Fictions by Ima.

One day a husband and wife had a heated argument and this followed: Wife: You keep repeating the same thing every time. Husband: I'm sorry, I will stop it. I will stop working late. Wife: I cannot continue to live under one roof with you. Husband: But I... Wife: Ssshhh... The next day : Noise coming from the rooftop. Wife: What is going on here? What are these roofing sheets for? Husband: Well since you said you cannot live under one roof with me, I decided to double the roof to make you stay. Smart husband or foolish one?

I was doing one of my tasks as an office assistant as I would every other working day, when I got a usual call from my boss, a call that would later turn my life on his head. I took a quick glance at my old worn out wrist watch, one that was given to me as a birthday gift from an old friend. It was 1.30pm, the exact time I was supposed to go get Mr. Sunny, my boss’s his lunch. Since I knew he didn’t like been kept waiting, I quickly dropped the papers I was holding, and headed straight to his cubicle that lay at the right end of our squared office. As I walked to his direction, I arranged my tie, adjusted my belt and ensured I was neat. He always wanted everyone to look his best, and would always remind us that hard work and neatness are pre-requisite for promotion and pay rise in his establisment. I had reached his glass door and noticed his head was buried into a file he probably was working on before he called on me. It was a custom that we do not call his attention when we st...

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Iya and Lade’s father throw themselves out of their home, and the neighbours join them to form a hostile barricade against these strangers whom they instinctively know will turn their celebration of good ‘foreign’ things into little more than a good story punctuated by wistful sighs. “Lade no go follow you!” “But she’s a thief!” “Na you wey be tif dia, idiot! How you get your own money?? Eee! Oloshi!!!!” “You are defending a killer??” “Killer ke? Wetin dis idiot dey talk?” And on they go, enjoying the rare opportunity to show these entitled women that despite all their money, they had nothing and were nothing. Gradually though, they begin to notice how quiet Lade is, how willing she is to go with her accusers. “Lade!!! You kill pessin???” Iya asks slowly, panic slowly sinking into her heavy, dark features. “She kill my pikin, oooo!!!” This last wail comes from Madam The mother’s sorrow sounds true enough, is strong enough to part the sea of flesh which the police co...