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“…I buried the pain, thinking that he was still my husband-to-be. It was until the wedding that I knew I was doomed. The wedding had been arranged and the hall was well-decorated, the guests were seated and I was gorgeously dressed as the bride, expecting my future partner.

Episode Five

He was nowhere to be found. We called his numbers but they were all switched off. We went to the places we thought he probably would be no we didn’t find him. I still haven’t set my eyes on him, till now. We heard that he fled to Canada but I still do not understand the reason he did so.

I got pregnant after a year and it was a shame to everyone. They took me to Kebbi to stay with my cousin and conceive the child. The shame was too much that when I gave birth to a baby girl, my parents forced me to put her in a motherless babies’ home… while her mother is still alive!

My parents kept this secret from your parents and others…but look at me, revealing the fact that I have a child. I visit Kebbi frequently to see my child because I am her mother and I know what it feels like to be away from your daughter. I love her so much, despite the fact that her father jilted me,” Halimah cried.

Ibrahim folded his hands into a fist, his eyes streaming with tears. “Pathetic. Some men see the joy in making women unhappy. I wonder what pleasure they derive from doing such. It is very mean to treat a woman that way. I’m really sorry about what happened to you, Halimah.”

Continue reading https://www.maryamnittywall.com/2018/07/normal-0-false-false-false-en-us-x-none.html

“There is a letter at the tip of the lock.” Halimah grabbed the letter, opened it and read aloud:

“Hi, our dear children. I know you are surprised because the gate is locked and we’re nowhere to be found. Don’t be, because we had locked it deliberately. We’re home and you’ll join us very soon, but not now. You need to settle things between yourselves. Fight, quarrel or beat yourselves up. After that, you’d get tired and figure out how to live together.
Episode Four

Don’t bother calling because there is no network. There are food items in the kitchen. Yeah, I know you too cannot cook. That’s why we left a cooking guide on the shelve.
Happy holiday and have fun!”

“What is the meaning of this?” Halimah squeezed the paper and shoved it away.

“I should be asking you and your parents. My parents have always made me live my life, and they appreciate the time I’m using to heal my wounds…all until they met your parents”. Ibrahim blurted.
He sat on the sand and placed his hands over his head.

“You don’t know how better I was before I met you. You can never imagine how much I hate you.”
“Oh, shut up or I’ll give you a slap!” Ibrahim shook the locked gates vehemently but it did not make a difference.

Continue reading https://www.maryamnittywall.com/2018/07/lost-love-episode-four.html

Lost Love (Episode Three)

“One, that’s an arrogant way of requesting for one of my cars. Two, do you have any knowledge of the areas in Abuja? How can I even trust your driving skills? I do not joke with my car”. She said.

“You know what…I don’t know whether your new mission is to make your brakes fail so that I can encounter an accident on the way. I prefer to go by public transport”. Ibrahim exclaimed.

Continue reading https://www.maryamnittywall.com/…/lost-love-episode-three.h…

The Scammers


I had just alighted from the bus. I held my well-zipped bag closely to my side and walked down the road path. The garage was always busy at night. Traders sold and people walked on the streets like something chased them. If you intend to walk in a slow way, you will be shoved out of the way.

I decided to avoid the stress of walking too fast or falling a trader’s goods by mistake. I took the other path where banks, restaurants and bukas were situated.

I had not walked long when I heard someone answering a call from behind. The voice was very close but I didn’t pay heed to it. This is Lagos and the large number of people that scurry their way on a single road would make of course make them close to each other.

I continued moving till I heard a man greet me in Yoruba. He walked beside and I turned to my left, to reply his greetings.

(The conversations were made in Yoruba but I translated them to English).

“Is this Ikorodu?” He asked.

Continue reading https://www.maryamnittywall.com/2018/06/the-scammers.html

“You got the name right. Do you want to assist in the clearing of the table because your presence is quite disgusting”.
Episode Two

“Do you know it looks like your mouth smells when you talk. You’re just a spoilt brat learning how to cap. You can’t even make a good wife. I wonder the man that would like to marry you”.

“I wonder the woman that would like you too. You’re very arrogant and disgusting! I feel like breaking these plates on your head!” She screamed.

“You’re disgusting and wild-tempered”.

“You too. I hate you!”

“I hate you too”. He shouted and walked out of the place.

“This is horrible”. Halimah angrily said as she packed the plates to the kitchen.

Continue reading https://www.maryamnittywall.com/2018/06/lost-love-episode-two.html

I was on my way home in the evening. I alighted from the bus and walked to the next park. Again, I wanted to keep walking down but an instinct told me ‘No Maryam, turn here!’.

I entered the next turning which was just close to a GTB ATM stand…and behold…I saw him!

He was walking towards the GTB ATM stand to withdraw money. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Was I dreaming? How is it possible to see someone just like that in Lagos!

Oh well, I was very excited. I was about to walk up to him and thank him for his kindness in the morning when I noticed a lady beside him.

Yes, a lady. Did I say a lady? Well, lets call her a woman. She was very big…three times bigger than me and 21/2 times bigger than ‘Fine guy in kaftan’. I decided to stay back and watch them walk to the ATM stand.

So ‘Fine guy in kaftan’ placed his small black bag in between his legs and inserted his ATM card into the machine. ‘Big woman’ stood at the side of the machine, waiting for him.

Continue reading https://www.maryamnittywall.com/2018/06/the-hopeless-romantic-2.html

Tell us more about yourself?
My name is Wilfred Dangfa, a graduate of Agric Technology from the Abubakar Tafawa Balewa University, Bauchi. I am Tarok by tribe from Langtang South Local Government of Plateau State, Nigeria.


- How did you come about the name ‘Wilfred Wildee’?
Wilfred is of course my first name, but Wildee is derived from two names; Wil from Wilfred and Dee from my surname Dangfa.


- What is poem to you?
A poem is a voice that communicates the unspeakable aspects of human existence.


- How did you discover your passion for poems?
I took the bold step by saying I could do it, and that was how I started. It’s still a mystery to me though.


- When did you start to compose poems?
In 2015, 2 months to my Passing Out Parade (POP) during NYSC in Gombe State.


- What have you gained as a poet?
Experience! An ocean of experience.


- What inspired you to create your spoken word album ‘Sweet Wine’?
The happenings in Nigeria and their grim realities.


- What inspired the name ‘Sweet Wine’?
The name “Sweet Wine” had been ringing in my head long before I thought of producing the album. So, I took it a cue to the album title.


- What is the central message of Sweet Wine?
The Truth! Absolute truth.


- How can the audience reach out to you, to purchase the album?
The album is free for downloads for now, but I will charge a token in my subsequent release.


- How did you feel when you won the runner up prize for Nigeria SHIFT poetry?
I felt me, nothing changed because I was still me. It was awesome though.


- What is your major source of fulfilment?
My fulfilment comes when someone walks up to me in an audience after my rendition to tell me they were touched or blessed on account of my presentation.

- Any plans for the nearest future?
Yea, I am planning on making performance poetry the mainstream in Nigeria in the future.
- Who are your role model(s)?
My role model is Ezekiel Azonnu, a Nigerian-American gospel poet.

- How do you relax in your leisure time?
I read, write and recite poetry.

- Your favourite celebrity?
My favorite celebrity is my role model Ezekiel Azonnu.


- Your favourite quote?
“There is no right way of doing the wrong thing” by John Mason.

- Your favourite food?
Fried Rice.


- Your favourite choice of holiday destination?
I have not started yet, but I would consider Spain as my favorite choice of holiday destination.


- Your contact info. and social media platforms for fans to reach you?
I am on Facebook @ Wilfred Wildee Wildeeland, IG @ Wildee Wilfred and Twitter @ WilfredDangfa.



Haven't downloaded the free version of the spoken word album (sweet wine)? Click https://www.maryamnittywall.com/2018/06/normal-0-false-false-false-en-us-x-none_12.html

Feel you're worthy of being interviewed? Send a mail to mareeam802@gmail.com

The Hopeless Romantic (The Fine Guy in Kaftan) 1

After spending time deliberating on what to wear, I ended up going English. Omo, the native attires had one issue or the other…short hand, off-colour veils, punctured veils…and so on. I just vexed and took a shirt and black skirt to put on. Yeah, it’s really strange for me to do so on a Friday but the girl was getting late for work.

I hurried to the park to board a bus to Ojota. I entered the bus and deliberated on the area to seat. The truth is, it has never been a big issue…choosing a seat in a red bus.

This time around, I was confused. I went to the back of the rows of seat and when the lady stood to excuse me in, I changed my mind and left for the vacant seat beside a neatly dressed Muslim man (well-starched kaftan and a cap).

We started the journey…except from the hurls and insults from the agberos in the car.

The bus went smoothly till it halted at Majidun. The passengers murmured and it was then I discovered that the bus had hit a car in front. It blocked the bus and demanded for a compensation.
“Ama pe lo ni oo… Awon t’on lo ibi ise nko (We will be late today oo/ How about those going to work?)” The passengers lamented.

Yes! I was going to work and I was late. I sat there murmuring when I noticed the ‘Fine guy in kaftan' making a call.

Continue reading https://www.maryamnittywall.com/2018/06/the-hopeless-romantic-fine-guy-in-kaftan.html

Episode One

“You’ll love this Halimah. They’re very nice and well-respected family from Kano state. Your father and I met his parents on the plane when we were returning from Umrah this year. You both share the same pain; hurt by love. It would be great if you two get together. Hajia Hauwa, Halimah’s mother and a very prestigious woman spoke to her daughter on her return from her cousin’s place.

“Mom, I’ve told you times without number that I am not interested. I’ll get married but I still need to get over my past. This is not the right time to hook me up with some unknown man”. Halimah said with sad eyes.

“He’s not unknown. His Parents are trust-worthy and with what they said, he seems very responsible. You need to forget about the past”. She caressed her cheeks.

“No Mom…” She stood, “It’s not that easy to forget about the past. I’ve tried very hard but I cannot. Its very hard to trust anyone”. She said.

“You just have to. All men are not the same. Not everyone is Tanko. You have to learn to move on with life”.

“That’s what I’m trying to do, and I need time…”

“There’s no more time Halimah”. Her father said, entering the living room.

“You are twenty-four years old and very matured. Ibrahim and his family are taking the first flight to Abuja, and they would reside in our house, where the two of you will get to know each other well. You’ll like him”.

“I can’t believe this! Was this why you hurried me home?” Halimah raged.

Continue reading https://www.maryamnittywall.com/2018/06/lost-love-episode-one.html

Have you ever loved someone so much you can’t think of anything else? She occupies every depth of your thought. You can’t do a damn thing without thinking of her. She clouds your mind before you sleep. You find yourself dreaming only about her.

Yes, that’s the kind of love I have for her. You look at her and all you see is perfectness. Her smile lingers through your heart. Her loud laugh being the best thing you’ve ever heard. Every single day you see her, she looks more beautiful. You find any reason to not love her but instead, you love her the more.

It’s that sort of love that keeps you alive, revives and lightens you, occupies your thoughts and keeps you alive every single day.

Now have you ever seen an impossible love? Yes, that’s the love I have for her. Its impossible. You know why? ‘Cos we’re from different worlds. I’m right here staring at her while she walks out with her sisters. Her bedazzle dress sparking more than sunlight. She grins as usual making me blush in return. She laughs heartily with her sisters, creating a tune to my soul.

Now how can our love be possible when she’s the diamond and I’m the scrap. She live in riches while I languish in poverty. I can never be noticed. How would I? When I scrub the death of earth, wearing a filthy garment, my face filled with black dust. Who would notice the face behind the black dust? No one!

“Here’s the morning paper Amanda…thank you “. She takes it without even glancing at my face.
The limo sped out of the street and I held the mop to my face, thinking of the fate of our love.
Well, there’s nothing to think about. My love will remain as it is. Unnoticed!

Maryam AbdulWahab, Love Prose.

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
The prolific writer was born on 15th of September, 1977. She is a Nigerian writer of novels, short stories and nonfiction.

In 2008, Chimamanda Adichie was awarded a MacArthur Genius Grant. She was also described in the Times Literary Supplement as “the most prominent” of a “procession of critically acclaimed Anglophone authors (who) is succeeding in attracting a new generation of readers to African literature”.

Chimamanda Adichie was born in the city of Enugu in Nigeria. She is the fifth of six children in an Igbo family from the university town of Nsukka in Enugu state.

She studied medicine and pharmacy at the University of Nigeria for a year and the half. Chimamanda, during this period, edited The Compass, a magazine run by the university’s Catholic medical students.

Adichie left Nigeria at the age of 19, for the United States, to study communications and political science at Drexel University in Philadelphia. She was later transferred to Eastern Connecticut State University, where she received a bachelor’s degree.

In 2003, Adiche completed a master’s degree in creative writing at John Hopkins University.
Chimamanda Adichie has several collections under her name. In 2003, her first novel, Purple Hibiscus received wide acclaim and was shortlisted for the Orange Prize for Fiction in 2004. She was also awarded the Commonwealth Writers’ Prize for Best First Book (2005).

Her third book, The Thing Around Your Neck (2009), is a collection of 12 stories that explore the relationships between men and women, parents and children, Africa and the United States.
In 2013, her third novel was an exploration of a young Nigerian encountering race in America. It was selected by the New York Times as one of the “ten best books in 2013”.

In April 2014, she was named as one of 39 writers aged under 40 in the Hay Festival and Rainbow Book Club project Africa, celebrating Port Harcourt UNESCO World Book Capital 2014.

In April 2017, it was announced that Adichie had been elected into the 237th class of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, one of the highest honours for intellectuals in the United States, as one of 228 new members to be inducted on 7 October 2017.

Her most recent book was published in March 2017 entitled Dear Ijeawele, or a Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions.
Source: Wikipedia.
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Episode Four
Nadia’s Point of View
“Hello Zaynah”. I gave my brightest smile as I entered Zaynah’s little sports car.

She usually pick me up from home after dropping off her son at school. We’ll both go to work from there.

Zaynah, instead replied with a scowl. “What’s up with your cool smile and lovely dress? Please get in or we’ll get to work late”. She placed her hands on the steering wheels.

“Who knows who I might bump into today? You wouldn’t want me looking like a clown”. I gave her a knowing grin as I took my seat.

She had just started the ignition when my front door opened. My elder brother ran out with two cups. I had forgotten to take the tea I made.

“You forgot this…Asalamu ‘alaykum Zaynah”. He greeted.

“Wa’alaykumu salam Mahmud. Have a nice day”.

“You too”. He handed me the cup and waved.

Zaynah drove out of the compound as she bit her lower lip. “The last time you made me tea was when you were still with Maher. Are you feeling the same now?”

“Yes Zaynah. I feel that sparks of love, like there are butterflies in my stomach”.

“You better be careful. Remember, once bitten, twice shy”. She warned.

“Yes ma. How is Nabil?” I needed to change topic. I never want to dwell in my past and painful relationship again.

“I don’t get Nadia. His rate of development is alarming. You wouldn’t believe that I had to shop again yesterday because he finished everything at home. His teacher told me this morning to increase the quantity of meal I serve him for lunch”. She laughed.

“Oh gosh! Nabil is gonna eat you one day!”
* * *
We left the coffee shop after lunch with no sight of Rasheed. I thought he’d come there for lunch but he didn’t.

“Why don’t you just call him”. Zaynah watched me give a disappointed look as we walked back to the company.

“No. He has to call first”.

Zaynah gave me an unbelievable look. “You still maintain that notion?”

“Yes”.

“Even when it is apparent that you’re missing him?”
Continue reading https://maryamnittywall..com.ng/2018/01/tissue-hearts.html

cbella:
Wow... Nicely done.... How come I'm now reading this.

Thanks