MY THOUGHTS EXACTLY

Category Archives: short stories


Today I want to die. I mean I want to put a full stop to my miserable life, a life that treated me in a way lesser than an animal. Am tired of it all. Luck or no luck everyone wishes me good luck.
My friends don’t miss me and no one ever remembers to call me even if it were just a flash. My families too don’t even remember I was in this life, only when they needed my help. I just have to die. I have to leave the world so I won’t be burden on any one when I get older.
My co-workers complain am the coldest person on earth. That I neither smile nor laugh but always wearing a cow face. What exactly have done wrong? I didn’t create myself! They said God decide our life before we were born but why do people keep blaming me for what is not my fault? 
My children see me as the worst father.  They don’t even stay beside me nor respect my words for a second. Same way my wife sees me. She complained am not romantic, and cheerful. That I’m too cold for a hubby. I have ask her to tell me exactly what to do to make me warm since I were a cold animal to them, but no one not even her helped me out.
When I was a kid my dad would always call me a loser, that he doubt he were my father. That same statement led to the argument that killed the only person that believed in me, my melancholic mother. She would cry so I could laugh, she would do all she could so I could be like every other children.
She was the first person to discover I was an autist. No one really understood I was suffering from autism until I was almost ten years of age. That was when I met my fairy god-mother, Auntie Mariam. She shaped me to a better me which to the world is still lesser than an animal. 
She too died few years before I could finish my secondary education. To most people, the only good thing about me was my brain and my looks. I was both handsome and intelligent but none of it matters when it comes to people understanding my predicaments.
I love my wife very much and my children too but I can’t express it. No! They don’t understand how I am expressing it and that alone is killing me every seconds. Even though I don’t want to lose them, I don’t want to be alive as well. I just have to end everything and maybe we may meet to part no more. I guess by then I will be like everyone else.



Jamila came from a village where people believed you must get married to someone from your village. Her paent got her married to a man from her village called Abdullahi. She never liked Abdullahi from the onset but she promised to make her parents happy because they have invested so much in her; they gave her all the basic necessities of life which a daughter deserve to have from her parents. It was because of this  that she surrendered and succumbed to their wishes. She was indeed docile and submissive but Abdullah, was a cassanova. He never lowers his gaze on any lady he sees, be it an ugly or pretty lady. He was jobless so he took his new bride to Jigawa where his brother lived.

They managed to get a two roo apartment for them. Jamila was a very intelligent lady. She is a nurse by profession so she was fortunate to secure a job at near by hospital. Moreover, she goes to their in-laws house everyday to wash their dishes, sleep the house and fills the bowls with water. in fact, she did most of the household chores just to win the heart of her in-laws. They loved her so much that they treated her just like their own child. Abdullahi couldn’t give his wife helping hand but rather always pressuring her to give him money from her earning. She never complained but gave him.

 Ten months after their wedding she had a baby boy. The child was named after Abdullah’s grand dad. A year later, his sister was diagnosed of appendix and he asked his wife to help his sister in the hospital where she works.

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The bill was expensive but Jamila talked to the accountant so that it can be reduced. Her sister in-law Aisha had a successful operation. Aisha was married but was attending a school at Jigawa, so she brought her three children to stay with their uncle’s wife. For Jamila it was an added responsibility because she was the bread winner. She brought the attention of her husband to the issue that she can not take care of his sister and her children. He ignored her. Aisha felt that she wasn’t welcome in the family. She immediately called her mum and told her Jamila was a bad woman and had never liked her. The mother in-law became angry with Jamila and hated her. What baffled Jamila was that Abdullahi always traveled without telling her. He comes back home late, while girls always call him on phone to book appointement with him. He had a ‘’Sugar Mummy’’ who prevented him from attending to his wife. The sugar mummy bought him a car. Some months later the sugar mummy too discovered that he was flirting around with many ladies. She became perturbed and took away her car from him.

Jamila was into thrift contribution with her colleagues at the hospital where she worked and she was able to save N250,000. When she collected her share, she gave the money to Abdullah to help her buy a plot of land. He took the money and was never seen again. Months passed and soon it was sallah period. While he was away jamila the school fees, house rent, electricity bill, health bills and many more for her children. Like became difficult for her and her salary was like a drop of water in an ocean that couldn’t ease her problems.

She was so broke financially that she stole the hospital the hospital kerosene. She also stole medicine and sold them to be to feed her children. She struggled to buy a sallah ram. She gave the ram to one mallam to help her slaughter on sallah day. A day to sallah abdullahi cmae back home while jamila was out. He asked his children if their mum had bought sallah ram. They showed him where the ram was kept. When she came back, she saw him and never said a word to him. The next day, he collected the ram from the mallam and slaughter it. However he bought a new phone for her from his travel. She was so angry with him and she threw the phone on the ground. Out of annoyance, Abdullah grabbed her and slapped. She slapped him back and a fight ensued. He beat her to stupor. Her children called her neighbor who took her to hospital. When she regain consciousness, she asked of her husband’s whereabouts but instead was given a divorce later from one of his friend. She couldn’t believe what she saw and busted into tears and regrets.

Narrated by Fatima Abubakar

Story by: Amina Abdullahi

culled from Tambari



My parents and immediate family were very angry when I first became engage to Nuhu. Grandpa was the main engine behind their opposition. They all believe because Nuhu was blind, he will be so dependent on me couple with his poor background and blindness. Despite all these, we married months later. 

My parent and immediate family were all prevent from attending the wedding ceremony by grandpa. However, things work as planned. Grandpa told me something I never understood then. His words were “he who swallows a pestle must be ready to sleep while standing”.
Is spite of all their opposition we got married few months after; Nuhu quickly got used to finding his ways around our new home – he had trained himself by working with heart instead of the eyes.
Almost a year and half later, after all my toiling for the betterment of the house, Nuhu and I went to an eye specialist hospital where it was confirm he could see again. Nuhu was wheeled in for necessary check up. 
Nuhu had good news to tell me. He said the operation was going to be successful. I was happy that my love is going to regain his sight. He also said after the operation he would see how beautiful I was. I wasn’t beautiful. Couple with my dowdy appearance, my pot belly, and short height.
The operation was scheduled at nine on Thursday morning. The surgeon had strictly warned me not to come to the hospital before noon that day. The waiting was hell! Seconds became minutes and minutes became hours. When it was exactly one, I got dressed and went straight to the hospital. The surgery was a success, the doctor said. I went to the clinic twice a day to see him. He was bubbling with energy and enthusiastic.
A week later, I woke up with migraine. I look at myself in the mirror and tears began to drop down my eyes. Finally, I wore a t-shirt and a long skirt, with my short hijab to match.

I walked slowly along the corridor to my husband room. I stood at the door for a moment with my heart pounding. I slowly opened the door and went inside. He was sitting up on the bed. He looked at me as I raised my eyes, for a moment, neither of us spoke. “You’re beautiful”, he said.
Tear roll down my eyes as I was so shameful of myself. He looked at me, and for some moments neither of us spoke. I knew there was love in his eyes, and I went into his outstretched hands. It was glaring he was in love with me.

Truly love is blind.



I want to let you know that this little piece has really given me a lot of headache thinking about how to really start writing it. I don’t know if this is perfect but this is my final decision. I have to start this way, maybe it is unprofessional but what do I care if my aim is achieved and you the reader finally get to see my points. 

Yahaya Bello is a household name in one of the Middle Belt State of Nigeria, Kogi State to be precise.  Bello, to the Igalas, the majority of the state is the synonym to Obo-ilo (which literally means bitter leaf soup).  No one really knows how they come about the name but it does makes sense thinking about how they rhythms and maybe due to the bitter and hard living conditions he is left Kogi people with. 
Who is Bello? Bello happens to be the youngest, nonchalant, uncultured and a kindergarten governor of the people of Kogi State. I won’t tell you how he became the governor of Kogi state. If you want to know click on this link http://www.google.com/YahayaBello 
After the unfortunate death of the rightful winner of the governorship election, Adu-oja(which literally mean slave of the people), a name which he acquire for himself through his selfless service for his people or perhaps to the people of the state, the stubborn, uncultured young man was named a replacement for the vacant position.
LET ME PRAISE MYSELF FIRST
Let me praise myself a little. My friends used to call me Okocha before Ronaldo and Messi made their name to stardom, since then I was called either of them by name. Maybe I was the best on the field in my own world outside La-liga and the English premier league.
You will be surprise to hear this but it’s true. I’m a good artist too; a glance at my room will leave your mouth agape. This no doubt earned me the title of “Leonardo da Kogi”.  Not only that but also I was a good singer, the Lionel Richie of my hood.
Before I forget, I was the love doctor to all my friends back then in school. They were no issues concerning love that I wouldn’t be asked about. Most of the tactics which I taught them works miraculously. Instead of calling me Shakespeare, they resorted to Sha Rukh Khan, the Bollywood king of romance. Maybe there was no spear in me they could shake, which was why they didn’t call me Shakespeare.
A VOICE FOR THE VOICELESS
Now let’s talk about how Bello, Kogi and his governance concern me. My name you already know. My father used to tell us right from childhood that we were Kogites but I never believed until his death when we had to relocate due to troubles from his people that our mum was too young to take care of us alone in the far away from home northern Nigeria.  

Before his death, none of his children knew he had a house in the state. It was a secret he hid from every one of us except our mum. We moved into the house after burial and it was like starting all over again. 
Oh I forgot to tell you about my first experience in the state. I will say it was the most unfortunate thing to have occurred to me. Before leaving the north for my state, I was full of enthusiasm that I was going to a state equipped with basic amenities, but when I finally left Abuja behind and entered Ohono, the first Village or Community I could remember easily to be where I noticed I was in Kogi state, my heart melted in shame. The first entrance of the state was nothing to write home about.
Also, entering into the state capital will leave your eyes wet with tears of disappointment. Believe you me; your heart will boil in anger to see such a welcoming disgrace. Big Lorries, and trucks parked at every corner of the road and leathers and dirty clothes littered everywhere.
Let me stop here before the former Governors read this and actually think I am saying they did nothing. You all tried. Weldone sair! 
After some months later, my mum got a job at one of the general Hospital. She was a nurse. This is where Bello came in. She worked under both Ibrahim Idris and Wada and we were very contented not really rich.
After the exit of Wada, Obo-ilo began to act up. Screening without ends and that became the beginning of our nightmares. Bello himself was not aware of his doings. He was like a kid holding a pencil and a drawing book in his hand, painting and drawing as he wishes without dimensions. 
Mum began borrowing to pay for our school fees as the nature of her job wouldn’t permit her to start any business. 
Last night I overheard the person she had been collecting money from asking for her money. Bello, please pay our fathers and mother so that no one would disgrace them because if they do we may forgive you but we will ask God to pay you back accordingly. 
We can’t eat good food

We can’t wear better clothes

We can’t afford our school fees

She works in the clinic but we can’t afford medical fees
PLEASE PAY OUR PARENTS!!!

BELLO IF YOU READ THIS IT’S JUST A LITERATURE… IF THERE WAS ANY INSULT IT WAS TO BLEND THE WRITE UP NOT TO TARNISH YOUR IMAGE… WELDONE SAIR!



Growing up as a kid we were made to believe one terrible thing, something no one really had a clear cut understanding of, until age and little intelligence caught up with some of us. I must admit I am one of such kids whose life had been dragged up and down in the mud of life riddles. 

It was just last two month ago that the real deceit of life caught up with me. I sat under the mango tree close to the road and I was counting every one of the cars, motorcycles even bicycles that pass me by. Don’t ask me why, because I will tell you before you do. 

I happened to be the third born of my mother. My father died before I could even learn how to walk. I was just six months old when he died and left us in the crazy world. Mum didn’t have the opportunity of continue her secondary education before she got married to dad. Unlike other families dad refused to sponsor her higher education after marriage. The reason was visibly clear like the sky is even in the thickest dark night. 

Mum was extremely beautiful and young when dad married her. The fear of other men snatching his angel from him made him not to send her to further her education instead he setup a business for her.

Dad worked with a Lebanese construction company and never had much time to spend with the family as the nature of their work was such that they hardly spend up to three months in a place, so I never had the opportunity of knowing him.

Two months after I was born, my elder sister, the second was admitted in the clinic. It was confirmed she had pneumonia. According to hear say that was when dad was rushing home to meet his only daughter and had the unexpected accident that took away his life. It was a devastating situation for mum as her life came crumbling down. Her hope and future was shattered. 

Few days later, to make the situation worse, my beautiful sister died even though I never knew her, I was very sure she was beautiful. Most people say she was the exact copy of mum.
Even though mum was young she refused to remarry but took a hard decision which was to give us a better life through her petty trading business. She struggle and cry just to make sure we were happy and ever smiling. 
When went to private schools, both primary and secondary school and one thing that made her not lose hope was the fact that we were always in the top five every of the sessions.

It was after secondary school that everything changed for us. Mum made a decision that we were all happy about because we understood our conditions. I was made to wait for my big brother to finish university before I start mine. May be he might be lucky and get a job immediately after school and therefore reduce the stress mum had to go through to provide money for two of us. I was just 17 years old when I finished secondary school, so it was a good thing that age was on my side. At least starting university education at age of 21-22 wasn’t too bad.  I learnt so many things such computer graphic design, electronic repairs and other minor things. 

It was a great news that big brother had finished school after four years with a first class in Economics. We were overjoyed and celebrated him like a king. Mum looked straight into my eyes and I already knew what she wanted to say.
“you better do more than him when you start soon” 
“haba mum what is better than first class”

We joked and laughed at them. That night it was as if we had no problem at all.
About five months later, big brother went to camp for his NYSC in the far northern part of the country. I couldn’t wait for him to come home for Sallah break that November. 
Preparations were made as big brother told us he was coming home for Sallah. Our hero was coming home and we couldn’t wait a bit as we call him every hour to ask about his journey. 

Towards evening that day we received a call from big brother but the voice was a deep cracking one. 
“am I speaking with Muhammad?”
He asked and my heart was already beating against my chest heavily as though people were pounding inside of it. 
“Please what is wrong” 

-you may be required to come to Federal Medical Centre Lokoja for identification please. 

“Identification of what?” I asked but this time no reply came through.
In my mind I already knew something terrible had occurred but how do I break the news to my hypertensive mum! I mustered the courage and lied to mum that big brother was at FMC doing medical checkup as directed by the NYSC officials.
“Mum we may be require to meet him there”

-but why can’t we wait for him to come home? She said as I search my head for another lie. 
In midst of our argument another call came through mum phone but this time they broke the news in black and white. 
“madam we are sorry we lost him” was the last statement I heard from the call on speaker phone. 
Like a dream mum fell to the ground too and she too never woke up, and that was how life gambled with my destiny.
                  


Sitting under the tree remembering all these from the fountain of memory I became devastated and not minding the road I crossed without looking and got collide with a car. The car passed over my left hand.
“am sorry we will have to cut it off” 

The doctor said as though I were some sorts of a tree in a lonely forest. I cried to stupor as I watched my destiny being cut off. I didn’t finished education and the handiwork I learnt also had become irrelevant. 
Mum used to say everyone’s destiny was in their hands and now the doctor has chop off and buried my destiny…. 



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