abubakar Eazy - Nigeria 

*About the book*

Homesick in Paradise is a wonderfully written novel that you can’t read once and drop but read it time and time again. The lead story has a personal emotional touch that draws you so close to empathizing with an eleven year old character, Enemona, who couldn’t bear the heat of his mother’s death, decides to break barrier in order to have a spiritual verbal communion with the dead mother. Would the dead mother respond in a mysterious way? The author similarly weaved the childhood memories of a child in a boarding secondary school with its fun and fabulous fury. It espouses the split personality of a nearly indoctrinated child in Christendom, with the conflict of participating in the rich culture of his African traditional festivals. It is an impressive narration laced with tragic stories but also harmonized with great hilarious stories that are didactic and perhaps ribs cracking.

REVIEW
.................................

(Enemali Took me Back to those Days!)

I am one those still fascinated by simple stories for young adults. Indeed, my romance with literature began with such stories. From Onuora Nzekwu and Micheal Crowder's Eze Goes to School, Christy Ade-Ajayi's Ade our Naughty Little Brother, Kola Onadipe's Sugar Girl, Eddie Iroh's Without a Silver Spoon, Chinua Achebe's Chike and the River, Olajire Olanlokun's Kunle, the Superstar, Ted Ozondu's A Chained Tomb to Cyprian Ekwensi's The Drummer Boy, I was virtually nurtured on these novellas and today, I add a new book, albeit a full length novel, to my archive on young adult literature. That new book is Theophilus Enemali's Homesick in Paradise!

Maybe I love these books because they recall certain experiences in my own life as a young boy and now that I am older, they ignite a nostalgic feeling for the past. They remind me of that time when men where boys or what school life was like for me. Those that said school life is the best could not have been lying, you know?

The novel; Homesick in Paradise; chronicles the experiences of eleven years old Enemona as a student at St. Charles Lwanga Minor Seminary. Enemona had just lost his mother to illness few months after he started school, although the family decided against divulging the tragic occurrence to Enemona till much later when he returned home from school during the holiday. He would spend most of his days at school and holidays missing his mother, writing a letter to heaven, and hoping that even in paradise, his mother would be missing her earthly family.

Albeit the novel is episodic, the various encounters and experiences related in it are fascinating and often humorous. The writer takes us to the world of school boys, show us their pranks and willy ways, and their fascination with the school catholic environment, very much different from the world outside it. In the story, you will meet the roguish Clinton who you cannot help loving or feeling pity for when he was expelled from the school, or Odoma, the bed wetting tyrant, you will also meet the uncouth Johnny alias Symbiotism and ask him what symbiotism means and he would proudly tell you that it means "symbol of greatness" hahaha! The point is that when you read this story, you will always find that one character that either reminds you of yourself as a young student or some other roguish or funny student you knew or know in your class.

And there are moral lessons to be learnt too. Clinton ended up badly, Enemona studied hard and became one of the best behaved students who passed out with flying colors hence there is an emphasis on good conduct and children doing the right things.

Perhaps, an aspect of the story which I find uncomfortable are those instances of students being punished for speaking their mother tongue or being advised to disengage themselves from the cultural existence of their people. It is one of the worst colonial legacy targeted at fossilizing the African culture and language and I despise it. Also, I think the writer needs to master the act of translating from the local language to English without making it seem obvious or provide a glossary for the non-English words used.

In as much as the story looks good as it is, I think little illustrations and the idea of providing for each chapter a title or subheading might work well for the novel, considering its episodic nature. I believe this will help younger readers locate particular aspects of the novel they find intriguing.

The story has minimal grammatical inconsistencies compared to many others that I have read and for a debut novel, it is not just a commendable effort, but an impressive one. We hope to find greater works linked to the writer the next time we visit the book store. This is one novel every young literature student should read.
© Ubaji Isiaka Abubakar Eazy 2017


About the Author
Enemali Theophilus hails from Odochala in Ibaji Local government area of Kogi State. He studied at the famous Saint Kizito Seminary Idah. He is a graduate of English and Literary Studies from Kogi state University, Anyigba, after a National Diploma (ND) programme in Public Administration at the Federal Polytechnic Idah, Kogi State. He is an award-winning essayist at the maiden edition of Governor Wada Academic Excellence Competition (G-WAEC). He has taught English and Literature-in-English in reputable schools including his alma mater Saint Kizito Seminary, Idah. He is also a freelance radio presenter. He hosts general interest programmes, sports and many other programmes at Radio Nigeria Prime FM, Lokoja.


Sunday, 13 August 2017




Okola,
Just because you caught me making
love with another man in the corner
of our kitchen,
Does not mean that I'm a slut.
How many times have I found
other women's lipsticks on the
collar of your white shirts? Eeh?

Okola,
When you found me kissing a
younger man in our
sugarcane plantation
the other day,
You did not have to call me all sorts
of dirty names!!
After all... you equally play all sorts
of dirty games.
Is it not your child that Akello my
sister is carrying in her belly? Eeh?

Okola,
You who goes for long calls with
your phone tightly buried in the
palms of your hand...
Why do you care when I mention Paulo's
name in the climax of my dreams?
Just because I did not ask questions
when you mentioned another woman's
name in the middle of conjugation,
Does not mean that I did not pay
attention. I did!!!

Okola,
If you're thinking of strangling
my neck and pulling out teeth from
my ever silent mouth,
Be ready to live without the manhood
that dangles in the middle of your
filthy pant.

Thursday, 3 August 2017



My daughter,
now that you are ten years of age
and nipples have sprouted from
the surface of your untapped chest,
You are no longer mine.

I will marry you off to Ojwang
An elderly but wealthy man whom
we betrothed you to when you were young.
But first,
You must go through circumcision!
as required by the ways of our tradition.

My daughter,
Now that you can cook and fetch
liters of waters from rivers that are
meters aways from home,
You are no longer mine.
It's time to become a parent,
And showcase your maternal talent.

Look at these cows, those lands...
My God!!!
Look at Ojwang's house.
All of them will be given to me,
When I marry you off indeed. 

My daughter,
Now that your sitting apparatus and
thighs show signs of maturity,
Ojwang will come tomorrow to break
your virginity.
From now henceforth... you no longer belong to me.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...