Club 36

Club 36 is a narrow oasis off the confines of UoN on-campus hostels devoted to the pursuit of lunch. Narrow because that’s always crowded, and oasis because that’s where food is. Makeshift food tents everywhere. It’s famous for chapatis. People who go to Club 36 are rabbits. The chapatis that people love to gobble up … More Club 36

On being 25 …

Just two weeks ago, on Thursday, my clock ticked a quarter century old. I remember looking at the mirror expecting 25 to stare back; or traces of man-wrinkles beneath my eyelids and other fragile pieces of me. So it’s no fairy tale after all? Being 25? We all feel this way in our early twenties; … More On being 25 …

Tragedy at House No. 352

That’s why I’ll miss Otis. I’m sure his wifey never discovered our numerous escapades through breathalyzer checkpoints, completely unscathed by the law. Mark you, Otis was rarely home. I’ll long for the inebriated attempts to sing some golden country music such as “country road, take me home” that Otis did at the wheel; having arrived at the gate in one piece at 1 a.m. Most times he’d visit my quarters at the top-most floor the following day-break before wifey got up and leave me with the remnant oranges, lemons, gum and other chewables that were myriads attempts to drown the smell of alcohol that she loathed. “Mrs. Otis didn’t entertain edible paraphernalia in the house unless brought by her,” Otis often claimed. … More Tragedy at House No. 352