It has always been an exciting as well as a tasking enterprise addressing youths of Igbo parentage on sexuality. Each time such duty calls, one has to conduct a thorough research and where of paramount importance interact with some individuals.
Doing so does not imply I am aloof from my society, neither is it indicative of a blank slate. Rather, it is to forestall emphasizing virginity among mothers.
Here issues are handled via a latitudinal approach. You will have to permeate the already conscripted minds of the male folk, talk on how to identify Mr Right, how to keep him and how not to lose him.
The ladies will of course ask questions with conspicuous answers and expect a different reply. In rare cases some people might be stern in their looks, suggesting admonitions like, "that is a no- go-area." Nevertheless, the manner with which you handle these situations determines, to a great extent, your success.
Today, after a forty-minute speech on "Contemporary Youths and the Mass Media" at Nnewi, one pretty lady who rocked a Yemi Alade hairstyle walked up to me for some clarification.
"Sir, while you were speaking you stressed the dangers of pornography among youths. Please I wish to know, will you permit that among couples, bearing in mind they remained chaste before marriage?"
She reminded me of my childhood morning assembly recitations with the way she spoke those words.
Besides, I expected similar questions so I asked her: through what means is pornography made available? How morally sound is it?
She was still thinking of what to say when I started enumerating to her the intricacies of bringing such things into being. And also the effects on the society, not just from a moral perspective but also, from a socioeconomic stance.
She listened with rapt attention, looking straight at me and nooding intermittently. Her face seemed like one who was listening to a lecture on quantum physics. Like someone correcting a misconception.
After my bit by bit explanation, she thanked me and added, "I think you really have to visit my village during this year's August Meeting. Will you?"
"I'll think about that and get back to you."
We exchanged contacts.
As she left, I thought about her mother. About her father. About her parents. And about poor sexual orientation.

Self acceptance is vital in life. "In whatever you are be a good one."

Lost and Found, Careful Owner
(A Short Story on Self Esteem)
'Where on earth could this boy be?' Godwin mumbled to himself and then with a loud voice called out from his sitting room, 'Okon!'
'Sir!' came a shout from the kitchen.
Godwin was aware of where his Calabar cook was but he would always ask himself the question before calling on the young man. Doing so always reassured him of his position as the master, or may be it helped him raise his voice to eventually shout Okon!
Okon appeared almost as he answered that anyone observing would definitely conclude that he had been at the door to the dinning waiting to be called.
'Sir', he answered again to register his presence, with his right palm on his navel and his left hand suspended behind, at his waist. He made a theatrical bow. He was sweating profusely, wearing Dunlop slippers that made a flip flop sound when he walked. He actually ran most of the times. He had admired Madam and other maids in the neighbourhood putting them on and so thought that wearing them would as well make him look like a city-brought-up. Okon did not notice that the slippers' design was specifically for the feminine gender, or if he noticed, he did not care. He had an Afro haircut which he always boasted of making him look like some of the people he watched on television playing football on a clean-cut pitch. Then as if to crown it all he wore a perfume that smelt like a disinfectant.
Godwin enquired about what he was preparing for supper.
'Fried rice and plantain, French salad, water melon juice. Sir'. Okon liked to be sophisticated. He liked that because he did not want to be seen as outdated or as he used to hear people say, behind the moving trend.
Godwin turned to look at his cook. He raised his face and observed Okon devotedly from the head down to his toes as if he was trying to locate a particular oil dot. Noticing the irritating perfume and the slippers, he felt vexed, but immediately doubted any genuine reason for his vexation. He smiled wryly. He quickly repeated the evening's supper to himself and smiled again, this time chummily.
'When will this boy learn to be himself?' Godwin asked himself.
He thought he had muttered those words in his mind but was sure he didn't when Okon immediately asked, protruding his head with his face facing his left and his right ear his master, 'sir I should...?' He always asked that whenever he did not get his master's instructions correctly, ever ready to exhibit his servility.
Godwin looked pitifully at his cook who has engaged himself in a struggle albeit uncalled for. Okon could prepare a delicious variety of African dishes facilely, but tediously, his foreign dishes were not as tasty as his African's. He would not like this anyway. Overlooking his expertise he concentrated on his weakness. It was indeed pitiful. 'He knows not what he is doing', Godwin's aged mother would thus put it.
'Okon', Godwin called with a low tone, 'come back home'.
                 ********     
And so Mr. Okon (aka Afrijolly) sat on the sofa in his parlour that evening reminiscing with a seeming nostalgia. It's now eight years since he left his master Godwin but those words "come back home" were still fresh in his mind. At certain points he raised his face to the shimmering light above and smiled. His face glowed. He now owns an eatery which he calls "Afrijolly Kitchen" widely acknowledged for his mastery of different kinds of African food. The well-to-do's troop in daily and come out with loosened belts and toothpicks in their mouths.
'Are you sure this Afrijolly is not using roots and herbs to lure us here?' one man in a blue kaftan asked his colleague, 'because a day cannot pass without my coming here.'
'If he likes let him use taproots from Nri, the most important thing is that my wife won't have to poison me anymore with those things she sets before me', replied his colleague.
They laughed boisterously and waved to the waiter not to worry about their change.
It was evening and Mr. Okon had come home. Not just that, he was at home with himself. He now does what he knows how best to do and from that lives large. He feels ensconced in his current position.
He took a long deep breath and shifted a little bit from the spot he occupied on the sofa. Before him and right above his plasma television hung a calendar with the inscription "It's in You". It was a calm evening and so he could hear from the neighbourhood a song by one thickly bearded Nigerian musician playing "... is my talent, that's my i-den-ti-ty...."
He stood up. 'I am back, sir', he said, smiling.

- @ciboura

A TRIBUTE TO KEVIN DURANT
(Loosely from NBA Award 2014)
It was a Saturday evening as I sat with eyes fixed
on the television. I was fortunate to watch from a
close range which was actually because the
football match was over and all had left with just
I and two other fellows remaining at the viewing
center. The taller fellow was enjoying a coca cola
drink and from his wild utterances seemed to love
the footballer Messi so much. The channel was a
sports channel and so remained unchanged. But
then there was a change of programme from
football to basketball and it was the NBA Award
Night.
I remained glued to my seat in anticipation of the
season's highlights and to enjoy some marvelous
dunkings. The presenter, a man that looked
wealthy, announced that it was time for the NBA
Most Valuable Player (MVP) Award. The auditorium
which was a bit noisy came to a still. The
audience's faces expressed nervousness and
tension. One fat woman covered her face with both
palms while at the same time shaking her legs. At
the other end one thick-bearded player made a
round bulge appear on the both sides of his cheek,
opened his mouth and blew out the air. He was no
longer at ease.
Then came the name which has ever since
remained in my mind, it was the winner - Kevin
Durant. The tall elegant dark-skinned dude came
out in a neatly ironed blue suit and a pair of eyeglasses amidst thunderous applauses from the
audience. At first he seemed to be lacking the
power of speech as he made some fruitless efforts
to speak. Then appeared some drops of tears from
his left eye which he wiped with the left index
finger. Finally he spoke. "First of all I wish to give
thanks to almighty God who has been with me and
my family throughout these years", he took a deep
breath and continued, "I wanna thank also my
coach for believing in me, and my teammates for
supporting and tolerating me...." While he was
recounting his ordeals I heard him say, "I have
been through a lot of tough times with my family;
my mother, I and my brother. But thank God that
today I'm here." As he spoke a woman who was
sitting at the end of one row looked as if she was
bouncing until the camera allowed us a closer view,
she was sobbing and wiping the tears with a white
handkerchief. It must have been Kevin's mother.
His speech that evening centered on: hard times,
hard work, success and gratitude. I immediately
remembered the story of the Anambra-born
billionaire, Innocent Chukwuma OON (Innoson)
I have since that day been reflecting on the popular
saying: there is always light at the end of the
tunnel. At least Kevin Durant is a perfect example. I
have also come to the assurance that not one or
two but indeed many are going through some
tough challenges at the moment. It could be
financially, academically, psychologically or
spiritually, my words are simple: do not loose hope
for joy comes in the morning.
- @ciboura