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The Thing I Never Told You

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The Thing I Never Told You I have kept this secret for eleven years. Eleven years of laughing with you at parties, of being the first person you called when things went wrong, of sitting across from you at that small suya spot on Allen Avenue where we always ordered the same thing. Eleven years of knowing that the version of me you loved was built, in part, on a lie. Let me start from the beginning. Chidi and I met in 2009 at a cramped cybercafé in Surulere. We were both second-year students at UNILAG, both broke, both pretending we weren't. He was printing an assignment he hadn't started yet, and I was watching him spiral into quiet panic, and something about that made me laugh. Not at him — just at the whole situation. The absurdity of it. He looked at me, and then he laughed too, and that was it. That fast. That simple. By our final year, Chidi was the person I trusted most in the world. More than my brothers. More, honestly, than myself. In 2013, we both applied ...
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My Father's Goat...(Poem)

My Father's Goat: My father's goat The most troublesome goat I've ever seen. It eats its shares And tries to tamper with our own too. I remember when I was young And my mother was strong . She served me my share And my father's goat its own. The goat finished its share And made its way down my place. It gored me at the back And down I fell. It took over my meal And left me to cry. Oh my meal! My delicious meal! Mum ran down to help But my meal had gone down the drain. She hit the goat hard And away it ran. She took me by the hand And up I stood. She wiped my tears And sat me down. She let out a shout And here it goes What a goat! Oh my God! It's my father's goat The domestic terrorist Who terrorised my life In my father's house.
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