If I Were President | By Okeke Chima | Blog Entry for ROAinHouseV3

Have you ever wondered what would happen if you were President of a country? Well, Okeke Chima – a fourth year Materials and Metallurgical Engineering student of Federal University of Technology Owerri – has. 

The excerpt you see below is a section of his thoughts. Click the link below the excerpt to read the entire thing. It will leave you with a refreshed vigour to do something about your country. That is the true meaning of patriotism. 

…If I were President.

First thing I’d do is Peirce my earlobes. Crazy right? I don’t know about you but that’s perfectly normal if you ask me?

I’d also surround myself with people who would only tell me the upside of things only, I mean, who likes negativity right? That way I’d keep the negative vibes out.

Like breathing exercises “in with the good, out with the bad, nothing can stop my shine”.

If I were president, I’ll take four months off immediately I’m announced winner just to bask in the feeling of being president. I mean, what’s all the rush for? Especially when I have 4 years, I mean 4 whole years to be here and can always rig my way into seat in the next elections.

If i were President I wouldn’t get to the business at all, not when there are witches to be hunted and dogs to be fed. Come on, you know these dogs put everything on the line to have me on this seat, I’m simply taking care if my own…

Click here to read the entire entry. 

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And This Shall Be The Seat That Rules The World | By Ndukwe-Nwoke Chiziterem | ROAinHouseV3 Entry

And This Shall Be the Seat That Rules the World”

It is 1609, and a distinguished intelligent African leads a European expedition to the Americas. Now, I don’t have to tell you what an oddity this is, or why you made that face you just made when you read the line; but you did read well. The matter of whether this event actually took place is one I cannot say for certain, for I could only be a biased judge of whatever assertions I would offer concerning its verity. But I know this– there is a story to be told here, and for it to be complete, and to weigh just the right amount in the tongue of the hearers – like umami to vegans – a distinguished intelligent African lead a European expedition to the Americas, to find the rumoured seat.

History had it rough for black people. We – I’m black, yes – were in the dark for so long; but what I call darkness is only a concept of relativity. To us, we knew. We ate food, we hunted game, we created fine art, we had music, and clothing, and shelter, and laws, and language, we knew. Our light was sufficient, until a different spectrum was shown to us by the likes of Henry, son of Portugal, master of the seas. What we wish our forefathers did was to simply understand that their light had a different wavelength, and so was a thing we could master – the same way we mastered the difference between ugu and achara – perfect on, and in return, show them our own type of light for them to learn as well. What they did instead was to engrave it in their hearts that the white man’s light, since more luminous in a sense, was superior- not superior in that one sense alone, no, they took it superior in all senses.

So, Sarah Baartman had to happen, Olaudah Equiano had to happen, Kunta Kinte had to happen, Solomon Northup had to happen, and these happenings have not ceased- Malcolm X, Martin Luther King Jr., Alex Haley, all the way down to Barrack Obama. Different happenings in different shades and tones. But I believe history’s had its fun. You can’t play around with a toy forever. These days, the different lights are finally mixed, and we universally understand that black light, viewed upon with the right sets of instruments, has what I call, “a forever glow”.

Chude Isaac, somehow, understood this as far back as 1609. He had the entire town of Bradford in Yorkshire know that he knew, just like they, and they came to respect his opinion first, and then him later. If only William Wilberforce knew of Chude, his battle with Parliament would have ended long before 1807, but I digress. Time came, and word was heard of a mysterious gem that had appeared in a Cherokee mine, and explorers were rallied.

It was like a whistle blown, for late 16th Century England loved to motivate their adventurous citizens by setting up expeditions so that it resembled a hunting contest, and it seemed this attitude was carried on to the early 17th. Chude captained a boat with the fewest crew – for though all respected him, it was still unorthodox to behold oneself in an English ship led by a black man – made up of ever-peculiar Lord Allbond, squires Stevenson and Dursley, Miss Dundee (whom everyone kept referring to as ‘Boy’), squiggly Fermoot and his monkey Tomfeor.

The Atlantic, everyone knew was a misty blue mine of unseen dangers, but having journeyed about 120 leagues without a single incident – though out of sight from other ships – the crew reinforced the courage they had in finding the treasure, and began obeying Chude unquestioningly. Close to the eastern shores of northern America, the first canon ball bore a hole twice its size all the way through the hull of Chude’s vessel. It had come to be, as everyone on board now understood, that it had been deliberate, the conditioning of Chude’s sail as if he had won the chase and had kept his competitors at his tail. Ravage battles had gone on behind him, and the Admiral had specifically instructed all ships to leave Chude’s to sail ahead – for he alone had the true sense of direction of an adventurer; he knew and read the right signs – and after they were done squabbling behind him (blowing themselves to bits should have been the phrase), and he had found shore, incinerate his company. They simply were not to have him or the set of miscreants aboard his ship become English champions, or be knighted, for a knighting had been promised. It was well orchestrated; but failed at the end. By pure happenstance, a horde of locals had gone fishing that same hour, and had inadvertently come to Chude’s aid. Tomfeor, the monkey, had saved both he and his crew by being a mere fascination to the Native American Chief. Leon, the French-English captain of the ship that sought to wreck Chude’s, and his team were burnt on sight at the order of the Chief. They had no bargaining monkey with them.

It was a swell time with the Cherokee. Three-quarters of what they said was not understandable, and the quarter that was was seldom intelligible. But they got along; Chude married the Chief’s daughter – true story – as a bargain to be led to the sacred tomb with the white gem. You find that a copious percentage of communication between the two groups was through lengthy hours of bargains with terrible sign language. And when they arrived at an impasse, a game that much resemble golf, but more brutal and involving hungry badgers and wood was played. The winner of the game won the bargain; the loser gets drowned– sacrificed to the gods of the tomb, they said it was. Chude lost Allbond this way.

The entry to the tomb – catacombs, really – was to be performed at night, with all the full rites of entry observed. Only one with royal blood, or married to royal blood could enter, hence the marriage. Ornate and confounding rituals they were, and when things got undeniably suspicious, both Chude and his new wife, Sequoyah, were thrown into the dark tomb, and locked in with a large rolling stone. Before the stone was completely closed, he heard the words, “fool! I’m no chief. You think you’re Hernando de Soto. I’d rather be Shoshone than help a foreigner, black or white. Good luck. And in case you’re confused, I hate Sequoyah; and she’s undeserving of that damned name. It’s a man name even.”

Chude worried about Stevenson, Dursley, and Boy. They were as good as dead, and he was stuck with a funny-smelling native who had a disturbing love for rocks that she licked some of them, and spoke no English. He left her. Was it inhumane? That question could come later and bother him. Now that he was left alone, he was alone. He had only with him wood with cloth laced with oil thrown in by Boy at the closing of the tomb. He took two rocks from Sequoyah, struck them to no avail, and in frustration, kicked the wood, and like the badgers in their strange golf-like game, the stick lifted off the ground and kept sailing in the air. No landing sound was heard, and Chude wondered if such a deep pit was before him. Then the sound was heard, not from some terrifying depth below him, but from an alarming distance in front. Then the torch lighted, and glory was shone all around him. The innards of the tomb, in some manner, had come to life, and it breathed light.

Chude had heard and read Scottish tales about the Willow o’ the Wisp. Now he saw one, or maybe some mimicry of it, for he followed the lights as they went off on his trail, and Sequoyah at his wake. Then he saw. He saw.

It was white, but not white as you know, or blanched if you choose to classify the whiteness. It wasn’t translucent or transparent either. It was whiter than all the white in the world. And it shone. The only other colour that could be seen on it was golden, and the bright golden colouration were inscriptions, which as he drew nearer proved unreadable, and dare I say, utterly useless to Chude.

However, the words read:
βωλγ ιθ ζλΰρ ταθ τίσ ιθ ίβτσομ σιθ δνα
These engravings at the headrest of the white chair which lay on a raised dais directly under a moon roof at a height unreachable by man or any of his devices, riddled, puzzled, and arrested dear Chude to the confines of the catacombs, and even though he couldn’t see it yet, all the years he spent in that tomb, eating nothing but being inexplicably sustained, teaching Sequoyah the English language and the ancient language of his African tribes people which he uttered in hushed tones alone while back at England, recording the events of his voyage in a severely dog-eared scroll with quill and ink (later his and her own blood), laughing, and dancing, and getting their eyes adjusted to the lights of the tomb that never dimmed, loving, and kissing, and making love – for circumstance had rid his mind of Sarah who waited for him in England, and had rendered Sequoyah his one true, necessary, love – while the many eyeless skulls of the dead watched and perverted their eternally lost souls, receiving each corpse thrown into the tomb from the moon roof, he, Chude, was to become the stuff of legend– a secret tale told from one ear in a generation to only one other ear alone in the very next generation, the almighty myth: The African man who lead a European expedition to the Americas, discovering the rarest gem on earth, and never leaving the cave to tell the tale, only surviving 167 years in said tomb by his reckoning, before his mythical, cursed, scroll leaves the tomb and falls into the hands of none other than Mister Washington himself, who was to soon lay the seeds for the biggest socio-political invention earth had ever seen– The Declaration of Independence of the United States of America, and the writings of that scroll underneath.

By stars! I’d just written 305 words without a full stop. Was highly enjoyable.

***

“And the post of Senior Prefect goes to…”

“Gabriel Ochinta,” the students of Our Lady Shines Her Star Catholic Secondary School echoes the name of one of the three candidates for school senior prefect before the principal could get the chance to finish. They all knew he’d win; it was written in the stars. All would agree that Gabriel was born to lead, and having shown exceptional qualities, put himself out there for candidacy, run his little campaign with his little school savings very effectively – having armed himself with the right team – he was damn sure to win. The community of Umuororonjo in Imo State must hear his name. He had what most would call a Messiah-complex, but it was certainly not misplaced, or erroneous, for everything Gabriel touched turned to gold. It all started when he had the first vision of the hill with a perfectly round hole at its crest where faceless men threw in corpses of soldiers who’d died in battle.

After each dream, he’d begin hearing voices. Initially, they were broken and unfamiliar, then they took shape, sound, and colour pretty soon. They were his instructors. They called themselves The Watchful Eyes, and each time, positively announced themselves as the souls in the tomb. Soon, Gabriel figured out that destiny has set a course for him; he was meant for something larger than himself, and the voices of those corpses he saw were destiny’s emissaries. He started bossing everyone in his family around– a character his mother termed ‘new juvenile aggression’ in her local tongue. His father paid him no mind, but gently, as Gabriel noticed, ceased talking to him as a father, and soon, was taking wise instructions from him. And the perk about the entire thing was that he, Gabriel, was always right.

From bossing his family members to becoming class monitor at 8, then library prefect by 11, and then senior prefect by 13, he was the youngest his school had ever recorded. He brought in money to his family through the ever-brilliant business ideas he presented. His parents suggested business school for college; he preferred political science. He intelligently usurped a scholarship to study in Nigeria’s most prestigious university, and came out even hungrier. He breezed past his Youth Service Corps program like it was yesterday’s news, and immediately over-impressed the leading candidate for local government chairman at his hometown by prophesying through statistics exactly the way his campaign must be run for him to obtain majority voters and win by a garish margin. He became the campaign manager and indeed, won the election for his candidate as he predicted.

They weren’t predictions, he’d insist, and when he had accidentally released word to his candidate when he was running for second tenure that his prophesies presented him, Gabriel, as the next LGA Chairman, his candidate was so pissed that he worried himself to chronic illness.

Gabriel won, then ran alongside the next governor of Imo State in the next four years, won with him. At this stage, his success story had become everyone’s bible. Patriotic Nigerians yearned to follow his example. If he was proud, or greedy, or corrupt, he did a damn good job at hiding it. He was the change the country had been waiting for. He went ahead to run for governor in the next four years, won, then presidency, and won on a landslide.

Gabriel Ochinta, GCFR, OON, was now president of Nigeria. People expected him to do two tenures at Aso Rock, and then rest. He thought – and even prayed – he would. But his guiding voices weren’t finished with him. He had recognized, and had even named, some of them, although some like Boy (who was a woman actually), Fermoot, Allbond, and the pesky monkey whose English sounded like Minions going on decided – insisted – to keep theirs. They were proud kingsmen and would not surrender their identity to mishandling so easily.

The voices, seductively, and terrifyingly (when he would oppose them) egged him on, and he soon understood his real target. They had all told him the wonderful tales of Chude Isaac, and had even suspected that he, Gabriel, was kin to the 16th Century black English sailor. They sparsely mentioned Sequoyah, although Gabriel was most interested in her than anybody else in their tales. Gabriel’s real target was the white gem. It was fable to him, but sometimes, he swore than he could taste the rare stone on his lips, and he would hunger. Therefore, the United Nations was his next target. He needed to acquire power and influence enough to pull whatever stunt he required to pull on American soil without international attention. He got there, as expected. He was Secretary General for four years, but in those four years, all the connections he amassed and shameful secrets about human brutality and wickedness he got to learn could not still get him to where he wanted. One day, a conversation with the Chinese Prime Minister gave him his craziest idea yet. The Prime Minister had asked, “how come you come from a third world country and yet have achieved all these; yet your country is not in the G8?” His idea was simple – hell with the G8. He was going to bring Nigeria into the sanctum sanctorum of it all – the G3, if you would call it that; the World Security Council.

It was to require eight more years as President, and in the eight years, pull ninety percent of his focus on the military. Ninety percent of the focus of someone as high-functioning as Gabriel was a lot I tell you. And this was proven. Soon, Great Britain lost its spot– it was hotly contested for, if you must know. But a public parley lead to a compromise– England was to operate under Nigeria, just like Israel under the United States. If only Chude could see what was going on now.

Then the cogs of Gabriel’s thirty-two year old wheel – for these are the number of years it took the young man to go from campaign manager of a local government area chairmanship candidate to the leader of the World Security Council – began turning for real. He called for his own expedition, and pulled in the best team available in the world. It was clandestine. Team comprised of his son, Ugo, world-acclaimed best cryptographer alive, a Nobel-Prize in Physics winning Kenyan physicist, his co-winner– a female Chemist from Uganda, South African archeologist, Reuel Theba, a mariner from Ghana, and finally, a historian from Ethiopia. That his selections comprised entirely of Africans was purely coincidental. Their task was simple – dig a big hole in the rose garden on 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, follow the clues in the map that he offers them, winner, if still alive, gets to make his country the greatest in the world, for the gem shall be transported to his or her country for safe-keeping, and tourism.

They were all patriotic suckers, so they set out, Gabriel giving his son needed leverage by telling him the story behind the naming of Nathaniel Gist’s son Sequoyah, and the story of the inspirer of that name. He was a hardcore cryptographer, so he appreciated the story. No other living human being would.

Gabriel would rest well, knowing that his son would win, his torment by the people in his head would end, he’d finally breathe in life since turning six, and would die a fulfilled happy man.

When Ugo’s dead naked body was brought to him, out of the chasm they’d made in the rose garden, three months later, Gabriel cried, and he never stopped. The voices had stopped; they’d been silenced, but Gabriel had a feeling that someday, someone else will take over from him, for he suspected that the marking etched on his son’s dead bare body were the same as those Boy had told him were in Chude’s mysterious scrolls.

***

I will not bore you with the specifics of how Ugo and his team managed to infiltrate The White House, remove every human and artificial presence from the section of The White House they were interested in, dug a perfect hole that could fit six persons at once, covered the hole up, and eventually found the tomb buried under layers of dirt, still intact as promised, no. I myself do not understand half the sketches in their operational blueprint, and still cannot comprehend the subtle movements they had to make, all whilst a White House tour was being embarked upon by some kindergarten pupils, but I know one thing– it took them exactly 24 hours to pull the job off from start to finish. They celebrated while at the entrance to the tomb, in the hole, and by the time they were done shouting shouts of victory, a seventh voice was heard among them– that of the guardian.

“You know, it took me quite some time to admit it, but you all are evidence of its truth. The Watchful Eyes chose another in my days. Hmph. Who would have thought?”

Reuel pulls out a gun nobody knew he was with. “How did you get that past security, Zulu?” Ugo asks him. Part of their strategy was to use codenames. Reuel’s was Zulu. Ugo’s was Igbo. One can see that even though they aimed to hide their identity, they still desired whomever that may have been listening in on them to know where they were from.

“Not to matter,” Reuel replies and cocks the gun. “Who’re you?” he asks the owner of the voice whose face could not yet be seen due to the darkness surrounding them. Then Reuel’s gun flew away from his hands crashing with so much force into the walls of the cavern they were in that it shattered. The owner of the seventh voice approached their glow sticks.

“No wonder I didn’t feel like I had full communication. They’d indeed split their gifts. That of Protector for me, and that of Messenger to him.” It was the Vice President of the United States. “By him, I mean your father, Ugo.”

The others rushed at him and with wave of hands, he telekinetically tossed them all to the one side of the cavern, rendering them halfway unconscious, leaving Ugo and Reuel. “How?” Ugo asks, his quivering knee betraying the fearlessness he tried to portray at the calamitous situation. He was scared shitless, but somehow knew that if someone as powerful as the US Vice President had allowed them to carry out their plan and get to the cavern, it implied he needed their help locating the gem as well.

“How is it that the Vice President is telekinetic? Or how do I know the things I just uttered? Or how am I here?”

Ugo made to speak before the Vice President cut him off and continued. “Real question you should be asking is, how do we get into the catacombs?

“See, I don’t have the details in my head like your father. The Watchful Eyes decided that I was to be the one to not reap the full benefits of the Carriers…of the secret, that is. Vice President after Vice President after Vice President, we were all born with it. But in the case of my predecessors, unlike mine, they had the Powers, as you’ve just witnessed me demonstrate, and as well, the Communication. I know what I know from the Chude Scroll – name was changed to the Isaac Scroll recently actually – and the Isaac Codex Nixon created.”

Ugo was calmer now. He approached the Vice President, heaved a sigh, and then asked the true question bothering him. “What is it you want? I can tell you’ve let us get here. What do you want?”

“You’re a quick one, can give you that. Maybe that’s why you’re a darn good cryptographer. In fact, I can see your father hand-selected you all because of your specific skill sets. Mine should be the ingredient he missed.”

“He knew about you?”

“Hell no. I hid myself. Perhaps he suspected, but he certainly did not know, and did not account for me here.” The others were getting to.

“What I want,” the Vice President continued, “is what you all want. To obtain the one treasure that will make the United States remain the most powerful nation in the world for the long foreseeable future. I promise to be civil and cooperative during the hunt like you guys, but the moment I see the gem, there are no promises.”

“Hunt?”

“Yes, hunt, son. You didn’t think you guys will continue operating like a well-oiled engine as you have when you sight the goods in that tomb, did you? Son, prepare for the greed of mankind to show itself to its fullness. I’ve braced myself for it. You better.”

With those words, and the full recovery of the victims of the wall-tossing, the team of seven set out to the tomb wall. At the wall, they found the rolling stone and rolled it away. Then they stepped in.

The concentrated stench of dead bodies ambushed them and they went for gas masks. The Vice President brought one for himself too apparently. He was as prepared as they were. They kept walking, and when it was clear that the distanced they’d walked with their glow sticks was way too much for what they were in to be a mere tomb, they went for a brighter source of light.

A mighty halogen lamp was lit, and it could only see as far. As far was still more road to cover, and more putrid skulls adorning their route on both sides. Then Ugo stopped them all. His head had been restless all this time. He’d remembered the tale his father told him at his briefing. Chude lit a stick and kicked it into the distance. His crew wondered how that would help. They thought it silly.

He found a leg bone from one of the skulls, tied a piece of his shirt he tore around it, lit it with his cigarette lighter, and kicked it. The stick sailed, and like in the stories, its landing thud was heard much later, but no light came.

Ugo got frustrated. They kept on going forward, eventually relinquishing their gas masks, and the large lamp kept showing them more of the same thing ahead, just as if they were going in circles. They kept at it for four more hours, their patience running thin by the hour, until Reuel could not handle it anymore. He screamed, and began shouting nonsensical Zulu at them all. Every other person followed his cue, except the Vice President. He was sat with his legs crossed on each other at a corner, watching, silent. Then all of a sudden, he started laughing. The laughter took a sharp crescendo, got the attention of others who kept mute, and then seemed to herald and accentuate the infinite lighting of the entire tomb. Soon, everywhere got so bright that all fourteen living eyes in that tomb fought battles in adjustment. The laughter didn’t cease.

“What is it!” Reuel screamed at the Vice President.

The Vice President shook his head, and chuckled his insane mirthful episode to a halt. “I know what spirits are in this tomb,” he said. “If St. Benedict’s Catholic school had taught me anything, it’s that what comes with inexplicable powers and becomes alive when there is chaos can only be a malevolent spirit.”

“What are you on about?”

“Lady and gentlemen, behold,” the Vice President dramatically stood and waved his hands, “The White!” He pointed at the most beautiful seat Ugo, or Reuel, or the others had ever seen in their life. It was white beyond ethereal existence. And then Ugo saw the golden inscriptions. The cryptographer in him came alive as the Vice President concluded. “Beautiful sight. I will indeed die in peace. And the day of my death shall be this day.” He was talking to himself, but audibly enough that all could hear. “I had planned killing you all and transporting this large giant-size chair telekinetically to the Smithsonian, but now I know that even if I do not lay a finger on you, you all, and myself, shall perish, today. The Spirit of The White cannot let any alive.”

“You’re a crazy person,” one of the others said.

“It’s Ancient Greek. In reverse,” Ugo began. His gaze was fixated on the golden inscriptions. “I’ve read about something like this. It’s like mirror language– the mother of the eventual concept in lingual civilization where glyphs like those used by the Hebrew or Aramaic were converted from right to left scripts to left to right scripts as they were Romanized, and eventually Anglicized.”

No one understood what he was saying or where he was headed. He wrote things down on a piece of paper, cancelled them, rewrote, and cancelled, while others walked round the marvel before them, all the while sizing their counterparts up and deciding how best to eliminate them in spite of the Vice President’s crazy talk of massacre.

Ugo stood. “I’ve got it! I’ve got it! It’s a very obvious inscription, really, but I’ve got it.” He ran to Reuel, who was the only person at a place and ready to listen aside the Vice President.

Ugo wrote on his paper:
ανδ θισ μοστ βί θι σίτ θατ ρΰλζ θι γλωβ
“And This Must Be The Seat That Rules The World”
“Brilliant!” he exclaimed.

“It is, isn’t it?” a strange echoing voice was heard. The hiss behind each word reverberated so hard that the lights flickered.

“Rude of me,” the voice carried on, slowly, softly, predatorily, speaker completely unseen in all the light. “I should introduce myself.”

“The Spirit of the White,” the Vice President says, in a little voice that turned everyone else’s head in shock. It was little, and it trembled, like the man himself.

“Yesss, Mister Vice President, you’re right. But that is not my name. The call my throne ‘The White’ now. It’s funny, and I reckon, is the reason why you give me such complicated name. The truth is my true name cannot be spoken by any tongue conceived, given, or learned of man. Its intricacies and involvedness would only confound you. For your sakes, just call me what you all have been calling me for years, unbeknownst; call me Uncle Sam, for that is my name.”

“Wait what, Uncle S–” Interjecting Reuel was the utter disappearance of the chair, the turning off of all of the lights – including the halogen lamp, the etching of words on all their stomachs, and the dying of them all, in one fell swoop.

_____________________________

Ndukwe-Nwoke Chiziterem is a fresh graduate of Federal University of Technology Owerri, where he studied Petroleum Engineering. He has been a writer at heart for many years, and has recently founded the non-profit for emerging African writing talents known as Route Africa. 

A New President: ROA In-House Contest V3 Entries Closed

Entry for the third version of Route Africa’s In-House Contest ended today. 

It was a fun time exploring the theme “A New President”. This theme was inspired by the American Presidential Elections that would come to a close by tomorrow, 9th. 

The theme explores the pomp and circumstance associated with the office of president, not just in the United States, but anywhere else. The carefully selected topics for the 12 categories of the contest gives a full spectrum view of the good, the bad, the ugly, but most importantly, the understood about what it means to be president, all from the perspective of emerging African writers. 

Receiving a total of two submissions (a blog post and a short fiction),  there was no need for a judging panel. These entries will be put up here (or given an honourable mention here) in due time. We hope V4 will be much more engaging. Our hopes are to attach a prize money to the next version. 

Writing, among Africans, especially those questioning their love or desire to write is indeed challenging. And this is one of the missions of Route Africa-to make sure this does not remain the case. Our in-house contest is one way we achieve this. It is incessant writing. It is fun, and the surest way to improve one’s writing skills. 

Care to write some more?  Don’t hesitate. Join up with us, let’s learn together.

Details for V4 will be announced on this blog in 7 days time. Stay tuned. 

Photo-Splash of Our Inauguration

 

From Top Left (across, then down): Our Staff Adviser in FUTO  – Dr. Uche Uwakwe; Our President  – Ndukwe-Nwoke Chiziterem – reading an Excerpt (Discombobulated Herd) from Butterfly Fish by Irenosen Okojie; A Section of Attendees; Our MAI Head – Uzor Michael – responding to a question after the book reading on Discombobulated Herd; Winner of Short Story Contest of the day – Arekpitan Queen – on the second book reading (“Pageants Hurt All Women, Including Myself” by our member Ohakpougwu Chinwendu); Invitee – John-Manuel Chidi – responding to a question during the 1st book reading; SWP Head – Ekpegbue Stanley – performing a joint-spoken word; ROA Webmaster – Okwuosa Chidike – performing a joint-spoken word; The Route Africa Cake; Route Africa members cutting the cake; P.R.O. reading out announcements; President and Webmaster judging poetry.

 

 

In-House Contest V3

roa-in-house-v3

In-House Contest Version 3!

Our In-House contest is a little way we ensure that the writing never ceases. Think NaNoWriMo, but not in 30 days . . . all the time instead! And all the genres available as well, and best of all, rewards of special publications and publicity for contest winners.

Follow the discussion of this contest and topics on twitter with the hashtag #ROAinHouseV3

Welcome to Version 3. In this version, the hullabaloo of the 2016 American Elections quickly coming to a close gives its inspiration. The contest is themed “A New President”, and it aims to offer emerging African writers a chance to say a word or two about the electoral process and how leadership impacts the life of Africans in a more general perspective.

Contest Eligibility:

You have to be African, an active or passive member of Route Africa, and have identified with a Route Africa activity unit in order to participate. To become a member, click here.

Contest Rules:

No simultaneous submissions. No multiple submissions.

Submissions can be made in person to our Chief Editor (Phone: +2348136659798), or email to routeafricamail@gmail.com.

There are 12 categories for the contest, and contest submissions must be made in the format described below:

Category 1: Best Review of African Literature on Wattpad

Task: Write a review, considering the social-scape and dominant demographics of wattpad, of “Americanah” by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Word Count: Minimum of 1500 and Maximum of 2000 words.

Note: Review must be written on wattpad, on the user profile of the author alone, as a fresh story with only one part. The winning story gets included in a new collection series by the wattpad community profile for the Route Africa activity unit, Meet Africa Initiative, and in addition, receives a Route Africa Seal on its cover page. Still in addition, if the review is good enough, it stands a chance to get a shout out from our established partners, and a possible publication in established online literary magazines too.

Category 2: Best Spoken Word Poetry Piece

Task: Write and enact a poem that ends with the words “That Seat Will Burn Your Ass.” The title refers to how hot any presidential seat is for the one who sits on it.

Word Count: The written work should have a minimum of 1500 words and a maximum of 2000 words.

Note: The written piece should be mailed to routeafricamail@gmail.com with subject line “ROAV3 Spoken Word Submission”. The enacted piece should be uploaded to youtube on the youtube channel of the author of the piece. The winning piece gets a his video included in a video made by Route Africa, dedicated to his winning piece, included as a video series for our Spoken Word in-House Contest winners. If the piece is good enough, it stands a chance to get a shout out from our established partners.

Category 3: Best Fiction Piece

Task: Write on the Topic “The Gold in 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue”. Word Count: Minimum of 3500 Words and Maximum of 5000 Words

Note: Fiction work must be mailed to routeafricamail@gmail.com as an attachment (.docx, .doc or .rtf formats) with subject line “ROAV3 Fiction Submission”. Include on the body of your mail a query letter indicating your name, location, and contact details. Also attach a recent photograph. (Click to learn how to write a query letter). Winning piece gets a publication in an established online literary magazine in partnership with Route Africa.

*1600 Pennsylvania Ave is the official address of The White House.*

Category 4: Best Non-Fiction Piece

Task: Write on the Topic “African Independence since 1950”

Word Count: Minimum of 3500 Words and Maximum of 5000 Words

Note: Non-Fiction work must be mailed to routeafricamail@gmail.com as an attachment (.docx, .doc or .rtf formats) with subject line “ROAV3 Non-Fiction Submission”. Include on the body of your mail a query letter indicating your name, location, and contact details. Also attach a recent photograph. (Click to learn how to write a query letter). Winning piece gets a publication in an established online literary magazine in partnership with Route Africa.

Category 5: Best Flash Fiction Piece

Task: Write on the topic “21st Century Coup D’Etat”

Word Count: Minimum of 400 Words and Maximum of 700 Words

Note: Flash Fiction work must be mailed to routeafricamail@gmail.com as an attachment (.docx, .doc or .rtf formats) with subject line “ROAV3 Flash Fiction Submission”. Include on the body of your mail a query letter indicating your name, location, and contact details. Also attach a recent photograph. (Click to learn how to write a query letter). Winning piece gets a publication in an established online literary magazine in partnership with Route Africa.

Category 6: Best Poetry Piece

Task: Write on the topic “How Obama Influenced Africa”

Line Count: Minimum of 60 lines and Maximum of 80 lines.

Note: Poem must be mailed to routeafricamail@gmail.com as an attachment (.docx, .doc or .rtf formats) with subject line “ROAV3 Poetry Submission”. Include on the body of your mail a query letter indicating your name, location, and contact details. Indicate the poetic form employed on the body of the attached poem. Also attach a recent photograph. (Click to learn how to write a query letter). Winning piece gets a publication in an established online literary magazine in partnership with Route Africa.

Category 7: Best Written Play

Task: Write a play on the topic “An African Negro in The Oval Office”. (A tip to write on this topic is to observe the writing style of Mark Twain’s “A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court” and convert it to a play; Download for free here).

Acts Count: Minimum of 3 acts and Maximum of 5 acts

Note: Written play must be mailed to routeafricamail@gmail.com as an attachment (.docx, .doc or .rtf formats) with subject line “ROAV3 Written Play Submission”. Include on the body of your mail a query letter indicating your name, location, and contact details. Also attach a recent photograph. (Click to learn how to write a query letter). Winning piece gets a publication in an established online literary magazine in partnership with Route Africa.

Category 8: Best Play-let

Task: Enact a play you’ve written (or one someone else has) on the topic “…and Women Ruled Africa”

Script Length: Minimum of 4 script pages and Maximum of 6 script pages

Acts Count: Minimum of 3 acts and Maximum of 5 acts (Choice of act or script is at your discretion)

Note: The written piece should be mailed to routeafricamail@gmail.com with subject line “ROAV3 Playlet Submission”. The enacted piece should be uploaded to youtube on the youtube channel of the author of the piece. The winning piece gets a his video included in a video made by Route Africa, dedicated to his winning piece, included as a video series for our in-House Play Contest winners. If the piece is good enough, it stands a chance to get a shout out from our established partners.

Category 9: Best News Coverage

Task: Cover recent news (not older than 3 weeks) focused on the topic “Which African Politician Recently Lavished Money?”

Word count: Minimum of 1500 Words Maximum of 2000 Words

Note: The News Piece must be mailed to routeafricamail@gmail.com as an attachment (.docx, .doc or .rtf formats) with subject line “ROAV3 News Submission”. Include on the body of your mail a query letter indicating your name, location, and contact details. Also attach a recent photograph. (Click to learn how to write a query letter). Winning piece gets a publication in an established online literary magazine in partnership with Route Africa.

Category 10: Best Review of African and Non-African Work

Task: Write a review of “Blackass” by A. Igoni Barrett

Word Count: Minimum of 2500 Words and Maximum of 3000 Words

Note: The review should be written and posted on goodreads.com with the goodreads account of the author of the work. Winning review will be included in a new Route Africa series published on our blog, centered on winners of out in-House contest Reviews. In addition, winning works have a chance to receive publicity for their works by any of our established partners, and in turn, have their works referenced in any publication by an established online literary magazine.

Category 11: Best Blog Post

Task: Write a Blog Post on the topic “If I Were President”

Word Count: Minimum of 1500 Words and Maximum of 2000 Words

Note: The blog post should be written and posted on the blog site of the author of the work. Winning posts will be reblogged on our blog, and be compiled for our “Blog Posts of the Year” at the end of the year, where featured authors will receive an award price (an appreciation for continuous writing and the beauty of the blogging art). In addition, winning works have a chance to receive publicity for their works by any of our established partners, and in turn, have their works referenced in any publication by an established online literary magazine.

Category 12: Best Interviews

Task: Conduct an interview with a young African and get him/her to answer the question, “If your advert will ensure a win for a presidential candidate, how would you run it?”

Interview Length: Minimum of 7 minutes and Maximum of 10 minutes.

Note: The written piece of the interview (if any) should be mailed to routeafricamail@gmail.com with subject line “ROAV2 Interview Submission”. The interview must be caught on camera, and the video should be uploaded to youtube on the youtube channel of the author of the piece. The winning piece gets a his video included in a video made by Route Africa, dedicated to his winning piece, included as a video series for our in-House Interview Contest winners. If the piece is good enough, it stands a chance to get a shout out from our established partners.

Contest Prizes:

Grand Prize: A chance to get your work published by an established online literary magazine.

Other Rewards:

  • Chances to be on the watch list of established personalities in the African Literary world, who have affiliations with us, and be announced by them.
  • Enlisting your work in our special collections of exceptional work.
  • Membership with a fast-growing literary community of youngsters in Africa.

Runner-Ups: The beauty of Route Africa’s in-House contests is that Everyone’s a Winner. Runner-ups will comprise of all the works that did not win. How do runner-ups win as well? They win by receiving a chance to redo (if necessary) their works, and have them published on our blog once redone as one of our regular blog posts/pieces.

Judges

Our judging panel consists of a carefully selected group of readers, and winners are chosen by popular opinion among these readers.

Deadline:

Each version of Route Africa’s in-House contest runs for a three-week period. Version 3 runs from 0900 hrs, GMT+1 Monday, 16th October, 2016 to 2100 hrs, GMT+1, November, 7th September, 2016.

Submissions will only be received for version 3 within that window. Any submission after this time will be ignored.

Contest winners will be contacted the following day, as well as runner-ups.

♥♥Good luck guys, and may the best writer win.♥♥

POWERED BY OUR CURRENT PUBLICATION, PUBLICITY AND MENTORING PARTNERS: MOOFYME.COM & IRENOSEN OKOJIE (TWITTER LINK).

Route Africa is Here: Brief Details on Our Inauguration Holding on 29th September, 2016

Card - Programme of Events.JPG

Programme of Events for Route Africa’s Inauguration

Route Africa holds her inauguration/fundraiser tomorrow. It promises to be a special, exciting, event, aimed at letting the world know who we are, and what we’re about.

The photo above is the programme of events for the day.

Official twitter discussion hashtag: #ROAisHere

…Birds and Bridges.

Solo Entry for Route Africa’s In-House Contest V2

Our second version of our in-house contest had just one entry. The theme for this in-house contest was “Sports and the Olympics”, and this entry was submitted by Joshua Nnamdi for the category of best blog post. Like V1, having this solo entry means that there could be no technical winner. But with Route Africa, everyone’s a winner.

We highlight this entry which is fun, quirky submission on a kid game that the author wishes were included in the olympics. Below is an excerpt of the story. Click the following link to read the entire entry.

We hope that our third version (V3) receives better number of entries, so that our first winner will be announced. Who will it be?

V3 details will be announced before the end of the week. Stay Tuned.

#ROAinHouseV2 When you talk about the sport I wish were in the Olympics,I get more confused yet excited.Confused because there are so many sports on my mind and making a choice would be as difficul…

Source: The sport I wish were in the Olympics

Official twitter discussion hastags for V2 were: #Rio2016 #WriteRio2016 and #ROAinHouseV2

 

We thank Irenosen Okojie, for her relentless support, and publicity of our cause and what we do. And, pay attention now, her new short story collection “Speak Gigantular” gets to be officially published in 9 days time (September 15). Its riveting (as expected), and highlights the story of lovelorn aliens abduct innocent coffee shop waitresses, where the London Underground (pun here?)is inhabited by the ghosts of errant Londoners caught between here and the hereafter, among other things. Click here to order a copy on amazon.

Call for Submissions: In-House Contest V2

Route Africa In-House Contest V2 Picture

Image Courtesy of Qube Technology

In-House Contest Version 2!

Our In-House contest is a little way we ensure that the
writing never ceases. Think NaNoWriMo, but not in 30 days .
. . All The Time instead! and all the genres available as well, and best of
all, rewards of special publications and publicity for
contest winners.
Follow the discussion of this contest and topics on twitter
with the hashtag #ROAinHouseV2

 

The first version of this contest had only two submissions for two different categories. No one was declared explicit winner, but the contest entries still got some audience. Read the contest entries here:

Entry 1: “Slap Maintenance” by Ndukwe Chizzy C. (Flash Fiction; Category 5)

Entry 2: “Student’s Life” by Joshua Nnamdi. (Blog Post; Category 6)

Welcome to Version 2. In this version, we’re concentrating on the Rio 2016 Olympics; therefore, our focus is on “Sports and the Olympics”, and all our topics revolve around it. It’s our way of being part of the grand sporting event.

 

Contest Eligibility:

You have to be African, and a registered member of Route Africa,
and have identified with a Route Africa activity unit in
order to participate. To become a member, click here.

 

Contest Rules:

No simultaneous submissions. No multiple submissions.

Submissions can be made in person to our Chief Editor
(Phone: +2348136659798), or email to
routeafricamail@gmail.com.

There are 12 categories for the contest, and contest
submissions must be made in the format described below:

 

Category 1: Best Review of African Literature on Wattpad

Task: Write a review, considering the social-scape
of wattpad and the dominant demographics of wattpad, of an
African story detailing any water sport.
Word Count: Minimum of 1500 and Maximum of 2000 words.

Note: Review must be written on wattpad, on the user
profile of the author alone, as a fresh story with only one
part. The winning story gets included in a new collection
series by the wattpad community profile for the Route Africa
activity unit, Meet Africa Initiative, and in addition, receives a Route Africa Seal
on its cover page. Still in addition, if the review is good
enough, it stands a chance to get a shout out from our
established partners, and a possible publication in
established online literary magazines too.

 

Category 2: Best Spoken Word Poetry Piece

Task: Write and enact a poem on doping among sports men and women.
Word Count: The written work should have a minimum of 1500 words and a maximum of 2000 words.

Note: The written piece should be mailed to
routeafricamail@gmail.com with subject line “ROAV2 Spoken 
Word Submission”. The enacted piece should be uploaded to
youtube on the youtube channel of the author of the piece.
The winning piece gets a his video included in a video made
by Route Africa, dedicated to his winning piece, included as
a video series for our Spoken Word in-House Contest winners.
If the piece is good enough, it stands a chance to get a
shout out from our established partners.

 

Category 3: Best Fiction Piece

Task: Write on the Topic “If Africa hosted the Olympics”

Word Count: Minimum of 3500 Words and Maximum of 5000 Words

Note: Fiction work must be mailed to
routeafricamail@gmail.com as an attachment (.docx, .doc or 
.rtf formats) with subject line “ROAV2 Fiction Submission”.
Include on the body of your mail a query letter indicating
your name, location, and contact details. Also attach a
recent photograph. (Click to learn how to write a query 

letter). Winning piece gets a
publication in an established online literary magazine in
partnership with Route Africa.

 

Category 4: Best Non-Fiction Piece

Task: Write on the Topic “Olympic Greats”
Word Count: Minimum of 3500 Words and Maximum of 5000 Words

Note: Non-Fiction work must be mailed to
routeafricamail@gmail.com as an attachment (.docx, .doc or 
.rtf formats) with subject line “ROAV2 Non-Fiction 
Submission”. Include on the body of your mail a query letter
indicating your name, location, and contact details. Also
attach a recent photograph. (Click to learn how to write a query 

letter). Winning piece
gets a publication in an established online literary
magazine in partnership with Route Africa.

 

Category 5: Best Flash Fiction Piece

Task: Write a Tourist’s Tribute to a Brazilian City
Word Count
: Minimum of 500 Words and Maximum of 800 Words

Note: Flash Fiction work must be mailed to
routeafricamail@gmail.com as an attachment (.docx, .doc or 
.rtf formats) with subject line “ROAV2 Flash Fiction 
Submission”. Include on the body of your mail a query letter
indicating your name, location, and contact details. Also
attach a recent photograph. (Click to learn how to write a query 

letter). Winning piece
gets a publication in an established online literary
magazine in partnership with Route Africa.

 

Category 6: Best Poetry Piece

Task: Write on the Diversity of Culture on Olympics’ Opening Ceremonies
Verse Count: Minimum of 15 Verses and Maximum of 20 verses.

Note: Poem must be mailed to
routeafricamail@gmail.com as an attachment (.docx, .doc or 
.rtf formats) with subject line “ROAV2 Poetry Submission”.
Include on the body of your mail a query letter indicating
your name, location, and contact details. Indicate the poetic form employed on the body of the attached poem. Also attach a
recent photograph. (Click to learn how to write a query 

letter). Winning piece gets a
publication in an established online literary magazine in
partnership with Route Africa.

 

Category 7: Best Written Play

Task: Write a play on the topic Crazy Sports Fan”
Acts Count: Minimum of 3 acts and Maximum of 5 acts

Note: Written play must be mailed to
routeafricamail@gmail.com as an attachment (.docx, .doc or 
.rtf formats) with subject line “ROAV2 Written Play 
Submission”. Include on the body of your mail a query letter
indicating your name, location, and contact details. Also
attach a recent photograph. (Click to learn how to write a query 

letter). Winning piece
gets a publication in an established online literary
magazine in partnership with Route Africa.

 

Category 8: Best Play-let

Task: Enact a play you’ve written (or one someone
else has) on the topic “The Thrill of a Racetrack from a Runner’s Perspective”
Script Length: Minimum of 4 script pages and Maximum of 6 script pages
Acts Count: Minimum of 3 acts and Maximum of 5 acts (Choice of act or script is at your discretion)

Note: The written piece should be mailed to
routeafricamail@gmail.com with subject line “ROAV2 Playlet 
Submission”. The enacted piece should be uploaded to youtube
on the youtube channel of the author of the piece. The
winning piece gets a his video included in a video made by
Route Africa, dedicated to his winning piece, included as a
video series for our in-House Play Contest winners. If the
piece is good enough, it stands a chance to get a shout out
from our established partners.

 

Category 9: Best News Coverage

Task: Cover recent news (not older than 3 weeks)
focused on Sports other than Football on African Streets.
Word count: Minimum of 1500 Words Maximum of 2000 Words

Note: The News Piece must be mailed to
routeafricamail@gmail.com as an attachment (.docx, .doc or 
.rtf formats) with subject line “ROAV2 News Submission”.
Include on the body of your mail a query letter indicating your name, location, and contact details. Also attach a
recent photograph. (Click to learn how to write a query 

letter). Winning piece gets a
publication in an established online literary magazine in
partnership with Route Africa.

 

Category 10: Best Review of African and Non-African Work

Task: Write a review of an African or Non-African
piece of literary work centered on the theme, “The Olympics as practiced by the Ancient Greeks”
Word Count: Minimum of 2500 Words and Maximum of 3000 Words

Note: The review should be written and posted on
goodreads.com with the goodreads account of the author of
the work. Winning review will be included in a new Route
Africa series published on our blog, centered on winners of
out in-House contest Reviews. In addition, winning works have
a chance to receive publicity for their works by any of our
established partners, and in turn, have their works
referenced in any publication by an established online
literary magazine.

 

Category 11: Best Blog Post

Task: Write a Blog Post on The Sport You Wish Were in the Olympics
Word Count: Minimum of 1500 Words and Maximum of 2000 Words

Note: The blog post should be written and posted on
the blog site of the author of the work. Winning posts will
be reblogged on our blog, and be compiled for our “Blog 
Posts of the Year” at the end of the year, where featured
authors will receive an award price (an appreciation for
continuous writing and the beauty of the blogging art). In
addition, winning works have a chance to receive publicity
for their works by any of our established partners, and in
turn, have their works referenced in any publication by an
established online literary magazine.

 

Category 12: Best Interviews

Task: Conduct an interview with a young African
Sports Entrepreneur

Interview Length: Minimum of 7 minutes and Maximum of 10 minutes.

Note: The written piece of the interview (if any)
should be mailed to routeafricamail@gmail.com with subject
line “ROAV2 Interview Submission”. The interview must be
caught on camera, and the video should be uploaded to
youtube on the youtube channel of the author of the piece.
The winning piece gets a his video included in a video made
by Route Africa, dedicated to his winning piece, included as
a video series for our in-House Interview Contest winners. If
the piece is good enough, it stands a chance to get a
shout out from our established partners.

 

Contest Prizes:

Grand Prize: A chance to get your work published by an established online literary magazine.

Other Rewards:

  • Chances to be on the watch list of established personalities in the African Literary world, who have affiliations with us, and be announced by them.
  • Enlisting your work in our special collections of exceptional work.
  • Membership with a fast-growing literary community of youngsters in Africa.

 

Runner-Ups: The beauty of Route Africa’s in-House contests is that Everyone’s a Winner. Runner-ups will comprise of all the works that did not win. How do runner-ups win as well? They win by receiving a chance to redo (if necessary) their works, and have them published on our blog once redone as one of our regular blog posts/pieces.

 

Judges

Our judging panel consists of a carefully selected group of readers, and winners are chosen by popular opinion among these readers.

 

Deadline:

Each version of Route Africa’s in-House contest runs for a three-week period. Version 2 runs from 0900 hrs, GMT+1 Monday, 15th August, 2016 to 2100 hrs, GMT+1, Monday, 5th September, 2016.

Submissions will only be received for version 2 within that window. Any submission after this time will be ignored.

Contest winners will be contacted the following day, as well as runner-ups.

 

♥♥Good luck guys, and may the best writer win.♥♥

 

POWERED BY OUR CURRENT PUBLICATION, PUBLICITY AND MENTORING PARTNERS: MOOFYME.COM & IRENOSEN OKOJIE (TWITTER LINK).

 

 

Entry for ROA inHouse Contest Version 1 – Category 11 | “Slap Maintenance” by Ndukwe Chizzy C.

Slap Maintenance

David was still rubbing his cheeks from the pain of the slap when Amaka walked into class, then he maintained. If he could, he would have turned a bright red on his left cheek and be lost in the confusion of what the cause of the abrupt pigmentation could be – the unwarranted slap or the unwanted embarrassment at sighting Amaka.
Three days ago, Amaka had spoken to him for the very first time. He had been classmates with her since JSS1, and having to utter the first word to your five-year-old crush wasn’t top of his to-do list that faithful Monday. He had just received another grueling lecture on how he had to break out of his shell as the topic for the family’s morning devotion that Monday morning from, nope, not his mother or father; from his junior sister. It was her turn that Monday, just like it had been a fortnight ago, and the fortnight before that, and the fortnight before that.
Ardent believers in the power of a spoken word, David’s family was. But in his opinion, attempts at talking him out of shyness shared amongst his family members like some form of shifting cultivation farm practice for the gazillionth time, was a gazillion times too many. So, he’d simply not listen, not like he used to. He had tried all they’d suggested to him and none worked, but he dared not admit he was actually paying some attention. When their suggestions started becoming overly repetitive, his resolution to completely disobey them as well started becoming infinitely solidified.
The one thing he hadn’t tried was talking to Amaka. He’d nurtured the thought in his heart since hitting puberty – that is if one knew how to distinctly indicate when puberty is hit – and it was a pretty simple one, the thought: “I am shy. I know because my parents say I am. I like Amaka. I don’t know why. But I do because when she comes around me, I forget how to breathe properly. If I can learn how to breathe around her, I’ve conquered something in life, I’ve had a victory. I would harness that feeling and reproduce it each time I feel shy.”
David’s conversation with Amaka that Monday morning went thus:
Amaka sashays over to David solving some integration math. She leaves her clique to do this one exclusive thing. “Hi,” she says. David goes straight into a panic fit the moment he realizes it’s her. He loses the ability to hear her as well. His auditory impulses were skyrocketing. He heard the loud thumping of his heart alone. It was drama. It seemed she was speaking all the while through, like she was really enjoying the sight. So, suddenly, what was a fit of awkwardness turned into a fit of anger. A strange understanding that what she was doing to him was demeaning condensed in his head. He couldn’t take it, so he screamed, “Get away from here! Gettaway! If I see you near me again, I’ll slap you!”
As Amaka walked into the class that Thursday, David’s cheeks went bright red. But he did resolve his facial pigmentation puzzle. The unwanted embarrassment was very much warranted. The unwarranted slap was as well very much wanted. It was a simple matter of pride. The pride that made his disobedience to his family’s instructions something he enjoyed so much. After his bout of anger at Amaka that Monday had subsided, he’d told his bosom friend and classmate who was there in the thick of the debacle that he’d slap himself if he ever stared at Amaka again. He did . . . both things.


 

Slap Maintenance is one of the entries for our 1st version of the Route Africa in-House contests. It is not a winning entry, but we felt it right and just to put it up here on our blog because it was just one of two entries for the entire contest and the only for its category (category 5 – “best flash fiction”).

Slap Maintenance is a “whodunnit”. It takes the definition of that word, rips out completely the aspect of it that has to do with murder, and settles into a casual mystery story about a slap. It exceeded the 500 word limit for flash fiction entries y a whopping 109 extra words, but it was a fun read anyway. We hope it is thae same for you.

To know about the other entry for version 1 of our in-House contest, click here.


Ndukwe Chizzy C. is a Route Africa member and pioneer, who loves writing. He’s a final year student of Petroleum Engineering in the Federal University of Technology Owerri, Nigeria.

Entry for ROA inHouse Contest Version 1 – Category 11 | “STUDENTS’ LIFE” by Joshua Nnamdi

Student Life by Joshua Nnamdi

Entries for Route Africa’s first ever in-House contest closed Thursday night, 2100 hrs GMT+1. Like the beginnings of any novel endeavour, it was not as impressive as one would hope for, but was instead an endeavour full of hope.

We received two entries in total (out of an expected 25) in two different categories. That doesn’t make much for a contest, so we’ve decided to – in the spirit of ensuring everyone wins – post the received entries here on our blog. The entries posted here for this version shall not be considered  “winning entries” such as should be awarded the prize of being published by our more established online literary magazine partners however.

The categories entered for were the flash fiction and the blog post categories (categories 5 and 11). The blog post entry, a highlight on student life written by Route Africa’s own Joshua Nnamdi (a first year student of chemical engineering in the Federal University of Technology Owerri, Nigeria) taken from an active stance is our focus on this post. It is very light reading (superb for any casual blog post, which is ups for him), and it relates well with just about any student in any Nigerian college/university. It’s a fun read.

Have at the look at an excerpt which we’ve reblogged here, and click on it to read more.

 

loftusbridge

#ROAV1
Waking up this afternoon from my slumber,I remembered how I was told in elementary school that I am a leader of tomorrow.Since when I was told I have been privileged to be an a active participant of every ‘tomorrow’ that came my way.To be sincere,I was not very active in some because of something I cherish so much;sleep.Anyway,that I was a participant is what is necessary whether active or the other way round.So I have every right to give you details on what I encountered while active.Getting into school,I saw and came in contact with too many leaders of tomorrnw.They were already leading in their various endeavours and it was till then I got a clearer picture of what students’ life looked like.
I came across students that made me feel they were positively charged and their books the opposite.Our elementary science made us to understand that unlike charges…

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