OBUDU
Morning cracks open in a draught of cold air, stinging my skin, numbing my flesh. The call of the wild—or woods, as it is here—is seductive, luring the traveller into one and repeated bouts of escapades. The call of this old pitted town, Obudu, charms and inspires in the laughter from chapped lips, the cloud-misted mountains that are its guardian angels, the frigid waters and the frothing wine that runs sweet over my tongue. Here is 2017, promising pristine pleasures in Nature's abode, Obudu. Kingsley Charles
