Conversations with Skip Slocum

I ‘met’ Skip when I hesitantly joined an online community of writers. I wanted to learn what writers on the other side had. I became a tiny fish in a big ocean as I learnt how to write in a way that would make sense to my other online members. In the process I came across this gentle giant wh I have never seen physically but he became my best friend. Himself and another writer Lisa Suda. We became in a fashion THE CHORD. I learnt a lot from them. We were all writing stories and yes there were two others Liz and Max, but gradually it was just these three.

We shared stories, critiqued for each other and that helped me a great deal. I published my first novel BLOOD CONTRACT and Skip never seemed satisfied with his and kept knocking it into a shape he felt comfortable with. Finally I had the distinct pleasure to learn a few weeks back that the book Keening Fire is now available for readers.

Keening fire

Keening Fire by SKip Slocum

A beautiful story set in the middle ages when man was close enough to his inner being as to listen to the keening of his spirit and be guided into bravery, learn how to a real man and go through a rite of passage into manhood. It is the story of Matt, who carries on the keening gift and earns his rights through trials, and tested love and loyalty to his king. I am held spell bound by the beauty of the words, the evolution of Matt from teenage to the sense of an ideal upright man. I went through the agonies of his pain and felt light headed with happiness when he finally won his place amongst men.

Skip Slocum has through this book shown a powerful ability to tell a story so well that I can only urgently recommend you to read the interview and buy the book.

Here is the short interview I had with him. Please Enjoy.

1.Please tell us a bit about yourself.

    I’m a retired Diesel Mechanic – Married for 31 years – father of three – grandfather of two.  

2. THE KEENING FIRE hold my interest because it is almost African, what prompted you to write it?

    When my grandson was six years old, he asked me to tell him a story. I started making up this one on the spot. We decided I’d better write it down before I forgot the names of the characters. Over the next six and a half years the story transformed and almost took on a life of its own.

3. Matt seemed to have gone through a crucible of fire, almost like some initiation rite of passage, does that still happen?

   Well, without giving away too much of the story – This young warrior is constantly tested by life’s unforeseen twists and turns. Like with many people, he discovers life’s journey never turns out or takes the path we thought it would.

4. The book though written in another age seem to talk about values that would be relevant in today's world, would you care to explain.

   That was one of my goals. Let me see if I can explain without waxing too philosophical. There comes a time when we as mortal men discover the meaning and cold reality of that awful word, ‘Mortal’. I wanted to leave some advice and values to my grandson and his grandsons – We as good men, fathers, warriors, and or guardians of the innocent are responsible for our actions.  

    –What we do today will shape who we become tomorrow.–  

5. The art of keening has been likened to magic, sorcery or at best something dreaded, but what do you think?

    To answer that question I need to explain what ‘The Keening’ is.  In my story, ‘The Keening’ is an inherited gift passed down through the ages –father to son – The Keening manifests itself from within – a power of insight – some may glimpse the future or commune with nature, some may hear the thoughts of men. The Keening changes with everyone it comes to according to their strength, morphing and changing in every generation. To those who don’t possess this insight The Keening may appear as magic, sorcery or something to fear.

6. What class of people would enjoy the book?

    My hope is everyone. The Keening Fire is a coming of age adventure, a discovery of who we can become, a fantasy, a story of love and loss.

7. If you were asked to classify the book how would you classify it?

    Since our lives are not and cannot be confined to any one genera how could I write this warrior’s life as one bracketed and set within parameters?

8. You are a writer who almost a recluse, please tell us where we can buy copies of your book.

You can find a copy of my book at:  http://www.lulu.com/shop/search.ep?keyWords=the+keening+fire&categoryId=100501

If I may, let me say – I set the price as low as the self-publishing plug-ins would allow. This is a saga not a short novel.

9. Share a writing day with us.

    Being retired and a grandfather, my little ones have grown where I can set my own hours concerning writing. While working on this story I ignored clocks as much as possible and quit following calendars years ago. I am a creature of the night and seem to do my best writing while my wife is safe in bed asleep. Yet let me say, there are many forms of writing. There is the plotting, thinking, scheming, playing out scenes hearing dialogue in one’s head until scenes becomes real and then there is the computer’s keyboard where I try to put on paper what is playing in my world of imagination.   

10. Apart from writing, what other interests do you have?

      Being a third generation mechanic and blue collar worker, I love mechanical devices. I have a passion for tools, gadgets, art of all kinds, movies and asking the question: ‘What if’

Within the nuts and bolts of writing this story I consciously chose not to use Speech-Tags.

Conversations with a poet and author

I have something interesting to share with you. I do look forward to doing so for a few more weeks with some of the most interesting minds I came across during our recent convention. I very rarely attend convention as there seemed to be more politics attached to the hosting than the event itself, but I felt this was different. It was going to be a gathering of creative minds and I looked forward to the event. Happily for me the author I had threatened to scalp for his less than admirable portrayal of womanhood did not attend. So I enjoyed myself and tried to ask a few questions around. It was like feeling my way around. The attendance was in the hundreds and there was some sort of mini book fair as publishers came to display the books of their authors.  In the package given to us was a collection of poetry and I came across a very interesting piece.Intrigued, I went looking for the poet and it turned she is a very beautiful young women. Okay I mean young in the understanding that she is much younger than me. You know age envies youth blah…blah.. Anyway I got into a conversation with her and I would like to share it.

 

Oluchi Igili

Please tell us a bit about yourself

1.   My name is Oluchi J. IGILI. I'm a female Nigerian author and a dramatist both by training and engagement. I'm currently a university teacher where my duties include instructing students both in the theory and practice of drama/theatre. I ventured, if you like, into writing because I find it as a veritable window of opportunity to express myself, my thoughts and my concerns about the world in which I live. In this regard, I share my thoughts through poetry, drama and prose fiction.

Nigerian authors seem to be very much in the background as far as international awereness is concerned, is that a true assessment?

2.   To say anything about one’s country except that which paints her in glowing colours would, ordinarily, be politically incorrect. But I think it is patriotic to admit that Nigerian authors are lagging behind in terms of awareness of what is going on on the international scene. To a very large extent, only Nigerian authors in the Diaspora have a good grasp of what obtains on the international front and in consequence, they enjoy a lot of international recognition. That is not to say that Nigerian authors living within the country cannot hold their own in terms of their creative prowess. What it simply means is that the writers in Diaspora are privileged to be to enjoy many opportunities not yet available to Nigerian authors living and writing in the country.

Your poem is striking as it suggests a deeper level of human experience. What genre of writing do you subscribe to?

3.   I engage in any form of creative writing (poetry, drama or prose) that enables me to give expression to my innermost concerns for my society. Another way to put it is to say that I subscribe to any literary genre that has a clearly discernible commitment to issues that affect humanity. Without any equivocation whatsoever, I belong to that school of thought that says, art, whether it is literary art or any other form of art, should be placed at the service of humanity. Art should not be an architectural masterpiece which lacks utilitarian value. Art for art’s sake? Not for me.

At the recently concluded convention of the association of Nigerian authors, there was a move to bring the female authors together, what do you think informed such a drive?

4.  Yes, I am aware of that move to bring Nigerian female authors together. Nigerian female writers are making the effort to come together under one umbrella or the other. One of such platforms is the Association of Nigerian Female Authors (ANFA) among others. The reason for this, I believe, is not far-fetched. The female Nigerian writer needs to be more visible and the best way to achieve this is to have a platform from which to seek both to be seen and heard. As much as I know that some of our male counterparts are sympathetic enough (I use that word deliberately), one can also understand that they are not too prepared to yield much space to the female writer. So, there is the need for Nigerian female writers to come together and create a strong visible image for themselves. If we fail to blow our trumpets, like they say, we should not expect any body to do that for us. And the time to do that is now.

As a published author, what has been your experience?

5.  There are a number of challenges which I believe are common to writers in my clime. There is the problem of a continuously dwindling reading culture which has been worsened in recent years by a barrage of technological devices that have made reading very unappealing. Whereas in the past people spent their leisure times on reading, technological devices have provided ready alternatives that are a lot less intellectually tasking. It does not take much intellectual muscle to sit down in front of a TV screen to watch a movie or soap.

Another issue which published authors have to grapple with here is piracy which has made writing to be a non lucrative enterprise.

Tell us about your published book and how we can get a copy

6.  My most recent literary out puts are a short story in Tales From the Sun and poems in One Poem, Fifty Seasons: A Collection of Poems in Honour of Sola Owonibi and they are available in leading bookshops. A collection of short stories is right now in the quarry.

snippets of the Sun

THERE IS NO LOVE…….

When you ask for proof

When you check the signposts

When you make conditions.

There is no friendship…

When you expect diamonds

When you measure the distance

When you wait in the wings.

Love is….

A gift of self

Knowledge of self

When “I” is not important,

Love is…

When you lose self

Then you find “ME”

In the varied signposts of “ME”

For in the beginning I gave you “ME”

I am LOVE

For  I AM

LOVE IS

GOD IS.

EPILOGUE TO FAITH

Even though I walk

Through the wastes of

Human thoughts and desires

My faith is on THEE

I am guarded and guided

From the darts of man

By the protective wings

Spread over my trusting soul

For the eternal springs of God’s love

Slakes my thirsting soul!

snippets of the Sun

PREDETERMINATION AND MAN’S EARTHLY MISSION...Numen Yeye

BOOK: NUMEN YEYE

AUTHOR: BIOLA OLATUNDE

PUBLISHER: IFWG PUBLISHING, INC

Numen Yeye

REVIEWER: SUNMOLA OLOWOOKERE

This work of fiction by this seasoned writer, Biola Olatunde is not a novel for the ordinary man, it is for deep thinkers who are striving for higher and ennobling recognitions and the human link with the spiritual world.

The book open with a scene from a level that is much different from ours, Terra firma, to use Olatunde’s words. Princess Numen in the place of light is getting ready to go on an earthly journey. The author’s display of emotions is explosive as the reader struggles to understand the identity of the narrator in the story.

With infinite care, she established a link between the spiritual world and ours in the characters of Jasmine and Fehintola, Lije and Ayo, Numen and Imole Ife. Hence the first lesson; our journey on earth is predetermined and nothing by chance.

Fehintola was an unlucky woman who was plagued by “Abiku”. In the Yoruba Mythology, Abiku simply means evil child that dies only to be born again by the same mother, and keeping on the evil and vicious cycle until it stops. She was desolate with the turn her marriage took as her husband another wife.

An end is to come to her troubles as she was visited and favoured by the priestess of Numen. Her life took on a new glow and demeanor of quiet confidence was surprising to her detractors.

Fehintola’s journey in life and understanding of the mystical world around her evolves quietly as she became acquainted with the spiritual beings that were deteremined to help her once she found her own link with the spiritual.

Lesson Two, each human being has a link to a divine connection which once detected helps individuals in tackling life challenges.

Amidst guidance and extraordinary tranquility, Fehintola had her baby and the child grew and began school with her knowledge of her extra-terrestial link still intact.

In the society however, she was seen as “strange” Even her friends could not understand her strange gifts. However, the people around her were glad of the divine intervention they got in the time of distress through her special gifts.

Her father and maternal grand-mother understood her being partially while her mother who ought to understand her more due to the other-worldly experiences she had before giving birth to her was surprisingly uncomprehending.

Due to the divine powers she possessed, she has a running battle with her paternal grandmother who could not subdue her. In several scenes, the reader is shown the woman’s dark powers and how she attacks her victims mercilessly, even those with whom she had familiarities.

The novel “Numen Yeye” portrays two main forces, one of the light and the other of the darkness. The duo are tackling at loggerheads as their missions are as different as day Is from night.

I am mostly intrigues by the regal figure of Numen, the Priestess of the Rose. Her humanness and empathy with people she came into contact with shows when she observes them through her spiritual visor.

She came to the world to help some important figures that she perceived to be in distress. The novel’s setting is based ontwo plains; one, earthly and the other, esoteric.

On the esoteric, we have Princess Numen, Lije and Jasmine amidst other creatures. And on earth, we have Lije and Jasmine as couple with earthly names Ayo and Fehintola respectively.

Princess Numen came to the planet earth with a mapped out mission of how to help mankind especially those around her to fight forces of darkness that might want to destroy them.

However, once she was born, she had trouble linking to her spiritual world from where she came. She could not understand the sudden insight about happening around her that comes to her inner being at intervals.

She had difficulty in identifying her inner self and this mad her uncomfortable as she wondered at the source of her sudden but steady insights. In her household, the family regarded her with a mixture of fear and respect.

However, her grandmother had no liking of her because of her wicked plan which were thwarted by the goddess that she sees as mere slip of a girl. Her several attempts to destroy Numen whose earthly name is “Imole Ife” failed and her hatred for her young granddaughter grew. However, she could not make mincemeat of her as she did with the other family members.

With her witchcraft, she had upended the destinies of her children and those who refused to bow to her whims had been destroyed in her anger. In short, Imole Ife’s grandmother had met her match in the mere slip of a girl who was her granddaughter.

Imole Ife who was known to her mother before birth became estranged from her when she was growing up because the woman could not understand the strange daughter that fate had bestowed on her.

She was called several names “Emere, with witch, Ogbanje” etc and she was disturbed by the beliefs until she found her true self.

On the earth plane, three people had been her mainstay, her maternal grand-mother, Yeye at the shrine and her father. Her rapport with these people had helped her stabilize until she found her true self by discovering her link to ther eternal roots.

It was only then that she found peace and she could easily tap into the power that she could use whenever she needed to help anyone in distress. Her understanding and insight was so awesome that people began to respect her and see her as the high priestess that she was.

She had come to terms with her mission in life; to be of help to humanity. Despite the knowledge of this mission, she studies to be a doctor with her father’s help and support.

The novel was set in an era when females were not encouraged to go to school. However, her father supported her in her desire for western education.

At long last, she discovered herself and accepted to lead the virgin dance that she had dreaded and scoffed at. Ultimately, she found a worthy companion to mate with for life in Babatunde, her friend.

The novel, Numen Yeye, is about intertwining worlds and it teaches about predestination. The novel also her satiric properties as the readers become aware of the ills of polygamy and extended families. It also gently scoffs at Nigerian’s show of religiousity which had not helped in solving our problems. It also encourages female education.

It is a work rich with cultural practices of the Yoruba people. While the author does not bore the reader with traditional numbo-jumbo, it has brought home to us that we cannot forget our roots and our links to what has been before our existence.

The author, in this work, has outdone herself. Her understanding of man’s existence and the importance of understanding his purpose in life is portrayed in Imole Ife and her desire to understand her mission in life.

Really, I want to say the readers who know Biola Olatunde and the richness of her prose could not have expected anything less that the dexterity she exhibited in “Numen Yeye”.

Poetry

CALL TO THE SPIRIT

the air danced

lights dimmed

into circle of gold

she lay slumbering

from the haze of lights

the pictures danced

and a voice invited

come let’s take

a walk from the

meadows of your mind

so you can learn

your long sip

from the nectars

of creation

sail into light

from the dark threads

of your earth’s journeys.

LIFE’S LITTLE PRESSURES

are gifts of nature

that teach us always

to stretch the extra mile

the little agonies

that shows us

the possibility of

a smile

when these pressures moubt

and you are ready

to collapse

remember always

will tomorrow

become yesterday’s story

all things have their time

GOD is forever.

I choose the risk

of God’s love

against the attention

of darkness

his omnipotence

against the chaos

of man

faith in his

awesome gifts

against the deceit

of wealth

my conviction in

his grace

than the greater risk

of an existence

devoid of his presence.

Those Old stories

I am reading a book, that is quite interesting. It is actually about detective work and more probably in the times of my grandmothers and stuff like that. You know Agatha Christies? Yes something like that. Years ago, more like decades ago, I used to carry around novels of Agatha Christie and Peter Cheney novels. I read about the French revolution first from the famous book Scarlet Pimpernel. Then there was the Tale of Two cities. They gave me an old fashioned look at the crimes scenes of London in the days of the writers.

I think that was what I found very interesting. The way the writers then added bits of their environment to what they wrote. I always thought , it will be hard to get lost writing the locality as Peter Cheney then made London quite alive and interesting. I knew the smog, the steam trains from their descriptions. We had not arrived at the pre-occupation these days with action, blood and grit but you read a good story that was beautifully written.

Somerset Maugham showed me the frailties of the human nature through his stories of the Malays, the tension of war, the loneliness of the soldiers. I learnt about Gauguin the artist from his stories about the early life of that great French artist. Maybe, you now know how I came to be such an addict on writing and writers.

From my earliest years, I fed on Enid Blyton. I would compare the adventures of the Famous Five with Tales under the Baobab tree of my grandmother. It was a heady mix and I had quite a lot of fun. I could understand the vivacity of children remembering mine and how those books ever so subtly shaped my moral compass and helped me to have a fairly balanced outlook.

I did not have a yearning to cross oceans to bring home a golden fleece. I simply enjoyed their magic, the remoteness and lived through the characters accepting from my grandma that the human emotion was colourless.

Chivalry, steadfastness, honesty and dignity are emotions of the human being in any part of the Universe the human being happens to have been incarnated. 

His responsibility has always been to search for a luminous goal and do his very best to achieve that goal no matter the challenges.

Man was not permitted to be here simply to eat, sleep, and procreate . He was also not meant to discover ingenious ways to make life more uncomfortable for his fellow man.

I had not planned on writing that, you know, I generally write when I feel unhappy, excited, angry ..what? angry? Yes of course. It is the cheapest way out. I think when I write, I manage to dissipate my anger over an issue or a person. I find that after I had written furiously, I feel a calmness come into me and I am in a more rational mood.

I do write too when the creative bug hits and this can be very frustration like yesterday when I needed to put a poem down.  Like some loose ball, the poem detached itself from some part of the Muse factory and headed straight for my head. Wham. I searched in my bag for that pen I have never been able to get when I needed it, no paper, the only thing in my bag was a bank receipt. I turned it over and asked my girl to get me a pen.

Suddenly I felt better and this is what I wrote:

She was the wrong colour

too light skinned

very pretty

winning smile

and the wrong family.

She infected his dreams

with her soft voice

like silk running down his spine

created gasps in

his breathing

the insistent hiss of his passion

kept him chained

to the farm

for the dowry.

Mission accomplished

he returned to the village

her wedding

was already underway,

to another.

Conversations..Self publish?

You know, one of these days I am going to take my courage in my hands and actually do the unthinkable again. Attempt to self publish. My last experience left me so badly frightened that I ran yelping to traditional publishing.

I have read Guy Kawasaki, for days after that, I saw vision of me becoming a successful Indy author. Slept at night with such dreams and woke up with palpitations  Each time my husband asked what the matter was, I will whisper and dramatically announce I was thinking of doing the self publish route again. Alarm would jump into his eyes and I would hurriedly assure him I was really toying with the idea.

You will need to understand where we are coming from. Self publishing in my country is really the only way to get read. But take a pause and see what gets published, some of them have no business being published because it was not edited, nor spell checked nor.. I could go on.

On the other side of the lake are the traditional publishers, in my country, you will need to be in the suffocating air of the politicians for a serious publisher to take you seriously.

Here is a simple scenario, so you think you have written a good book? The questions start coming in

1.   Is it a recommended school text? And you answer with a tentative no defending yourself by saying it can be read for pleasure.. the publishers looks behind you wondering who let the lunatic into his office. This does not look like a charity organization damn it.

2.   Are you a politician and spilling the dirt on some opposition? The publisher will first check with his lawyer to see if you had the potential of getting away with it and so more people are likely to want to buy the book so they can tell what the rumpus was all about. The publisher really doesn’t want to know if you had just scratched your itchy backsides and was using the book to rile your opponent up so you get publicity. A political party might just be interested in giving you political office if you story is really irritating enough. The publishers like this. They have a style, they do a big Book Presentation, call all the honourable thieves from your camp and the other opposing camp and the book is launched. You get paid and everybody forgets the book. No one wants to know if you never sell one more copy after the presentation date. See what I mean?

3.   There is the other option though as the publisher allows his finger to hover the security button, He makes a small cough, puts his most charming fake smile on his face and asks you if you know someone in the education sector, specifically in the curricula section who might suggest your book as a recommended text. The Lord help you if you answer is negative because in a blink you will be outside the gate of the establishment.

The last time I tried something like that, I almost had to promise my arm and my heart. The trouble was, my heart bled so much that nobody wanted it, least of all me.

Then I came online and I am being seduced into thinking I can try again. But maybe I need to go read Guy’s book again. Maybe I need more dreams, or hunger so acute that I would grab at a chance to do it alone again. It is a nice nightmare that has the potentials of being a dream and who knows you just might reach for it one day in a book store near you. How is that?

Rambling thoughts

The first thing that I am learning these days, is the realization that we do have quite of lot of writers from my part of the world. I used to think we were only interested in reading to pass examinations. That maybe true at some level but slowly I am beginning to come across vibrant young writers, not fussy, nor hampered with the old order. What was that you might ask me?. Simple. In my secondary school days, If you wanted to write poetry, you got into a lot of hot water because you had to write verse in a very structured manner. But the younger generation seem to have dropped all that restraint in the nearest bin. I thought I would add some of these exciting discoveries to my blog now . It will enrich us all. 

I will also try to have my poetry page right out in the open , I mean on the first page not tucked out of sight into a second page that is hardly visited. Our interviews will still continue apace. I have been trying to finish off an old romance which I am re-writing and hoping to publish in a different level.

I never liked the idea of making resolutions. But a particular thought has been ailing me since the turn of this year. I ignored it for a while. You know I never liked preachers and naysayers. I am not the best person to chat with when it comes to religion or sometimes spiritual issues. I am a suspicious person and also do not enjoy pouring my heart out to virtual friends and foes alike. What I am saying in essence is that sometimes this page might discuss spiritual issues. I think I might also share my parenting experiences. What do you think?

So what do I really want to do this time around?. Pretty much the same I had done over the years. I started this blog thing like a lark, a fix for me since I am addicted to writing . My daughter says it is harmless and something that can keep me company for all time. I know why she said that though, I am not the regular kind of granny that is always ready to dote on children, but my grandchildren are heavenly. I sound sloppy and I had planned I was just going to ramble.

Rambling at the beginning of the third month of the year? At least I made a faster decision this year than last year. Okay let me just finish the sentence will you?

What do I have now? A couple of poems by a young poet from my corner of the year and a promise..er.. not a resolution. Were you listening?

Okay here comes Joe Opeyemi

Albedo.

she blossoms before my eyes
like the bud of a verse
and reflects inside my heart
like the paths of the stars.

a vase svelte, its delicate base
looking each moment like
my-soul-will-soon-break.

when we met
when we laid eyes
our bodies melted
like the ice-caps.

global warming inside, hormonal intrusion
like molten magma
depletes the ozone layer.

her bosom like Mt. Shalom
crown up her torso
her great legs are lissom
bestest ones in Tokyo.

massive moments thereafter, epochs geological
meteor showered, asteroids flew by...
the reflective ratios of era Palaezoic.

Final words, I did say I promise to keep this blog lively and exciting didn’t I? Have a beautiful time here.

Biola Olatunde

Stars in my Eyes

Eni wandered dispiritedly into the porter's lodge and checked if she'd been given accommodation. The porters looked through a list and nodded that she had the same place she had been allocated when she first arrived. Some students had their temporary allocation changed. Eni didn’t even think she had any preference. It is just a bed she told herself anyway. So she learned it was still ‘A’ quadrangle in Babylon.There were three beds there and one tiny kitchenette and bathroom.There was a notice on the door from some Christian group welcoming her to Babylon and telling her that her true destina­tion was Zion.Eni chuckled in amusement at the play of names. She chose the farthest end of the bed and plunked down in sheer tiredness.She had finished her registration at last and was still clutching some papers that she will submit at the accounts office as well as a piece of paper stating what her duties were as a member of the Hall.She grimaced at the paper and stretched out fully on the bed closing her eyes. Remember everything I told you?

Not now,

Now is the best time,

But I am tired

The argument had started in her head again You didn't bother to check who your room­mates are Does it matter?

Her stomach growled

Just leave me alone will you? Eni swore to herself.

What? A voice answered her and she snapped her eyes open into the laughing ones of Nefertiti who considered her.
I was not talking to you Eni offered by way of explanation  

“How long since the last meal”? Nefertiti asked in gentle tones.

“Uh”?

“Food.F.O.O.D.You know the body needs it even if you don't”.

“I will survive” Eni replied

“Yeah I bet”

Eni managed a tight smile and closed her eyes again. Kofo considered the form of Eni and left the room quietly. Eni said nothing just tried to regain herself then the arguments started again.Her brain felt stuffed with cotton wool Peter.The tears were now threatening to spill over and she cursed softly and punched the pillow.

Fool

Mooning like a sixteen year old

I am not mooning

You knew he was not going to marry you

Too old in fact He wants a future too

Besides you had said no

Silly idiot.

Eni groaned and put the pillow over her head trying to shut out the voices.

Leave me alone That one slipped out

“After you have eaten,the signs are obvious.You are heading for a breakdown”. Eni opened her eyes in shock straight into the amused gentle eyes of Nefertiti holding some sandwiches.

“What's happened to Miss Chan?”

“Miss who”?Kofo was startled

Eni smiled “Your appendage”

Kofo laughed softly “Really?and what am I”?

Eni replied without thinking “Nefertiti”

Kofo chuckled in real amusement
“Interesting. Now eat”                                *

Eni groaned

“That will serve you right giving us names, roommates and after all the trouble I went to get that for you”. But there was no anger in her face or her voice just amusement. Eni smiled.

“Didn't think of you as girl-Friday either”

“Yeah”?

“Thanks and Eni took the offered sandwiches. Kofo shrugged and went over to her corner covertly watching.

Eni sighed just as her stomach growled in protest. Kofo laughed

“You remind me of a sore bear”

“Thanks”

“Truly” Kofo was still full of mirth and came over to stare at Eni

“Have you made up your mind”?

“Uh”?

“You can't be sure whether to throw the food at me or to eat it .My advice is the latter.I can hear your stomach from here”. Kofo said laughter in her voice. Irresistibly Eni grinned.

“That's better” Kofo approved. She gave Eni a quizzical look and said “I had better go after Miss Chan” , laugh­ing she left the room.

Eni chuckled and then frowned seeing she was still holding the damn sandwiches. She might as well eat the thing before Neferriti returned.

Instinctively she knew she had made a friend not that she really was in need of such but she had appreciated the gesture of compas­sion to a fellow student even if the student ought to have known better than to start on a hunger strike for no reason. She gave a slight smile at that Hunger strike?

How novel,all because of a man you sent packing yourself] Imagine that!

Eni sighed ,she was going round the bend she thought and started to unpack her bag in an effort to do something and put those crazy fellas in her head some yakking space. She al­most laughed at the thought of that. She smiled as she thought of Nefertiti and her little gestures of kindness.

Replete but still tired Eni stared moodily out of the window. Each room had been designed to give every student some sense of privacy .Eni prized her privacy and had appreciated the intention of the builders of the halls of resi­dence in making that concession to the students. She knew the acute problem of ac­commodation in Universities generally and thought this was a major miracle.

Minutes later she was so involved that she didn't notice the re-entry of Nefertiti until she heard her admiring voice “But  this is beautiful.”