You forcefully open the double doors to your room to see your reflection in the large spotless mirror staring at you, as you try to avoid the Master. Your image kills the mustard seed of hope you have been trying to nurture – your eyes exhausted from too many tears. Your lips are chapped, and the glory of your skin is in the past - your beautiful skin as your mother would remark. You wonder if it’s because of its fairness or the hairless sight of it, or the chubby feeling when touched. And then you reckon the eyes of your mother are not yours. Your beauty lies in your freedom, you think to yourself. You affirm that you don’t belong here, not in this castle with grey walls, lofty ceilings, and heavy brown curtains. Not viewing ancient paintings of wars. Not on a bed for a crowd and certainly not wearing these expensive clothes too pure to smear. You recall the first day of your arrival at your new home. You were greeted by a servant who avoided your eyes as he bowed his head and sai...
"I write to notify you that I will no longer try to convince you that I am good enough to be an employed citizen of and in this country. How many times do I have to state that I have my PVC, NIMC, International Passport, Driver’s Licence, Birth Certificate, LASRRA, NEPA/PHCN bill (even though I am still unemployed I pay my tax), Waste Management bill, Water bill, and so on?” "Do you not know I have been to primary school, secondary school, and university? Do you not know I have a masters degree plus a PHD? Add to the fact that I never failed any subject or course in the four walls of all the schools I have attended. You can take that to the bank!" "You are all making too much noise. Say I take all your claims to the bank surely, I will not cash out. My great grandfather was a farmer, and so was my grandfather. My father died farming and now I have inherited the family heirloom. I am sure my son will also take up this inheritance. With all the experiences we garnered...