Welcome to Okafor Uzoamaka's blog.

I saw the signs. From your actions and inactions. Words- spoken and unspoken. I felt it too. Those times I held my breath because something as simple as breath could trigger you. I felt it in every insult I received from you. Every punch. I saw the signs, but I didn't leave. You were perfect to be left and I was deformed. You made me feel less. I actually was less. I was less pretty. Less intelligent. Less human. This was why I felt honoured to be called yours. Because you chose me even  in my deformed state. Like Christ chose us, though we're unworthy. Those advising me to leave you wouldn't understand. Or perhaps they envied me and wanted to have you. They wouldn't understand how much you loved me. For how often does a man as busy as you make out time to hit someone into becoming better? I understood that you needed me to be better those times you hit me. For like clay, I had to be melted before moulded. You are my potter and I, your clay. You assured me you loved...

                               Photography by Kray AUTHORS: UZOAMAKA OKAFOR, CHIOMA ABIAKAM (talkingpapers.blogspot.com) You see, this man Etiosa has been my friend for some years. Eight years to be precise. We met at the clinic my wife delivered of our first child. "Be a man," he told me when he noticed how troubled I was as I waited for my wife to put to bed. “What does it mean to be a man? I asked "I'm not even sure I know. I'm Etiosa." He said introducing himself. I just nodded as I was in no mood for a conversation. “Are you waiting for your wife too?  I asked after a while. "Yes." “How have you managed to maintain such serenity?" “Oh, she just had another miscarriage so we came to see the doctor. She's not in the labor room. I was short of the right words. "That's very sad. Be a man. I said." “What does it mean to be a man?" He asked. "I'm not even sure I know." I reply, and ...

There are two things that can neither be created nor destroyed- God and energy. I'll be discussing the latter. Not really though, but just to aid in teaching against engaging in 'incessant' sex. I'll be elucidating us, as best as I can on Sex transmutation. That's what this article is mainly about. Ever noticed how tired you feel after having sex? Mostly mind blowing sex. Oppss..I'm sorry, you're still a fargin. But either ways, you've seen it in movies. Well, that sigh given off is not just caused by tiredness, but is a result of emission. No, not of the cum but of 'energy'. Energy which is not measured in Joules. Before I continue, let me clarify us on the meaning of Sex Transmutation. According to Napoleon Hill, in his book Think and Grow Rich, "Sex transmutation is simple and easily explained. It means the switching of the mind from thoughts of physical expression, to thoughts of some other nature." Since energy can neither...

Sometimes, the act or significance of something is made graver by being labelled.   Label: a classifying phrase or name applied to a person or thing, especially one that is inaccurate or restrictive. (According to google.) The power of labels is not to be undermined. A married woman who seeks a child may not be so bothered by the fact that she has no offspring borne of her as she would be when she remembers she would be called 'barren' or 'childless'. So while praying she asks God to save her from the shame of being called barren. She is more concerned by the label her 'condition' has brought upon her, than the condition itself. Let me give another example- a woman who has lost her husband is labelled a widow. This connotation evokes pity, it reminds the bearer that she's unfortunate. Don't get me wrong. It's a great misfortune to lose one's husband, and it's unfortunate enough. Giving the 'condition' a label makes it more unfor...

Every night we die For 't's then our sorrows come alive We recount the day's sour tale Even stories we thought stale Every night we die For 't's then incubus comes alive Whispering distasteful nonsenses We can't recount with our senses Every night we die For 't's then our debts come alive Debts owed both in cash and kind In times we wish we could unwind Every night we die For 't's then the dead come alive Spirits haunted into leaving Spirits haunting the living Every night we die For while asleep We do not know if we'll slip Into the land of no return Every night we die.                                    Okafor Uzoamaka

We have been here before. Those times we argued till we had our backs up against the wall. We've been here, together but alone. Speaking in loud silence, till our unspoken words made the other fade; then vanish. Vanish gradually, like lead being erased from paper, as if to effect less shade before being erased. Totally. We've been here those mornings I confronted you about the condoms I saw all around the room. Used. They were just two or three and carefully tucked in the corners of the visitors room by a careless person. That was initially. You got bold and littered them all around the parlour, as if telling me: see where all the sperm we would have used in trying harder to get a child went to. I shouted, cried and begged till I was tired. Then, suddenly I stopped. I stopped begging. I stopped crying. I refused to get mad or ask you anything about it. You knew I knew you were still having affairs. You just didn't know why I refused to ask you anything about it again. T...

The aloe vera plant on our balcony refused to grow. It preferred to remain stagnant, until it started to shrink. It was no fault of ours. It was a personal choice of its, for it had a mind of its own. We watered it daily, made it accessible to adequate sunlight, put it in good soil. What else did it need? So when my mother compared my sister to the aloe vera plant, I knew she was one step from giving up on her, just as we were from giving up on the aloe vera plant. "At least if we throw away the aloe vera, it could be manure." My mother said. "You'll have no use even if you're thrown away." On a lighter note, I would have shouted: one-zero, indicating that my mother just scored a savage point against my sister. But this wasn't a lighter note, and since I wasn't interested in having my previous misdeeds exhumed like my sister's, I kept quiet. I couldn't quite get the reason for all the shouting initially, but I knew it had to do with our...