Asonye Chiburuoma's Blog

  “How would I keep my mouth?” I asked Nneka “Just do as if you're chewing something then you pick grass and start running-” She said, looking at me with her big eyes, and then I smiled. “You can even do like cat, just scratch your hand and your bum bum small,” she said afterwards. I picked up my phone from the bed and not long after, I heard the shrill voice of my mother.  “Obim, how are you?” she asked “I’m fine o” I answered, thinking of the task ahead. “Just manage for now, I'm still hoping for a miracle,” she said before she ended the call. “Obim, Are you sure about this?” Nneka asked, her mouth pouting. “What other choice do I have?” I said truthfully, and I gave her my most practiced smile. “Don’t forget your part, just pretend as if you don't know me,” We were outside, and it seemed to me like the plan had already worked. Everybody was looking at me; some were even laughing. I had loosened my hair, painted my body with mud, and torn my clothes to shreds. I added a l...

  Erinma gathered the letters from the big jar. She was perplexed and didn't know what to do with the turmoil that was rising inside of her, she could feel it from the pit of her stomach, like phlegm mixed with bile. Erinma had wished she was someone else but she was still the person she was ten years ago; The little girl with teary eyes, drenched in rain, scared and anxious, the one who clutched the pieces of her mother to her soul. "Not again!!" Erinma shouted. She didn't like the person she's become; addicted to that glass jar where she keeps all the letters she writes to mama as though she were still alive. "Mama deserved better," she tried to convince herself. "Mama had done everything in her power to raise me, she provided everything i needed, she doesn't deserve to die!!" Erinma shouted on top of her lungs. She fought back the tears but they came on anyways, bursting out of her like a fierce and unexpected storm over the ocean. As li...

 Brown, like the earth, like wine, like his eyes. It was a colour that was magnificent in its own way. Dull, uninteresting to look at at first but once you take a closer look, the moment you break the thousand years old barrier, you’ll be lost forever. Love they say is mighty and strong, it’s a feeling, much like all the others but I’ve heard people say so many times that it’s much greater and the most powerful form of emotion. It could collapse mountains, cause storms and earthquake but still, I’ve never felt it. I don’t know what it means to love or to be loved. Mama would always tell me that she loves me and I’ll say it to her back but I didn’t really understand what it was. Since I was a little girl, I used the fictional world to escape reality. I’ll read so much, at night, in the day time, whenever I got the chance, till my eyes hurt. It’s something that has become part of me now, devouring the pages of the book like it was my favourite food and getting lost, sinking in, deepe...

In a world where boys and girls are meant to live as their truest selves, is it really possible? The roots that haven't been uprooted are still eating and destroying the flowers that are yet to sprout and bloom. The Nigeria I see? I'm asked And yes, I see something big and yet so small. I see a country with great possibilities and a contrasting end. Our children are hungry. Their hearts are squeezed and sealed with black bile. Their dreams are shattered like broken glass. Even when they try to dream again, the glass cut through their hands. Showers of blood that blinds the eyes. They are unable to see again, To dream and To hope. The rivers bleed each day, They cry for their country. A country with less opportunities for women, A country where Men are left to suffer because a man is not supposed to show  emotions. He's meant to pay the bills, He's meant to work whilst the woman remain at home and demand of the money. "Be a man" they say and i would feel sorry ...

I love to write and i got to know of this platform from a friend. I guess it'd be a new space to truly be myself.  I'm still learning in the craft of writing. I would call my self an amateur. It's not in itself a bad word as people would like to think. It's gotten from a Latin world 'amare' which means to love. I'm a lover of writing and i do it because i love doing it. Thank you for stopping by and keep being the best you are.