Twilight

Sacred time stands Still, hearts flip flop To intricate soul-strings Pulls by cupid’s thumb A rush Of hot dolorous desire A rain of Golden bliss Falling as roses On prurient paths

We live, die Gloomy, cry We fall, rise Once or twice Joyful, we merry Our heart as a ferry On boisterous, boisterous sea   We taste, rain Spring here, again Giddy, we kiss The universe, bliss Joyful, we merry Our heart as a ferry On boisterous, boisterous sea   We love, bloom Sonorous as noon We drink the sun High on us Joyful, we merry Our heart as a ferry On boisterous, boisterous sea.

A frosty morning in Jos; it was still dark when Tolani Philips had alighted from the luxurious bus into the dark quiet terminus, the cold carving out a chilly welcome. It was 3am in the morning. As she dragged out her luggage, her teeth chattered with cold and something else: fear. Fear of the unknown. Nervous, she sat on one of her boxes and waited. When she received her NYSC posting letter few days earlier, she had panicked. Lots of gory tales had been told again and again about the old North and its violent tendencies; about Christians and settlers gulping the red every now and then.   Her mother had tried everything to make sure she served in Lagos but all in vain. “Tolani, I am scared,” her mother had said, finally putting words to her fears. “I don’t want you to go. It is dangerous.” “I thought so too, mum,” Tolani had replied. “But what can we possibly do? I have to go, otherwise I will never get a job. I need that NYSC certificate.” Her mother hesitated for ...