Ruyi's World of Books & Stories

  Ogaba and the enchanted cave Ogaba and the Enchanted Cave is a quite easy-to-read yet elegant prose targeted for pre-teens and early teenagers. The vocabulary is concise, adequate and fitting for that demographic. Perhaps what is more endearing about the text is its capacity to weave timeless human values into the narrative while placing premium on them. Values such as hardwork, cleanliness, politeness, cheerfulness, wisdom, and the like are rewarded when being practiced especially by children. For example, Ogaba’s cleanliness and wisdom fetches him liberty from the Ojujus. Worthy of note is the environmental consciousness of the writer who brings to the fore the geography, flora, and fauna typically obtainable in the middle belt of Nigeria such as the great Benue River, the Cattle and nomads, as well as the vegetation of the place. His love for plants, especially flowers comes out more vividly. The writer himself is not new to the craft of children’s literature. In fact, he ...

I went into the printing press and I have to tell you that it was the best press I have ever seen in my life. It was beautiful. There were customers. There was help on the floor. One of the staff approached me. He greeted, “Good evening sir.” Smile paraded his face.  “Good evening, young man,” I replied, beaming with confidence. “Where is your boss? I came for my books. Are they ready?” He shifted his weight to one leg. He smiled, and threw out a question, “Are you Mr. Robert?” “Yes!” I nodded affirmatively. “My boss is not in the office but he left a note for you!” He handed the letter over to me and moved to one side. Without wasting time, I browsed through the piece. In a couple of minutes, I was done. I let go a mighty heave, raised my head and turned to the young man. “Thank you, I got the message. Where are the books?” “They are over there,” he pointed to a corner in the press. “Please, follow me.” We walked to the corner where the books were neatly packed.   I cons...

  It’s a cross that I must bear. The weight of which could sink a ship. The piece had eaten deep into the fabrics of my life and things are no longer the same. Marking the time, the desert foxes are ever hungry. The city hustlers barely had enough. No one is safe. The hammer falls and the fly dies. The bell rings and the old crone storms out of sleep.  You can bruise her petals, eat her fruits but never take a loyal friend for a fool. On a bright Friday morning, I woke up with a start. The cockerel had sounded it was dawn. The rising sun was upon humanity, inflicting pain on some and sending healing on others. The sun slowly crawled out of her abode and walked majestically to her esteemed seat somewhere on the plains of the beautiful earth. Singing from the horizon, her voice could be heard around the country. Men speak of her legendary. Men worship the rising sun. Her eminence, her clemency were up in the air. She revealed herself as soon as the moon drifted home to her hol...