JUUC FirstLight

 BY TREASURE EKANEM “I think I’m losing faith in humanity.”  I get too engrossed in the things I do sometimes, and my roommates and friends have gotten used to repeating statements before I get to hear them. So, when I looked up at Sandy, the look on her let me know that she had made that statement to me more than once. I was piqued cause Sandy is one of the few friends I have that wholeheartedly lets me be the talker. She doesn’t voice out her thoughts and issues words sparingly. I knew whatever made her come all the way to my bed to say this must have burdened her a lot. So, I put my PC down, and asked, “Why do you think so?” No one truly loves any more. No one truly cares any more. No one gives selflessly anymore. No one trusts wholeheartedly anymore. We hate ourselves and we let it show in everything we do. We have become so self absorbed that as far as a concern doesn’t directly affect us, we wouldn’t care if it all goes to hell. We are so consumed in our own interests th...

BY EDIOMO MORRISON  There were nights that 'I could not do it again.' Those nights, I would cry my eyes out, lick the catarrh that had moved from my nose to my mouth, and use my pillow as a kerchief. Those were the nights I dreamt. About giving up. They were good dreams. Somehow, those nights, I wouldn't know how, but I was working with my friends in places I wanted to work in, I was married to the best man in the world and had the most beautiful kids I ever wanted. On nights like that, I would smile because I walked into big rooms, moderated interviews, owned a podcast, bagged a law degree with a first class and lived a comfortable life. On nights like that, I was happy. The next morning, when I'm woken by the mosquitoes that seem to sing better by my ear, the irritation from my skin dripping with sweat, or my alarm blaring "Praise the Lord" by Brandon Lake & Elevation Worship, I hear myself say, "you cannot give up on it". It's like I see m...

  Anything the devil gives to you is never for free Even after many, many years, you still randomly remember the time you watched your father’s coffin being lowered into the earth by four men who looked like they had an eating disorder. You looked around and saw your younger siblings in tears, all six of them. Your mother had cried so much she couldn’t cry anymore, so she just stared blankly with her swollen eyeballs. Some other people who you’d never known were present and crying and you wondered whether your father even knew them at all. You would’ve thought they belonged to the community of drunks who beat up their wives every night, but they looked responsible. Well, your father did too. Then you willed yourself to cry, not because you were worried about people asking why the deceased’s first son was dry eyed as his father was being buried, but because you didn’t want to risk anybody catching any clue that it was you who ended his life. Life was tough. Too tough. You had gradua...

   I am the colour of my mother's eyes. At birth, she spat cataracts into my eyes and beckoned me to see. I grasped for shadows, blindly obedient  until my fingers grazed a spindle. I learned in that moment that this darkness is a two-faced friend, and I am its blindfolded dancer, swaying to its echoes. At 13, I sat with this darkness and christened it 'friend'. I was forced to memorize this night's fierce pulse, and to engaged it in whispers and pillow talks . Until at 18, I bade it farewell. I learnt to take giant steps and minute leaps, or so I thought. Then this darkness whispered in syrupy tunes, "Have your scars not taught you anything? Don't you know, dear child, that these cataracts are yours to own And your children's children?" Now, at 24, I am the color of my eyes. I am neither blind nor seeing. I've come to embrace these shadows as my heritage and drink from the depths of its secrets. I've learned too much from my scars to find sola...

  Do you still think of me? I'm not obsessed with you. I'm not stalking you either. I just want to see what you're up to, since we don't talk anymore.  Do you remember how we were, me and you? We had that diary where we wrote to each other, not professing love or any of that mushy stuff, just being honest.  We sat together everywhere, even in the chapel where those nosy teachers could have seen us. Not that we cared. Do you remember when I ran through my monthly allowance and you bought me snacks without me asking? Do you remember they said I'd charmed you, that you were in love with me. You paid them no mind, and neither did I. But I knew they weren't lying. Because even though you told me about the girls you liked, the girls you'd made out with, I knew it was true. You loved me. You didn't say it, but you showed it. Every single damn time. In the subtlest of ways. In the way you always held my hands, the way you came over to my class every time you wer...

My heart was full of trust and love, For those I thought were my brothers, We shared our joys and tears together and I thought our bond would last forever. But little did I know, deceit was near And those I trusted would soon bring me pain, Their smile hid knives and their words were lies, And my heart was about to realize  The pain of betrayal cut so deep,  like a knife that pierced my soul's sleep, I thought we had bond of trust and might, But it was all fake a disguise in sight. I gave them all my heart and soul and they repaid me with a bitter role Their betrayal was a wound that wouldn't heal  And I was left to pick the pieces I feel. The sadness of being wronged by those I loved, It was a weight I couldn't shake or move, It stayed on, a constant pain, and a reminder of the trust that was in vain. But still, I rise, I heal, I move on and learn not to trust again, Though it is hard to be strong for the memories of betrayal still remains and the sting of hurts will for...

  In honour and pain I fight, yet live. I paint the street with blood b'cause freedom in this city needs to flood with red. I'm black, but my life is red. The very life we live is exchanged for your safety. Slumbering and awaking, you walk the streets unstressed. I'm in my distress, and you guffaw? Ohh!! How silly!!! Bloody civilians!!! I leave my honeymoon to a battlefield full of men. I barely sleep, not knowing my fate as the signs from the sky, turn black night. Will my men live or die? What does the future predict upon tomorrow? Tomorrow will always handle itself, but my men fall by death's sword. The road is red and the my heart is grieved. The civilians basked in jollity.... .....their faces tell that the enemies have eaten the dust. Yet, in my honour and pain I'm between two choices. To celebrate or weep. You never really know the full story. ......we went in numbers but returned  ..........the story is never full.....but we're Expendables ........ fashi...

  If you’ve ever wanted to know what "practice week" really feels like, then buckle up—I’m taking you behind the scenes, through my personal experience as a proud member of JUUC Chambers. And not just any member, mind you, but a certified Team Love girlie (best team, no debates, even if the others want to argue). *Winks. Courtroom Realities: First Stop We kicked off Practice Week with a court visit. Now, books will try to prepare you, but nothing truly does. The moment I stepped into the courtroom, I felt it,that calm, solemn, almost sacred air. It was pin-drop silent. We witnessed about three cases. All were adjourned, but the first? Electrifying. One of the lawyers was so fierce and compelling, I couldn’t look away. Sadly, it ended too soon—adjourned again. Still, I felt that courtroom fire light up something in me. Of course, we documented it—pictures, reflections, the whole thing. But I didn’t know that was just the beginning. Into the Deep: Arbitration Drama Then came th...

  Written by Etinosa Egharevba  The “annex” campus is bigger than we think. Photo Credit: Generic|Pinterest The Faculty of Law building was refurbished: the power outlets were changed, the walls were repainted custard yellow, the toilets were tiled, windows were fixed, pipes were installed.  The nouveau toilets were locked to prevent some students from vandalizing its properties. This forced some students to take a trip to “Barth Ebong” or some other accessible convenience to ease themselves.  When law students stepped out en masse amongst the field riddled with milky cows and bulls accented with black spots, you could look from law students, to cows, to law students, to cows, and all of a sudden, the black and white would blur into a fine symmetry and you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.  Seeing these cows within a learning milieu annoyed me and most of my colleagues. Suffering to understand the complexities of law courses, you had to marinate in the “f...

 Written by Etinosa Egharevba I detest the rain so much.  Photo Credit: Pinterest I understand that the skies are meant to perform their God-given responsibilities and pour out their anger on us through those rather salty liquids that either make or mar our days. Growing up, something about the rain had intrigued me. However, everything changed last year. And till kingdom comes, I will always have a deep resentment for the rain. All this resentment began when I lost my baby, Little Mark. Little Mark had been a godsend to me. A product of a vile event, a product of rape. He was my Lily in the mire. His chuckles were enough to brighten my mood whenever I was sad. His tears were enough to dampen my mood no matter how ecstatic I was.  Little Mark reminded me of the event that took away my innocence, but he was too innocent. Against all odds, I had kept the baby and I loved that I did. I had never been so attached to anyone. Last year, I was on my way home from Little Mark's s...

 Written by Etinosa Egharevba  Photo Credit: istock I have never been a fan of weddings. The sickening laughs that resonates out of the gluttonous throats of the guests when the “all-so-loving” couple make a fool out of themselves under the guise of “couple goals.” The worst part of the repulsive wedding ceremonies were the vows. How the couple were forced to stare lovingly into each other’s fatigued faces and propose undying love for each other; then they would slip the golden circle into their ebullient fingers and conclude with the hackneyed “till death do us part.” Yet, it was in one of these abominable events that I met her, Idaresit. She was dressed in resplendent yellow with her kinky braids tightly packed into a bun. She was part of the bridal train, with each step she took, I could almost see myself beside her one day, walking toward this same altar. I was seated on a plastic chair covered in linen, closest to the aisle, he flare gown brushed against my exposed arms a...

By Emmy Alex On this frail and treachery grounds, we walk, priding ourselves in the hope of a future far reaching from the reality.  We garnish our eyes and voices, ready to herald the coming of greater governance. Yet, in these peril moments, We wait in lost hopes. We cannot be saved by others, until we save ourselves. If the sun must shine, it must do so in the morning. On this day, we make our choice. Speak against oppression, and the numerous plights rained on our numerous lives by a corrupt government, and the consequences be dammed.  On this vision, Emmy writes Welcome to our Land . Stay with us.  Land and Houses covered in Water  WELCOME TO OUR LAND This land of ours is wrecked in lies. The soil and the crops dieing in a filthy wrought. And as we fade, the promise of a generation dies The once glimmering sun now bade to redraw. Welcome to our land A land where we are blind to what is right A land where everyone wants to be the high and mig...

By Emmy Alex   I grew up in a small neighborhood, It was really incredible, I mean my childhood.I could play with my cloths off in the rain and never feel ashame. I always played mummy with the little doll mummy got me,but my baby never cried, so I cried for my baby and nurtured her. I loved to see mummy carry her baby, she did so with so much care and tenderness, like it was an egg, pampering her baby at the slightest tears she drops, when ever she cries. Always, I felt bad because my baby never cried, but I was heavily consoled because mommy had always said " someday you will also Carry your baby. A real baby. She will cry and you will bustle and hustle to calm her.    "Hey, don't look at me like that when I dress, I always said to my younger brother. There was a time it never used to matter, but now it does. I still play innocently under the rain with other kids, but this time, my pants and blouse are steadily on; I tie them in a way they'll never leave my wai...