The light was gone before I could even step inside the siting room and say hello to Miss Bisi. It was replaced by candlelight. "How was school today?" Miss Bisi asked."You know there is nothing special about school. It is the usual stuff of taking home assignments you are not interested in doing."I wondered if Miss Bisi was paying attention to what I was saying about my school. It is almost a month now since I have lost interest in my classes. Any conversation that involved me going to school was not taking lightly by me. Why is Miss Bisi so interested in my schooling?"Education is as important as food," Miss Bisi announced after she had served me dinner, "you either eat it and survive or you don't eat it at all and end up dying.""Well, yes, Miss Bisi. . . About that. ." I fought hard to find the appropriate words to explain my recent dislike for school but found myself simply staring at Miss Bisi."Trouble at school?" Miss Bisi su

You can start a dance with a step, with an incredible movement or with a grand entrance that no one would be able to understand but you. It may seem hard at first to imagine your body will flow to the sound of pleasant music in the air but the farther you go into the song, the easier it becomes. Sometimes you may feel you are not getting it right, that your body is not moving to the rhythm of the beats, that your feet is moving faster than the way you expected. In the end, you have nothing to do other than to appreciate the way you have danced.I started today by dancing crazy. Real crazy! The kind of crazy you know that exists but you don't ever get the opportunity to see it done in the movies or in real life, just in your dreams. Do you understand what I just said?Dad driving back to Port-Harcourt was lovely even though I knew that my stay would not be long because I had to go back to Enugu soon. My WAEC exams were fast approaching and my first paper was going to be

It was midnight. I flushed warm with anger as I watched Dad turn to another street. Where was Dad taking all of us to? Was he driving us to our deaths? Why didn't Stacy and Rita say something about the road getting lonelier? Why is all of them quiet? I asked myself those questions as I started to feel I was bothering them. Yes! I was a foreign body. I was not supposed to be in their midst, following them to an unknown place at midnight. I was trying desperately to concentrate, to understand why Dad was driving at midnight when he should be with Mum or Sarah, sleeping. My entire body felt weak so did my soul. The two important elements of my existence were both focused on a single point, taking a rest. But how could I sleep when I wasn't sure of where Dad was taking me to? I know we ought to trust our parents. I know we ought to obey everything that they say irrespective of how hard it may be to accept. I trust Dad and I believe he won't do anything to hurt me but I wasn't comfortabl

All form of rebellions starts from somewhere whether it is accepting the friendly voice that advices you to go and steal from your friend or the cunning voice that tells you to jump from a cliff.For me, three years ago was the beginning. It was my first time of standing in the side of God in front of Dad. It was also the day I felt learnt how to boil hot water without burning my fingers. I can't really remember whether the rain was falling at that point or whether it had stopped falling but I know that everywhere was cold. Not the kind of cold that has to deal with hard feelings but the kind of cold you would associate with the weather because of the rain. Dad had just came back from work and he was not in a real good mood because he kept on complaining about a board meeting that did not end well. Mum on the other hand was in the kitchen trying to prepare tea for Danny. Although I tried my hardest to make Dad feel better, he just couldn't follow my flow. He was

Perhaps I was feeling differently because today was the first day of the month. Perhaps I was feeling weightless because my WAEC exams were starting soon. Perhaps I was tired of thinking too much about God. I really don't know what was wrong with my mind.Today, I decided to take a look at a magazine in Dad's house. I think the magazine belongs to Sarah because it was a Christian magazine. As we all know, Dad is an agnostic so am I. Inside the magazine was an article written by a Mormon who had spent months in Puerto Rico and a state in the United States of America called Washington. I was hoping to write a long entry today detailing my expectations for the new month but I am too tired because of tomorrow's trip. Dad, Stacy, Rita and I are going to a special place in town and I am overjoyed with the thoughts of meeting new people. I will leave you with the article of Elder Wyatt Martin.Here is what he wrote in the article: My name is Elder Ma