Segun Ozique

‘A Song As I am and Other Poems,’ is a collection of non-form, rhyming and metering poems collection ranging from personal life experiences – the realities and expectations and society’s state of disorganisation with human playing the lead role in its destabilization; she gives readers, divided and heterogeneous insights and flavours. She writes evocative and touching poems that draws on all sorts of connotations as she does with varied conclusions. One thing she makes very clear in this collection; Mabel is a mum, done this and done that about being a wife; about birth, marriage, the ups, then downs that goes with nuptials. Has experienced wars, work, survival and she sings about them all. Her poems about her experiences and concerns on motherhood; watching children grow, experiencing love and loving her maternal environment are my favourites. There are some really enjoyable poems in this collection: including ‘...  A Song As I am, To Be A Woman, For Monrovia, Nuptial Counsel,

In this book, Joe Dauda, an author, social analyst and writing consultant rehearses the history of the temperaments of President Goodluck Jonathan; doing a psychological analysis of his fluctuating behavioural patterns. Starting with a quote, from the book; concerning the president’s reaction to a negative TV broadcast...he writes, ‘...not even the worst critic of the president will disagree that his decision to visit the college himself while on his way to important regional meeting was very commendable...with that one act, President Jonathan,’ should have, ‘silenced for all time any criticism on being lackadaisical in governance. By visiting Police College, Ikeja, he showed Nigerians that he cares and is willing to work to correct what needs correction in the country...’ however, ‘after seeing the rot in Ikeja Police College with his own eyes...’ rather than as expected roll out the promises to right the wrongs, ‘the president,’ instead, had an unfortunate brainwave, ‘forgot the

Shackled, I am and bed-ridden: A Broken crown; they bruised my rein These tiny flying stabbing nuisances Minuscule creature, slap tap or clap kill. I was not quick to their devilish intentions; I dallied to have their toxic injected in me; Such to make me now, shaking like a leaf; My hotness shooting way outside my roof; Such like my head has had mortal installed; With a pestle designed to pound non-stop; And my nostril stuffed by blockading catarrh: Such that nothing I have had or could have; Would fend off their invading venomous bugs: Making me now find me in sludge, neck deep.

‘Scavengers’ Orgy,’ explores the role of customs in communities, in range of behaviour from taken for granted traits, deeds and actions; from child bequeathal, marriage, rape to all manners of exploitations and manipulations. Ozioma documents the shenanigans by individuals and organizations as they crisscross Nigeria to Europe and North America; identifying, exposing and amplifying associations and relationships that may not be obvious to casual readers. ‘Eyes glued to the mirror, Beatrice gauges the effect of the clingy black top she has just pulled over her black bra. It hangs over her short jeans skirt, revealing a wee bit of the alluring flesh of her tight abdomen. She screw up her eyes to better appreciate the effect of her apparel on her prospective audience…she is after all, the prize that has attracted all the attention. Normally she does not mind parading herself, a sinecure of inquisitive eyes, but not for these unpolished rural skunks. For three days, she has felt he