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Mmiri oyi
Mama called it Okochi (dry season). It made everywhere dry, made the sun blaze fiercely from the sky and left our throats parched and voices croaked. Every day, my friends and I would play outside mama’s hut, trying to shoot down lizards that hugged the walls with our catapults. When the rains came, it was sudden. We were in the middle of staking out a lizard when we heard the rumbles of thunder. The skies soon darkened, serenaded by sharp flashes of lightening. The rains pelted us like an angry farmer does to birds eating his crops. We ran in the torrents, screaming with glee. We played, we danced and fought in the mud. Papa, mama and the other adults stood at the doorways, smiling while casting envied looks. They occasionally lifted their hands to the sky in gratitude to Chukwuabiama. They said the rain foretold good things. They said the yams would be big, even bigger than Chima, my baby brother. As if struck by premonition, we all started collecting water in all the empty containers we could find. 
The next morning, I protested mama’s admonition for a hot bath, she grudgingly acquiesced and filled the bucket with mmiri oyi (cold water). As she lifted a dripping bowl over my head, I first shivered with excitement, then horrified joy as the electrifying splashes touched my head and cascades coated my face and body, ending in rivulets at my feet. I laughed out loud and knew we would be okay. Okochi was finally over. The sun would be nicer from now on. Our throats could now know peace and our lips stretch happily. We had mmiri oyi now.
Africa: A reintroduction.
Often characterized with hardship, hunger and lack, Africa is time after time portrayed…pictures of starving, forlorn and hopeless African children rife. This drawing shows a side the world refuses to see as Africa, maybe because it pulls less at heart strings…
There’s the hope, the laughter, the younger generation determined to make a difference, ready to populate the world with images of hope instead of gloom. 
My hope and vision for the African youth is that while we work towards preparing for the young revolution in Africa, it is important for us to project an image of ourselves as we see it. An image of the happy African child, the wheels of the new revolution instead of kids suffering the aftermath of war. Africa, and the countries therein is a happy place, with happy people who are immensely proud of their origins, customs, stories, art and determined to make their input in the new world we are building.. As cold water heralds the long awaited rains, so does our rebirth begin with the endless possibilities of the African youth. 
This is the Africa of today. The Africa we now know. What comes tomorrow will be much better.