LAST NIGHT.

LAST NIGHT.

It was only the 3^rd round and I already felt my bones were too weak to continue. We still had four more rounds to go, but I wasn’t sure I could wait to see the last bout. I had been lying in the sofa with my eyes glued to the TV set, waiting for that moment when Thomas would be declared the winner. He has always been my favourite boxer, and this night he was fighting for the heavyweight championship.

       Suddenly I saw it coming, and like a splash Johnson was squealing on the floor of the ring, the low jab from Thomas was so hard that even Mohammed Ali would have fallen for it.

       Is this bout going to end in a knockout? I wondered, as the umpire counted 4…5…6…7… The excitement was already building and I can see the smile on Thomas’s face. Suddenly Johnson moved and gradually he got back to his feet. He fought hard, and to the amazement of all, he clinched the title in the 7^th round, after he left Thomas sprawling on the floor from a fast upper cut.

      Thomas lost lots of his fans after that night. According to him, he thought it was all over in the 3^rd round; he thought he had already won, but he eventually lost.

      After listening to his loser’s speech that night, I realized I was still far from my destiny, no matter the lot I might have achieved so far, I can still be toppled. The fight made me understand that being better is of no use, if I can be the best. 

 

Augustus C.

07033000052

^©2014.

www.umuahianlodge.blogspot.com

THIS IS WHERE I WAS BORN.

THIS IS WHERE I WAS BORN.

This is where I was born, it was already pretty bad news, and then they built a wall around this when I was 18years old. Did I do anything to deserve that punishment? No. I respected every law to the letter. And I didn’t quit school in 9^th grade to sell crack, it’s because they closed the school down. The only thing I ever did wrong was getting born here.

          Who do I blame? The man and woman I call my parents, was it their fault? Were they part of the decayed government? I wonder how little we have become in the eyes of those who promised us heaven before we voted them in. Instead of the heaven they promised, they increased the fire of the hell we now find ourselves.

          I have got to endure the suffering that has now become a habit. They never gave us schools but they expect us to be the better leaders of tomorrow that might never come; they didn’t give us jobs, yet they expect us to quit our lucrative business of dope. How can we quit, when they even patronize us. Why place a ban on dope, if you can’t quit smoking. Who is fooling who?

          “Smokers are liable to die young” that’s what they tell us, yet they ship the sticks in. They send us to jail for the possession of firearms they gave us during their frivolous campaigns. They train us, and use us during campaigns, and expect us to forget all we have learnt after the elections. How can we? We are not that daft, we still retain their lessons on assassination, kidnapping, robbery and lots more. How can a teacher expect his student to forget all he has learnt? We are just being attentive students, thereby making our teachers proud.

          They send their black thugs after us, and when the black ones fail, they release the green boss, and without mercy they jump into our streets, killing our innocents, raping our girls, while we watch them in shame. If we raise complaints, they array us before the bar, where their white caps give us a list of offences, and without fair trial, we are let down the rail road with long sentences.

 

Augustus C.

07033000052

^©2014.

www.umuahianlodge.blogspot.com

 

 

 

LOCAL BOY

LOCAL BOY

From the slums of the darkest street to the lights of the brightest city, he always had to fight; a fight for freedom, and quest for stardom.

          Like the local gin, he pierced the hearts of many with his attitudes. His parents would stay awake till 11p.m waiting for their local son to return home. His only excuse for staying out late was “hustle”.

          Having known the taste of poverty, he wished to sip the wine of wealth, but no one gave him a glass. All he could do was sit around and wait. But when glasses never came, and the wine was going down, he had to grab the bottle for a gulp.

          Each day he had 24miles to travel, and each year he had 365 mysteries to unravel. His life was a gridlock of opportunities and disappointments.

          He never gave up on the girl that called him a “local boy”, or the man that called him a “failure”. He knew he was bigger than what they saw, and he struggled to break out.

          He was bounced at the gates, slept in studios, managed one shirt and trouser, all in the name of hustle. He did all this to get to the limelight.

          Funny enough, his parents were not his best friends, because he chose a different dream from what they had for their local son. They wanted him in Suit and Tie, but he preferred Fez Caps and Jimmy Boots.

          The street became the only friend he could run to, and he was gladly accepted. He fought hard on the line, just to break bread before the time; he never gave in to side attractions. He aimed for the sky, and the street was the inspiration that made him high.

          He didn’t only dream big, he also created a link. He could no longer wait for the key of success to be tossed to him, so he had to break in. like a volcano, he shattered the rock of failure.

          Today, the girl that once called him a “local boy”, now wish to have his autograph. The man that once saw him as a failure now chose him as a role model for his son.

          Amidst all his achievements, his parents still saw him as their local son. To them he was just a local boy with an international dream. They believe he was the local boy that got the best from his locality.

Augustus C.

07033000052

^©2014.

www.umuahianlodge.blogspot.com