THE STORY OF A BOOK

A collaborative book convened by Heinrich Böll Stiftung Nigeria, facilitated by booksprints.net. Nameless strives to inspire change in Nigeria. Eight budding Nigerian writers; Rafeeat Aliyu, Fola Lawal, Kalu Aja, Chioma Agwuegbo, Pearl Osibu, Yas Niger, Elnathan John, and Azeenarh Mohammed, reflect a common vision for their nation’s future. Nameless is about the complexities that is Nigeria.

This publication aims to spark a conversation among young people ahead of the 2015 national elections in Nigeria about the future they want? The group of eight Nigerian writers worked together for five days on a common vision for their country, hoping to inspire others to think about the same.

http://www.booksprints.net/2014/11/th…

Some of the writers have a background in fictional writing, poetry, and satire, and so it was agreed that fictional stories may be more thought-provoking than another book of well-meant recommendations. This is especially exciting for the Book Sprint team as it is turn out to be their very first Fiction Book Sprint!

NAMELESS
Nameless is a city. A country within borders. A boundless space of ideas. A cosmos with realities, stark and painful, quiet and loud. A space crippled by fears. Nameless is populated. West African. It is in the minds of its people, black and proud. Sometimes Nameless is human. An idea. Sometimes it is in the past. Often times is the now. Other times, it is the future. It remains Nameless. The oldest residents know its dreams, its origins, beginning in a major stream and ending in a clear deep pond. The youngest residents know its pulse, feel its heat, its blood coursing through the veins of the country the history they know is happening right before them, good and bad and ugly. Everyone knows its hopes.

Afele is the heart of Nameless. The market place of items and ideas; the Centre where all things meet, where the blood of Nameless converges and gets pumped out into homes and heads and souls. It is the meeting point. It feeds Nameless and starves it. Nameless is ambitious. And in the third world. In darkness. With in adequate infrastructure. Darkened by the lack of electricity. Nameless is in light. Brightened by the hope in the eyes of its inhabitants. Slowed down by the pot holes on the roads. Sped up by anticipation of change by desire. Nameless is rich. And poor. And in between. Nameless is oppressed. Under surveillance. Nameless is free. To dream. Of change. Free. To dare. To live. To express. To break open the boxes in which sexuality and gender and tribe exist. Stifled and stifling. Free. To love and not to take oppression in the garbs of love. Free from the dubious bonds of religion and tradition, disguised as law. Nameless is many things. It is the present we loathe. It is the past that haunts us. It is the future we want.

Nameless is what we own, the things we are ashamed of, the hurt that binds us, the leaders who stain our pre sent. Nameless is the clarity we have. It is the knowledge that things can not remain the same. The hope that our children will only know our tears as history. It is all we must do to move us from the things that cage us to being able to fly free to a place beyond where nothing can stop us.

We are nameless.
And Nameless is us.
Nameless is about the complexities that is Nigeria.

nameless
Download Nameless free from the following sites:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view…

http://okadabooks.com/book/about/8475

Boko Haram, the novel

BOKO HARAM: Western Values Are Forbidden
The Review

Folakemi

Boko Haram is a work of fiction by Yas Niger.

Boko HaramBoko Haram was set in the northern city of Nigeria. It started with a controversial mosque in the middle of the road. Apart from the obvious annoyance the structure has caused the growing population of this once peaceful city, also there is a serious concern about the haphazard manner in which mosque was constructed – thirty seven auto accidents up to date had been recorded, some of which were fatal. The reluctance to do something about the mosque remained heated debates among the local residents of multi faiths and the worshipers at the mosque.

Uma, a well-off Western educated Muslim who has undergone Jihadist training in Mali walked into the local Imam’s life as an innocent devout – he was trusted right away given his calm and respectful attitude. He gained the hearts of the local people and offered to sleep in the mosque to…

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SINGLED OUT

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Life singles out those it favours as well as those it punishes. Life is selective in no particular order, it only recognizes the willingness to exist and allows the refusal to survive.

When people choose to set aside what is humane, even when it is perceived as justified, their act of vengeance collides reason and common sense.

Those singled out and left to the lash of stone-casters exposing their ignorance and malice, live on with the experience. They most likely will associate it with not only the persons responsible but the custom or culture that allows them to be quite so brutal.

The singled out individual doesn’t only remember the horrible tune played by the bad musician but quite ironically yet logical, continue to associates it with the instrument used. The aggrieved ends up blaming the drummer’s piece for the bad tune.

Found out amidst the threshing stones,
Sort out of the cupboard of bones.
Where the situation was doctored
Fell out that one not to be mastered.

Revenge consumes like any fire
And depends on sentimental air.
An action sought to set any aside
Is vengeful if reason and sense coincide.

When anybody is singled out
The stone-casters dance about,
Exposing ignorance and malice;
Ironically with the drummer’s piece.

nameless
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/521184

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00TT6S2N

DÉJÀ VU

black & white
They always return like it’s shown,
Somehow better, on their very own.

When they were nothing, they knew.
And as they were begotten, they threw.

Just like such was predestined,
Man’s priorities shifts ascertained.

It was seen and again it will be,
Like again repeats all tides at sea.

They’ve always forgotten man feeds
Just like water kills and still it breeds.

http://okadabooks.com/book/about/8490
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/384066

MONEY AND THE MISER

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A conversation between a Miser and his wealth, goes thus:

“Spend me! You miserable clot,
So I can travel, visit and just be.
Have I not uplifted all your lot
With my coming and swelling sea?”

“Ha! See what is talking here;
Another creation grown astray.
Has making you collect near
Lost its purpose as any way?”

“I have existed so long before,
Making many, long before you.
Hadn’t my might sown more
Fright in you than you’ll rue?”

“My fear of you doesn’t keep,
That is why you I do amass.
How trivial your might heap
Just like any furniture was?”

“I taste the air men breathe,
Inhaled in its life and gasped.
Hasn’t the ease I could knit
Warm skeletons all trapped?”

money
“I don’t lodge or host guests
And don’t burden any to host.
Haven’t I seen your requests
Send errands until they’re lost?”

“I plunge in a lake all humble,
Help will come and does drown.
Had not man’s urge so trouble
His lust for his own crown?”

“Then I’ve unraveled your plot,
So with me you’re ever sunk.
I’ll keep man’s own twin clot.
After all, aren’t you precious junk?”

http://okadabooks.com/book/about/8481

IDOLS

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What or who do you idolize? Do you revere anything in particular or do you just go it on your own, living life by your wits?

What sort of answers satisfy you when you are faced with those questions that simply refuse to be answered?

The patience of man
Had over many ages
Given to his own land
Births of many images.

It has made gods
Of so many symbols;
Earthly made rods,
Also celestial balls.

In his long wait
His patience creates
Answers that relate
Only to his state.

The clouds of reason
Cover his horizons;
Make a sky season,
Or mystic masons.

Sight is so deceptive
That it can tilt a view,
Halo any perspective
With inspired preview.

Man looks around
And sees such beauty,
Beyond any he found
Or his own humanity.

In his natural urge
He pays respects to
Visions and courage,
Where honour isn’t due.

In his all human way,
He puts faith in those
He comprehends’ll stay;
Idolizing his very nose.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00SLVL298

YOUNG AGAIN

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You are only young once,
Blossomed to take your chance;
To scent the world’s spring
With the fruit kinds you bring.

Once you’re born and take your place in the world as a young fruitful child, you get that one chance to fill the world around you with your presence.

Richly made and endowed with the seeds of life, you come into the world with the natural capability to blossom and fill the world with the pleasant odor of your flowers and the richness of your fruits. Yet you can choose to fill the world with the thorny bushes of your negativity and the meanness it harbors.

Would you take your chance and scent the world with the fruit kinds you bring?

LOVE’S LOVE

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This isn’t the story of our wives;
With each and all we share life,
Parting and bridging as we leave.
Each and all of us is this thief.

We lead with all emotions canal,
Lustily wanting all just temporal.
For we only tell from the external;
Wishing, hoping it is so internal.

Rolled in next is the nature,
The feelings growing to mature.
We regard or discard a culture
To marry dreams, make a future.

The investments yield their sanity,
Our character tests its immunity.
The lucky are in blissful humility,
Off springing, living, fostering humanity.

Measurement elude even more less,
For all other lust is meaningless.
Finally, love rules all the featureless,
Together we die till eternity endless.

https://www.createspace.com/5195332

WOULDN’T IT

Be great to look and see, and just let as it all be.
Do what could and should, with no reserves for would.

Note the horizons as set, to appreciate as they let.
When death does make lone; to say yes! It is all done.

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The many hopeful questions we ask ourselves actually have simple answers in the way we choose to deal with the uncomplicated circumstances we naturally find ourselves in and the so many complex situations we create. 

If only we made most things simpler by being a lot less complicated, a lot will be clearer than we think they are. 

Just consider this for a minute.

Every time you select to make a decision, consider if you really must.

Because…….

Wouldn’t it be great to look and see, and just let as things as the are?

Wouldn’t it be nice to do what could and should, with no reserves for would,

Wouldn’t it be fine to note the horizons as set, to appreciate them as they’re

When it all ends, life is fully spent and death separates us and singles us out; wouldn’t it be great to say yes, it is all done. 

Wouldn’t it be great to be a able to say we did only what we must?

LIL’ SIM

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Have you had some difficulty in explaining a complex term to a child before? A simple thing like sex, birth, love or death could prove more complex than it normally is when you try to explain it to children.

Stories in any simple form get you there. 

It has worked for ages, ancient folks had tapped at the unlimited resources of story telling when it comes to educating the young. 

Singing the tales in cute rhymes makes them easy to remember and children always love to sing. Sneak in a lesson or two, you are done and dusted. It stays with them all their lives and gets passed on for all time, if it is good. 

For centuries kids have ‘Row, rowed their boats,’ beneath ‘Twinkle twinkle little stars’ and ‘life is but a dream’ for these ‘Diamonds in the sky.’

You hope and pray that you can keep them safe.

In their warm beds and for every story end,
You hope for the best for each of them. 

You hope they hear you and the messages, use them and just be normal.

Sim played ‘a lil’ house’
On the Muddy’s bank.
Then came a lil’ mouse
And Sim’s skin shrank.

Sim slipped and fell,
Splash into the Muddy.
Soon lil’ Sim could tell
To swim is so hardy.

Lil’ Sim so drank
The bad muddy water.
As her tiny head sank
No one saw Sim later.

Where lil’ Sim will be
Clothes are not clean,
Eyes dark as night be,
They eat no lil’ bean.

O lil’ Sim’s friends
Don’t you wish her here?
Warm beds and story ends,
Like all here who hear.