UDEME RALPH

      There is a great channel, an almighty means by which men get almost everything they want in life. That means is called God. And as long as “God” meets these needs, as long as He satisfies these longings in the hearts of people, He remains relevant, needed, sought, and worshiped. And in that case, He becomes something more than an end; He becomes a means, a middleman, some kind of noble pathway for the attainment of nobler heights.       People generally call God lofty names—Almighty, Alpha and Omega, the King of Kings, and so forth. On a philosophical plane, God is often conceived of and portrayed as the noblest, the most perfect, the unmoved mover, the Great one at the Peak of being. All these point to one thing—the supremacy of God. People, believers especially, have the trite tendency to refer to God as their “all in all,” and to make allusions to self-abnegation, self denial and other things of that sort. But deep within, ...

On a cold and rainy night, Walter, a world-weary thinker stayed up to write a short story about a writer. At first, the idea seemed absurd. Even so, his obsession with absurdities made it desirable.   Before him was a blank sheet of paper, time-yellowed, resting somberly on his reading desk. The light from his lamp was growing dimmer and dimmer; but he had to write. He had learned to exploit his growing sleeplessness by writing—writing anything. He named his protagonist “Okoro” and plunged immediately into the burden of whys, how, where, when, and who did what. At first, his mind was blank, blanker than the paper before him. He knew nothing about this creation of his, other than this: that he was a writer, with a name like that of a typical village chief. He was not very good at details, especially at faces, and heights, and other things of that sort. He was not actually a writer, so to speak. He was a thinker, a master of the abstract, the metaphysical, and of countless exi...

        There is a way, lofty and noble, with a gate so wide and tempting. And many are there, strolling, trotting, running joyfully, heading steadily towards doom. The world has finally found this way; lo, humanity has reached the gate, and there we linger, glad and thankful, that at last we've found home. But this is no home. This is misery, and in it we keep wallowing, day after day.        Thinking beings: so we are called. Homo sapiens. Wise beings in exalted attires, builders of sky scrapers, writers of books, builders of softwares, explorers of space and deep space. Our schools keep swelling, with more and more minds coming to learn, libraries filled to an overflow. Computer has come and knowledge has surged; the internet has arrived, and humanity has advanced. And so, our pride grows, our respect for sacred things wane, our regard for the spiritual and ancient goes faint.        In the days of old, divorce, to us, w...

        Imah was unusually happy that morning. Happiness was not a luxury she possessed: it seldom crossed her path. She had found solace in the busyness that work offered.         She came to the camp four years ago, at the age of sixteen. She had just started form three--senior school--when the rebels invaded her village. That terrible afternoon, she was in school, quietly listening to a long talk from her Government teacher about the efforts of the nationalist towards the attainment of Independence, when she heard a very deafening sound, ‘Kaboom’ followed by a rising cloud of dark smoke that enveloped everywhere.        “It’s an air raid!!! Air raid!” a voice bawled, as dozens of military choppers began to drop explosives into the hapless town. The air darkened. People ran in different directions, as though running was the ultimate cure.  Imah and other members of her class  sallie...

                                                            Gone are the good ancient days when the world was peaceful and men were like angels. When pure souls still died in the cross for the sake of filthy millions. Who would stoop that low today? Those were the days of obedience, and of submission, when God was God indeed in the eyes of all. The climate, then, was still full of life; and we went about business, led by the light cast on our paths by ancient peoples. Those were the days of law and order, when justice had not taken up the cloak of injustice.       Men with seemingly higher minds strangled the order. They stepped on sacred grounds; they wrote books, and led many astray. Marx, ...