Something to remind you of your heritage.

We arrived at my maternal home town a couple of days earlier so that we could have ample time to prepare for my aunt’s burial. There were already issues that needed resolving like the archdiocese’s refusal to bury my aunt because she started attending a catholic church they considered to be unorthodox. There was also the issue concerning the settlement of all outstanding women association dues, otherwise, the village women were refusing to attend the burial.

See, my aunt was my mum’s step-sister. In one way, she reminded me of an ‘agric fowl’, so soft and delicate. She was also hypertensive, and I remember how my mum always scolded her because of her excessive salt intake. Her specialty for whenever we visited my mum’s village was white rice and chicken stew. My mum always bought my aunt wrappers, scarfs, multi-vitamins, toiletries, and provisions whenever we visited.

My aunt was always nice to me. I remember how she took care of me when I was posted to Enugu for my youth service. Even though I was more agile than she was, she never allowed me to lift a finger.

The year before she died, she gifted me a ponds translucent powder. I had reservations about using it. I really cannot place my finger on what it was about my aunt, but there was just something peculiar about her.

The burial was a success. My mum cried a lot. See, my aunt adopted a little boy a few years before she died. He was about 6 years old when my aunt passed away. During the interment, he was required to throw sand on the casket as part of the burial rites. He was hesitant, probably because he did not understand what was going on. He was finally guided on what to do amidst all the wailing and tears. People were moved by that particular episode.

He was re-adopted by a distant relative.

After the burial, my mum proceeded to share my aunt’s wrappers as is customary, among the women and daughters in the family. I was the only one out of my siblings who attended the burial, so I was bestowed with the task of selecting wrappers for my sisters as well. See, I have 6 female cousins on my mum’s side, and 2 sisters. The wrappers were coordinated based on price, type and color scheme. The older women shared the ‘georges’ and the more expensive wrappers. The girls were left with mostly ankara, asoeke and scarves. We were to choose according to seniority. On the hierarchy, I was number 2, number 4 and number 6. While all the other girls were going for the more colorful and youthful designs, I was more interested in the wrappers that were the classic Igbo designs such as the peacock, the horse, and the fan designs. I had to be reminded that my sisters’ choices might be different if they had to make the choice themselves.

I remember how the entire room erupted in laughter when I went for this asoke. They just could not fathom what the heck I was going to do with it.

It was just too old-fashioned.

To them, it was an outdated piece of wrapper, but to me, it was a kind reminder of my heritage.


Peace and love,



A bit of rant on behalf of my pregnant friend.

Hi. So I am a bit of a ranter, especially when I feel like I have been poorly treated or when I feel like someone else is being mistreated. See, I am a bucket of emotions, and I can be a lot a sensitive… I am working on that, so things get to me.

Anyway, I thought… ‘What better way to let off steam than putting pen to paper?’ This way, I can be my own little therapy and possibly help someone in the process.

Now to my rant.

I have this pregnant friend who wanted to have her baby in Canada. After painstakingly sourcing for an agency to assist with the process, she eventually settled on one.

According to what she was told by this agency, a fraction of their charge would be paid upfront. Then the other fraction would be paid after her visa application status is confirmed regardless of whether the outcome is positive or negative. She agreed to their terms and eventually traveled to Lagos for the visa interview and bio-metrics.

After waiting for a long time, she finally received a call from this agency informing her that they received her visa application status from the embassy and that they would only release the information to her upon payment of what was outstanding. Of course, she insisted that she was not going to pay until she was intimated on the status of her application, as was initially agreed. They, of course blatantly refused, and are still withholding this information from my friend who is due to give birth next month. Their reason for declining was that a lot of their customers do not pay up the balance once they get information with regards to their application status.

I can only imagine that anybody would be reluctant to pay more money if your visa application is denied. Still, there are ways to handle such situations without losing credibility and appearing unprofessional. Written contracts are an excellent way to enforce financial obligations with little hassle.

I appreciate the fact that running a business is difficult, and I understand that this agency has legit fears… people flake all the time. However, my issue with them is this:


Truth is, even if you feel like you have won this battle, you have lost in other ways.

PS: A happy customer is one of the best forms of advertising.


It’s been over a year since I posted on my blog… wow!

Now, this isn’t the typical life happens situation, I have actually put together a number of posts, but end up not posting any primarily because I doubt if people are genuinely interested or take out time to read my blog posts.

Also, if I am being quite frank with myself, I can be lazy!

Be that as it may, I thought to share this because, I believe it will be of immense benefit to someone, and even if no one takes out time to read this, I occasionally enjoy writing, sooooo… I might as well.

Okay, enough chit chat and soul searching, let’s get cracking with this DIY!

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Apparently I’m on a blog high this month… lol.

This is one of those DIYs that I have been itching to share for a long time. It is an at-home hair removal remedy which is in my opinion more effective than other common hair removal methods.

My skin is naturally sensitive, so hair removal creams are a definite no, shaving with a razor leaves me with unsightly razor bumps and in-grown hairs, and well commercial wax kits/strips I’ve found can be a bit over-priced and are often ineffective.

I have been using this method to get rid of my body hair for a while now, so I can vouch as to its effectiveness. Not only is it relatively affordable, it is also quite easy to make, once you get the hang of it.

So what are y’all waiting for?

Let’s get sugar-waxing!

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He got me…

Hello beautiful people, it’s a new month, so as is my style of posting once a month (lazy wanker…lol) I decided to work on this short story.

As usual, it’s going to be in parts (3 parts at the most). The reasons are:

  1. That would motivate me to write more (since I would rather die than not complete the story),
  2. I’ve noticed that people get discouraged by longer pieces.

I hope you enjoy reading this, as always feel free to like, comment and share. I am open to criticism and corrections. I’m also open to encouraging words (please don’t be mean)… hehehe.

Might I add that the story is entirely fictional. Let me repeat that, it is pure fiction… okay?

Happy September loves…

Peace and love…

munachiii xo

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The Infinity Wrap-dress, five ways to wear…

Sewing was one of those things that I relegated to the back-burner until recently. I remember stitching an Ankara top and an Ankara purse with needle and thread. I think I might have droned on and on about sewing until one day my mum said:

Instead of making noise about sewing, why don’t you go and register for sewing lessons? I have a feeling you will be good at it.

And so I did… ♠

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Chika and Zimmy (Part 4 & 5)

So, I know I promised that Parts 4 and 5 would be available sooner, but in between everything I now joggle, completing this story has been a big challenge.

To compensate, I decided that instead of publishing Part 4 and 5 separately, I should just publish both as one.

Chika and Zimmy is about best friends who kept their feelings from each other, until they were forced to confront it. Would their love triumph?

If you haven’t read Chika and Zimmy (Part 1), Chika and Zimmy (Part 2) and Chika and Zimmy (Part 3), I suggest that you do so that you can easily follow.

As always, thanks for reading.

Peace and love,

munachiii ♥


Zimmy held the wine glass to her lips and took a long-drawn-out sip, trying to delay her response to what Chika had just told her. Chika was looking intently at her, as if willing her to say something. After what seemed like an age, Zimmy could only bring herself to utter one word – ‘who?’

‘I met her three months ago, at a friend’s wedding’

‘Do you love her?’

‘I guess so’

‘You don’t seem too enthused for someone getting married Chika’

‘You, don’t seem enthused that your best friend is getting married either’ Chika replied in an accusatory manner.

‘Chika this isn’t about me. Besides I’m only just hearing about this now, I’m actually shocked’.

Without uttering a word, Chika made a chore out of eating his Shawarma, which made Zimmy feel like he was expecting a different kind of reaction from her.

‘Are you happy?’

‘Of course, I am’

‘As long as you are happy then that’s all that matters to me’.

Zimmy tried to force a smile. She turned towards the television, the popular Nigerian soap-opera ‘Tinsel’ was on.  Was Chika so clueless? All these years, she had hoped that Chika would come to realise the depth of her feelings for him. In a way, she blamed herself for the way things were between her and Chika, if only she’d summoned up the courage to tell him how she felt. After her accident, her mum insisted on taking her back to Port-Harcourt to recover, by the time she came back to Abuja Chika was already graduating.  In between preparing for his graduation ceremony and NYSC, she never could find the perfect opportunity to tell him how she truly felt.

‘Penny for your thoughts’, Chika said, interrupting her reverie.

‘No no, I was actually wondering why you failed to mention this before now’

‘I just wasn’t sure then Zimmy’

‘And now you are, just barely three months of knowing this girl? That’s stupid’ Zimmy blurted out before she could caution herself –

I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have said that’

‘It’s okay, I should have mentioned it earlier and saved you the stress of coming here. I just felt it would be easier telling you in person rather than over the phone’.

‘Don’t mind me Chika, marriage or not, I’m glad we are spending this time together, it’s just taken me by surprise that’s all, as long as you are happy, I am happy’

‘So where is my congratulatory hug?’

Zimmy scooted closer to Chika and embraced him ‘Congratulations darling, I am genuinely happy for you’

‘Sure, doesn’t seem like it’, Chika whispered into her ears

‘No no, I genuinely am’.

‘Then you will be happy to meet her tomorrow’.


By the time Zimmy woke up, it was already 10 am. Her and Chika had spent the rest of the night talking about Chizi, his fiancé. Chizi was into the business of selling jewellery, she was a graduate of mass communication at the Enugu State University, but she relocated to Abuja and decided to start her own business when she couldn’t secure a job. Zimmy could hear voices coming from the living room, Chizi must be here already. She really wasn’t in the mood or in the right frame of mind to meet Chizi, but she must, for Chika’s sake. Zimmy got up, brushed her teeth and headed out to meet this girl that had won the heart of her Chika.

As soon as she opened the bedroom door and stepped out, she was nearly knocked off her feet as the girl whom she presumed to be Chizi ran to her and literally threw herself at Zimmy – ‘You must be Zimmy, I’ve like heard so much about you, Chika like rarely shuts up about how much of an awesome friend you are, sometimes I wonder why he hasn’t married you yet’

Oh wow, I’m Zimmy, you must be Chizi, nice to meet you’. Zimmy gently but firmly pushed Chizi off herself.

‘Hey Zim, you are up, I was just making us some breakfast’ Chika said as he came bounding out of the kitchen with a towel over his shoulder and a spatula in his right hand, looking apologetically at her – ‘I see you’ve met Chizi’

‘Yes, we have met’. Chizi interrupted ‘I’m gonna have to snatch your best friend from you Chi, she is so like pretty’.

Chizi had this annoying high pitched voice, and an accent Zimmy suspected was fake. They had only just met, but Zimmy was not sure she could tolerate Chizi. Perhaps she was just feeling territorial about Chika.

‘We have a lot to catch up on, liiiiike, you have to tell me how much of a bad boy Chi was at school and all that. Go back into the kitchen Chi, me and your friend have like a lot to talk about’.

Zimmy thought she caught Chika cringe everytime Chizi called him Chi, but, maybe her mind was playing tricks on her.

Listening to Chizi ramble on was a nightmare for Zimmy. In between her incessant use of the word ‘like’ and the fact that she called Chika ‘Chi’, Zimmy could not stand Chizi. She wondered inwardly what Chika saw in this girl, she would be sure to ask him later. Zimmy was grateful when Chika came into the living room to announce that breakfast was ready.

All through breakfast, Zimmy watched Chizi boss Chika around, ‘Chi, pass me the salt, Chi, could you grab me another slice of bread Chi’, Chi this, Chi that. Watching them interact with each other was even more painful than listening to Chizi ramble on about how the jewellery business in Abuja was hotcake, and how she got to meet a lot of government officials because of her business. Zimmy tried as much as possible to remain expressionless especially since Chika would occasionally glance at her and linger on as if trying to read her expression.

When later Chizi tried to convince her that they should go for a swim and maybe some cocktails, Zimmy politely but firmly declined. She had to put her foot down. Maybe Chika enjoyed being pushed around, but Zimmy sure as hell didn’t, plus she needed a break from Chizi.

‘It was nice to have finally met you Zim, I can call you Zim right? Chika does’

Sure Chizi, you can call me whatever you want. It was nice meeting you too’

‘O my gosh Chi, your friend is like sooo pretty’

‘You’ve told her a million times already today Chizi, come let me see you off’

Zimmy could sense that Chika was getting frustrated.

‘I thought you were going to drop me off Chi?’

‘You don’t really expect me to drive all the way to Kubwa right now, you know I have a visitor’

Chi she will be fine jare, Kubwa isn’t too far. Zim tell him you will be fine’

‘I’ll be fine Chika please go drop off your fiancé’ 

Chizi’s squeal was enough to send Zimmy over the edge. Chika didn’t look at all pleased with the situation, but he just seemed completely helpless where Chizi was concerned which didn’t make any sense at all to Zimmy. Her Chika was so full of himself even to the point of arrogance that she didn’t quite get how Chika was literarily eating out Chizi’s palm.

With the house to herself, Zimmy could finally bring herself to relax. She was tensed all day. In between listening to Chizi rambling on and trying to avoid Chika’s occasional glances, she was glad to be alone. It seemed like Chika was waiting for her stamp of approval, with his lingering gazes and attempts to catch her alone when Chizi was distracted, which wasn’t much of the time. Why was Chika so timid around Chizi? She suspected that something was amiss. There was zero chemistry between them, and Chika seemed to be put off by Chizi. Why did he keep acting helpless, like he was under some kind of spell?

It was nearly 6pm when Chika walked into his apartment, in a very sour mood ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine, just a little tired. I decided to get some Suya on my way back just in case we were too tired to cook anything tonight’

‘I already made some food for you’

‘You did?’ 

‘Yes, I decided to pop by the market and pick up some groceries, you forget that Abuja used to be my town too’.

Zimmy sat there watching Chika eat the entire bowl of Eba and Oha soup. Chika couldn’t stop thanking her in between mouthfuls of goat meat and stock fish – ‘Thank you Zim, this is amazing, you are the best cook in the world, I swear’

‘You don’t have to thank me Chika, you remember I used to enjoy cooking for you’

‘You even remember what my best food is, you are just too much Zimmy’

‘Stop making this weird Mr man, eat your food, am sure your wife-to-be makes better soups than this’

Chika shrugged.

For a short while an uncomfortable silence enveloped them. Eventually, when Chika looked up at her, he looked quite forlorn – ‘You make things so easy Zimmy’


Later than evening, they were sat on the sofa, binge watching the series – Modern Family. Irrespective of the fact that Zimmy had already seen the most recent episode, she didn’t mind re-watching some of the older episodes with Chika, although her mind drifted occasionally to what Chika said earlier – ‘She made things so easy’, what did he mean by that? As usual, she was too shy to ask him to elaborate, and of course he just acted like it was a normal thing to say, and then they didn’t talk about it.

‘On a scale of 1 – 10 how much do you like me?’  Zimmy blurted out before she could restrain herself

Muting the television, Chika turned towards her, wearing a grim expression ‘why are you asking me that?’

She immediately became very self-conscious ‘I do-don’t know, don’t mind me’.

Turning to face the muted television, she felt hot and uncomfortable. She felt Chika staring at her, but she kept her eyes on the television. When Chika got up and left the living room, Chika heaved a huge sigh of relief. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything, now things were going to be awkward between them. She assumed that Chika went to use the bathroom, but when he didn’t return for around 15 minutes she realised that maybe she’d upset him with her question.

She walked towards Chika’s bedroom and knocked on his door ‘Chika are you okay, can I come in?’

Chika opened the door slightly, and peered through at her. Although it was dark in the bedroom, Zimmy could see that Chika looked crestfallen. He just stood there and stared at her. Zimmy could only think of one thing to do. She pushed the door wide open and took a step towards him.  She placed her head on his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. It took a minute for Chika to respond to her hug, but he eventually did, resting all his weight on her. They stood like that for what seemed like several minutes, until the weight of Chika’s arms and the warmth of his body started making her feel uncomfortable. She gave him a little nudge before he released her, but he took hold her hands ‘On a scale of 1 – 10, I love you like twenty Chukwuzirim’.

The voices in her head, told her it was wrong, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop, and Chika didn’t stop them either. All her supressed feelings from years back were raging on as they kissed each other. She mentally willed herself to stop, but she just couldn’t. Chika picked her up, and wedged her in between the bedroom wall and his muscular frame. All Zimmy felt was fire in her core and the pressure of his erection against her belly. The desperation in their kiss was so overwhelming that it left Zimmy thinking that they were going to combust. When Chika’s phone rang the first time, they both ignored.  It was at the third ring, that she wrestled Chika away from her, signalling to him that he had to answer the call. Chika put her down, but didn’t let go of her hands.

‘Chizi, what is it? How bad is the pain? Okay, get yourself to the hospital, I’ll meet you there.


The atmosphere in the car, on the ride to the hospital was so tense. Chizi was pregnant, and Chika conveniently omitted to mention that important detail. If Chizi hadn’t called him, or if she hadn’t signalled to him to pick up, they more than likely would have slept together. Zimmy felt so angry and betrayed by Chika.

Zimmy please say something. I swear, I was going to tell you, but I couldn’t find the right time to’.

By the time they got to the hospital, Chizi was already getting discharged. Apparently, abdominal cramps during pregnancy were normal.

Zimmy was mentally and emotionally drained when they returned to Chika’s apartment after dropping Chizi off. She went into the bedroom, shut the door and sobbed for a good 10 minutes. How could Chika behave like this towards her? She heard Chika knock on the bedroom door over and over again, but she just couldn’t face him, not tonight. She felt so ashamed for letting Chika take advantage of her like that.

In the morning, Chika came to knock on the bedroom door to tell her breakfast was ready.

‘Zimmy please don’t be mad’

‘I’m not mad Chika, just disappointed’

‘Do you for a second think that I am not equally disappointed in myself? Of all the mistakes I could have made, I went and got Chizi pregnant, and I don’t even feel anything for her’

Chika was clearly frustrated, but Zimmy didn’t care. She just had to get out of here, she couldn’t stand being around Chika, not right now.

‘I’ll be leaving for Port-Harcourt today, I’m almost finished packing my things’.

Chika’s jaw dropped a fraction ‘You can’t be serious Zimmy, please you can’t go, I’m begging you, I need you Zimmy’

Zimmy was heartbroken. If Chika really felt that way for her, why didn’t he come out and say so, after all, compared to her, he was a taking charge kind of person. She had always been a shy and withdrawn type of person, but he on the other hand was bold and daring. Why did he let her carry the burden of loving him alone? Now he’d gone and gotten Chizi pregnant, it had finally become convenient for him to express his feelings for her. She wasn’t going to let him make her an option, or use her as rectification for his mistake.

All through breakfast, Chika tried to convince her to stay till Sunday, but Zimmy refused. Now that she was feeling this way, it was best she left. Seeing Chika this morning brought back memories of the passionate kiss they’d shared. Standing close to him, eating breakfast with him, the way he was staring at her, made her feel extremely confused. She’d always imagined what making love to Chika would feel like. She would have given anything in the world to kiss Chika again, but she was still very much upset with him and with herself.

When Chika suggested taking her to the airport, she objected, but he paid no attention to her. The atmosphere in the car on the ride to the airport was charged especially since Chika insisted on holding on to her hand the entire way. When she tried to pull her hands off, Chika held on firmly, and didn’t let her go.

‘You can just drop me off at departures so that you don’t pay for parking’

‘Don’t be daft Zimmy, it’s not like I have anything else to do. Maybe I can still convince you to stay with me’  He looked so fragile, but she needed to get away from him as soon as possible, she needed to clear her head – ‘Staying would only make things more uncomfortable than they already are Chika.’

‘What about yesterday?’ Chika asked

‘And what about it?’ That wasn’t a subject she was prepared to broach with him, but she knew he’d been itching to talk about it.

Didn’t it mean anything to you?’

‘No Chika it didn’t’ she answered, irritated more at him than at the question.

‘I love you Zimmy, I’ve always loved you. I just couldn’t place your feelings for me. You always kept me in the friend zone, and because I respect you and our friendship, I felt like opening up to you about my feelings would ruin our friendship’.

‘Why now?’ She asked, but Chika just sat there staring at her, like she’d asked a rhetorical question. Thankfully he had parked the car, so she got out, grabbed her luggage and started making her way towards the departure hall, not caring if Chika was behind her.

Zimmy was lucky enough to get a seat on the next flight to Port-Harcourt which was due to leave in the next 25 minutes. Chika hardly uttered a word all the time she was getting her ticket and even as they walked towards security check. Just as she was about to go through, Chika grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her towards him – ‘Are you seriously leaving Zim?’ He looked quiet distressed, but Zimmy’s mind was made up, she had to make certain that Chika did what was right, what was best.

‘Yes Chika, I am’.

She tried to pull away from him, she couldn’t. She rested her head on his chest once more and took in him smell, a smell she’d gotten used to, a smell she would have to learn to rid her senses of.


Chika and Zimmy (Part 3)

‘I’m so sorry I can’t drop you off at your hostel Zimmy said Chika as he shifted the gear stick into neutral.

‘That’s okay Chika, I can manage from here. I can take a bike to my hostel, should only cost me fifty bucks.

Okay babes, would call you as soon as I’m done with my project defence, we could chill at yours later tonight?’

‘It’s a date’.

Zimmy got out of the passenger’s side and shut the door and watched as he sped off. She couldn’t wrap her head around why he was so nervous. They had been practicing together for his project defence for weeks. He was always doubting himself. She constantly had to remind him of how smart he was. If only he could see it too. She couldn’t wait for his project defence to be over. Tonight, she would finally let him know how she felt about him. She was completely and utterly smitten by Chika, and she couldn’t wait to get it off her chest. She would cook his favourite meal of Oha soup with plenty of stock-fish, dry-fish and goat meat. She even had a bottle of red wine that she had pinched from her parent’s wine rack, maybe they could drink that together. She didn’t want to tell him how she felt, not before his project defence, distracting him with that wouldn’t have been smart. The red wine should give her the Dutch courage to tell him tonight, exactly how she feels about him.

Clutching her textbook to her chest and looking both ways, Zimmy made a dash for the other side of the road where the bike men were parked. She was a few yards from them when she heard people screaming. She couldn’t make out what they were yelling, or what the commotion was about, however, one word was very loud and clear – STOP!  Wondering what was going on, she made to turn her head backwards. Before she realised what was happening, she felt something ram into her left side with so much force that she was immediately swept off her feet. She tried to brace herself with her arms, but even as she hit the ground, she already knew she was landing head first.


Opening her eyes, Zimmy could hardly recognize her immediate surroundings. She tried to move, but she felt as if she was spinning out of control. Her head hurt terribly, and she was finding it difficult to breath. She felt a body lying next to her. She knew that smell. It was Chika. Steadying herself, she summoned all the strength she could muster and jabbed him with her elbow.

Chika jumped up from the bed with such speed that it startled her ‘Oh my goodness Zimmy, you are awake! Oh, God thank you. I shouldn’t have let you convince me to drop you off along the road, I need to get someone in here to check you ASAP, oh my God thank you!’

Within one minute he was back with a lady who Zimmy couldn’t recognise. She was dressed like a nurse. The lady shone a torchlight first in her left eye, then in her right eye. Picking up her right hand, the nurse proceeded to check her pulse, timing it with a clock hanging on the wall opposite where her bed was positioned. The nurse adjusted the transparent bag containing clear fluid hanging on a metal IV stand by her bedside and left the room.

Zimmy you gave me such a fright, I got out of my project defence only to check my phone and find thirteen missed calls from you. It was when I called you back that one Mr Musa answered. He was the one who directed me to this hospital. Your brother Ebuka was here earlier today, but he had a paper to write. He should be on his way back by now. Your mum is also flying in from Port-Harcourt this evening. Oh, Zimmy I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault’.

Zimmy tried to speak, but she could hardly muster the strength to utter any words. Just then another man entered the room. Although he was dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a yellow tee-shirt, Zimmy suspected he was a doctor because he had a stethoscope draped across the back of his neck. Zimmy felt the chill of his stethoscope as it made contact with her bare chest – ‘I am Doctor Ezim. You were hit by a car, and you have been unconscious for a couple of days. You bumped your head very hard on the ground, which will account for the terrible headache you must be feeling now. You also sustained a rib and left arm fracture. Do you understand all that I have said?’

Chika tried to speak, but her head hurt so badly.

Don’t try to speak, just nod if you understand’, Doctor Ezim said.

I’ll come back in an hour to check on you, hopefully by then, you should have regained enough strength for us to continue this exercise. We will have to conduct a few more tests to check that everything is okay with you. In the meantime, just try to relax and do not over exert yourself’.

As the doctor left the room, Chika pulled a chair up to her bedside and placed his hands on her right hand. ‘I’m so sorry baby, this is all my fault. I can’t believe I let this happen to you’ there were tears in his eyes. Zimmy couldn’t say anything, she could only move her head from side to side. She wished she could tell him that it wasn’t his fault at all, but even moving her head was causing her so much pain. She tried to force her eyes to stay open, but she couldn’t. All she could hear was Chika calling out to her, and she slipped, this time into semi-consciousness.

The last thing she heard – ‘Don’t leave me again Zimmy, it’s been hell without you, please wake up’, at that she blacked out.


You can catch the previous Parts here Chika and Zimmy (Part 1)

and here Chika and Zimmy (Part 2)


Chika and Zimmy (Part 2)


Link to Part 1 here


Before I can say anything, Chika throws himself on the bed, and starts to tickle me. He knew how excessively ticklish I was, yet it was something he liked to do, and he didn’t care if it got me angry. According to him, it gave him joy to see me squirm and laugh till exhaustion.

‘Chika please stop!’ I said in-between giggles and attempts to push his heavy frame off me. ‘I am not wearing a bra underneath my… your… t-shirt’.

‘Zimmy, there’s nothing underneath that t-shirt that I haven’t seen before, so, sorry baby’.

Okay Chika, okay wait, please wait, I’m going to throw up on the both of us’.

Chika broke into a loud laugh.

‘Anything to get me off you abi? It’s not going to work Zimmy. Come here…!’

By the time he had had his fill of tickling me, we were both out of breath because we had been laughing so hard. He pulled me up from the bed and gave me a gentle twirl as if sizing me up.

You look so good Zim, I have missed you’.

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Chika and Zimmy (Part 1)

For a long time, Chika and I had been talking over the phone about me coming to visit him in Abuja. Ever since my return home to Port-Harcourt after graduation, we had not seen each other. We talked on the phone quite frequently, in fact so much that my mum teased me about it all the time –

‘Is that Chika di ola mma m (The husband of my prized jewel)?’

Sometimes, she would insist on conversing with him and they would talk for hours. One day, she asked him when he was coming officially… Imagine!

She was utterly captivated by him. I mean, who wouldn’t be? Sweet-mouthed, chivalrous, thoughtful, rock-soft Chika!

Whenever we talked on the phone, Chika never failed to end our conversation with – ‘Get your butt on a flight to Abuja, Zimmy, I want to see you, I miss you small’.

It was Thursday, and instead of being at work, I was lying on Chika’s bed in his posh one-bedroom apartment in Maitama waiting for his return from work. I wondered why he hadn’t come home yet. He had instructed me to grab the keys to his apartment from underneath the welcome mat situated at the front door. He told me to make myself comfortable, hence why I was lying on his bed, in his T-shirt and a pair of really short shorts. I recalled buying this shirt for him as his graduation present almost 5 years ago, how he managed to keep it looking like new all these years, beats me. 

For months, Chika has been complaining that his folks were putting him under increasing pressure to get married. I didn’t totally get that. I mean, he only just turned twenty-nine. My parents never bother me about getting married, and I’m the same age as Chika, even older than him by a few months, and of course I’m female…

Chika would often joke about us hooking up. He joked. I laughed. Though honestly, I didn’t find it funny. I mean, I kind of fancied Chika but I suspected he just wasn’t into me like that. So, I made him my guy. If Chika needed a wingman, I was there for him. I even helped him pick up girls a few times while we were still undergrads at the University of Abuja. All I did was make the girl feel comfortable, before Chika swooped in, with all his charm, and handsome set of pearly white teeth.

Life would be a lot simpler if we were together’, Chika would usually say, and I would say – ‘I’m just not that into you’. Such conversations were usually followed by awkward banter and us shoving each other.

I was drawn out of my musings, when the door burst open, and Chika came charging into the bedroom.