Welcome to Okafor Uzoamaka's blog.

AUTHOR: DIANA NWAOKOLO There are days I love him, and there are days I just hate him with my whole being. I put my heart on my fingertips and pour emotions from my ink pen to paper, but this one man... This one sensual being makes it hard for me to write coherent sentences. I had poems about all of them,that I wrote at the height of my feelings for them. But this one man . Oh, just this numero uno makes words that fall so easily from my tongue, stick to the up of my mouth!! I want to write about him, but then he leaves me breathless without even trying. This is the love spin, and there are days- like today, where he just makes me see trolls and monsters and say things I can't believe and not be there when he's supposed to. So I sit to think with a glass of milk of all the times he's done me bad and I've just been going along with it and I say to myself, "Girl, he gon get it today!" He drives over right about then and his hands and lips tell me tales

While humming Enya's Oiche Chiun Chorale, you tucked your hair behind your ear once more as you tried to avoid the sun rays that sneaked into the room through the curtain. "Why do you keep dodging the sun rays?" I asked.  "I do not want to admit it's morning yet," you said. "We decide when it's morning in this world of ours, not the sun." I said.  You smiled. This year, we decided not to prepare the conventional Christmas meal of rice and chicken for ourselves. We decided not to do anything 'normal' that year. So instead of having rice and chicken, we went for yam and egg sauce and shared rice and chicken for the children. We decided not to take any fancy trip or decorate our house. We called all the roaming children on our street and had them sit under the canopy we erected the previous day. Initially, we were torn between going to visit the less privileged and calling the ones we saw on our streets- we opted for the later.

You looked at me with eyes that spoke. "I love you," you said, "but cannot be with you." That wasn't what I heard when I listened to your eyes. I heard, "I'd love to be with you forever." I heard only the 'I love you', without the 'but'. "Why?" I asked. "I can't actually say," you started, then went on to ramble about being from an endogamous people. It wasn't enough to be an Igbo, I had to be from your village too. "It's not you Kosarachi,' you said, 'it's me. It's my village people. I cannot marry a girl that's not from my village." "Really?" "Really. I swear it." "What are the consequences?" I asked. "I don't know, but I know it will give my father a heart attack." "The same father that didn't have a heart attack when you got a Yoruba girl pregnant." "Pregnancy is different from marriage. It