FOREWORD: Guess what, folks… Chestnut has written his first piece for KD. It’s a work of fiction, and loaded with so much wit and humour, I couldn’t help my laughter as I read. It was reading I thoroughly enjoyed, and I’m sure y’all will to. Check on it – God Of The Sea.


6310345057_a1de92329e_zI think I smelled him before I saw him. It was a heady scent, strong enough to command attention, but subtle enough not to be overpowering; the kind of scent you knew came in a fancy, expensive-looking bottle, with a fancy, expensive-looking designer label.

That morning, as I drove to the hotel where the seminar was to hold, I didn’t imagine anything of significance would happen that day. I thought it would be just a seminar, like I had attended a hundred times before. I was wrong.

As I sat listening to the opening speech by Dr. Hassan Arogundade, I kept fighting the urge to bring out my phone and start scrolling through my favourite blogs; I was that bored already. And then I smelled him. It was strange, because I was remotely aware that other participants who came in later than I did had been taking seats behind me. But when he came in and took a seat two rows behind me, my awareness was no longer remote; it was fully present, even though I didn’t turn my head to look. It was definitely his perfume that first caught my attention. I’m normally not big on perfume; I never even wear it myself. A good deodorant stick and body-spray has always been good enough for me, but this…this heady scent coming from behind me had me in a strange mixture of alertness and numbness, almost like I was on the verge of getting drunk, but not quite. Continue reading

Cocktails and Charm from Nairobi with Love

o-WEDDING-TOAST-TIPS-facebookFOREWORD: So we’ve got our first write-up from a Kitodiariesian who’s not Nigerian. He’s from Kenya, and below is his offering. It’s fiction. Read and enjoy.


Max hurriedly bundled the computer on his desk into his duffle bag and picked up the pen that lay on the shared desk in front of him, together with a notepad and the directional print-out he’d sneaked from the printer in the adjacent room, from the open plan work area of FundiCorp, an edgy, new Tech Hub to the West of Nairobi.

He was (almost) late for an interview he had across the city, and this being his very last chance at leaving FundiCorp, the company that had frustrated him for three years, he wasn’t about to let the chance just slip away.

“You seem in an awful hurry… where’s the fire?” Ciku, the boss’ friendly Personal Assistant chimed, as she happened by on her way to the conference room. She had a prim figure, tiny hands, a beautiful mono-print dress on that moulded perfectly her body, and pumps that always seemed to gleam. Despite her varnished looks, she was way older than Max was.

“Oh, hey, Ciku. I didn’t see you there,” Max managed, after zipping up my bag, placing it on my shoulder and straightening his tie. “I’m just very late for a meeting. I don’t know where the time went.”

“That’s nothing new,” she said with a cheeky smile, obviously referring to how often Max had been in to the office a few minutes past the hour. “But you’ll still deliver, I’m certain. All the best, and with the traffic…” She tsk-tsked as she moved on. Continue reading


kd 6Mark watched Chike throughout that afternoon when he wasn’t looking. Clean-shaven head, a mouth turned down at the top corners, thoughtful eyes. He seemed too deliberate, this Chike, in an awkward way.  When he leaned across the sofa to kiss his wife Adaobi, then take her hand, then slide his body closer until the sides of their hips touched, he oozed self-consciousness, like he had spent seconds mulling over such plain acts before deciding to do them.

* * *

Adaobi poked her head through the yellow bar of light from the corridor behind her into the darkness of Mark’s room. The front hem of her nightgown was held up higher than the back by her rounded tummy.

Mark looked up from his phone. It was 11:12pm on his first eight hours in Nigeria in a year. He had just finished a Masters in Manchester three weeks ago and was back to pick up a waiting lecturing appointment with the University of Ibadan’s English department.

Footsteps started to approach from the right end of the corridor, and presently Chike walked past Adaobi towards their bedroom at the left end of the corridor. He did not look left or right. He did not say a word.

“Your husband doesn’t talk much, does he?” Mark asked. Continue reading

The Awkward Encounter

g12“Did the call go through?” Fred said in a tone that was mixed with varying emotions. He was tense and concerned, because today was the day he believed he would tame the neighbourhood ‘ass goddess, Scholastica. He had planned it all – the conversations that led up to this day, the breaking-in of a classroom in the public school of the area they lived, the condoms. Everything was set, but there was a slight problem. The missing ingredient to this concoction was nowhere to be seen or heard from. Scholastica had not made an appearance yet.

“Guy, I don’t think this girl wants to come oh,” Ayo said easily. It was after all not his sexual prowess that was to be tested. It was Fred’s… Fred who had both the anxious and outraged disposition of one who couldn’t imagine any girl could ever curve(sly) him.

Ayo also wondered how Scholastica could, how she wasn’t already here, shooing him away in order to be all up in Fred’s business, because frankly, Fred was a hottie. Half-caste, pink-lipped, chiseled body, laidback personality, and he had a certain calm about him that was welcoming to anybody he met. Ayo couldn’t get these girls, really. This was the reason he didn’t have much use for them. He however contented himself with making commiserative remarks, in an effort to console his obviously-jilted friend, while they puffed away on the joints they had both been smoking for some time now.

“As I am like this now, I need my dick sucked – BAD…” Fred groaned. Continue reading


guard-black-backgroundHis name is Moses. From the first time I saw him, I felt this odd rush of magnetism. I couldn’t tell if it was the way he always made eye contact with me whenever we met, or his intense scrutinizing manner, the way he looked at me like he could see into the depths of my soul.

Anyway, he was one of the security men in the complex where my office was located. I had just been posted to Abuja from the Lagos Head Office of our stockbroking company. Though I had been to Abuja a few times in the past, my past visits were never more than one week long. I liked the calm and peace of Abuja as opposed to the insane and unpredictable bustle of Lagos, but I never imagined that I would ever live in Abuja. I was born, raised and educated in Lagos and considered myself a true Lagosian. My only time outside Lagos was during my university days. I had found it difficult to secure admission in any of the universities in or around Lagos, to my extreme annoyance. After two years of sitting at home while my contemporaries were already halfway through their undergraduate studies, and when my parents’ exhortations that I consider a school in the East since it was in my catchment area had reached hysterical levels, I caved and my father was able to pull a few strings. A few months later, I was admitted to study Transport Technology at the Enugu State University. Continue reading


This, I believe, is Absalom’s first fictional piece on this blog. Check on it below and enjoy.


g14He surprised me. So we fought and I packed a suitcase and moved out. I didn’t take all my things, just clothes and other essentials: the heavier stuff, like the bookshelf, could come later.

He didn’t look at me as I went through the sitting room on my way out. He just sat there on the arm of a sofa, drinking water. An hour ago, he had been a storm, accusing me of destroying “what we have.” I shook my head, got in my car parked beside his Camry, and drove towards New Benin. I would stay in Edirin’s place until I cleaned up my flat in the outskirts of town.

“Hey,” Edirin said when he came to the door with his dog Rambo to greet me. Rambo sniffed at the suitcase beside my legs. “Going somewhere?”

“No. I left Onuora’s place.”

Edirin’s eyes widened. “Broke up with the boyfriend?” Continue reading

Internet Lover

FINALLY! Kito Diaries’ first post penned by a sister! Her name is Unoma – that’s right, her real name in all her daring glory. Shame on you cowering brothers, hiding behind aliases. lol 🙂

Anyway, the story below is fiction. Read and enjoy.


lesbiansexTiti had not been too lucky with relationships. Her first lover lasted six months with her, and cheated on her a number of times. The second was abusive. And the third was quite the lunatic; she barely took her bipolar medication. Titi decided to remain celibate until she met the right person. However, after a year she became lonely and opted to spend part of her night-time in internet chat rooms.

She was a student of Savannah College of Art and Design in Georgia, and worked as a waitress in between her class hours, but Sundays were her best chat days. Most of the chat rooms were usually crowded, and it was difficult to catch anyone’s attention. Unless one made prior arrangements to meet there, it was near impossible to chat. However, Titi formed the habit of clicking on people’s names under the list of members in the room to check their pictures and then decide who was pretty enough to chat with and possibly establish a relationship with. Continue reading

He Eats My Cakes And Has Hers

bisexual-menMy name is Lami. I am 24 years old and a fresh graduate. Here’s why I’ll NEVER again date a bisexual guy.

His name is Funsho. We met at a friend’s mother’s 55th birthday party. You see, it wasn’t even a gay party. My friend, Allen had told me, “I’m inviting a few of my close friends, but it’s not a TB party o. Abeg man up, no bitching or flinging of hands. A lot of my straight friends are also coming.”

So on that day, I dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a tucked-in shirt with a simple pair of loafers. I wasn’t dressed to kill or to attract attention. I walked in, went over to Allen’s mother to wish her a happy birthday, flattered her a bit about how pretty she looked for a 55-year-old woman, exchanged greetings with Allen and the few other guys I knew there, and settled down to enjoy the lavish food and drink I could see waiting on the table.

At some point in the party, one of the guys who I didn’t quite know came to occupy the empty seat beside, and we got talking. He introduced himself as Funsho, and said he worked with a logistics company somewhere in Lagos. He was Allen’s friend, and we had never met. For some reason, I assumed he was one of Allen’s straight friends. Nevertheless, he was an interesting dude, as we talked on a wide range of issues from current affairs to politics. Continue reading


g20“Ah-ah, Godwin,” Bukola said as she observed her colleague hurriedly putting away his things and clearing his work station. “This one you are hurrying like this, hot date waiting somewhere?”

“Something like that,” Godwin said, flashing her a smile as he lifted his headset from around his neck moments before navigating to the log-off button on the computer screen.

“You mean am?” Bukola’s smile was just as wide as his. “Who be the babe?” She swiveled around on her seat to face him, her attention teasingly rapt.

“Nuh-uh, I’m not telling you anything.”

“Oh come on…”

“No o, biko…”

“Diaris God o,” Bukola moaned.

“You think I don’t know that?” Godwin said with a smirk as he rose from his seat and reached for his bag. “It’s God that sent this hot date my way nau.” As Bukola chuckled, he said, “But I’ll tell you this for sure, this date is a total babe.” Continue reading

Suite 419

kd suite 47Suite 419 was where everything happened; the meeting, the loving, and the breakup. The first time Kene met Chiboy and Peter, he fell immediately for Peter. That night, the moon did not shine because a great cloud covered the sky. A cool breeze blew that night, plastered Kene’s face with water. By the time he got to Timber Avenue, the breeze had turned into a gale, tossing everything in its path. Kene ran into a compound and called his cousin, Val. “Where are you?” Kene asked. “I have the books.”

“Just stay put,” Val said. “I’ll send someone with an umbrella.”

That person was Chiboy: tall, slim, with a delicate fair-skinned, red-lipped handsomeness, like he would break if you touched him too hard. He shook hands with Kene and said “hey” with the deepest voice Kene had ever heard. They walked quickly, closely, sharing the umbrella. Kene did not say much; Chiboy did all the talking.

When they got into the house, the living room was dark. Power had been cut, and Kene could hear someone trying to put on the generator in the balcony. Two people were talking in the balcony. Kene could make out Val’s voice, rough and grainy. Chiboy helped Kene into a seat. Soon, the light came on, the living room awash in a white brilliance. Val came in, laughing at something the guy behind him had said. He smiled at Kene. “This guy na idiot,” he said. “And him get good name oh, Peter. Imagine!” Continue reading