My love, my life, dont go; I love you so

Do me a favour: Please stay with me

I feel an inexplicable joy with you by me

My candle of joy will be smothered if you go.

My love, my dear, see with me like you did long ago

If you could read my heart, your urge to go youll tame

With you near, my heart leaps and hopes youll understand with time.

Its leaps undermine the unborn Baptists of centuries ago.

Please come and sit by me kindly abide

Well hold hands, and my fears youll lull

Like Heracles who has out-witted Atlas, Ill glow inside,

Happier than Rumpelstiltskin on disappointments eve

And dont try to go again, my life - my all

Except youll be an accessory to suicide.

Madam Oke Oyoma who was better known as Mama-Africa was billed to travel to Lagos tomorrow. Tonight, all the children in Aderha village will be at her place on a special invitation. And Muro had been chosen by the children to speak on their behalf and thank her for her good deeds.

Muro needed a fresh shirt to wear over his skinny body while at Mama-Africas place. He reached under the wooden bed for the well-worn carton, which contained his few clothes. As he dragged it out, a big rat raced off blindly in fright. In its confusion, the rat ran into the face of Bingo who was half-asleep. It was a suicidal mistake. And bingo did not fail to follow it up. Suddenly becoming alert, the dog lifted his head. He saw the rat, and raced after it.

Excited, Muro picked a rumpled shirt and rushed out to see the result of the race.

The full moon lit up the courtyard. Muro saw the pudgy rat racing towards the edge of the small bush. Mothers white cat suddenly leaped out from a dark corner and cut it off.

The rat turned sharply to avoid the cat. The dog rushed past, spraying sand and dust into the air in an attempt to change direction. In a matter of seconds, the cat was gaining on the rat. The rat leaped through the half-open door of the pen house. The cat dived after it in pursuit.

Bingo stood at the door, gazing into the dark interior. In another instant, there was utter confusion as all the fowls began to screech.

At that moment, the talking drum sounded from the village square. That meant the time was 7.00 oclock. It equally meant Mama-Africa would soon switch off the television and start her story for the night. To avoid further delay, Muro raced off before anyone could step out and demand explanations for the uproar in the pen house.

As Muro turned the corner of his home, he heard pealing laughter. The ring of the laughter seemed to mock what he thought was a safe get- away. He stopped in his tracks and looked around. In the shadow of the orange tree, which had been used to mark the boundary of his fathers land, sat Allan-Trekker.

The tall, lanky man had been the village drummer and town-crier for seventeen years. Six years ago, he had gone mad and remained so. His real name was Boyi Kporo. But he was nicknamed Allan Trekker because he trekked endlessly. Everyday--without an exception, he walked the length and breadth of the village repeatedly. His family saw to it that he had a change of clothes once or twice every year. But whatever he wore, he always had one sleeve severed off. He never permitted his hair to be shaved. And for this reason, it was religiously bushy and dread-locked. Worse still, the top was permanently flattened by a basket of junk, which he always carried about.

Someone jocularly said Allan Trekker had been "sentenced to madness with hard labour", and the joke had caught on. Whenever anyone was seen to be always on the move or engaged in fruitless exercises he would be likened to Allan Trekker. The mad man was a source of comic relief for everyone. So much so that the village had a popular saying that for purposes of examples, references and jokes, "it is fitting that a mad man should be present in every town; however, it is not proper that such a mad man should come from ones family."

Muro knew that Allan Trekker had seen it all. However, he also knew, that no one in Aderha village-- least of all members of his family--would ever bother to listen to him. Even if they did, no one would believe what he says.

Having reached that conclusion, Muro dashed off again without looking back.

Taken up and down, in waves of negative ecstasies

Tried to the ebb point, of extremely flexible patience

Taunted to the face, uprightly and shamelessly dared

To retaliate and thus have the blame shared

That was me--my supposedly simple, saintly self

My rights were over-run and as for privacy, nothing left

But when the wick of taunting means burned out

And to add my help they could not do without,

Cunningly they with me smiled togetherness,

Not apologizing, and from me not grudged nevertheless.

But when the nectar from my help were sucked,

Against me once again their actions suggestively turned

Then did the storm of my ire billow boisterously

My Jobs surpassing patience having snapped though hardy,

What with looking back in anger, and my hurt pride

My camaraderie I then locked up, and the key threw to the tide

Set to, and ignored furtive passes made at me then presently

Come go-betweens...

(Culled From I'LL SPEAK IN POEMS By Ema Erhe.)

Weathered by the wind of neglect,

Tortured by the radiated heat and impact

Of the white mans town hall,

Battered by the rain of pride tall,

And as prone by nature responding,

Our houses are crumbling

They are crumbling, that have

Corridors, rooms and doors, relative

To the proud white mans pawl,

Transparent and public town hall

They are crumbling, to which culture is clinging.

Our houses are crumbling.

Housed not these houses our Obis?

Slept not in these houses our Emirs and Obas?

And our Ovies and Olus too, was it not?

Or was it our heroes and heroines that did not?

Did the dog maintain I-fall-you-fall for nothing?

Or does it not matter that our houses are crumbling?

But we have to hold meetings in the town hall.

We now make the white man smile,

Whose foreign exchange swells while we go without

But well take him on yet, before they peter out.

Yes, well prove our misfortune a blessed unifying force

With the rubble we can forget our own town hall.

It was the afternoon of Sunday, the day after initiation. As was always the case on Sundays, the college was unusually calm. This owed mostly to the fact that no student worked on Sundays, except he was under punishment. It was one of the laws in the unwritten constitution which the senior prefect had said existed.

The students therefore either spent their time reading, or playing at one game or the other. Whichever one of them the individual students engaged in depended on whether he is a book-worm or not. Today however, nobody was to be found in the classrooms. But in any case, it would have been odd for anyone to be found there, considering the fact that they had only just resumed, and lectures were yet to start in full swing.

Kife, tried to playing table tennis, was making his way to the hostel to wait for his parents who had said they would be coming. He had been in the table tennis hall all morning, and had gone back there immediately after lunch. He had never played table tennis before this morning, but now he could play, fairly well. Not too well, but not bad for a beginner-and he was pleased with himself.

Passing by the dining hall made him remember how he got lost after his first meal in the college. The hall had been rowdy as it was the first day of resumption, and it was seven oclock before they settled down to the meal. By that time it had become quite dark. After the last prayer, he had moved out with the stream of people, and had found himself in Ejoor House. When he entered Dormitory B however, he had quickly noticed that the beds were in different positions and that this was not his hostel. He had then run to Enahoro House, the lights of which he had seen from the corridor of Ejoor House.

But he had also realised that this was not his hostel, and had run across to Emagbetere House, as he remembered that there was a row of hostels in front of his hostel, and that row must be where he was now. When he had entered Dormitory B of Emagbetere House and found the students faces to be strange, he knew it was not his hostel either. He had then run to Okotie-Eboh House and when he also saw that this was not his hostel, he broke down and began to cry. A good-natured senior boy came by and after he heard him out, had sent a boy to take him to Federal House.

Thinking of it now, Kife chuckled to himself. By now he had rounded the corner of the dining hall and was heading towards Ogbemudia House, when he decided to have a look at the boys using the swimming pool.

"Hey you!" someone called from near the swimming pool. Kife saw that the man (he saw most of the seniors as men and not boys) was calling him. And cursing himself for his curiosity ran to him.

"Run to Emagbetere House, ask for Ben Saba and tell him Okori said he should give you my swimming trunks."

"Yes senior," Kife replied humbly, although he wondered to himself why someone should come to the pool and deliberately leave his swimming trunks in the hostel.

"Come, whats your name?" asked the boy who had called himself Okori.

"Kife," came the reply.

"Kife who? Abavo?" Okori asked.

"Yes senior."

"Is that so? I didnt know you were the one. You have a letter-someone left a letter for you at the main gate just now before I left there. But the security officer has given it to Okubenji to give to you. Youll find him in Eboh House you can forget about the trunks."

"Thank you senior," Kife said. Even before he had uttered the words, he was practically flying towards Okotie-Eboh House, to collect his first letter.

"A letter!" he thought to himself. "For me! Who could it be? Mummy? Daddy? An aunt? An uncle? A friend? Just who? Well, the letter will speak for itself," he concluded, and increased his speed.

Forty five seconds later saw the anxious Kife at his destination. He was so anxious, he forgot his manners and halted a boy who was walking past him abruptly.

"You, where is Okubenji?" he asked of the boy.

The boy he had addressed-a boy of about his own height-did not answer immediately. He just eyed Kife over from head to toe. Then drawing himself up on his toes, he answered with a shout. "Impudence! Who are you? Before the count of four fall on your knees one! Two!"

"Im sorry, I didnt mean "

"Who is that toad, will you obey before you complain?" The person who had spoken was from the next dormitory. Kife knelt down. Before he knew what was happening, a group of boys in the second form had surrounded him.

"Crawl here!" the first intruder ordered from the dormitory.

Kife complied. And to his surprise, the boy who had been shouting orders was no bigger than himself. Which made him boil with anger inside, although he did not say anything.

He looked around the dormitory. There were bigger boys no doubt in the fifth or fourth form, but they did not seem to take any interest in what was happening.

"You even have the audacity to look away when I am talking to you," the intruder queried.

"Im sorry, please."

"Sorry for yourself," three of the boys including the originally-offended boy said at once, as if they had rehearsed it.

"Whats the pandemonium for?" one of the senior boys asked presently.

Kife was thrown into wonder. Impudence. Audacity. Pandemonium. Yesterday, it was periphery, hooliganism and recalcitrance. He repeated the words in his mind, and wondered where the boys in this school got these big words. Although he did not know their meanings, he was aware that somehow they always suited the situation.

He returned from his land of wonder to hear the boy he had offended saying "you where is Okubenji without any excuse me, Please or good afternoon as if hes in his hamlet. I cant remember when I read my Class One, but I remember for sure that I did no such barbaric thing even before I was initiated."

"If this boy cant remember when he read Class One," Kife thought, "then he must be a dunce." But he dared not tell him his mind.

The senior who was acting as judge looked at Kife the way a housemaid looks at a child who has offended her, but whom she cannot punish because the mother is present. The truth being that anyone in search of Okubenji was never to be intercepted. It was another rule in the students unwritten constitution.

"Stand up. Is it your letter he has with him?"

was looking for you you can go."

"Thank you." Even as he said the words, he was already on his way. And who would blame him, considering the fact that this will be the first letter he was receiving in his life?

He entered the first dormitory in Mariere House, and walked up to a boy who was putting up his mosquito net. "Good afternoon senior," he greeted. "Please do you know Okubenji?"

"What business have you with him?" the boy queried.

"He has a letter for me. Has he been here?" Kife asked anxiously.

"Where else have you called for him?"

The reply made Kife nearly burst into laughter. He remembered his class mistress telling the class the popular story about a fieldwork carried out to verify whether or not Nigerians are actually in the habit of answering questions with questions. She said a member of a social club in London who had visited Nigeria once told a gathering of other members during one fun session, that in Nigeria, if you ask someone a question, you get a question in reply. A good number of the members naturally disagreed with him, and tried to put it across to him that the fact they had not been to Nigeria did not mean he should make up stories about the place for them. The argument soon became heated, and the group now split into two factions, decided to sponsor two members-one from each of the opposing sides-to come to Nigeria and test the validity of the statement.

The two delegates left for Nigeria with the next available flight, with a portable recording tape and all. When they touched down at Murtala Muhammed Airport, they decided that they should first find accommodation in a hotel. Having heard of Eko Hotel, they walked up to a man who was expecting someone and one of them asked: "Please can you tell us the way to Eko Hotel?

"Are you strangers? the man replied, taking a took at them and then looking away again, no doubt wondering why anyone in Lagos should not know where the popular hotel is.

The two delegates looked at each other, and tacitly decided to leave the airport before asking another person. On leaving the airport, they saw some distance off, people gathered round a vehicle and shouting at the top of their voices. Seeing a man who was coming from the direction of the melee, the spokesman of the two asked: "Whats happening over there?"

"Havent you got legs?" came the reply.

Again the two Britons looked at each other and then walking up to another person-this time a lady, asked if she could show them the way to Eko Hotel. The reply they got was "Cant you hire a cab?"

This prompted them to make up their minds to take the bull by the horns. So they went to another man and asked of him: "Is it true as we were told at home that in this country if you ask someone a question he replies with a question?" The reply they got from him was "Who told you?"

They decided there was no need to waste more time. So they declared the statement valid and unopposed, took the next available flight, and went back home to tell the other members their findings.

The story flashed through Kifes mind in less than a second. But remembering the ordeal he had just passed through and not wanting anything of the like to repeat itself, he suppressed his laughter, and told the Nigerian standing before him that he had been to Okotie-Eboh House, and that it was from there that he had been directed here.

"Okay, go to Ejoor House and ask anyone you see where Okubenji is. He is very popular and anyone you ask will tell you where he is."

"Thank you," Kife said. Looking at the other faces in the dormitory as he went out, he thought he saw a gleam of amusement. And he wondered what they found funny in a boy asking for a person who had his letter

The boy Kife inquired of Okubenji from in dormitory A of Ejoor House, told him that the person he was looking for had "just left for Ogbe House," and that he must be among the boys shouting at the top of their voices there.

The boys in Dormitory D of Ogbemudia House-a collection of fifth formers-who had no doubt been attracted from the other dormitories, and who proved to be making the noise he had heard from Ejoor House, were discussing the Nigerian economy when he entered. One boy was shouting now. "Look," he was saying, "take it from me that although the past leaders messed up the art of managing the economy, things would have been better still were it not for the secret machinations of the western powers. Britain and"

He suddenly stopped talking because he noticed he no more commanded the other boys attention. They were looking at the sweating, neatly dressed small boy who had just come in through the door, and was walking towards them.

Kife was overtaken by fear. He knew he had stalled the discussion, and was not likely to get away with it easily, if at all.

"Good afternoon seniors," he greeted in an oily voice.

"Is the afternoon good?" asked one boy who was perched on top of a bunk bed.

Kife who was confused, did not know how to voice out what he came for.

"Can we help us?" asked the boy who had been speaking when Kife entered. But this twisted use of royal plural only made him nervous.

"I didnt me-mean to disturb you I was looking for Okubenji I was told he came here and"

"I see," said the boy perched on the bed," but the guy we are looking for has just left here for Osadebe House. Youll have to hurry, because he said something about going home for his school fees this evening."

"Which hostel are you from?" asked the boy.

"Federal House," said Kife.

"I see," he said. "Okay, hurry up and meet him before he travels."

"Thank you."

He broke into a run the moment he got outside. But a mountain of exasperation was beginning to build up inside him. As he capered towards his next destination, he wondered why Okubenji whoever he was, could not remain in one place for even five minutes.

The next minute found him at his destination.

"You green leaf!" Someone shouted at him from a window in Dormitory A of the hostel.

Kife stopped in his tracks.

"Has he given you the letter?" the person asked. It was one of the boys he had encountered in Okotie-Eboh House. Kife remembered the funny-looking haircut all right.

"No. Is he there?"

"He is there in Dorm D of Emagbetere House. "And he pointed at it. "I suppose you know it or dont you?"

"I know it," reassured Kife.

"Youll meet him if you hurry."

"Damn this Okubenji!" Kife cursed in his mind as he started for Emagbetere House." What does he think he is, moving from place to place? A visiting Head of State, or a roving journalist?"

Kife did not see anyone in the said dormitory, save for a middle-sized boy whom he knew could not be the popular Okubenji. All the same, he went up to him and asked if he was Okubenji.

"Why are you so anxious to see him?" asked the boy who had read the anxiety on his face.

"He has my letter, and I understand he intends to travel this evening. "Then he must have travelled already. I saw him going towards the gate with a bag. But maybe he gave it to someone to give to you."

Kife thought of this and said, "Whom could he have given it to?" The question was half to himself and half aloud, but the boy answered it for him.

"Your house prefect for instance, or a friend of yours."

Kife thought it was possible, and cursed himself for not thinking of it before.

"Have you asked them before?" the boy asked.

"No, I think I should go and ask them. Thanks."

As he walked to his hostel, he confessed to himself that he hated Okubenji, and that a boy who moved from place to place like him was bound to be a dullard, even though popular. Wearied, he climbed the steps to the corridor of his hostel, walked into his dormitory, and knocked on the door of the prefects cubicle, which was at the right end of the dormitory.

"Did Okubenji leave any letter with you for me, senior?" The prefect who was reading suddenly burst into uncontrolled laughter, which left Kife wondering which of the words he had just uttered sounded funny.

"Okubenji?" the prefect asked when he managed to stop laughing to gasp for breath. "You are being fooled." He burst into laughter again. When he eventually stopped, he told the dumbfounded boy that there was nobody like Okubenji, and that it was a fictitious name used to make a fool of new students.

He then proceeded to explain to Kife whose mouth was now agape, how Okubenji came to be a word in the students vocabulary for Mr. Nobody.

"Several years ago," he said, "even before we were admitted into this school, Okubenji who was in form five was well-known by the school authority for being notorious. One way or the other, he was always involved in any trouble that sparked off in the school. So whenever there was trouble like a case of a group of seniors having beaten up some junior boys, Okubenjis name was called. Once or twice when he had left the school, the principal called Okubenjis name by mistake, when he intended to call someone else for punishment.

"From then, whenever there was any anonymous murmuring or whispering in the assembly hall and the principal asked who it was, he was promptly told by another anonymous voice that it was Okubenji. By and by it came to be used in anonymous letters to the principal, and even by members of the Press Club, when they wanted to put up a daring article. Today every old student knows what is meant by Okubenji and once you get put in circulation with the name, nobody except a close friend tells you you just walk on and on until you give up, or suspect the truth. Its part of the tradition.

Standing with his back to the door, Kife saw why Okubenji was so popular, why the boys in Ejoor House had seemed amused when they heard he was looking for Okubenji; and above all, why Okubenji was always mobile. But there was something he did not understand. "How did the boy at the swimming pool know my surname?" He asked the prefect.

"Oh, that is simple enough," the prefect told him. "After your brilliant performance during the ceremony yesterday, you should expect that nearly everybody knows your name. And as a matter of fact, you were just unlucky. Otherwise, one of them would have told you right away that they were kidding you, or just sent you to your hostel where someone would have been bound to tell you.

Okubenji is merely a glimpse of Kife's first term in college. Other exciting chapters include INITIATION (which tells of the humour-filled welcome party organized for Kife and other new students); A GHOST IN THE BATHROOM (which talks about the ghost Kife and the other students saw their bathroom one night); MISCHIEF (which talks of the rib-cracking and heart-racing adventures of Kife and his two friends); THE ATTEMPTED RAMPAGE (which talks of some of the things that make the boarding house tick). Each of these and other chapters of the story which is broken into eleven chapters opens the door to fresh excitement told in an exciting manner by an author who can no longer hide his talents.

To this world I came with your consent

You paddled the canoe, and you protect me

Waiting at the riverside to take me back

Im on a mission, and that you know

I must fulfil or else come back to repeat

I came with talents but that you stifle

I came with riches and those you withhold

I need to marry but you wont let it be

Every move I make you deprive of progress

Every lady I love you wont let me keep

What you want I do not know

I wish youd tell me and let me act

Come on market day and talk to me

I will sure be glad to appease you

So jealous mermaid, you can let me be

Today Im here and you wait at home

Tomorrow youll be here, and Ill wait at home

If I fail here, no honours on my return to our water world

Let me go to the stainless Lamb to get true freedom

That I may drink from His well and never thirst again

On the riverbed of the Ethiope River, an important meeting was at hand. The king of the marine world was about to proceed on a long journey, and he had to have a discussion with his subjects before leaving.

Presently, a waterspout heralded the approach of the king. At once, there was a flurry of movements as the mermaids hurriedly took their respective seats.

The marine spirits could take any form they wished. Sometimes when they met, they all took the shape of fish. At other times, they all appeared as snakes or half-fish and half-human beings. Today, the word had been passed round for everyone to appear in complete human form.

As soon as everyone was seated, the king-who was decked in all splendour-started to speak. "My beloved people of the Marine Empire; it is for a unique reason that we are gathered today. For the benefit of those who may have forgotten-but more for the records, this is my story:

"Several decades ago, our own fellow Africans who are the ancestors of those now living on earth sowed some seeds of trouble. For want of mirrors, a few bottles of alcohol and petty favours, they sold us away as slaves. Some of us were sold on the account that we were possessed by witchcraft spirit. Others were sold into slavery because they were labelled thieves. I for one was sold because I had a dispute with a powerful chief.

"We had not gone far into sea however, before a violent wind threatened to capsize our ship. Several of us were thrown overboard (with our hands and legs bound with chains), in a bit to keep the ship afloat. I was among those thrown overboard because I had an infectious disease, which the crew feared might spread. Luckily for me, sympathetic marine spirits with whom I dwelt and from whom I acquired immense powers rescued me.

"Today, most of the African countries have either attained independence, or are on the verge of becoming independent. But we have previously vowed that the evil, which our African brothers did to us, shall yield fruits for their descendants. Therefore, we shall do everything to ensure that nothing good comes out of their independence.

"We have been sending some of our people to enter the womb of pregnant African women and get into the world. Their mission being to help set back the lives of individual Africans. Beyond that, we shall confuse their leaders and cause them to mortgage the future of their countries. We shall also plague the continent with political instability, economic hardship, hunger, communal clashes and civil strife. We shall further make them live a life equal to, or even worse than that of animals. They shall beg from the rest of the world, and they shall be snubbed and looked down upon by the rest of the world, so that"

At this point, the waterspout started again. It moved to the front of the king and changed into an exceedingly beautiful young lady.

"My Lord," the whirlwind lady said with a bow, "There is a ferry boat passing by, and"

"Miranda!" the king cut in, taking utmost care not to hurt her feelings. "I left you with sufficient instructions: wreak havoc on any vessel that passes nearby while this meeting is on. I want a catalogue of catastrophes to mark this day".

"I have tried my Lord," the young lady replied. "But one of the passengers is covered by the blood of the Holy one. When I sent the first missile, the Holy Ghost fire replied us with lightening which struck our mirror and covered the sea-search room with thick smoke."

"Well," said the king." "Nobody wants to hear anything about the Holy name here. We have a standing order as you know well, not to attack anyone covered by His Blood. Let that vessel go and wait for a less-fortunate one. Whatever you do, I want a long list of marine disasters across the length and breadth of this continent today. In particular, we have a lot of agents on earth who are not performing their duties. If any of them steps near any river today, cause him or her to drown and return to our world."

Miranda bowed and disappeared again in a waterspout. The king toyed briefly with his crown, which was thickly decorated with diamonds. Even as he did so, the shrill blast of an unusual whistle shattered the calm of the hall. It was an indication that Miranda was in urgent need of military reinforcement. And within five seconds, over ten hundred people had magically changed into medieval battle gear and were riding furiously to give the needed assistance.

Still seated, the king stared fixedly at the wall to his right. He pointed at the wall with his index finger, and muttered a magic word. Instantly, the glass wall became a screen. He saw Miranda on horseback, riding towards a band of juju priests who were attired in red and white. Close behind her were three of her aides, also on horseback.

As the four-some approached the idol worshippers, the latter wheeled their horses round and poised for a fight. Some thirty meters away from them, Miranda who was a practising guru in entertaining warfare pulled her enormous war-horse to a sudden halt. Her three aides pulled up beside her in a less dramatic fashion. Angry dust flew into the air and a violent whirlwind blew them into the painted faces of the enemy. The wind also brought the sound of racing horses, which told them that the soldiers Miranda had called for were only a few hundred feet away.

In the tense moments while Miranda and the priests sized each other up, the reason for the imminent battle swept across their minds. Some human members of the marine world were being smuggled out of the marine kingdom by way of deliverance from Ogbanje spell (i.e. the spiritual control by Miranda or the king of the seas) by the native doctors. From all indications, such people thus delivered would be indoctrinated and repossessed by ancestral spirit, forest or flying demons.

You have no right whatsoever to neutralise the spiritual citizenship of my subjects against my will," Miranda reminded the juju priests. "You ought to have applied for them by throwing biscuits, sweets, bananas, soft drinks and other items into the river. Only after we accept the application can we grant them some send-off wealth from the marine world and then hand them over to you as spiritual slaves.

"When they become yours, you can in turn sell them to any other demon of your choice at a higher price. Until you meet our terms however, you cant take them-only the creator and his faithful servants have a right to break through anybodys defence and set anyone free."

In a manner that suggested he could not be less bothered by Mirandas lecture, the leader of the juju priests motioned for the horses bearing his captives to continue the journey. He and fifty tested warriors stood their ground, thus daring the Queen of the Coast to do her worst.

At this, Miranda lifted her spear and drove the pointed end into the ground. In response, Mirandas arrow men shot repeatedly into the air. A shower of arrows began to fall randomly behind the priests, preventing any of their horses from moving without being hit.

Miranda pulled out her spear and the arrows ceased to rain. Without further warning, she sent her horse charging forward. The white horse rammed into the chief enemys horse, and both the horses and their riders fell into the dust. The priests horse broke its neck and lay lifeless. The two captains sprang to their feet and engaged in a duel. Mirandas soldiers were jolted into action and took on the priests who were immediately joined by a host of demons.

It was a fierce but brief battle. In all, it lasted for no more that five minutes, at the end of which the fatally wounded leader of the priests blew a trumpet to inform his followers that he had surrendered. Miranda also blew a whistle to tell her soldiers to stop fighting. The captives were handed over, and the mermaids returned to their meeting, leaving a thoroughly beaten band of priests to quarrel over the misadventure.

When normalcy had returned to the hall, the king of the seas resumed his address. "This very night, I shall take leave of you. I plan to go to the land of the living and personally lead the war against mankind. I will be away for a few days, which equals a few decades on earth. As I go today, I want you all to give me your best wishes".

A long moment of silence ensued. Then one of the mermaids stood up to speak. "My Lord," she said. "You have ruled us well so far. As you go, my wish is that the home you go through be blessed, so that you will not suffer any financial deprivation on earth."

"My Lord," said another mermaid. "May a revelation of things around you come to you in dreams before they come to pass."

"May you be above human destruction," another wished. "May prosperity be the portion of those who wish you well and may those who plot against you come to certain destruction."

"May your supernatural powers remain with you."

"May you be multi-talented, and may you retain your angelic and breath-taking handwriting."

"May you be abundantly rich."

"Fashion, houses, cars, songs and indeed everything created by man become outdated after some years. A good book is the only thing that remains fresh for centuries. I therefore wish you to be an inspired writer, that you may live forever through your books."

One after the other, they all wished him well. At last, Mirandas turn came. She appeared out of a waterspout, and bowed with sincere respect.

"My Lord," I have been your queen and your Chief of Defence for years. During this time, Ive known no regret. My wish for you therefore is that every good thing that has been wished you tonight be truly yours. And as you go, may the best thing in the world happen to you."

At last, the meeting came to an end, and they all dispersed happily. It did not occur to them that none of them had remembered to wish the king of the Coast a successful mission. And neither Miranda not any of them knew what the best thing in the world was.

If they knew, none of them would have left the meeting on such a happy note.

When I first met him, he told me without wasting time,

That I was running away from the errand God sent me.

I believed him, because I knew I - of my own free will

Promised my service to God, and I was yet to fulfill.

During that first meeting, he also detected the

Malignant mermaid who dwelt by me, and sent her packing

The he washed me clean in the atoning blood of Jesus,

Planted the word in my heart and bid me "sin no more"

He opened the twentieth chapter of the second book

And over ten prohibitions he made me brood

Then he assured me that if I can only keep them

The good Lord will always at my request send an angel

Fornication is dreadful, he said - So is illicit sex

They both drag your spirit into mud, which is not the best.

Trust not in idols, and be not deceived: abortion is murder

When you sin, you are dirty, and God from you goes further.

Having confessed my sins and after cleansing dare I now sin

And make my prayers unanswerable when enemies attack me?

So many to care for, so much to do, from which I cannot fly

I do not want to sin - I do not want to die.

A long time ago in the animal kingdom, the animals gathered together one evening at the village Square to discuss issues affecting their well being. As they discussed, Adjanakpo the lion who was king of the animal kingdom advised the animals to speak on how to promote peace and love among all animals in the kingdom. Ewere the monkey stood up to suggest that there should be a sporting competition in the animal kingdom as a way of promoting peace, love and understanding amongst all animals in the kingdom. The other animals agreed with this suggestion. King Adjanakpo the lion then asked them to further suggest the type of sport that would be interesting enough for majority of the animals to participate in. Jenekpo the tiger suggested a wrestling bout, but the other animals shouted him down, as they did not want any thing like one animal, fighting against the other in the kingdom. Uzo the antelope suggested a long distance race. Many of the animals favoured this suggestion, and King Adjanakpo the lion gave his approval.

Ewere the monkey boasted that he would come out first in the competition. Bingo the dog said he would defeat all other competitors. Jenekpo the tiger and Etisi the horse claimed to be the best long distance runners. Uzo the antelope and the Fox said they would win the race. The Squirrel and the PussyCat said they would beat all others in the race. Each animal argued with the other, and some started to call for the competition that evening. Then, Olukume the tortoise came out and said:

"By the grace of God, I will come out first in the competition."

At this, all other animals began to laugh and mock at the tortoise, for he was known to be a very slow animal.

To put an end to the ensuing arguments and boastings, King Adjanakpo the lion, called for a long distance race competition. The race he said would take place in seven days time.

* Culled from The Long Distance Race written by Gbubemi Okome.

The time was past 8.00 p.m. when Mema Oyoma, 20, stepped out of the car and dragged out her bag- made heavy by dirty NYSC kits-from the back seat and waved goodbye to Dafe Mudiaga, her new love. He had wanted to take her to her doorstep, but she had stubbornly insisted on his dropping her off at Effurun Junction. He was headed for Ughelli, and if she introduced him to mother, he would be detained for hours at the least.

A political science graduate of the University of Benin, Mena was home for a three-week off that would last until January 15, having just finished from the NYSC orientation camp where she had been the megastar corper.

She could not wait to get home and tell her mum about the most glorious three weeks of her life. Mother, who had personally driven her to the NYSC camp in Ede, Oyo State, had been worried stiff about how her "stubborn pet" would carry on through the service year on her own, being so far away from home. Far indeed! Mum should have been there to see her become the camp's glamour girl. Without so much as an effort, she had become the cynosure of all eyes-not because she was unquestionably beautiful, but because she had mobilised the graduates of UNIBEN to dominate the scene and add rainbow colours to camp activities, thus making it a resounding success.

But there was more to tell mum beside her camp stardom. Mum had to know about the heir apparent to the Ughelli throne with whom she had travelled from Ibadan. A triple degree holder in Law, Business and Journalism from Oxford and Wales, Prince Dafe Mudiaga had been a solid support in camp. More than that, he had fallen in love with her and proposed marriage. She loved him too, and he had the qualities of a man that would lend support to her sky-scraping ambitions, as well as make a wonderful, caring husband. But she had not yet consented to marriage for two reasons. First, she feared that two weeks in camp was too short a time to meet anyone and begin to talk of marriage with any weight of honesty. At 25, Dafe was not exactly a baby, but he just might be infatuated with her camp stardom. Secondly, she did not feel capable of independently making an irrevocable judgment and decision. Mother had to be consulted and given the time to study him.

There were also a lot of things to discuss with mother. That woman of substance owed her eldest daughter and child a-million-and-one things. She had promised her everything on earth on her graduation, and her convocation ceremony was coming up on January 10. Mother was also going to provide her with the entire household equipment and utensils she would need during her one year of service in Oyo State. Not to mention her Christmas and New Year presents. Mother was really in for it.

She took a bend, and her intimidating family house came into view. The security lights fell on the flowers and coconut palms, showing off the fine powder of dust that had settled on then, courtesy of the harmattan. The main gate was wide open, which was unusual. Then she saw the number of cars parked in the big compound and guessed that the Christmas celebrations were already on. She saw the crowd perched on the verandah upstairs, and concluded that her guess was right, even as she felt happy she had bought cards for everyone.

Kevwe, the boy who had helped her with the bag, took it upstairs to the flat she shared with Onome, her immediate younger sister who was reading Medicine in UNIBEN. She said a loud "Merry Xmas!" to the people on the verandah, but their response was rather cold. Which was unusual. She was well liked, always had been. And usually, they would have been singing her name as soon as they saw her. The cold reception she received was the first inkling she got that a celebration was not on as she had thought-something was wrong.

"What is the matter? Wheres everyone?" she asked of no one in particular.

"They are inside," someone volunteered, pointing towards her flat. She walked to her flat and stopped short at the door. Dressed in black and sitting on the farthest chair, was her father. Next to him was Uncle Sammy. He had been her fathers best man during his wedding. And over the years, the distinction as to whether he was a relation or just a friend of the family had blurred progressively. Also present were some other uncles and family friends, notable among who was the male vice-principal of Our Ladys High School which Mena had attended, and where her mother was principal.

Inside her, a warning bell rang. Father hardly came to the girls flat, and even then, he never sat down. Not to mention bringing friends and relations here. He believed staunchly in peoples privacy, and would not leave his flat with his team of friends to invade her own without any just cause. It was like a rabbit leaving its hole in broad daylight.

The warning bell sounded again. "What is wrong? Where is Onome?" she asked in fright, forgetting to greet. That was the only reason likely to bring then here. She looked about her, and saw Roye, the youngest of her mothers six children who was in Junior Secondary Class One in Urhobo College. He dropped a tear when their eyes met, and the other three boys (Ovie, Orunor and Rume) who stood behind him looked at her without so much as a smile of welcome.

My one and only sister is dead, she thought to herself. Then she repeated in a slow but louder tone: "I said, where is my sister? What is happening here?"

This was the moment everyone had dreaded, and now, they cringed in their chairs. For response, her father got up, walked to her, and taking her arm, led her into Onomes room. The room was in order, but there was no sign of Onome. In her stead, Grace, Onomes closest friend, sat like a statue, her cheek resting on her open palm.

Menas father, Chief Daniel Oyoma, sat her down on the bed and sat some distance from her, as the four boys filed in. Then he proceeded to tell her what had happened.

Mena and her father had never really been close, nor had they made any pretence to being close. Neither of them could lay a finger on the beginning of hostilities, but they both knew how the gap between them had been widened. After their marriage, it had taken Menas mother, Mrs. Kite Oyoma, five years to get pregnant. In the meantime, Chief Oyoma had sown some wild oats, resulting in a son who was concealed from his legal family until eight years later, when Menas mother had her first son- her third child-and Oyoma wanted to take his chieftaincy title. Mena and her mother had cried their eyes out over the betrayal. Tension had mounted and remained for months. Then slowly, mother had forgiven him, much as she would never forget. As for Mena who loved the older woman deeply, the wound was a permanent scar. And much as her millionaire-father had made covert overtures, she had kept her distance.

Her father knew it. And he knew that whatever he told her now, the girl he loved so much would look for the slightest excuse to put the blame on him. Yet, tell her he must. Now, as he began to talk in a slow, hesitant voice, Mena did not look at his face. She looked down at her pretty feet-a carbon copy of her mothers feet, prepared only to hear the broad outline about her sisters death, and inwardly poised to lash out. According to him, her sister, Onome, had come home from school on the twelfth to meet their mother down with tonsillitis. She had telephoned his office, whereon he had sent his driver to come and take mother to Eku Hospital. A minor surgical operation had been done, and she had returned two days later. Then on the sixteenth, she had had an attack of diabetes, which no one expected. On the seventeenth when it appeared worse, she was taken back to Eku Hospital. Then on the eighteenth, when she seemed to be recovering, she suddenly gave up.

Just as he finished speaking, Onome who had been in the kitchen of the main flat walked into the room. At first, Mena could not figure things out. Then like a heavyweight blow landing below the belt, the implication of what she had just been told hit her: it was not Onome who was dead-it was her friend, idol and mother. As a reflex action, she got on her feet. The floor seemed to turn around, and her feet wobbled as she blacked out and fell to the ground.

*

"Why did God allow it?" Mena asked of Reverend Gideon who sat beside her hospital bed. "Why did heaven look on while death stole my mother? I thought the Bible said the Lord adds no sorrow to his gifts."

"Please do not question God," the elderly man of God said. "His ways are difficult to understand. In his infinite wisdom, he does his things in the way and at the time it pleases him."

"But surely, God knows our feelings," Mena pursued. "He knows our feelings, and he knows our secret thoughts. For that reason, he must know how much we love and need our mother. Why couldnt heaven wait for a better time to call our mother home-say when we are much older and better prepared to stand a temptation of this magnitude?"

"Heaven cannot wait," the man of God said emphatically, trying to keep his cool. "I can see your pain is pushing you to the brink of blasphemy. And rather than do that, it would have been better for you to stop talking. Just dwell on the fact that heaven does not and cannot wait for things to suit our fancy."

*Culled From HEAVEN CANNOT WAIT By Ema Erhe. (Available for sale on this web site soon.)

LEADERS OF TOMORROW

Written By Ema Erhe

Gong! Gong! Gong! The big bell sounded from far away. It was half-past the hour of five in the morning, and it marked the beginning of the Saturday following the day of their arrival.

Everyone hurried out of bed and struggled into the black shorts, white vests and white canvas provided by the school. Item three of the school rules which was pasted on the dormitory Notice Board said it was a punishable offence to arrive at the spot where the bell was sounding from after it had stopped running. And it would only ring for ten minutes.

Soon, everyone was running towards the big mobile bell. It was sounding from the edge of the Athletics Field. And beside the bellman stood Mama Africa. She had on a white T-shirt, which hung over a black tracksuit with sky-blue stripes. With her were the principal, Mr. Efe Afikpo and two young men. They were equally dressed in sports gear.

Almost all the students got to the spot before the bell stopped running. However, eight boys and six girls arrived late. For this reason, the two young men who looked in the neighbourhood of forty years of age asked them to kneel down.

"Good morning all," the principal greeted. "Good morning sirs! Good morning ma!" they all greeted haphazardly.

"These are your Games Instructors," Mr. Afikpo told them. They are Nosa Osamede and Michael Boma, his assistant. I believe you all know mummy already. I was equally introduced to you yesterday".

"Yes sir!" Some people answered. Others simply nodded their heads.

"Every morning, we will engage in a fitness exercise. It will last until six O clock when we will then go for our bath and do our morning devotion before breakfast. Is it understood?"

"Yes sir."

Thereafter, he motioned for the instructor to take over. "We have no time to waste," Mr Nosa said. Let us stand in pairs and in order of our heights. In ascending order."

In two minutes, the line head been formed. Those who came late were asked to fall into the line. The instructor then led them to jog round the field, with Mama Africa and the principal bringing up the rear, and Mr. Boma at the middle area of the line. When they had gone round once, he flagged them to a halt.

"We all have to move in unison," he corrected. "All left legs must move at the same time, and all right legs should move at the same time. Its something you must learn to adopt. Whenever you move with someone in the school, make sure you move in unison. Whether it be consciously or unconsciously. Once you can master that, it will serve as a unifying force-not only now, but in the future as well. We will demonstrate the physical part presently"

With that, he and his assistant fell in line and jogged thirty metres, then back again. They never looked at each other, but their left legs and right legs moved uniformly. With their whistle sounding, they then led the students to jog along the asphalt road, which ran along the school fence for another ten minutes.

They had barely jogged for three minutes, when a slim and tall female student whom they later knew to be Ify Nnadi fell down, moaning: "My legs! My legs are about to break. Help!"

Some of the students were forced to laugh, and two more fell out as a result. Two minutes later, one plump boy called Chaka fell out and started gasping for breath. Another female student called Anieke Ekpo also fell out, complaining: "My heartits shifting. Im not used to this!"

At six Oclock, a smaller bell rang, and they all stopped. The instructor motioned them to crowd round him in three circles. The smallest among the students formed the inner circle. Those of medium height formed a second circle round them, while the tall ones formed a third circle around them. Mama Africa, the principal and the two instructors remained in the middle.

"I can see some of us are extremely tired. Its understandable. But in another two or three days, well all get used to it. Moderate exercise is good for the mind and good for the body. It keeps you in a state of mental alertness. As a leader, you must be constantly alert and not lose concentration or become lousy. Always be focused.

"There are some students who are very good in academics but never engage in any games. Its not too good. It keeps you on only one track and makes you reason in only one direction. You should be an all-rounder. I am not saying you should be a champion in every event. All I am saying is you should have a fair knowledge of games and activities outside your books. It helps you to have a broader outlook on life rather than see things from only one perspective. A leader should have an average knowledge of everything, if he must take fairly accurate decisions. Be it on the economy, politics, medicine or agriculture. That way, you will never be out of your depth when your advisers are talking. Is it understood?"

"Yes sir," the students answered.

"One other thing is that I heard some feet shuffling while we were jogging. We should learn to avoid it. Only sick old people have a right to drag their feet on the ground. Its a lousy attitude, and our training frowns at it. Always lift your legs from the ground when in motion, and learn to stand upright. Dont slouch, and dont bend backward. A leader should give off an air of being ready to be leaned on, not needing people to lean on. If you give the impression that you are weak, people become demoralized, and vice versa. A nation is as strong as her leader. Understood?"

"Yes sir."

The instructor looked at the principal. Mr Afikpo stepped forward. He was known to be a disciplinarian and one of the best principals in Delta State. The principal of Central Boys College in Baman City, he had been co-opted to be the Director of Studies at the leadership school. "I am highly impressed," he said. "What I did not like was some people laughing when others fell by the way side. As a leader, you must learn not to laugh when there is no joke. Do not laugh at peoples misfortunes. Rather, you should try to be supportive and ever ready to lend a helping hand. If the person besides you falls off, you can drop out to check if his condition is critical. If hes okay, join the line. If not, call for help.

"I also noticed that of all the people who dropped off, only one made an effort to join us again. Now, that is not good enough. You must learn not to give up. Long ago in the University, we had this lecturer (Dr. Uwaje) who consistently drummed it into our heads that "after a setback, you should always regroup." Meaning, that every time you suffer a disappointment/failure, you should find out why it happened, correct your mistakes and try again.

There is this other saying by Evelyn Underhill, to the effect that whenever you fall, "pick yourself up, be sorry, shake yourself (clean of dust), and go on again."

"The implication is that you should not ever give up on your goals. Like Obafemi Owolowo once said, succeeding in life is not about never falling at all, but being able to stand up every time you fall. According to him, after the rain comes shine and after darkness comes day.

"The truth of the matter is that there are many people who have never fallen in the race of life, and yet wont live a better life or make any more-lasting impact than some people who fell, got to their feet and continued the race with more vigour.

"There is a poem titled IF written by the Nobel laurette Rudyard Kipling which I highly recommend that you make your favourite. If you can, try to read it aloud every day. I cannot quote it here. But the essence of the poem is that even when things you have painstakingly built collapse, you should maintain your calm and use your worn-out tools to rebuild. Only if you are able to do that, will you have become a man.

"There will be times when your friends will disappoint you. There will be other times when your family will rise against you. I tell you, there will be times when nothing you do seems to work. Whatever the setback, you must never give up. Just make sure you are doing the right thing, and keep cracking. And I assure you, you will certainly achieve your goal."

Having said that much, he invited Mama Africa to put in one or two things. "Today, as with tomorrow," she informed the students, "youll be undergoing orientation. This is to enable you understand why you are here, the facilities, as well as how you can make the best use of them. You can go and shower, so we can meet at breakfast."

"Can I ask a question?" asked a small boy. The school identity card pinned on his T-Shirt gave his name as Kife Abavo. A Class Two boy, he was in Blue House.

"You may ask", Mama Africa said.

"The instructor said a leader ought to know everything. Is that not being a Jack-of-all-trade? And if the leader knows it all, what then is the need for advisers?"

"That is an intelligent question," Mama Africa commended. "But it does not necessarily follow that because you have an average knowledge of everything, you are a Jack-of-All-Trade. You would only be that if because you have an idea, you try to do everything all by yourself instead of delegating people to do things.

"For clarity, let us get the point that a leader is not one who is best at everything. But his knowledge should be sound so that he can make an equally sound judgment after he has heard the opinion of experts on that field. His duty is to coordinate or aggregate so as to take the final stand. Mind you, every nation either falls or succeeds at the point of decision-making. Once you take a wrong decision, no amount of precise execution can put things right. At best, execution will be precise in the wrong direction.

"The role of the adviser is to guide, assist and compare notes with the leader. Not to lead the way. An adviser serves the role of a walking stick. The stick does not show you the way. Neither does it take steps for you. It only assists you to thread the path you have chosen.

"If I may use the axiom of one-time American President Harry Truman, the buck stops here. And by that, he meant the leaders table. He must accept responsibility for every success or failure. This is because he has the final say as to which policy should be adopted or rejected. That is why he must be vast. He must be a hungry reader and have good knowledge of everything. Knowledge is power. If as a leader you do not have this essential power, those around you will sweep you off your feet. Just like the wind tosses an empty nylon bag around.

"I believe I have answered your question. But if it does not, find time to see me during games in the afternoon. For now, let us go and wash up and go about the days business."