Zayzee Writes

I am a burden of brains. I am like Experience. Like a morning, I dawn upon. Never you can tell Me completely, My definite element. Of my person always you learn. As you go through life learning, So also you go through me learning. I am my kind. I am an Experience. I crawl upon. And I am contagious. You can hate me, But on you I will be Like a disease, Because I am an Experience. March '03 (c) UZEZI EKERE.

DISROBED I got disrobed And ashamed I am To be called a woman To the sex Shame I brought Mine, Unable to uphold Before the fall from grace I was learnt in the school Of thoughts surrounding The woman I was a believer That for happiness Pleasing thyself Is first and foremost I was a believer That even in love Your personality Guard I was a believer In the free living spirit – Live and let’s live Most importantly The independent woman Then the story began … I fell in love With one I ought to Have run from – Like you once said ‘I should run from you We are too similar’ I ought to have run Because we were like Of one make And too common in nature But this commonness In it was sweet That tied me In it was safety That I wanted always In it was care That all my life I craved for To make me, me The journey resembled That from the west To the Niger Delta The roads were smooth not But a determined driver must try. So I tried At the right times The brakes I used At the wrong times The accelerator

The article below has been previously published in National Mirror Newspapers, months ago By Uzezi Ekere African literature is going through dangerous times, regardless of the new discoveries of writers. The problems – publishing firms, bad quality of books, badly written scripts, poor reading culture, no recognition for writers etc - that have been spoken on about why literature seem to be bowing out of the stage, hangs still, dangerously, above all the stakeholders. Conferences have been held to find a lasting solution, but none seem to be forth coming. New writers have emerged to continue from where the older generation stopped, but the names and popularity of the older generation steals the day. Non Governmental Organizations have entered the stage to act their parts, still, African literature refuse to rise to its glory of the old days. And now, it seems that the time has come, when everyone who is concerned about the literature industry, sits down, and plan the way forward. Just

For quite some time now, I have been thinking seriously of what I am doing, and what I still want to do. Confusing is the fact that I cannot even gather my thoughts and plan straight. There are too many things struggling for attention in my little head, that I just ignore everything. And I am at a lost, because I have to face other stuffs so that I don't get bored to dead with this routine journalism work. I have had two different job offers that has given me an insights into what to do next as per starting my own company, but my head is refusing to let me think. I sit with friends and discuss on how to market their books, things that must be done to help books sell like pure water, and make sure people read them, and the next thing is, Uzezi, why don't you handle that part for me. You have it all planned out, you can actually do this for us. And I stop to think, that is true. Management or PR, which is it called? But I am so freaking confused I don't know where to start fr

Another forwarded mail from my inbox What would you do?....you make the choice. Don't look for a punch line, there isn't one. Read it anyway. My question is: Would you have made the same choice? At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning-disabled children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question: "When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?" The audience was stilled by the query. The father continued. "I believe that when a child like Shay, physically and mentally handicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that ch

Reading through the poems in this collection, The Ghost of Zina , made me look at poetry differently. The author here is someone I would call courageous, because poems to me have always been a window into the poet’s mind, and I have not built enough courage to allow me show some very personal poems to others, let alone publish them. That is because, I view my poetry as the chapters of my life in segments. That aside, I write according to how I feel at a particular time, but people might read it and recognize themselves and feel hurt or something. I really need to toughen up. Charles Ayo Dada , the author lets his reader into his mind, to see the pains he felt at losing his love. Very interesting book and I strongly recommend it. Apart from being a writer, Charles Ayo Dada runs The Sholman Gallery in Ikeja Lagos.

They were the bride of Jesus Christ one sunday, when they had to dress in white and lead the congregation during Corpus Christi. I told my kid sister, Keno, the taller one in the picture that since she is so taken with church activities, probably she would want to become a reverend sister. Guess what she said? ***********************. Exactly.

Once upon a time, a friend and I went shopping, during the last Lagos International Trade Fair. We came across a stand where disc man was on display. I wanted one and she wanted one. They weren’t new ones. When we inquired the prices, we were told N2,000. we exchanged looks, because we knew they were cheap. But still, we said we wanted to pay N1,500. The trader accepted. After making sure they worked properly, we paid up. After paying, we both caught sight of another guy selling what we just bought. And his were brand new, and in packs. Again we exchanged looks and asked ourselves what we had just done. We should have waited to go round the fair, before making any buy. Just for record, we approached the guy, who was selling to two others, and asked him the price of is disc man. “N1, 500,” he said. Unbelievable. My friend and I started laughing. That was the exact amount we paid of a used one. He had two different types, the other one, according to him, plays MP3 and was N300 more expen