I looked at the picture, dangling from the dusty wall. The face looked tired, with pale lips and weak eyes. I was told he had taken the picture just days before his death, I found the information satisfying, because the picture stank of death itself . For some reasons I did not move, I used the cane in my hand to support my tired body. I had seen several pictures in my lifetime, from the ones that hung in the church hall way, mostly white men with smiling faces, to the masquerade paintings by the road side. Yet this was more.

The man na good man, dem say na him build this domot, even the council building, na him do all

I turned around to find my escort behind me, he must have noticed how attached I was to the picture, and felt he had to come up with the tale. It came out of him battered and broken, but his easy flow and hand demonstrations made his story mind gripping.

The man na great man wen in day, e do plenty plenty things for area, my papa tell me say na this man even carry oyibo come”. My escort continued.

I do not know why, but I felt the story lessen in my ears, it dissolved into the background. My mind was still fixed on the eyes, I began to think I had seen it somewhere. I raced through my head, thinking of where I could have seen the long chin and short nose. The more I pondered and searched, the more confused I got. I took my eyes away for a brief moment, I looked in the direction of the escort I had come with. His bald head and stumpy figure complemented his role, the way he swung his hands as he talked had a way of selling his words better. When I first met him at the bus station, he had smiled, displaying his stained teeth. His handshake was very firm, as if he meant to assure me that I was safe with him. But as competent as he was, my mind still wondered to the old picture on the wall.

“What year did the man die?” I asked.

ah, no be now o, na 1886, look the date wey dem write for the bottom of the picture, e dey dere

I took a closer look at the picture and saw the date scribbled at the bottom of the frame.

RIP -1808-1886-

The man had lived and died several years before my parents were born, yet he still looked very familiar. I wondered if it was a picture from Mama Mbonu’s album. She was my grandmother and had owned several albums that she stacked neatly by the edge of her bed. As a kid I had gone through her albums a lot, I wondered if perhaps that was where I had seen the old man on the wall.

I made to turn away, exhausted by the fact that I had been thinking too much, when I saw the scar on his left cheek. The horizontal line that spread down to the tip of his upper lip. I felt the Goosebumps on my skin.

I turned to my escort almost at once.

“What was his name?”

oh, e no get who no know him name na, the man popular well well, e name na Edolphus Kiriba.

I almost fainted, the escort had just called my name, I was the man on the wall

Photo Credit :


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The truth is rarely pure and is never simple – Oscar Wilde

It all came to me, in its fast rhythmic sway like the wind. All it took was a little boy, with his worn out shirt and kind eyes. Then I remembered life. Children seem to have that effect on me, the glimmer of life in its most simplistic form. Maybe I think of innocence when I hold a child in my arms, but my mind is never an innocent place. So once again I might be wrong, very wrong. But then I end up considering the opposite…Death. I’m full of memories, some have me shivering when I think of them, I know they will never go away. Like the windy night in high school, when I’m asleep on my bed, till I hear the boy beside my bed gasping for air. Everybody jumped up at the sound of my screaming, they jumped to the inevitable silence. The cold corpse of the boy was taken away. The night never goes away; it stays with me till the sun comes up.

Everybody runs from the truth. The truth isn’t such a bad place, although it’s dressed in a bad way. The truth reminds me of the strict head teacher, the bald headed, dry skinned man that sent two girls away for looking for their erasers underneath their pants. He kept ranting, with emphasis on the word “Abomination”. Some weeks later they found the old man with the science mistress on his desk. Same desk that had seen so many dismissal letters, and listened as people begged for forgiveness. Bottom line is…. The truth is a bitch. The kind of bitch that’s scared nobody will find her attractive enough for the night. Yet we should listen to it, the bitch never lies.

Have you shared a conversation with a hooker? Not the loud screams as you smack whatever your hand comes across. Not that. Have you asked her for her name, if you haven’t then you could never ask her what she thinks you should do with your life?(does it sound crazy?) Well, guess what….. I have. Her words spiraled my imaginations. I listened and listened. Ended up handing her all the money in my wallet. Do you think I’m deranged? But I discovered the truth in that stuffy room that stank of sex. The hooker saved me. I found solution few meters away from cheap bottles of alcohol, and a basket loaded with used condoms.

Now, the hooker, the headmaster, the girls, you and i will remember the truth. It’s perhaps the most unwelcome visitor. A very unattractive bitch indeed, but she will come. Has she told you about death yet? About coffins and the soft cushions within it? It shouldn’t scare you my friend. A mind that doesn’t think of death can never achieve. It reminds us that we are not super humans, we never were. It tells us how much good we need to do while we can. A man that grips to life alone will definitely be reckless, selfish and dishonest.


This piece is purely fictional. But death isn’t.


it will always be with us
it will always be with us

A very short word, yet it’s probably the most significant. It is something we all seek and eventually treasure once we possess. Acutely insatiable, it comes with its gregarious patterns. It attracts itself. It’s called Power.  From the beginning of creation, there has been a tussle for authority.  It is quite attractive and is never easy to attain, but in every generation, certain people must own it. Ride with me, as I carefully dissect the phenomenon called power. Haven’t you wondered how millions can die in a battle? Fighting for a cause they probably didn’t quite understand. Then, while the tears and anguish flow in. one little man, in a French suit, holding a rumpled paper in his hands climbs to the podium. He offers his condolences to the families of the departed. He doesn’t look remorseful, even though he created a war he didn’t fight in. That’s power.

Society has been carefully crafted. People have been made to see power as farfetched. Seeds have been planted in the heads of the masses, a certain level of false realism. People often believe power is not for them, yet, every day of our lives, we grapple with the inexhaustible urge for power. The only difference is that we are small fishes in small oceans. Let’s not limit our horizon by citing religion as a reason for our lack of thirst. Or perhaps our drinking from small streams.  Even religion enjoys power. People might say power is only in place to maintain order, but what is order? In my opinion order comes with a high level of control. And whoever holds the power to control holds our very breath.

Afro-maestro Fela realized how power was being misused in Nigeria. In one of his songs, he said “dem wan give us human rights. You can’t give us human rights”. As simple as the phrase is, it encapsulates everything I’ve been saying. Once you are at the opposite end of power, everything received is a gift. Water supply, electricity, food, shelter and clothing. These things are our rights, but we can see how every figure head promises the masses these things, just to get a feel of power. The masses will wait, till minds go weary, and eyes weaken.  All he wanted was power. Then some more power.

Not everybody can control substantial amounts of power. The inequality will always be with us. All we can do is recognize that certain people hold large amounts of it, and we can only benefit appropriately when we try to close the gap.  We can correct the system by speaking out, by giving ourselves a voice.  Remember this; there is no king without his subjects. The power mongers need us after all. We form the kingdom. Remember the Arab springs? How people changed the very cycle of power, by speaking out. What about the fight to end slavery in America. We can narrow it down to the small streams. Wherever we are, regardless of how little power we have.  The cycle can always be changed. May the odds be in your favour.

Recently worked with UNESCO world book capital and rainbow book club on an anthology.(see picture below) . It”s available in bookstores close to you. If you want the PDF file. contact me– Cheers!

IMG_20150511_094905_-1119359116 (1)


Dominoes falling

 Der Führer (German: “The Leader”), the Absolute Dictator, so was the legendary Adolf Hitler called. Six Million Jews died at the hand of one man. Would this have been avoided? Someone once said that ‘imagine if a car had knocked down the Seven year old Hitler, that one unplanned act would have saved millions from Satan’s spawn. You notice how one action leads to another. Hitler was an ASPIRING ARTIST; he tried to enter into the Academy of Fine Arts in Vienna(remember this), but was rejected, in that frustration he drowned himself in chains of anti-social behaviour, and this formed Hitler’s underlying vile lifestyle. Many years later he volunteered for the German army as the First World War started; he joined the 16th Bavarian Reserve Infantry Regiment, served excellently for many years, and rose to the apex of German Leadership.Now imagine if he was accepted into the Academy of fine arts years before, reckon the domino effect. No action is inconsequential, not even inactivity.

September 2014, I redeployed my service from Jos to Calabar, I got to Calabar primed for the surreal experience but it didn’t start so well. In my second week in Calabar I was mugged by two knife-wielding thugs. If I tell you how many aspects of my life that near-fatal experience changed, you would think I was playing. The focus it gave me, I got back to writing, I got back to my God, I suddenly felt the urgent need to achieve greatness before the next mugging, serious, I spent five months without a smartphone, before now I fancied this to be impossible. Now imagine if I wasn’t attacked, I probably would have continued with my carefree life, the domino effect transformed a horrible event into many functional occurrences.

The cycle of action and reaction requires us humans to be tactful with even the smallest of detail, for fate connects our actions.So if today I present to you a Time Machine, to change that one action that can change everything, what would that be? Platitudes like “no regrets”, “the past is the past”, really express the counterpoint. In Men in Black 3(2012), Agent J (Will Smith) had to travel over 40 years back in time to stop a potential alien invasion, a fictional illustration about how actions connect. In reality,we may not be able to travel back in time to alter the present or future, what we can do however, is shape the present into a future with little or no regrets. I’m not a “que sera, sera” person and I don’t advise anyone to be. Every action has a reaction, sooner or later. So that so called inconsequential deed you are doing now, can either raise or ruin you.

Bad things happen, I know, and no one wants bad things to happen, not me, but sometimes that’s the exact wake-up call your mind needs; you get what you give, you give what you get. One High School teacher told me something I would never forget, “if you would not learn from other peoples’ experiences, Fate would give you your own experiences”. The very moment you choose to be static and stunted, fate takes over. It’s simply the cycle of life, improvement is non-negotiable; even Dangote wants more money, if you refuse to improve, life demotes you,there’s no room for mediocrity only improvement, no vacuum or the stationary lifestyle. You are either going up or coming down.

Yea I’m blunt, it’s the new cool, but really, you need to get back on track now, pick up the pieces of that broken house and start rebuilding, you must, not because Jv says so, but because it’s the only way to go. The domino effect multiplied my one bad event into many favourable events; imagine what it does with purposely done good deeds, magic! Today, be purpose driven; take charge of your life. They say the best way to predict the future is to create it! let fate watch. The future is here; play now, win now, don’t wait till extra time, the referee might blow.

Written by John Iyoha @Jonhelsing.


the little bits...
the little bits… 

There was this guy

He found me while he was looking for himself. We exchanged hearts and got wasted. High off of our own fears. One night he took me to a meadow and kissed me under the moon. His lips pressed upon mine, as though he needed to lubricate his words to say goodbye. He handed me back my heart and apologized. He said he hasn’t found himself as yet and shouldn’t be falling for an angel when he might turn out to be a devil. Angels needed to be with angels.

There was this guy

He barged into my life. I paid no heed to him at first, because he seemed not so different from the rest. But he demanded my attention. He took my hand and walked me through his world, his past and present. His interests, hobbies, bonds, and his heart.
I swear, I fell for his everything. He promised me his love if I gave him a tour of my world. I wanted love. I wanted it so bad.
But as time went by, he lost interest in me. He left and I was the last to know.
Drunk texts were sent to him and he didn’t care. So I built a shield, and I wore a god damn mask. I rewired my heart and I spent my days surviving.
I’ve written so much about this hurt that I actually ran out of words.
I became different. An ugly side of me surfaced and I felt okay, even though it wasn’t the way for angels to heal.

But then there’s this guy

I can never get enough of him. When I thought that everything was over for me, he came in and listened to every word I had to say. I tried to shut him out, but instead, this amazing soul found the only hammer that could break down these walls. The only weapon to destroy my shield, and the only tool to peel of my mask. He made peace with my demons, and all he had to do was smile like the devil.

I believe

I know

I have never loved like this before, and if he were to leave,
I can never love like this again.

The truth is, angels belong with devils. Chaotic but fucking beautiful.

Macy Maywalall is a new contributor on Ceeflod!
Macy Maywalall is a new contributor on Ceeflod!

I am Macy Maywalall, 18 years of age. Born and grew up in Georgetown, Guyana.
Coffee lover and I may have a slight obsession for cats.
Writing is the only gateway to serenity for me. It is like a world away from the one we live in.
I have always been a fan of poetry mainly because I found bits and pieces of myself in them



These hairy and brown skinned hands are never the same. It is not about fingers being equal, it’s a lot more. They all look alike, one fat thumb alongside four well partitioned fingers. But would you say your hands are like mine just because they move alike, and do things that mine would?  We can flip through every part of our body, every substituent that is fused together. Everything is similar, if it isn’t then you’re tagged abnormal. So even from the genesis of things, we were meant to be the same. But the truth is that characteristics are a constant, it is probably the only thing that is mutually shared between the elitist and savages. It’s a birthright. It is very easy to blend into the crowd, to spend every day thinking that two hands, a head and two legs are all you need to keep going.  You readily buy into that notion, after all almost everyone thinks the same.  That’s a lie that’s big enough to cripple your very worth.

I will not deviate today; I will not let the budding ideas in my head lead me away.  We would never be the same, because something stronger defines us. I can stand on a hill; I can watch the sun rise from its slumber. I can be in awe of nature and look on till the skies go dark. Yet I can never be like the man next to me. The both of us are savoring the moment together, we scream in unison as the lions roar from the dry lands just below us, he holds my hand as we climb the steep hill. I feel like I had met him somewhere before.

“Are you from Kigali. “I ask at last.

He looks at me for the first time; I see the scar below his eyes. I see that he has no teeth in his mouth.

“I am from Kibungo.”  His voice is hoarse, his mouth doesn’t move an inch, but I hear the words.

We are devoured by nature itself, the perfection of every edge and spot. I know he is also excited, even though he doesn’t say much. I do all the talking. I tell him about Mary, the prostitute from Gisenyi I had fallen in love with. I tell him about my inn at Byumba, I keep talking.  The smell of fresh leaves is so pleasant. I want to call him brother all of a sudden. I want to know much about him, but he barely says a word.

“What do you do in Kibungo?”

“I do nothing exactly.”

“Don’t you have a family?”

“Everyone has a family.” He sounds irritated now.

“How many children do you have?”

He sits on the ground. He draws his legs on the sand, and then he looks up at me. I see tears in his eyes now. His words are muffled up.

“The soldiers raped Sarah, they raped her while I watched .I could do nothing, I was helpless. I…I…saw it all. They slit my little girls’ throat…Oh…Oh…. They tied me up and set the house on fire. I was left to die.”

He stands up, he is still in tears. He doesn’t look back at me. I felt the tears run down my face. This man who had travelled several miles to have a feel of nature was not like me. We bonded so well, but then he had been through so much. He was stronger, he was tougher.

“You are not my brother.” I say.

He doesn’t hear me.



Take me to the gallows
Where my very guts slip off
Let my blood lead me away
For in this place life is pain

There is a place where nothing exists. It is desolate and encroached by its very nothingness. Its walls stink of silence. This place is not on any map, it is not deciphered by geographical expertise. Yet it is very popular. Many people see it as an involuntary tourist spot, a place where they have to be. So they flock in their numbers, heading towards the unknown . It would be all colorful but for one simple fact. Everyone that visits is soon entrenched in this silence.  This is just a monologue. My simple view of this very complex spot, I have been there before. I felt the silence; it killed the very sound of my heart beat, and muffled up my words. This place is a feeling, a surge, a large vacuum. It is called depression.

The disjointed neck, eyes popping from its sockets and dangling legs might be tagged a suicide. But this man visited the place, and was consumed by the silence. So he is swinging from the chandelier, while his widow and children cry their eyes out. The sorrow is stringed with questions, a life that shared an affinity with wealth and satisfaction. A content and charming man could so easily turn his back on life and hang himself. They did not see him at the station, but he bought the ticket and visited the place, the silence.

It starts with the withdrawal; it is very gradual, very gentle. You feel a sense of desire for things you can’t tell.  You laugh and tell a million jokes, you fool everyone . Your superficial is an excellent artist. The emptiness gets dense. Alcohol only sedates the beast for a while, but then it rears up, as fierce as ever. I forgot to mention that this place chooses who visits it, the station comes to you.

The freckled lady, on the leather chair, with piercing eyes and rather thin lips thinks she knows the way out. She is a shrink. She thinks words can liberate this strangled mind. You stare at her, wondering why she feels omniscient. But her words and listening ears do not do much. Death looks so charming and dignified to a depressed mind. To him, death is peace. Death is silent; its silence scares even the emptiness of this place.

If you are already on a train, headed towards the silence. Do not order drinks yet, don’t wait for the next stop. Just jump right out. Your ticket out is happiness. The pure type that comes from you. It is not streamlined to people and possessions, it is created within. Find it now; do not see that trip through.



A few sips of my favourite wine, then I was embraced by sleep. But even in that state I got to look at Nigeria, my darling country. This Nigeria looked different; I needed the sun rays to remind me that I was in Nigeria. I realized that I was involved in a system where it was only normal to smile, where happiness was knitted in the skin of everyone. Everything seemed to work, but then reality drifted in. The failed system envenomated my perfect dream, the fan stopped rolling and I felt the heat sift in, in a few minutes I was in between my dream and reality. I was actually enjoying electricity in my dream, but then I could feel the heat all over my skin. It was a very complex situation for me and I eventually woke up with a heavy sigh. If I was the matrix then I would have happily stayed in my dream world, but that’s all fictional. My soggy shirt is the least issue at the moment; I think there is a shared disillusion amongst Nigerian citizens. I have taking out time to engage in healthy arguments with a couple of Nigerians, and the joint response has been dispiriting. Most people are of the notion that Nigeria cannot be revamped, and that It will take more than an election to resuscitate the country. It’s puzzling and saddening to see that a vast majority of us have obliterated the possibility of having a perfect Nigeria. I look at the issues that we are facing presently, and I think we shouldn’t solely blame it on bad governance. I think the citizenry have been asleep for too long, perhaps we have been enthralled in our dream world, because that’s the only place we see the “perfect Nigeria”.

I was privileged to meet with Fela Durotoye sometime last year, and I immensely enjoyed what he did with his slide show. He tried to represent how far certain countries had come in the past 30 years, and the pictures were taking from an aerial point. Sincerely, there has been no change in Nigeria! We can look at Saudi Arabia that was a desert just years ago, and how far they have come already. My convictions will only be mine, unless I do something about it. Your opinions will only be yours, unless you do something about it as well. It’s almost impossible for a week to pass without hearing people argue about the government and Nigeria in general. Whether it’s the motor park, hotel lobby, fuel station everyone seems to have an idea of how to move this nation forward. I want to look at our individual opinions as small cells that need to come together to form a bigger unit, and the only way to integrate and try to convert our opinions into actual results is by taking part in the election process. I saw a coupon some years ago and it read “if you don’t like politics, think twice because politics likes you”. A lot of us have never voted in our lives even when we are qualified to vote, we don’t think we have to, we also don’t think our votes will change anything. To be candid, when we drive through the bad roads or complain when the electricity goes off, that’s politics at work. We can change all that now, the time has come. I urge you, with all vehemence to participate this time around. Make those opinions count.


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dream_a_z.jpgMy friend Harry sat in the parlour watching Soccer. The English premiership has always been his Saturday ritual. I knew as usual his red and white team would disappoint him, they always do. He kept screaming swear words and banging his hands on the centre table.

“Foolish manager, this old man is bereft of ideas, he should resign”

“But I think it’s still an even game, considering its still goalless” I said, as I watched Harry throw an empty can of beer towards the television set.

“This should be an easy game; this French retard is just wasting these boys”

I knew Harry would go on and on, we’ve lived together for three years and I know exactly how he takes these games. He would blame the manager, the players, the officials and even the supporters for not encouraging the team enough.

I decided to cook myself some noodles. So I put on my apron and gloves. I always feel like a master chef when it comes to preparing noodles. Harry kept screaming, so I decided to block my ears with some music. I wore my headphones and let Fela flood my head. The high life beat synchronised with my cooking. The garlic, onions, pepper, curry made my noodles look like something you will see on cable television. I could still hear Harry’s voice. I decided to ignore him till I heard a loud thud. I rushed to the parlour

“What just happened?” I asked

“This is crap, what is wrong with this team, d***m”

I saw that he had flung the centre piece on the wall. Then I looked at the television screen. His red and white team were down by four goals.

“Come on man, take it easy. It’s just a game. Don’t get yourself too worked up”

But Harry wasn’t paying any attention

“See…muguoya pass, ewo, yes…yes oooooo, kai. This boy is a big fool”

I knew how to calm Harry down. His antidote wasn’t far away. So I went into the kitchen, opened a cabinet and brought some vegetables out. I knew that once the aroma got to the parlour, soccer time would officially be over. First, I had to chop the vegetables into little bits and then wrap them up. I picked up my knife and got hard at work. I abandoned my noodles, as beautiful as it looked; after all, what are friends for.

I was almost done when the knife cut into my flesh, I screamed so loud that you would have thought I was an opera singer warming up for a show. Harry rushed into the kitchen. Blood was all over the cabinet, I wasn’t far away from tears .

“Sh**t, looks serious man” Harry screamed.

“I’ve got eyes; please go get the first aid box”

Harry dashed off. In few seconds he was back with the box.

“Cut some cotton wool and get the bottle of spirit out”

“I have done that, o my see blood everywhere” Harry looked quite frightened

“Now clean it up for me”

“I can’t, I am very sorry”

“Why?” I asked. I was obviously puzzled

“It’s just the blood, just can’t stand it”

“This is crazy, I’m bleeding and you’re here talking about what you can stand and what you can’t”

“Sorry bro, let’s just go to a hospital or something”

“Okay, just picture that it’s Alicia and she’s on”

“That’s so different”

“You told me last week that you could even use your mouth”

“This is an injury, hers isn’t”

“It bleeds too; hers is a big wound man”

“Well I never thought of it that way, it’s an acceptable wound then, come let’s go to the clinic ”

So we went to the clinic. I got the wound stitched. We still had a lot of vegetables that day, till everywhere was cloudy and images were blurry. I forgot about the incident till last night. I was already approaching what scientists call paradox sleep, when I heard Harry’s phone ring. I figured he was already asleep, but the phone kept ringing till Harry eventually woke up.

“Alicia, how are you. It’s really late now…ok, but you’re on…ok, urgghhhh…yes, I can be there in twenty minutes…Please stay that way….That’s my girl..I’m coming”

I have always been fascinated at Marvel characters like The Flash, I love how fast he moves, but that night Harry was faster. In just seconds I heard his car come on, and then he was off into the night.

So much for wounds…..

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“Bend down”

“Bend down” he screams once again.

You will think I am a soldier being warned of an incoming bullet. You might picture me in a camouflage trouser, a sweaty ash top, with my face covered in dust and an assault rifle in my hands. The screaming has no emotions in it. It’s the kind a commander gives to his soldier, a king to his servants. But you see, I’m no soldier and I’m in no battle field, I am just a woman in her house in Lagos. The yelling is from the man of the house, I must obey, I have no choice. So I go on my knees. His clothes will be off a few seconds from now, he will slap and hit me hard, Like its a one night stand and I’m a stripper he picked up from a club. Mind you, I am no stripper, just a loving wife, and a mother to my son Tunde. I said it, it’s been approximately thirty seconds, he is done with me now. He pushes me so hard that I fall on the pile of books at a corner in the room.

“Are you done Wole?”

“Enough with the stupid questions” he says, as he meticulously inspects what lies between his legs

“I just want to know for sure”

“If I hear another word, you won’t like what I’d do to you”

The oga of the house means every word he says. He is my general, I am to obey without questions. I must be subservient at all times. Unless I want to see his wrath. How can a fragile woman like me fight with a Titan?

“I’m sorry” I say

I’m forever indebted to the word sorry, it has become my get away ticket. It takes me away from Wole’s fists, sometimes the ticket is not paid in full and I still get a slap.

I mentioned camouflage trousers earlier; I have worn them for a long time now, not as clothes, but on my skin. The scars. Some are dry like kernels, others are fresh like ogiri. It wasn’t always like this you see, ten years ago when I met Wole at a church conference in Oshodi, he was so different and sweet.

“Your blessings have arrived”

He screamed from the pulpit, with his jump up trousers and dusty shoes. We all chorused the hallelujah. Wole was our prayer leader, always with the wine coloured bible,always having encouraging words to say. He asked me to be his wife on a rainy evening. I remember he knelt in front of the pulpit with a ring in his hands.

“Be my wife Angela, I promise to love you as long as I breathe”

I was excited, I jumped and screamed, he knew the answer before I could even say a word .

Now as I sit in this big house with the swinging chandeliers, polished floor and leather cushions, I’m not sure I understand what love is.

“Do you love me?” I asked him sometime last year, he had just come back from ą camp meeting. Wole is one of the biggest pastors in the country; I’m proud of him, trust me I am. I wasn’t quite sure he heard me, so I asked again

“Wole do you still love me?”

“You have me, that’s what is important”

I knew his answer came with ribbons and knots, he had sealed the question. All of a sudden love was now Wole. So long as I have Wole I have love. His presence is supposed to make me happy, I’m meant to scream and bend my head for him to pat, like his members do. I signed off for love not for this. I loved everything he was in Oshodi, and will gladly trade Lekki to go back to the Oshodi version of Wole. The Wole that wore faded shirts and jump up trousers. His Lekki version is killing me, eating me up like Termites would eat wood.

Tomorrow is a Sunday. I will wear my hat with the golden embroidery, and the gown I bought from my trip to England last month, with the brown shoes that can feed a family in Makoko for one week. I will wear a smile for several hours, nod my head and raise my hands up when Wole drops another rhema. His members would be shell shocked if they got to learn just a bit of their spiritual father. A man that screams “Bend down” before sex and tears my undies if I refuse, a man that dipped my face into the hot Eba I served him because there was no periwinkle in the soup. They will call me a liar; these people will jump from third mainland bridge if Wole tells them to.

Three years back, when I was still pregnant, Wole came back from the office very late one night

“Where is my food” he asked

“My love, I have been weak all day, I tried to go into the kitchen but just couldn’t”

“So what do you want me to eat? You expect me to stay hungry because you’re pregnant?”

“No honey, there is some food in the freezer, all you have to do is heat it up”


Few minutes later I felt an all too familiar kind of pain, I screamed. I didn’t have to turn around to know that he was using his belt on me, fast and hard strokes on my butt

“Wole, the baby, please the baby, please”

Those were the exact words I muttered. I slept sideways that night, If you have been pregnant before then I’m sure you know how uncomfortable that is. My stomach was heavy and sore, my butt was bleeding. When I gave birth to Tunde, Wole climbed the pulpit on the day of his dedication, he spoke about love and urged his members to make our marriage their mirror. I smiled and nodded my head, I did not want him to give me another face therapy at home, I was still nursing my bruised gum from the last slap.

I hear and read things about feminists,that women should be equal to men. But I also believe that the terrain matters a lot, if I was a single lady on the street with a placard in my hands that would be different. From where I come from these things are seen as an abomination. Even certain women disagree “why woman wan follow man hold ten” is what they say.

Physically Wole is stronger, financially he is too. If I leave my home people will mock me, and what will happen to my son. Its easier to criticise from outside, believe me its different once you are directly involved. Today I got a first aid kit, better late than never. Reality is an unscrupulous fellow. But I believe in it, and it says I must stick with Wole. For better for worse


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Hi fam! Sorry for the long absence, was quite busy at the Port Harcourt World Book Capital Writers in Residence program. I’m here now, let’s get it rolling!


The lady says “you stink of cigarettes!”

The dude says “seems you’ve got cow dung in your bag, you stink!”

Ehm….. Not what I mean.

My number one turn off is body odour! That’s just a NO for me. There’s no excuse for smelling so bad as early as 8 am! That’s appalling!

Yes, that’s just nasty… but still not what I mean

I don’t mean the Ralph Lauren or Givenchy perfumes! That’s all superficial; it doesn’t go deeper than your skin. I’m referring to something deeper, and stronger. It’s the kind of smell that is perceived with the nose and then the eyes, legs, hands. The stink comes from your aura.

Every individual smells of something. Our five senses are interrelated in every way, I taste the soup with my tongue because my eyes have seen that it looks good, my nose has smelt it and it smells good, my ears have heard that there aren’t fights happening around; so I can pounce on the food.

Almost there now…….

Let’s shift the soup aside now. Will I be sounding ridiculous if I say happiness has its smell? The same for bitterness, malice, anger, depression, envy… they take control of your other senses anyway. You see the way an angry person behaves? Screaming, fighting, kicking things, breaking stuff……that’s just the five senses reacting to the smell.

Now if you say you don’t stink, then that means you stink of nothing! That’s really not good, it means you’re empty and you’re really not living life to its fullest. The stink just shows that you’re human.
When you stink of bad stuff, how do you think people around you feel? Here’s a practical example you can try out. Buy some garlic, get a friend to chew some, and let the friend stick with you for the rest of the day. Try to interact, you can reminisce on stuff…. By the end of the day you’ll get the scope.

Now we decide the perfume we wear, I decide mine. I’m a Calvin Klein dude, I’m sure you have your brand. You don’t feel the same way if you wear something else. You love your stuff and your stuff loves you, so you deliberately use it.


The same way you can decide your character stink for the day. You can choose to stink of love, kindness, happiness. You are the pilot of your stink. Believe me, when you smell good you attract the right things and people to you.


You can read about my experience at the residency here


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I am a chronic talkative but it’s something I tell people with pride, I always jump into people’s conversation whether they mind or not. I am also a journalist. Journalism has been a contrast of my true self, I now have to listen more and talk less, and I was once of the opinion that my career was gradually transforming me into a mannequin of some sort.

Five years ago I was a freelance journalist in Lagos…yes you heard me right, Lagos A.K.A Lasgidi! .Life then was very tough for me, I had to hop from one BRT bus to the other, I also had to beg people to share their opinions on events that had occurred, and I had to try to be nice .

Saying I am a nice person is like saying H.I.V doesn’t exist but you have nothing to worry about……I am an exceptional actor. I can laugh at the worst joke; I can keep a straight face even when my hidden laughter has my pant soaked in urine. I don’t freelance anymore and I am now a stable journalist, I don’t have to run around to get interviews, my boss is well connected and hooks me up with politicians, celebrities and everybody that matter in the country. I also have had crazy experiences and I think I should talk about my interview with a certain Governor.

That morning my boss called me on the phone and told me the Governor was expecting me in his office by 10am………I was shocked and exited at the same time! I quickly had my bath, put on my trouser and T-shirt that had become my uniform, I picked up my recorder and quickly drafted out some questions. As I made to leave my room, I glanced at my mirror and realized that I looked too tough, my muscular arms didn’t complement the top that I had on, so I changed into a gown that showed a bit of my cleavage (it wasn’t intentional) and then I dashed off to the government house. By the time I got there I was sweating profusely, I had to go through his rather strict protocol and at last I was ushered into the rather controversial Governors office.

“Good morning miss” he said

“Good morning sir” I replied

He stretched out his hands for a handshake and help unto my hands for quite a while.

“You are glowing miss Matilda; I certainly love what I’m seeing”

I wondered how he knew my name but then I remembered that I told his chief protocol officer my name a while ago. He kept his eyes fixed on my breasts and I could have sworn that I saw tears run down his face. I placed my recorder on the table, and started with the interview.

The governor turned out to be a very interesting man; I was laughing in no time and even abandoned the questions I had drafted. He kept his eyes fixed on my boobs all through the interview and kept taking deep breaths like he was drawing inspiration from them. To cut the story short, it’s been two years since then and I have let the Governor suck my breast several times……please don’t ask me why! With all sincerity I love what I do, with every story I learn, I feel my heart perforate and my soul connect in ways unimaginable. I could be covering a car accident, I could be interviewing a suspected fraudster and I often wonder if my little recorder and shrill voice is worthy enough to tell stories so big, stories that could make Zeus cry and Apollo laugh. My research before an interview has given me so much insight and knowledge…..I love my job. The Governor is on the line now……hold on….I have to pick his call…so bye for now!


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Do you love movies? Ok yes you do…do you love action movies..I guess so! Who doesn’t… have you forgotten Jack bauer already? Do you remember the series..24! , if you do then you must remember that phrase…“Kill the cockroach”, the tyrant that used the phrase to motivate his child-soldiers, it was quite surreal watching small kids blow the heads of adults and it made me wonder how numb their conscience must have been. I know it’s all fictional but it was very believable and that’s why I think 24: Redemption will always be in a class of its own. Now whenever i see Hakeem kae-kazeem smiling in Etisalat adverts I’m always baffled, although he has made so much money by displaying his dentition I still prefer seeing him with the AK-47, howling out commands. Well, today is all about the cockroaches….have you noticed how we all get ruffled when we discover rats in our homes, the way they dash across the kitchen and make funny sounds at night. Our next point of action is always to eliminate them and so we fervently get down to work, can we say the same for the roaches that creep slowly? We don’t get frightened when we see them, we simply try to step on them with our shoes and if they manage to get away we simply let them go. Both of them eat up our food, clothes and books but one gets the serious scourge.

At this point it’s quite possible that you’re confused and probably wondering where I’m headed……just take a deep breath, we’ll soon be there. I always come up with different concepts and angles in order to nail the cross effectively. So what are the rats in your life? The things that scare us so much and we earnestly try to avert…sickness, accidents, Death…Certainly that, nobody wants to die. So we try our best to keep them away, but can we say the same for the roaches? Those things that creep all over us, that nibble on our very existence but it’s so hard to spot them out. They try so hard to equate themselves with normality. Low self esteem, doubt and dwindling aspirations…These are all typical examples of how the cockroaches attack us, the young man that was once budding with desires and dreams is now a claqueur for the rich, and has assumed that poverty is descendible…so since his grandfather was poor and his father is poor then poverty is most likely his birthright, so every day you take whatever life gives you, you tag satisfaction as what is available not what is attainable…..that’s the cockroach getting fat in your life. You manage to keep the rat away, you stay alive, you go to the hospital when you’re sick, you get married and raise kids…. You look alright, but alright is the story of millions in the world today. Alright is a valley, it gives you the rain and sunshine and enough to go on… but then there’s a mountain somewhere…you should have climbed or be trying to climb. The cleistogamous plants are colourful and look almost the same as the other plants in the bunch…..but when you take a closer look at them you’ll realize that they do not open up, they remain closed. When are you going to open up? When are you going to make records out of that voice? When are you going to get that role in a blockbuster movie? Are you trying to get out of the shadows?

I’m several miles away from perfection and I’m just like you…trying to get rid of the roaches in my life, I ignored them countless times and there have been repercussions but at least I’m doing something. I’ve been trying to weigh the effect the kill the cockroach chants must have had on those little boys, all they saw in front of them were tiny roaches but in reality they had several pounds of flesh and blood in front of them, they were brainwashed to the extent where their eyesight held no meaning. It’s one thing to recognise your problems; it’s another thing to see your obstacles as mere roaches. To see the big challenges in front of you as little, little enough to make you want to dive in almost at once without second thoughts… already see victory! Believe me when I say victory is place, a place we all need to visit soon, book your ticket now! Start killing the cockroaches.
So today I joint in the chanting



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The title “the cause behind the curse” is my calculative attempt to sum up something so heavy with few words, perhaps the caption serves as an augury for my next lines. I’m going to verbally operate on PGID and hope I can communicate effectively and entertain you as well. Today makes it two years since I started blogging, so it’s a special moment for me. When we tear up animals we are always mindful of their entrails, how bad they smell….so we carefully get rid of them. PGID is one human and societal entrail that’s been left for too long and now it has maggots popping out, it was never opened up in the first place, was never torn to shreds….its lifeless carcass lies by the river bank, it doesn’t have a hand to stir the water like Ebola or claws to hurt like HIV, its steady and defiant ooze is now a raucous of its own. In its solitary it has made some noise, just enough to catch my thirsty ears.

PGID stands for PERSISTENT GENITAL AROUSAL DISORDER. Its name is long….as long as its plague, it’s the menacing guest our parents warned us about as kids growing up. It’s a disorder we have no control over, it’s phenomenal….I use that word because its negatively unique……but it’s still unique. It is the persistent uncontrollable genital arousal in women and is largely unrelated to any feelings of sexual desire. Any form of vibration i.e. from mobile phones, generator sets, trains and sound speakers puts the syndrome into action and in most occasions it leads to orgasm. I read a story recently about a lady, she boarded a train on a very warm afternoon and just as the train left the station she started wriggling, writhing and moaning…she straightened her legs out as the unquenchable spasms kicked in. other passenger were shell shocked and majority of them assumed she was epileptic, but that wasn’t the case. She was simply having an orgasm…her fifth that day alone.

You know that saying? Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it all, some ladies always go the extra mile trying to get to an orgasm but the PGID’ERS can have ten in a single day!. It’s as mind wrecking as being raped, it is stringed with a sufficient level of decadence so “victims” lock their plights up. I watched an episode of A 1000 ways to die, the show has gradually become my favourite…it’s my “popcorn” show and exhibits the menacing ways people get a full stop to their lives, in the episode a man carnally took advantage of a PGID’er and would purposely set her phone on vibration and enjoy the show as she made loud moans on the couch with tears in her eyes. This people have no place for love in their lives, they are always likely to get sexually exhausted and see sex as a painful experience. I know it’s implausible but it’s everywhere, people are thriving with this disorder, my article today is just a microcosm, an attempt to shine light on something that has hobbled in the dark for so long.

Literature says it is caused by an irregularity of the sensory nerves and is more likely to happen to people that have had hormonal treatment. As much as there is no cure it can still be effectively managed, as much as there is a social barricade you can still reach out for help..There is always available help, help shares a common boundary with hope and hope is what keeps us going. So now you know PGID is real, you don’t take advantage, you don’t victimise them….You just offer hope. Its never a good thing when you can’t control your sexual desire, when your heart is not a connecting pipe to your deepest emotions…That’s how PGID exerts itself..don’t add another layer to the CURSE


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You love life..the funfair and frenzy, you relish Friday nights, according to you it’s a perfect avenue to let go of the stress that’s been building up all week, so there you are on that leather couch, sipping from the glass cup in your hands, you’re not too drunk to notice the charming gentleman that’s been winking at you all night long, then in the few minutes that follow you dance with him and let him talk dirty in your ears. Two hours later your naked figure is lying on a bed, used condoms are littered on the floor and the gentleman is obviously fatigued and is knocked out….snoring. It’s a normal scenario for you so you simply go under the duvet and sleep on till morning.


You find it difficult to ignore the ladies, everyday you walk along the road you come across beautiful ladies and you always try to get them to notice you. All you need is for them to smile at you…Maybe wink or blush…you just need a sign! Then you get to work, you’re a smooth talker so it’s quite easy to get them to believe you. You promise them the heavens; you make promises and profess a ‘specie’ of love deep enough to make Romeo and Juliet jealous, but all you want is ‘victory’, you see every lady as a game of poker and you only derive satisfaction when her legs are spread apart and you’re kneeling in front of her, struggling to get your condom on… the clock on the wall ticks and plays a perfect symphony for you while you enjoy the spoil.


Two illustrations from very different angles but with striking similarities, sex is so easy to indulge in as long as you can find someone eager enough to “participate”. We even chase after sex like there’s an accolade attached to it, these days it’s as simple as sharing a cup of coffee, sex is now an occupation! It pays the bills, buys you the new phone and even gets you the job. Great sex is economically a good idea…..that’s how the society has made it look. A young man takes serious pride in bragging to his friends about how many “ladies he has laid” and the girls always want to have the richest “sex job”. Even when ‘accidents’ happen there’s no self-flagellation of any sort, no guilt and certainly no dent in our self esteem. The term guilt is frigidly relevant and doesn’t hold any ground with the ailing state of our moral pedigree. As much as we have made sex an expedient diet, how mindful are we of our body count? I’m sure a large number of us won’t be able to fathom what I mean by body count, it’s all about the number of times we have had sex. If you still know your count then you can give yourself a pat on the back! The concept was designed to help us checkmate and control our “sexual exploits”, it also indirectly helps to give us a stronger resolve to reserve sex for those “magical” moments. I came along a picture some days back with a very strong inscription and it read-

Every man you have sex with deposits and leaves a part of his soul in you… many soul ties are you walking around with?”

It’s a very short phrase but then its message is as strong as they come…we can decide to decrypt the term “soul ties” whichever way we want but the question that kept popping in my head was ….what if there’s a greater consequence for every body count? I don’t mean the STD’s or the “sin sermons”…what if there’s a lot more? Would you be more cautious when it comes to sex? I’m sure we are all aware of the answer! So why not start today? A drink in the club or money should never be a collateral for sex….we can start making our body count actually…COUNT!


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Every lady likes to look good, and these days the thirst for fashion is at its thresh hold. Every year we see fashion constantly evolve like never before, there’s always a new blouse or a new skirt, and the desire to flow with the trend is insatiable. Personally, I love it when a lady stands out; it’s always an interesting sight when a lady captivates the crowd! The gentlemen fervently drool all the way but then I tend to wonder if fashion gives any insight to a ladies personality. What’s more startling is the fact that every lady looks beautiful these days, with the cosmetics and artificial hair! But the clothes and shoes only serve as a podium for every lady, yes! She sparkles and glows but that’s quite superficial and says nothing of her personality. The lady with the long heels might just be shallow; the woman with the bright clothes may just be cruel, but every ‘”modern dude” wants to judge a lady by what she wears and in most instances that’s the only attribute they look out for. The ladies have noticed this “change” so they invest all their time trying to look good, they stop developing their intellects and character, they leave their talents to gather dust. So beauty becomes their only goal, social media has not helped in any way, with facebook and instagram there is always a reason to dress good for the camera, so the society has beautifully patterned “pots” in all corners of the universe…..the only problem is these pots are empty! I know so far I’ve only been critical but at some point the cock has to crow! This is just a wakeup call to the ladies…definitely if you look sizzling you’ll have the attention of most guys, but what’s the duration of the admiration? A thousand likes on your facebook and that’s most of it! And your webs will certainly bring you guys that are all clogged up with lust. I have always been of the mindset that love is like the wind….it’s not seen its felt! Lust sees… feels! So ladies ask yourself today… “How well have I developed myself?” “Am I offering anything more to my society other than pictures?” These questions are pivotal to every lady that wants to take the self examination test. Every girl regardless of her social status or wealth is like a glass of palm wine, nature in all of its dynamicity gives room for “compulsory change”. With each passing day you keep fermenting, and with time you won’t be the “Cinderella” you once were. The beauty fades but the talent and quality stands strong, that’s all that matters. I’d love to take a Ferrari for a spin, I also hope to ride in a Bentley someday, but if I want to buy a car I’d certainly look beyond the grandeur of these motorcars and will earnestly consider the engine and its durability! I’m being quite metaphorical but I’m sure everyone reading gets the scope! The figure is great, the smile is stunning, the legs are amazing….most dudes will love to take a “ride’” or a quick spin! But when it’s time for commitment they will always consider the “engine”, they will weigh your character and evaluate your quality. I think I have scribbled enough words….so my ladies you can decide to redefine your perspective to life today, as you try to keep in touch with fashion today, don’t leave the “things that really matter” behind! God bless you!


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The bald headed man with the brown teeth called him out to the podium, although he sat in front and not too far from the stage he felt like he was going to break down. The applause from the crowd was deafening, he took what he felt were probably his most important steps and as he got to the podium the bald headed man smiled broadly displaying his very nasty dentition, he received a warm hug and in just seconds there he was alone on the very high stage. He was amazed at the sea of faces, mostly smiling and looking at him with enthusiasm. He fumbled around with the paper in his hands, he tried his best to hold back from cursing when he realized that he had the wrong paper with him. What do I do now! And then there was silence, he could hear his heart beat, he slowly brought the microphone to his mouth

“Good day everyone…I am humbled by this award and the fact that I was recognised for something so small ehm I meant to say something so big and yet so small like this piece of iron! Oh no not iron I was going to say like this piece of gold” sweat beads flowed down his fore head into his eyes and now he cursed


Now everyone looked puzzled and some chuckled, he felt so embarrassed, he wondered why people had to give these dumb speeches after an award! I’m good with the computers and programming! Not with these silly speeches, fake smiles and hugs!.

“I’m sorry for the swear word, we programmers have a habit of cursing when we are faced with a stumbling block, this award is not a stumbling block!!…oh God”

Now people were laughing and applauding him, he felt so silly…. These people are getting a free show from me ! he put his hands in his pocket and took his handkerchief out and made to wipe his face with it and just then he saw her….Melanie….they most important woman in his life…..the only woman that dared love a geek like him…he was surprised to see her, she hadn’t told him she was going to come and now here she was with her perfect eyes, smile and that pony tail that simply made her look like a goddess. She nodded her head and gave him the thumbs up smile, he felt the courage simmer in.

“Thank you all for honouring me, I know I made a very bad start here but the thing is I’ve always sucked at these things and would rather talk to my computer with my fingers. I spent my entire night prior to this morning trying to write up something meaningful and after several failed attempts I was able to come up with something good enough but then I forgot to come with it. Sincerely, I was about to give everyone here a good show and absolutely embarrass myself but then I saw someone just now and I think I have found the words, deeply embedded in passion, and hopefully the passion will save me today. There’s never a minute of regret when you do something you enjoy because in the depth of that desire you’ll find ideas and inspiration like never before”

He paused and looked down at Melanie, she was still radiant and beautiful as ever, he smiled back at her and continued with his speech

“I was always too smart, I was always way ahead of my mates but I never found perfection till I found my true desire. If you ever want to be like me all you have to do is listen to your heart, let your heart decide the denouement..Once again thank you very much and God bless you for this award”

He took a step backward and there was silence for a quarter of a second…did I flop!but within a twinkle of an eye everyone was up applauding him, he could even hear screams, he glanced at Melanie and there she was sobbing and smiling at the same time, her mouth formed the words “I love you”. He knew he had nailed it for sure! Alas Nick Kempton gave a good speech!


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Doubt that the stars are fine, doubt that the sun doth move,doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt love- William Shakespeare

The bible in all its strictness and holiness still got a bit flexible at a point; I scrolled through its pages some days ago and saw some very notable lines about love. Although I have attended church all my life, those words pierced through me like never before. That must have been my 1000th time of coming across that chapter of the bible. It talks about love and all the virtues we must possess before we can become self acclaimed lovers, it got me wondering if God knew that love was going to get so messed up in 21st century and thought it expedient to draw up some road maps for those that can brace themselves up and run to the everlasting best seller for help. I look around me today and I see people with their different notions of love, everyone is a relationship expert till their own love affair comes crumbling. If you survive two weeks with your partner people start throwing surprise glances at you….like “how did this people make it through?”……..just 14 days! That illustrates the times we are in now. We acknowledge the end before the beginning, we say yes to love but deep down we anticipate its end. A friend of mine recently told me that she loves her hobby but she doesn’t see them lasting much longer, and so I asked her why and she offered no viable explanation….” It always ends noooooow” was all she could mutter. I strongly think there should be a degree program for LOVE and its affiliates…an institution that will try to decrypt the technically structured puzzle called love!( I’m sure you’re laughing now and calling me silly). People refer to the folks that talk about love often as being “mushy” but yet love is almost as vivid as the birds that fly and the trees that sway. If you grew up in Africa it gets worse, the only time you receive the approval to flaunt your LOVE is when you are married or just about to…..The African system condemns love before marriage and it is seen as immoral. Just the other day I saw an elderly woman throw out saliva at a boy and girl I presumed to be couples just because the boy suddenly discovered that the girls neck tasted like chocolate and made it his point of duty to nibble at it in public…. So being in love as a teenager or youth in Africa is like smoking marijuana. I’d love to digress a bit today because I have written several articles on love and I really want this piece to have a unique touch to it and that brings me to the very popular question that has definitely been asked in the host of languages that exist…………HOW DO I KNOW WHEN I FIND LOVE???? HOW DO I KNOW HE/SHE IS FOR REAL? Even philosophers have to admit that some questions can only be answered by the same God they do not believe…. so yours dearly ran to his bible for answers and here is what I found :

Love endures
It’s so sad how easily we give up on the person we claim to be in love with; the inability to patch up and try to move on is really a relationship killer. The fights are bound to happen once in a while but if it’s actually love it can be stretched all the way like its elastic….you can say he makes you cry a lot but you have to self examine yourself….do you love him? Is he worth the tears? If he is then it’s okay to keep believing and I’m sure there will be smiles in no time.

Love is kind
Kindness is pivotal in every relationship and if you ask me I’d say it’s the “oxygen” every relationship needs to thrive in, gender is insignificant here. A lady should return as much kindness as she receives; a guy should capitalise on every opportunity that presents itself to show his lady that he cares. Kindness is usually a trademark at the start of every love tale but we easily let it wither once we get deep in the triangle.

Love never fails
Love is webbed in perfection, its concept produces beautiful results, and it’s the supplement we all need to enjoy our existence. You might say money is all you need to make the best out of life..But in God’s plan he created a space for every one of us to find love and be loved and money will never fill that void. A wise man once said “I found wealth the day I found love”.

These points are basically what we need to answer most questions we ask when we are emotionally perplexed. If there’s no kindness and thirst to be together then you definitely need to make the “hard decision”. Remember…Money, great sex and beauty can never take the place of LOVE, try to recollect the epic tale of beauty and the beast…how love transformed the beast! I know its all fictional but your beast is anything that scares or prevents you from feeling fulfilled….Just find love and scare that beast away!.


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On your marks…..

Get set…..



These are the words said before the sprint, I’m not using them metaphorically, and this piece is all about those lines. I always wonder what goes through an athlete’s mind as he kneels on the floor, sweat dripping from his face; he has probably spent three or more years of his life just for that fifteen seconds surge. The drills and hard work could lead to something beautiful, a gold medal……… brooches and the beam light over the podium. It could also leads to tears and frustration; believe me when I say the pendulum could swing in any direction regardless of how determined and motivated they are. Now let’s try to apply this to our everyday life, the student that spends several weeks studying just for a thirty minutes paper or the patient that has waited several months for a new heart to be available, how does the student feel in those few seconds before the exam, how does the patient feel as he lies down on the operating table…………the next few hours could determine if he’ll be alive to witness his daughters graduation but then all he can do is hope for the best. What do we do when we work so hard for something but end up losing them, when we know what we want or what to do but can’t do anything because our fate is in someone else’s hands… we quit? Do we allow fear and depression to set in? or should we get on our marks full of purpose and GO!, on the tracks there are always a couple other sprinters all after the same price, the race is never run alone, it’s always a competition….I chose these illustrations because life is so similar to the race track, none of us dropped from the sky, or from our mums sex affair with Zeus….that’s all fictional! Reality is all about the competition, there’s always a war to fight, as children growing up it was probably the class bully, as we grew it became the race for love, success and self relevance. We all know what happens when a sprinter sprains an ankle or for some reason falls to the ground……..nobody stops! Because at that point nobody really cares about you……..everyone is after the same price. Your friends could neglect you at any point, it has always been a constant in life, the people you thought had your back all of a sudden live you out in the cold….what matters at the end of the day is what you make out of life……friends are baskets that could perforate at any time, so as you lay your eggs in several baskets make sure yours is very full and sealed, Don’t be an empty vessel that relies on people for everything, you must steadily develop yourself. Despite the ups and downs we might encounter in the struggle, despite the number of times we might lose out in the race, the idea of victory and the red ribbon against our chest at the end of the race should propel us to push on.

So instead of grumbling and feeling all depressed…….get on your marks and GO!


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I write this piece mindful of the fact that I’m a culprit as well! A sober one but that doesn’t vindicate me in any way, if you usually just browse through articles here, you have to take your time to read this. The topic today is as viral as STD’s get, whatever is generally acceptable is considered to be sane, but sanity itself is no longer a general attribute. I saw a video clip some days ago and it really made sense to me and I think it’s only proper I write about it today, it’s about the gap technology has placed between us and the real life, we seek relevance on social medias, so that’s why we hustle for Instagram likes, Twitter followers and a large Facebook base. We seat in a room for several hours, typing on our phone with people that will only access us based on the hot pictures we upload or the so often false image we create and that bond ends the moment we put that phone down and then we realize the emptiness. That void is stemmed from reality, the moment you lose the phone you lose your sense of importance and then you’re faced with the TRUTH…. You are just a boy or girl with no real friends, living a life bereft of the experiences you could have if only you put down that phone. Tablets, Notebooks and Smartphones will never take the place of real friendship, a walk in the park, a lovely date in a restaurant, real hugs and kisses instead of emoticons! Now that’s what life is about, but we are never going to have those experiences when we have a million followers or more on different social networks, so we’ll always have to look down…..typing……. we’ll always have to look down because that’s where we find the momentary happiness … I know some people have actually found love online but we have to ask ourselves what the odds are! Haven’t you noticed how you meet someone online and they tell you a lot of things and you are full of expectations but then after several weeks or months chatting you get to meet this person and you realize the TRUTH, that gentleman or woman is so different from the words they sent you online and that friendship fades away like mist! It’s perplexing how people ask questions like “how many friends do you have on facebook”? Or “how many twitter followers do you have”? They don’t care if anybody told you good morning or if you actually have any real friend to talk to. Believe me when I say that the EMPTINESS is evil… you know that famous saying right!? An idle mind is the devil’s workshop…. At least we are all “online”, you are most likely reading this piece with one sleek Smartphone or the other so you must have read stories of how people overdose on pills or spray bullets in a lecture hall before taking their own lives, and do you know the funny aspect? They always fall back to their only companion and that’s probably their Facebook page to write their last words….they give you a brief insight as to what their lives must have been like, a life where nobody actually showed them love….. We absorb the sexual abuse, the child abuse and even the domestic violence until it’s too late because there was no real friend to talk to, I know my examples are extreme and I really don’t wish any of these for anyone, but wouldn’t you rather look up and see all the opportunities and possibilities around you? Wouldn’t you make a friend in the bus on your way to school? Or take a walk with your dog? Wouldn’t you rather be in a relationship where you actually spend real time together…..savouring your love every single day….the way we are going what memories are we creating? Very few I guess…what stories are we going to tell to our children and grand children. I know you might say my theory is old-fashioned but sincerely the “new-fashion” is a huge whale that’s only going to swallow us up……so finally I say put that phone down and live life the real way.


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The hardest part in every piece I write is the beginning, sometimes I have to watch a movie, listen to music (in this case, Jaga Jaga by Eedris Abdulkareem), read a book or call on my intellectual alter ego, all in a bid to start this engine. You know why? It’s because right about now, I’m downright sure I have your attention, you see what I did there??? Beginnings matter, remember I said that, now let’s get to the story…
We domicile in a country where our resources get stolen out from under us. The bulk of it gets deposited in Swiss banks, the rest is used to grade roads, that were supposed to be tarred; sink a bore hole for a densely populated community, which private individuals can do; rehabilitate a quarter of an already dead school building; buy rice bags for market women; buy motor cycles (‘okada’) for university graduates, GRADUATES!!! & any other meagre deed you can imagine. What’s worse is the fact that they get overly appreciated for these bread crumbs they throw at us. We forget that these exiguous projects are only a tiny fraction of the job description of our beloved public seat holders. I was talking to a friend on this issue and he said something that I will always remember…
“Nigerians do not know what they really want, so they settle for less”
Do I blame the thieving politicians? No! It’s the majority I blame, we have no voice and even when we choose to speak, it fades with the echo and sometimes it fades faster than the echo. We give aspiring public officers this impression – “we need help, so help us, you can steal, but just help us”… Beginnings matter, and that’s the beginning we have created; the beginning of helplessness, so the politician is always in the vantage position, he/she doesn’t feel any form of obligation, just a sense of charity, if not why hold a ceremony to open two newly built classrooms, if its your job, why the ceremony, what’s there to celebrate? Should police men celebrate after every arrest? Should school teachers celebrate after every class? Should coffin makers celebrate after crafting coffins? Pause, think and keep reading…

This is not me complaining, it’s me trying to give you a voice, telling you that you deserve more, so demand more. You know how we all complain about the country, but when we really have a chance to change things we “moonwalk” away! We are the voiceless majority… Over 170 million people and yet the Nigerian dream has been hijacked by a few ungodly men who are willing to lie, cheat, steal, and even kill just so they can protect their ill gotten wealth. Edmond Burke once said “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil, is for good men to do nothing!”
The Patricia Etteh chronicle where she was alleged to have used 628 million naira to renovate her apartment, The Farouk/Otedola case of the 500 thousand dollars bribe, or is it the promise from Goodluck Jonathan that the money removed from the fuel subsidy will be used to uplift the country… These and many other cases abound, they have all been forgotten, even though they were never resolved… Why? Because we never spoke out; you are about to ask what good that would do but before u do, I’ll ask u this “have you tried?” We never found the need to ask questions, we never monitored proceedings, we don’t even try to hold government accountable! We are the majority that watch(ed) as the few steal (stole) their priced jewels. I’m calling for a revolution of the mind, change your perception, do something for your country, challenge misappropriation of funds, challenge the political mediocrity that is now the norm. Be the change, speak out, have a voice!
When will Nigeria ever get better? When you choose to use your voice…

Written by John Iyoha @johniyoha1
Edited by Ken Iguodala @kiguodala


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Aisha lay on her bed, snoring lightly; it was supposed to be just another night. She wasn’t alone in the room, about a dozen other girls were asleep with her, the wind was heavy that night and most of them were covered up. There was an oil lamp at the corner, its weak glow was all there was, Aisha had gone to bed earlier than usual that day, she was expecting a very busy morning. Each time the wind blew it made the windows creak , once in a while the creak would be so loud that it would wake some of the girls up, they always went back to sleep almost at once. There was silence for awhile…then they heard the noise! Loud gunshots!, Aisha opened her eyes and saw girls scampering about, some were screaming, others were jumping out of the windows….she quickly got up and made for the closest window, just as she tried to jump out she felt a strong blow hit her head…that was all she remembered. When she regained consciousness she was in what seemed like a moving truck, she saw some other girls all tied up, most of them had tears in their eyes, she saw two young men with turbans around their heads, they held very scary guns in their hands. The journey seemed to last for several hours, Aisha was very scared, she thought of her mother and father, she knew her mother was crying wherever she was, she wondered where the men were taking them to. The strong stench of urine was overwhelming; they were not giving food or water to drink all through the journey. When the lorry finally came to a halt she saw a lot of men, they laughed and hugged themselves, they were obviously celebrating something. That night Aisha heard screams, a lot of girls cried all through the night, she wondered what was happening in the other tents, were they cutting them up? Were they about to use them for rituals? Although none of the men came to her tent she had never felt that much fear in her entire life, she wondered if her leaders were looking for her, if help was on its way, she spent the entire night praying. The next morning she got all the answers to her questions, from the bloodstains on the dresses of the other girls it became clear why they had been crying…they just took away their virginity. She did not know if she was lucky, or if they had bigger plans for her, they made them all go into a bigger vehicle, this time around she was sure that they travelled for days, when the vehicle stopped she and a handful of girls were taking to a hut, there was a very old man inside, he spoke in a language she was certain wasn’t Nigerian. He inspected the girls the same way her mother inspected meat when she went to the market, then he pointed at her and another girl, one of the turbaned men took the other girls away. Aisha was confused now, she cried loudly but the old man smiled and kept speaking in the strange language, at last when he realized they did not understand what he was saying he made an attempt to speak English

“You my wife, you and my wife”

Aisha was stunned, she fell to the ground so hard, that for a moment the old man seemed to stop smiling……she kept asking herself if help was on its way….. Would her leaders do their best to rescue her? Was this going to be her fate, Aisha knew all she could was to hope and pray!.


Aisha represents all the girls that were kidnapped some weeks back, our leaders are so deep into politics that they have lost their soul. They could shed tears and ask the protesters to go home but it’s only for their own benefit. It’s so obvious that the Nigerian people have evolved, we now realize that we are stronger than any government when we unite, when we come together to stand for our rights! Let’s keep protesting till we give a very good end to Aisha’s story.


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Every man has a dream, or had a dream as the case may be; purpose is variably a kit every man was born with. As a child we already had budding desires, we likely couldn’t explain why the ideas kept popping up, but we knew we enjoyed letting our minds stray. We felt our hearts leap each time we got a chance to dream, we probably invested a lot of time imagining what our lives would be like once they became a reality. Innocence obviously helped keep the dream alive, we had our eyes fixed on the prize but we were to young to fathom the task that lay ahead. The boy that wanted to be a pilot didn’t consider the fact that all his parents owned was the thatched house they slept in, the girl that wanted to be a singer didn’t think of how difficult it would be to get a record deal, but we dreamt anyways. The innocent face that looked out the window as the rain poured and let her mind drift to when she’ll give a speech to a stadium sized audience. The years have passed now, innocence is now all bent and wrinkled, with each passing day we look farther away from those dreams. There is a very thin line between giving up and being realistic, it’s so easy to say that you gave up on those dreams because you realized that they were far-fetched but you need to pause for a minute and ask yourself……..have I done enough to earn them?

I’m not a motivational speaker, I won’t write down words that won’t hold ground, as much as I write to encourage you I must expose you to the bitter truth. This is the 21st century, very competitive and harsh days we live in. the phrase “the patient dog eats the fattest bone” is as extinct as its author. The bones are very few now; don’t wait for the fattest, start nibbling on the dry and skinny bones. We have to be realistic, the bigger the dreams, the bigger the sacrifices that must be made. We just have to live outside the norm if we hope to make any lasting impression, the dreams are fading…fine! It’s probably because it’s time to face reality, to wake up with a heart hungry to excel, to give life all you’ve got and even more. Your biography could be a bestseller…it could also be too short and give whoever is writing it a hard time. I write for my generation, I write for ladies and gentlemen born in the 80’s, 90’s, there is no better time to step out, to lay a landmark for the generation yet to come. They say we are “leaders of tomorrow”, they told us that as little kids growing up, up till now you are still hoping for “tomorrow”!.. Most African systems and leaders don’t give opportunity to the youth, no matter how aged they are they hold on to “today” and live us with “tomorrow”. A kite is nothing without its rope, our dreams won’t count without action…….let’s make them fly, let’s give wings to our dreams.

So wherever you find yourself now, just see it as the necessary journey, the trials that you must go through for the fairytale end. There are several stories of heroes that persevered; you can motivate yourself with that. We have seen legends rise from the slums, success is always an accolade for the brave. Finally, be around people that help your dreams, people that are always available to put you back on track. It’s so shocking that some people don’t even know what they want from life..They revel in their ignorance. Parties, drinks, drugs and sex are potential destiny “snipers”… generation, what are we celebrating! I’m sure I have scribbled enough words to perforate your heart…let believe start flowing in….let the dreams fly!

I recommend you also read this article I wrote some months back..dreams come true!


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What’s this life about? Enlighten me… The thrills? Maybe! Or to achieve greatness, or maybe to while away time on earth (till you ain’t feeling it no more)? If you’re Nigerian, you must have heard the catchy but false phrase “life na jeje“. False? Yes false. Think about it, from the day we take our first baby steps, life becomes a race! There are always laid down standards we have to meet at every stage of our existence. So, do we have the luxury of ‘taking things slow’? I personally don’t think so. “Are you saying I should live in a rush?” That must be the question running through your mind now. Be still, I’m just saying, that if at this time, and at this age (18+) you haven’t pictured your purpose, then you need THE CALL. Not the proverbial religious call, this one is the “call of duty”.

My generation is running late, let me explain; the old folks do tell us tales of how their lives kicked off in their early teens, how they supported their families, how they didn’t have to ask their parents for the basics, the independence they had, the ambition. In typical cases their drive was propelled by the strains poverty caused their childhood. They were sent to live with Uncles and Aunts and trust African relatives to give you drama, eventually they had to leave to find a future. Some even started school at 15, not university, secondary school, university was for adults in their time. The advantage then was that there was reward for their hustle, the country was experiencing Her oil boom, and for a graduate, life was blissful but the hustle sure wasn’t cheap, not in the slightest. The former generation excelled at an early age, but we, we keep success for later, its hard to imagine why.

My generation is running late; yes I said it before, don’t mind if I emphasize. Self examine right now, ask yourself – “In this life, what have I achieved that is noteworthy?” You have probably spent over two decades on this surface, and you maybe haven’t done squat in your life, you are waiting to finish school, or to get married, then get serious with life. We forget that soldiers don’t practice on the battlefield. There’s a talent you know you obviously have, it’s so obvious that even your neighbours know, but you have not used it for anything just because your parents are always there to provide orbecause laziness has now become your delilah.

It all comes down to the fact that a host of us are not ready to leave our comfort zones, not for anything. Some of us don’t even care if that talent decays. Its sure easy to complain, and blame your parents for not encouraging you, or government; for not providing the best environment for you to flourish, but then again its your life, and if you continue to tread easy you just might end up on the shelf.

I can write, you can do a sport, you love to sing, you can dance, you love to talk, you love to bake, you love to DJ, you love to sew, some of us can even script-write but we refuse to develop any of these , why? Probably because you think your university degree is sufficient, but remember that these are economically unpredictable times, so a well developed skill could save your life when/if unemployments sets in.

This is my message for you, start something today, not tommorow! Today!!! I’m not talking major stuff here, if you can sing, today, write a song, if you can script write, today, write a play, never let those 24hours go without doing nothing.
They say if you want to live a great life on this planet, plan it
Life is once, make it epic

Written by @johniyoha1
Edited by Ken Iguodala @kiguodala


From the beginning of creation, from the moment man discovered he was naked, fashion has been a constant…… over the centuries we have seen fashion transform, every continent and ethnic group has its own imprint on the fashion world in general….. Now we have seen it trend in Africa like never before, especially in Nigeria. A major “fashion vessel” is the Africa Fashion Week Nigeria (AFWN), whose core aim is to provide visibility platforms for new talents and help gather international awareness. The event would be taking place on the 17th and 18th of may and the organizers have already announced Pokello Nare and Elikem Kumordzie, the soon-to-be couples as ambassadors of the African Fashion Week Nigeria, who were big brother housemates 2013 (The Chase).
The African Fashion Week Nigeria is giving equal opportunities to emerging and top fashion designers to create a platform that will promote the African fashion and richness and make it embraced all over. Its another opportunity to see the beauty and talents embedded in Africa.

The two day event will be graced by Grand patrons Chief Molade Okoya-Thomas, Senator Daisy Danjuma and Patron Hon.Abike Dabiri, with special guest of honour Mrs. Folorunsho Alakija and Chief Oprah Benson, who will all be present to support the emerging designers. Fashion lovers, Media houses, celebrities, textile manufacturers, models, make-up artists, fashion photographers, retail buyers, potential designers will grace the event.

This platform which celebrates and supports African creativity was created in London in 2011 African Fashion Week London (AFWL) and has showcased over 200 UK and non UK bases African designers. African fashion week London is a sister event to the much anticipated African Fashion Week Nigeria which will wrap up with a gala fashion show with veteran fashion designer Hajia Abba Folawiyo closing the show.

According to Ronke Ademiluyi, the organiser and founder of AFWL & AFWN, “the event is to bind emerging talents in the fashion industry, connect them to the right people, showcase them to their customers and potential ones, unleash the creativity in them, support them, give them an opportunity and platform to grow and create awareness.”

Designers in their hundreds have already signified their intention love to participate by visiting the organizers website. Registration and opportunities still abound for designers and exhibitors interested in participating by visiting or call 07088800866. The event is billed to have over 5000 visitors, celebrities, upwardly-mobile and fashion enthusiasts

Yours dearly has always been a fashion enthusiast and it’s always breath taking to see the brilliant costumes and dazzling African models, African fashion week is definitely going to be historical!

The very kind organizers are giving me 10 tickets to give to my amazing readers……..who have always been there through the few years and have helped this blog grow in one way or the other.

All you have to do is –

1.Tweet the link to this post as many times as possible with the handle @africaFWNigeria @ceeflod (with the hashtag #africanfashionweeknigeria)

2. Follow African Fashion week Nigeria on twitter @africaFWNigeria and on instagram AFWLandAFWN and follow me @ceeflod

3. Use #africanfasionweeknigeria to form awareness tweets and add the handles@africaFWNigeria @ceeflod

You can do one of them or all of them…… God bless you

I’d announce the winners on the 12th of may


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I feel like talking about love and relationships today, but I’ve decided to limit it to the gentlemen. I’m a guy myself so I’m also throwing a stone at my glass wall with this piece….We keep saying women are the weaker vessels, but the world has evolved and I personally don’t think that phrase is still valid. In a continent like Africa, if you wanted a wife all you had to do was talk to her father and if you were able to receive his blessings the lady became your wife, just like that.. I mean, that was some 18th century stuff, now women have their free will, and they choose to explore it as they please…..and they are doing a very good job at it. The problem is that I don’t think we the male folks have been able to adjust to the changes properly, as a matter of fact we have done a terrible job….. The ladies have now taking control; they now own their free will and a bit of ours as well. I know ladies are a necessity and we need them to “survive”, I saw the movie Noah in 3D recently, great movie I must say, but seeing how lahm almost killed his father because he let the lady he wanted a future with die only strengthened my conviction of their importance….. but we don’t have to sell our principles, our ego ( believe me, ego is a necessary evil that every man must possess) our friends and family just because of the ladies. We all know how it feels when we meet that lady that makes us do things we never knew we could do…….and she makes you feel like superman, that’s some good vibe there, but then even super heroes can be victims of circumstance if they ain’t careful. A lady can so easily become your kryptonite, I’ve seen guys go after girls that don’t regard them, humiliate themselves on a regular….. I know you think it’s worth it, but for a moment you need to seat back and ask yourself if she deserves you. Don’t go chasing after a lady till the point where you’re ripped off of every bit of dignity left in you…..

Is it that you feel she is too good for you and you must do everything possible to keep her? For starters how’s the feeling going to be mutual when the connecting process is one sided? For those that use their money to get the girls, that’s like mixing honey with bitter leaf, your money is the honey but then there’s always going to be that after taste……… the affair will eventually suffer from indigestion. Someone shared a story with me of how a bank executive met a lady at an outing and tried to start up a convo with her and she was pretty rude to him ( of course she didn’t know he was an executive!) all the guy did was turn to the other lady that was beside him…….. The “beside” lady is now his wife with kids…….and the bitchy lady is still floating……

Even the greatest love stories were built on mutual affection i.e. Romeo and Juliet, a relationship should be built on software’s ( don’t mind me and my use of words) and when I say software I mean the things we can only feel, and they make us commit and love vehemently….. not the hardware, like the cash and cars………..

Love is beautiful, but fall in love with your eyes open…..

Just like I said, we can’t do without the ladies,lol! Below is my picture with Ezinne Akudo (Miss Nigeria )

forgive my height,lol,she's an elegant giant

forgive my height,lol,she’s an elegant giant

God bless you fam! Happy Easter celebration


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Majority of us believe in being good and even see it as a pathway to our success, from our early days in the church or mosque, we were told that God expected us to be good, and evil was a sure trait of the devil. So the awareness that we are expected to be good by God and man has always been imprinted in our hearts, I’ve always argued that the reason why people try to be good is not entirely because of the law, rather we stay good because of the first lessons we were thought, the scriptures that were read to us from the Quran or Bible ;so we strive to live peacefully like the sheep. Secondly we try to be good because of the promise of paradise, a life after this, where we won’t have to suffer. So when life sweeps in with the pain, tears and grief we remember the promise of paradise, I have had this topic in my head for a while now and only recently decided to write about it. Yes, I also believe heaven is reserved for the sheep-like folks who live a life so good that the angels probably get jealous, but from another angle I think that’s where people get it wrong, people use righteousness as an excuse for hard work. They assume they weren’t placed on earth to be rich, so they cling to their holy books and dilute every bit of ambition with their self made theories or teachings from their “sects” yes!, I used the word intentionally, because religion is now segregated as ever. Your “spiritual leader” drives the latest cars and owns the best houses (probably owns a jet) and you sit down and listen to teachings that encourage poverty! Is that the kind of sheep you want to be? You stink of poverty from head to toe, and you say it’s only because you want to be in paradise………….dumb ass sheep!, I know I’m getting some people upset with this piece but I’m sure scales will fall from the eyes of many. If I have to be a sheep then I’m gonna be a sheep with teeth, a sheep conscious of God but at the same time living a life with purpose, a sheep ready to challenge the lion( poverty is one hell of a lion), and when we depart the earth we’ll hope God accepts us as his sheep and doesn’t mistake us for dogs!!

So often religion has been made unattractive, almost like a ticket to poverty, but I know my Bible ( a bit of the Quran as well) and I know that almost half of the scripture talks about kings, the quest for power and a fight to overcome oppression, so what’s different now? These days religion comes with a certain degree of isolation, don’t mingle with the “world” they say and so you find friends that are just like you, with Lilliputian dreams. Religion should be a propelling factor rather than a barrier to your dreams

Oh no!, you can’t act sister Jane, you can’t be seen kissing on stage.. That’s immoral..”

“You can’t be a dancer….. Those steps are from the devil”

“Never! I won’t let you marry Carlos, he doesn’t attend our church

These are common phrases, a thousand and one reasons why you can’t be happy, how meek can a sheep be! Well I belong to the few that have refused to limit themselves, that haven’t forgotten their God, but also hunger for success, the group of people that are pursuing their dreams with every inch of strength in them……………. Am I still a sheep……… or are the ambitious folks now dogs? If that be the case why not be a dog then, why not persevere till you achieve all of your dreams, why not bark woof,woof! Till you scare poverty away, why not get tired of running whenever the lion turns up! Don’t live a life void of excitement, with the love of God in your heart build your paradise here on earth so that when you get to heaven you’ll be accustomed to royalty……. Who knows we might just be the DOGS IN HEAVEN


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I don’t think there’s anyone that has not played the game of X and O, personally it was real fun for me as a kid growing up, all I had to do was match four X’s or O’s and try to beat my opponent to it, if I got more symmetrical X’s then I was the winner, I had the game all over my notebooks, at some point my flare for it was insatiable……..i always wanted to get my shapes in order first, and revel in my victory. I’ve always enjoyed poetry and trying to rhyme with words, I was even of the notion that I would become the new MR Incredible(MI), well I did become that, I locked down concerts and had the paparazzi all over me…..but it was only in my head…….lol, but I can utilize that passion here on this blog. Today I picked the caption “X AND O: EX’S AND HOES” because it perfectly illustrates my next few words…. The game was all about getting more of your X’s on the sheet than your opponent and then smiling your way to victory, but I’m going to come from another angle here, how many “symmetrical” Ex’s must you have before you find love and happiness? How much tears must you shed before you find love?……. unlike my childhood game that only involved a pencil and sheet of paper, this game in quote involves much more, it involves your heart and even your body. It’s a game we must all participate in if we are to find love, so we leave a long trail of EX’s behind, we can’t deny the scars that each one of them leave us. I’m going to be absolutely graphical today, so please pardon me, I’m not a lady but I’ve been on earth long enough to know certain things, when a lady opens her legs up and gives her virginity, I know there are several other factors, but in most cases it’s out of “Love”……..
Just before he goes in, you look into his eyes and ask that legendary question

Do you love me?” you ask, your eyes full of love

He gives you a very good reply, a speech good enough to make Martin Luther King smile, so you let him have it, but it was his libido that was in love and not his heart, probably didn’t last long after that. Since then there must have been other guys, all of them with the sweet words, but then the words go all sour once they have sex. Now, you probably can’t count how many guys have had you since then, love is now a mirage to you….. but yet you want to believe it exist, my game was about paper sheets but yours is about bed sheets and condoms and you have seen a lot of them in your young life. My game doesn’t keep you as a loser for too long because you’re sure to win often, but in this game there’s not certainty, the trail of EX’s keeps growing. At what point do you become a HOE? What differentiates you from the “5 rounds a night” chick? She collects money in return for sex, but in your case you collect some fake ass “love” from guys that FLEE even before you can say Jack Robinson……. A transaction is still going on! You might just be no different from a prostitute after all………… how much more must you give all for love??…hope my question probes your heart.

Now this part is for the guys, I know so often the ladies feel we don’t love, we just want sex, but that’s not true. My next few lines are for the guys that have tried to love, guys that have given their heart, money and life! All for love….. I’ve read about guys jumping buildings, drinking poison……going all suicidal for love! They have probably loved a lot of “hoes” and I hope they understand that a hoes love only goes as deep as pockets and as long as the cucumber between their legs. Good looks can buy it for a short while but it still fades away. In our “ultimate search” there are detrimental hurdles, I know I can’t stop anyone from their hunt, it can’t be done without, but i can only say a prayer for my ladies and niggas and hope you all say an AMEN

“May you not find unwanted STD’s before you find love”

“May you not destroy your womb before you find a husband”

“May your ultimate game of EX’S AND HOES not be in vain!”

Hope I get a loud Amen…………………….. Stay blessed.


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strange clouds...

strange clouds…

This is not a weather condition, not even close… Does it involve clouds? Certainly! Very strange, mentally addictive, misty clouds. Figured yet? I’m talking about Mary Jane, no am talking about sensimilla, no it’s the green I speak of, the chronic, the kush, the devil’s lettuce, the wacky tabacky, the northern lights, cheeba, marley… a friend of mine calls it chopsticks.

Marijuana is a psychoactive herb that comes from the hemp plant, I describe it as a gift and a curse, the good and the bad. Cannabis sativa is often consumed for its euphoric and psychological effects, which includes unexplainable joy (the I-just-dey hapi feeling), relaxation and increase in appetite. Other effects would include a decrease in short term memory, dry mouth, paranoia etc. It’s the world’s number one gateway drug, meaning that it’s the welcome committee to the drug universe. You start with weed, then you need meth, then you find ‘ecstasy’, then you start taking pills using the purple drank to wash down, then heroin, then cocaine, the journey never ends. If you a user you probably nodding now.

Marijuana could really change your personality, In large amounts it cuts your connections with the outside world, you mentally draw out a complex for yourself, I have seen stoned individuals talking about the strangest stuff but then again it’s fact that it inspires, it’s a norm in the entertainment industry, apart from that do you know how many songs are themed after “marijuana”, I really can’t count. Every “puff puff pass” brings joy, happiness, wild imaginations, quenched emotions and some will claim it gives good sex! So, Mary Jane’s lovers all over the world keep screaming “legalize it!” Doctors use it, it makes people happy, so why not? Besides, no one would have to commit any crime trying to baby-sit Mary Jane across borders. But hey, stop nodding… Think about it for a minute, Cannabis Sativa gives you joy yeah? But for how long? When the strange clouds leave, you are the same you – with the same emotions you had before ‘the high’ hence you come crawling back for more. Also the neurological disadvantage is alarming. You discover that you continually stare at the TV, you continually become paranoid, then hallucinations, then you neglect your well-being and mentally you start to lose it, you become addicted, you start to lose cash and you search for a ‘joint’ every time you need to be happy. This drug is supposed to help you to escape life’s stress, not to escape life entirely! Easy on the skywalker.

This drug actually has subjective effects on users, I have seen first timers snap at first few puffs, but to some others it was leisure, a nerve calmer. Just like Jekyll and hide, ‘kush’ is either extremely evil or wonderfully good and what is good can seem evil and what is evil is excellent at looking good… so take a measure and ask yourself, HOW MUCH YOU WANT IT

John Iyoha @johniyoha1
Edited by – Kenneth iguodala @kiguodala_


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My name is Kenny Wellington, I’m no different from you, as simple as they come, a man with dinosaur sized dreams. As a kid I wanted so much in life, I would stare out of my window at the stars, and let my mind drift to what I could become. At first I wanted to be a doctor, I remember Dr Gary; he owned the biggest house in my neighbourhood, perhaps he was my first inspiration. The distinct contrast between our house and his left me puzzled as a kid, his huge white house, with its beautiful garden was simply breathtaking. We lived in a cottage, I wouldn’t say we were rich, but we just had enough, just enough. My first glimpse at failure was my dad, he simply did nothing, didn’t care if we had eaten or if we went to school, his parental silence left loud screams in my heart, but as I grew older I accepted the fact that my mum was the only parent I had. She was so strong and I relished the strength that emanated from her, she had three jobs just to make sure that I and my brother, Jackson didn’t go hungry. I grew up in an area where food stamps was the order of the day, but mum made sure it never got that bad. The years passed, we changed neighbourhoods a couple of times and soon I forgot about Dr Gary and his beautiful house, by the time I was in high school I knew what I wanted to become, a business executive! And I thrived so hard for it, soon I received a state scholarship and four years later I was wearing my convocation gown, I graduated tops in my class. Life was tough after graduation but I didn’t let the trials sting my budding dreams, I wasn’t deterred, I even resorted to food stamps to survive, with my worn out shoes and embarrassing clothes I dared to dream and it happened one day, I can still remember vividly, the phone call, the scream of joy, It was a swift transition, few days later I was an executive at an estate management firm, I dumped the rags and went all Italian, got my own apartment and I had it all going for me……….i thought I had it all..

Now success is like a honey comb, you like what it brings you but you keep digging for more, I was like a vampire that just discovered its fangs, I always wanted more; the demeaning thoughts of being poor again brought goose bumps to my skin. I know my story hasn’t been very perfect so far but this is just the beginning, perfection is only a word that simply fails in reality, perhaps we experience perfection the day we recognise our flaws or the little dents in our life, that discovery is what makes us wise, and I think wisdom is the closest thing to perfection. Back to my story, I was obviously rich and I tried to help as many people as I could, I gave money to friends, strangers and enemies! My kindness was obviously a blessing to people but it was also my curse. I might not remember the speech I gave at my valedictory service or my first crush but I remember that afternoon, the day that changed it all, a friend called and asked if he could borrow my Volks, a short trip to Chicago he said, it wasn’t so difficult for me to hand over the car keys to him and I never gave it a second thought after all it was just another act of kindness, but three days later I returned from work to find security operatives at my front door, I was accused of murder, my car was found at the crime scene and according to eye witnesses the description of the assailant had matched mine perfectly. I remember I stole Jacksons chocolate bars as a kid, growing up I had lied to mum a lot but I wasn’t capable of murder! I was a good man, loyal to my country, subservient to its laws, I didn’t kill nobody! My lawyer told me it was going to be a run-off, that they had nothing against me. It was a very long and exhausting trial, I spent every single day scared, I felt fear at its peak, my heart would beat so hard that I could have sworn that my neighbours could hear it. Mum and Jackson moved in with me, they were always in court with me. Exactly eight months later, at the final trial, my lawyer expected the jury to be lenient, we had done enough convincing he said, as I stood in the booth for the jury’s final verdict I felt my hands shake vigorously, then I heard those words

With the evidence before us, we find Kenny Wellington guilty of first degree murder, he is hereby sentenced to life imprisonment with labour

I remember the tears, I cried so much that day, for the first time in my life I saw mum cry. Jackson just stared, obviously shocked, I remember begging mum not to leave me

“Don’t leave me mum…..! Please don’t let them take me away” I cried

But I was dragged out of the court and transferred straight to a prison where I was to spend the rest of my life. I can’t remember how many times I tried to take my life, I wanted to embrace death, I was bullied and abused in ways I can’t explain, I remember dipping my head inside a drum of water, I thought I could kill myself that way, but death decided that it wasn’t going to be my friend, I just couldn’t kill myself, I wondered if my jail sentence was some sort of retribution for being a good man, or if God was angry at me for being too ambitious.

Mum died not too long after, I remember the short letter from Jackson explaining to me that mum was no more, I surprised myself by not crying, perhaps the tears had also taken sides with death. Jackson never came to visit me in jail, and I wasn’t bothered, I knew I had failed him as an older brother. I vividly recollect my first five years in jail, I kept explaining to the inmates that I was innocent but with time I began to doubt my innocence, I started to draw up images in my head; I pictured killing the man, my subconscious played tricks with me, at times I killed him with a pen knife, other times I did it with a gun and soon I stopped talking about my innocence. Every bit of ambition left me, every drop of hope in my heart soon drowned in the pain and anger I felt. I never envisaged leaving the prison, I stopped thinking about a colourful wedding and kids. I guess destiny still had one more surprise up its sleeves for me, fifteen years later I was released on the grounds of good conduct, they let a ghost out..Yes a ghost! I lacked every human desire; my once steaming heart was now empty and flaccid, but I knew I had to survive and I tried my best to.

I know you’re wondering if this is fictional, if Kelly exists, yes it is real I exist, I’m just a man crafted by the pen of this writer but you can find me everywhere, I live close to you, I sit beside you in church, I pass you often on the streets, I’m sure you don’t notice me. I’m that boy with shattered dreams, I’m the opera singer that just got diagnosed with throat cancer, I’m the farmer that lost all his harvest to the hailstorm, I’m the girl that doesn’t have a womb because of abortions,…… I exist, I’m real……. My name is KENNY WELLINGTON


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Our tradition is quite rich, it’s something to be proud of, being an African is dynamic, a cultural depth that supersedes every other. Our skin is colored and so is our heart, we have strong tough hair but the same goes for our soul. We tell the story of slavery, bondage and endless fights for recognition, different heroes have emerged, each taking us closer to our promise land. The phrase, black is beautiful is powerful, beauty discovered in our ebony skin, our radiance certainly blinds the sun….that’s who we are.

Recently, there has been a drift, our yatch is headed in an unknown direction, there has been a significant dent on our rich culture but the sudden escalation is alarming. Certain people have blinded their eyes to the beauty they posess and now our once glorious skin is despised by many. In the eighties, a popular pop star changed his skin colour in gradual phases, a quick escape from his real identity, it wasn’t so bad then, after all it was just one person but today that “affliction” has gone viral, the fairer you are the better (so they think). The society drools at the afflicted, the group of people that have enslaved their souls. We all appreciate beauty, so the wigs, artificial nails and cosmetics complement that notion, but it is absurd and pathetic when you try to change your skin colour! Not necessarily plastic surgery but a conscious attempt at transforming your skin colour is a swerve in the wrong direction.

Have we lost our pride? Have we trampled on our history? A vast majority of us have opted for bleaching lotion and a host of other “mixtures” to tone our skin, an obvious obsession to be like the Europeans. I am bewildered at the latest trend, I’ve seen friends completely transform overnight, once very dark people now looking like hungry Arabs, I have come to the simple conclusion that quite a number of us are still enslaved. Not with chains and whips but mentally enslaved. We have clearly gone beyond the point of standing up in trains and buses just because you are black, not getting education because of the colour of your skin or getting whisked away from your farm in Zambia to serve slave masters in distant lands, we are definitely past that! But maybe that’s the problem, we have forgotten the journey and so a change in colour doesn’t represent any moral deviation.

The surge in skin bleaching keeps getting worse, a friend recently told me a joke, according to him, if you are about to choose a husband or a wife you’ll have to ask for their baby pictures! Because everybody has a light complexion, what’s strange is the fact that they are thriving in their reformation despite the dangerous climatic change! I mean, with the heat and sunlight we experience every day, how do people manage to get fairer? I once asked a lady what her secret was and she told me her recent skin change was because she now spent so much time in air conditioned environments!(LOL)
Now, we can come up with this excuses, we can lie to everyone around us, but we can’t lie to ourselves. I’m not a shrink and I don’t plan on becoming one, but when you’re not proud of your skin colour, it clearly means you don’t appreciate who you are, you have diminished your self-worth. You feel you’re not beautiful or confident enough, so you tint your hair, put contact lenses, bleach your skin, wear a wig just to look good. If God gave you a choice you’ll definitely have chosen to be a Caucasian, but you have to discover that there is a lot of beauty embedded in your dark skin, you should be budding with pride and not consciously trying to disfigure yourself. Apart from the high risks of skin cancer and vitiligo, the greatest tumor will be on your soul.

Yours dearly is quite dark and I don’t mind getting darker, because in my colour is history, beauty and culture.


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Love is in the air, after all its valentine’s day, the red ribbons, giant sized teddy bears and chocolate bars will be floating everywhere. Personally I think it’s a one sided affair and it perfectly favors the ladies more; in a society like ours, days like these always fall on the male folks, it’s almost like they are the only ones that have to prove their love. Today, every relationship is going to feel perfect, the gifts will come from the guys, mushy photos will be updated on facebook and instagram, most peeps will almost feel like they are acting a Walt Disney script but the truth is the bliss lasts only for that day. Today is arguably quite unique, it’s as significant as Halloween or thanksgiving but what makes it count is its representation. Valentine is a reminder of love, the type void of deceit, sacrificial and pure, it is not incited from articles or myths, Romeo and Juliet played with venom and died in the process but it’s just a story that was written by Shakespeare, so don’t get motivated from stories like that, this is reality, nobody is willing to be martyred but love doesn’t have to transcend to gory situations before it is evaluated. I have written countless articles on love and the ink never goes dry when I walk down this part, love could be pleasant but it could also be a mirage, an acute ailment that eats us up. If a lady suspects that she is pregnant, what does she do? She gets herself a pregnancy strip! So if for any reason you feel disillusioned by “love” all you need to do is to self examine yourself, is the concept of what you have going for you shadowed by everything wrong? Have you let your heart and its contours get pummeled time and time again just because you believe you’re in love? Are you a victim of physical abuse, he beats you up and yet you still stick with him, is that love?! Don’t sell your heart for money, love is an episode that treasures can’t buy, don’t be a king or queen when your heart rests in bondage……….self abdicate that throne!

Finally, today is not about the size of gift you get or the outings…….today is about love, so don’t feel bad if it doesn’t come with the fairytale feeling, cheer up, you have the greatest gift of all and that’s love. So when the roses come and the ribbons are ripped off the gifts lets be thankful for one thing…. the fact that we have been blessed to experience love. Happy val everyone!

I’d leave you today with this mini story

She lay on her bed, tears flowed from her eyes; you could see that she was very sad and pale. Just some days back her boyfriend had walked out of their relationship, she had loved him with every bit of her, a couple of days had passed and she still couldn’t deal with the tears. Her friends tried to talk some sense into her but it didn’t help much. So here she was with her face puffy and her eyes swollen, she picked up her phone and dialed Jack’s number but then again he didn’t pick up. She staggered to the bathroom, washed her face and then she noticed she was low on toilet roll so she decided to head out and get some, so she reached for her jumpsuit and hit the road. The supermarket was nearby and soon she was there……that was when the magic began, just as she paid for the rolls she heard a voice behind her

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” he said

She turned around to see a charming man, he grinned from ear to ear like he had just won a lottery

“I guess so” she replied, she wasn’t in the mood for a conversation

But he was having none of it…………….

“Beautiful day and a beautiful lady, simply heavenly” he said

He kept on rambling and he followed her as she got out of the supermarket, he kept talking, bugging and finally she gave him her phone number. That was how Ted walked into her life. There were several dates, dinners and soon she was madly in love, Ted was sweet, smart and fun to be with, she could just sense the energy in him, and he was a pretty focused gentleman and was really committed to making things work. Exactly eight months later they got engaged and it was an amazing time of her life, she was in love with a friend, companion and brother. On the 14th of February 1984 they got married in a courthouse, a very simple wedding but they were drenched in love and couldn’t think of life apart from each other. It’s been thirty years since then, six children and a grandchild and she is still in love with ted. You can see it in her eyes when she goes to clean his grave every Saturday, she always makes sure to go with some flowers, although she has lost Ted, she is completely grateful she met a man like him………through her pain and heartbreak, love was her reward”.


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Friendship is probably the most dynamic constituent of human existence, it’s in the same bag pack with love, and both of them are certainly, virtues we all seek to possess. Friendship and love determine how you walk through life, friendship for one is a holster for hope and even love; the very best relationships were borne out of friendship, and friendship manifests and exerts itself within the flaws and guilt that frame our personality. It’s a beautiful concept, it gives us the ability to accept and be accepted regardless of our shortcomings, a friend knows absolutely everything about you and loves you for it. If friendship is genuine then our stains, dents and sins only serve as a propelling factor. So it’s only perfect when you have someone that you can tell everything within the confines of trust and comfort. As beautiful as it sounds it could so easily transform to a sordid experience if it loses its essence. Friendship is knitted in loyalty and trust, and we know that trust comes with a slight amount of dependence. Each secret squealed to your friend tightens the bond, so friendship has stronger roots than love. It’s very common for us to love amidst secrets, lies and deceit, but friendship is extremely loyal and subservient.

Life has its balance mechanism; in the midst of everything beautiful is the “dark spot”, some supposed friends inadvertently lead you to Lucifer’s lodge. They wear their white cloaks and act angelic around you, with their two feet long invisible horns. They walk their way into your life and strike you slowly, and then they revel in your pains.

It’s quite expedient that I give you some illustrations, the crazy man by the roadside was once quite sane, his ordeal started the day he was convinced by a friend to have a puff of marijuana, a few more, then it became excessive and now he has gone haywire. The prostitute that has nicknamed herself a runs girl, peddling and abusing her triangular sanctum was once persuaded to make fast money by a friend of hers “ a feel thumps and thrust and you get the dollar bills” she said. Now you are so deep in it, on the outside you look classy, latest designer clothes and mobile phones but then you stink like dirt, if the word “class” could speak, it would spit at you. These examples are just one sided, addressing the people already lost to the twines of peer pressure and self deceit. We can still look at the back-stabbers, snitches, the wolves that pretend that carrot is their best meal; they have gained your complete trust and so gladly use it against you like they are expecting accolades. Why else will a lady snatch her best friend’s man few weeks to the wedding? Or the friend that secretly services her best friends’ husband or the guy that gets his friends debit card pin and clears his account. I remember my reaction after I saw the movie ‘count of monte cristo’ for the very first time, I wondered if such immense betrayal existed, but then I looked around me, betrayal is as constant as the air we breathe, we only need to be cautious so that we don’t fall victim to its evil webs.

When I started writing, I wanted a perfect title that will capture your attention, so I resorted for horns, but then I think it’s the perfect way to describe pure evil, the strings of evil are sometimes well hidden and crafted till the point where antecedents raise no suspicion, but with thorough self examination it’s very possible to spot out a few demons in your life. Don’t expect to see long nails and blood stained lips, don’t look out for an evil looking face, your demon might just be the friend you share your bed with every night, or the charming girl that has the most comfy spot in your life. Even if they don’t fall in the category I listed above, once you find yourself continually going against everything you represent then you need to check yourself up. Finally, we know how we treat creatures with the horns, there’s never a subtle approach, no dialogue, at that point you are your own jury, with firmness kick that “friend” out. You need to have around you, people who you can trust absolutely, people that can fight for you even when you’re not there, find yourself your angels!.

Take a look at the pictures below

her friends with long horns beat her up and had a couple of hooligans rape her!

her friends with long horns beat her up and had a couple of hooligans rape her!

died trying to rescue his friends, thats the power of friendship void of horns!

died trying to rescue his friends, thats the power of friendship void of horns!


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We know how it feels once you have the flu, sneezing becomes a reflex, it could also come with puffy eyes and uncontrollable catarrh. My kind of “Flu” is a little different, If you’re an ardent visitor here, then you’ll know that I always come up with crazy definitions, you’ll never find them in your dictionary. When the flu strikes you, the pipe between your thighs actually plays the piper (hahaha! Hope you understand). In case you are still lost at this point, the flu is actually an aggressive crave for sex. It’s not a physiological ailment but has its symptoms and diagnosis; the next few lines would be quite expository as I try to open up the can of worms most of us feed from. The flu doesn’t respect religion or principles. Have you ever wondered why a professor would be caught pants down with a student young enough to be his daughter? Or why you can’t survive a few weeks without sex and eventually resort to masturbation?……yes you!. Few days back, a friend opened up to me, according to him, sex is as important as his daily meals; he does everything possible to have it on a daily basis, preferably with different ladies. He feigns love and emotions if he must(sheds tears when necessary) , he doesn’t mind being the drama kind, so long as he can pump his “tire”. Now I know most of us think it’s only normal to want to have sex, after all it doesn’t have the ‘liable to die young’ clause that you find in cigarette ads, just the HIV warnings that you have normalized ( after all you have stacked up condoms like you are trying to rebuild the tower of Babel).

When the flu hits you hard, social class and inequality are torn to shreds, your house girl suddenly looks like a runway model to you, and certain people even go as far as paying sex hawkers!. If you’ve been reading then you’ll notice that I’ve laid more emphasis on the guys, probably because I’m a guy myself, but the ladies are not left out, unlike the guys a lady’s urge is not always conspicuous probably because she doesn’t have a ‘pole” and it’s also in her build up to cushion up the effects of “conji” more effectively;that doesn’t completely rule them out of this syndrome. When I look at the revamped sex toy business and how our Onitsha brothers now import container loads of them in their different shapes and sizes, although a bit perplexed I have come to the conclusion that …lol. So what’s your take on this? Do you think it’s a psychological defect? Do you feel it can be managed? If we try to go all analytical, then we’ll discover that most failed relationships were initiated by “the flu”. You profess all the love in the world to your partner, it sounds so mushy and convincing, meanwhile you’re only after the bed sports, the love affair comes and goes as fast as a sneeze!.

If you’re one of those that grease their conscience with reassuring lies like “when I get married I’ll stop” or “when I finally fall in love I’d go easy on the flu” then this article should serve as an eye opener, commitment and love are two unique items but we find it very difficult to subdue the flu, a wedding band doesn’t have the power to control your fast flying thoughts and desires. Self denial is always in its crescendo, especially when it makes you feel a lot better. If you are suffering from the flu then well calculated measures have to be taken to curb its effect in your life. Excessive sexual urge is a great danger to your destiny; it blinds your focus, subdues your personality and tramples on your standards. I hope my write up has an enacting effect,you don’t need to keep “sneezing”…………………………get cured today!


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a dress made from bricks and rods

a dress made from bricks and rods

First he was in a reptile’s body, and then the forbidden fruit gave him the legitimate right to be in man’s soul, after a while that became a tedious task, now I’m sad, I’m really sad to announce this to you; the devil has a new dress. The dress has no fabrics, just bricks and rods, no hat against the heat, just a roof on his head. Figured yet? The devil’s new apparel is our church, it’s the perfect disguise. So if you look really hard, I’m almost sure you would see him in the front (yea, he likes to seat in the front pew) of your church.

You are still in doubt? You remember Reverend King who set ablaze a young lady (deceased) and other members of his congregation for committing fornication, you think that is God? Burning people for fornication? That didn’t even happen in the Old Testament, but in today’s world anything happens.
Recently, we all heard of the scandalous sex chronicle between ESE Walters and Pastor Fatoyinbo. Where it was alleged that the Pastor said “come sit on my laps and I will show you a level of grace you do not understand”. The pastor in question is yet to deny the claim or give a response, I don’t think he cares about public opinion… but he’s a pastor, he should care right? I could go on and on, stories abound of false teachers and preachers and right now, Christianity is on the decline, you know why? It’s because people don’t know what to believe in anymore, and even when they know, they really don’t know what that belief is based on; the devil or the Christ. I even hear stories of how some unscrupulous people come “back to life” and tell us contradicting stories of heaven and hell, these are strange times to say the least.

The devil has a new dress; it’s the big scheme and if you don’t know your basics you could be under that dress, you could be funding that dress; you could be worshipping that dress. By the “dress” I mean the false church, the esoteric mind already had that figured. Am like the most skeptical Christian I know, I doubt before I believe, it’s not a personality anomaly; it’s just that times are evil and the truth is subjective.
According to these false preachers, your tithes and offerings can exclusively buy you blessings and heaven, but if you don’t pay (whether you have or don’t have) then you are an enemy of God and the church. This is the biggest fallacy of the modern age, and gullible Nigerians will always fall for it, it’s the classic case of the blind leading the blind and that story ends inside a pit, no known survivors. Caution is key.

What’s worse is the continuous fraternizing between this so called men of God and obviously corrupt political figures. It doesn’t end there, these politicians donate stolen money to build God’s house and people call them generous… Just ridiculous. One time I heard a priest use a corrupt political figure as an example of success, I was befuddled.
Priest or Pastor, Bishop or Archbishop, what is clear is that the devil’s ploy is working, the devil is constantly on a shopping spree for a new dress and if the Reverend in charge loves SEX, FAME and MONEY more than his calling, then the buyer will buy.

The blind uncompromising belief in men instead of God, doctrine instead of the Bible, is what has left this problem forever unsolved. So let me ask you a fundamental life-saving question

John Iyoha
Follow on twitter @johniyoha1


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happy new year fam!!!

happy new year fam!!!

Time is invested not spent……………..

First of all, I want to welcome you to 2014, if you reading this piece then you made it! Today marks the beginning of something new. For me, newness always comes with its excitement and resolutions,if that’s the same with you then I must say you’re on the right track. 2014 comes with a certain amount of relief to some people, while some will definitely cherish the memories they created last year; dreams were born, hopes were dashed, loved ones died, and babies were born. That’s the dynamic aspect of nature and its lingering push for continuity, whatever happens no matter how gory, life must go on. If you are reading this then you will agree with me that last year came with a little bit of everything for everyone. The man that stood by the alter and watched his beautiful bride walk down the aisle is always going to cherish 2013, the girl that got a scholarship to further her education abroad will definitely smile at 2013 but what about the lady that lost her husband in the cold war in Sudan or the father that lost his job last year. This group of people won’t want to look back at last year, regardless of the category you find yourself, today marks the beginning of a new phase. If for some reason you inexplicably decide to use the past year as a lever or a determinant as to how much you can achieve, then you are falling short. You probably woke up to text messages and phones calls, everybody had the same thing to say to you “happy new year” they screamed. Days like these always offer a balanced feel of satisfaction, even the man with no dime in his pocket is still going to celebrate, at least he’s alive, but what happens after today, when you are finally sober, are you going to let this year slip away like the previous years? Are you among the category of people that draw up resolutions on the first day of every year but don’t see it through the very first month? Life has probably put you through twists and turns, your once blazing aspirations have been pummelled. Now they frighten you, they now seem far-fetched; you have let your dreams shrink to its smallest size, but it just takes a heart full of purpose to ignite it once again. Today is the best day to stir it up, to awaken every sleeping desire. Success has never been monopolised, it’s just reserved for the lions that will realize their potentials and aggressively work towards them.

Few weeks back, the world went wild after the death of Mandela, everybody mourned this hero. A man that was willing to sacrifice everything for one single purpose, he’s dead today but years from now his story would still be told. Every man has his own success story; you just haven’t started making yours yet, you say you want to be a musician, then where are your demos! You want to be a writer, where are your stories! Deep down you know you can offer more, don’t let your dreams go blur on you. Truth be told, this year virgins will turn to whores, sinners to angels, drugs addicts and hoodlums will arise and champions will also sprawl out, it’s up to you to decide where you want to belong, you love the suave people you see on your TV screen, but do you think they got there by doing nothing? Activate those desires in your heart today.

I want to say thank you to everyone that has made writing very interesting for me, I started blogging in October 2012 and it has been an amazing experience so far. Your comments and suggestions have always spurred me on; I have always tried to touch every topic, so that regardless of your age or gender you find entertainment and inspiration here. I earnestly hope 2014 is a great year for everybody, God bless you.


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FEATURES- I GIVE A F*** (Uncensored 18+)

This article contains strong language(18+)

This article contains strong language(18+)

“Eeeew!” “ouch!” “woah”… Whatever your reaction to that header is, chill, pause, hold up, hush & listen. Call me vague but I’m being me, are you? This isn’t one of those narcissist articles (just before you start rolling your eyes), it’s a lil something I’d like to call “A peek into my mirror”. And yes I did look in the mirror, wanna know what I saw? What I saw was what I saw… I GIVE A FUCK!
I admit it, this year I was profane, I called all my friends “niggaz”, I called my brothers niggaz, I called my folks niggaz, I called girls niggaz, I even called niggaz, niggaz! And when I say I give a fuck, it doesn’t mean I care, it means I actually did give a fuck (not sex) just the word, I said ‘’fuck’’ exactly 365,000 times just because it wasn’t a leap year (and yes I was counting!) … psyche!!! Don’t judge just yet, there will be time for that.
Who’s to blame for this, not me, I’m too good a person to have spoilt myself, lol, so it’s definitely not me, it’s probably peer pressure or maybe it’s the fact that in my hundred years on Jarsoom (earth), this is the first time I’ve spent 6 months straight with my folks (thanks to ASUU), a bad habit was bound to come up, but let’s be real though, I know the cause, it’s music: Hip-hop. I listen to that genre way too much, so says my nigga Ken (I shouldn’t be calling this nigga, nigga but hey…bad habit, remember?). I’m actually writing this article listening to Kanye’s Yeezus album, and the profanity on every Kanye project is unequalled, except by Kanye West himself. What would hip-hop be without profanity? A dull, reserved, unimpressionable and unexcitable form of music…

What’s my point? These (profane) words tend to pass messages that calm words cannot, the passion they carry supercedes imagination. I’m not preaching obscenity, but what if I am? I don’t give a fuck!!! Wait… I give a fuck, that’s what started all these. But really we all use these words, and judging me would be hypocrisy of the Nigerian order. In my country, everyone is fucking perfect till when caught red handed. Obasanjo was even one of the pastors at Aso villa in his 8 years of failure, the façade people create on a daily!!! Even the ‘’go and die” governor was once the “man of the people”. Back to the matter, life is too short to censor everything you say, feel or every way you act, sometimes you have to let things flow, I’m a believer of freewill and self-realization. The truth is until you hear yourself out, no one will hear you, but a note of warning here; everyone has the freedom to choose choice, but remember that consequence comes with choice.

My advice is, be yourself, don’t mix that shit up, do have fun but be good, be real, but don’t be stupid. Express your innermost feelings with the exact way (words) that your heart says it, never dilute the elixir.
Enjoy the Christmas people, and don’t get too fucked up yet, the New Year is still there. Lol……….
Have a splendid uncensored Life ahead!

John Iyoha is a student and freelance writer, follow him on twitter @johniyoha1


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Mac staggered a little, sweat dropping from his face, his hands felt very hot in his boxing gloves, he could barely see his opponent and it was just his fourth round. The screams and hoots were so loud, mc miller his rather aggressive coach kept screaming words at him “cut loose!” he screamed. Mac knew he could offer better, he knew he could take this guy down before the seventh round. He threw lazy jabs as his opponent evaded all of them swiftly, he tried pushing off with his feet but deep down Mac knew he had to make his movement slow. A champion he had always been, he knew he could box right from when he was just a kid, taking a tooth away from Jason the class bully; his Jewish parents hadn’t helped his boxing career in the least, when he got so deep into underground boxing his father disowned him, the father that had cried tears of joy at his Bar Mitzvah ceremony. He left home with his russack and a picture of his sister Emily in his wallet. Mac went deep into crime, peddling drugs and getting paid in return, in New Jersey the boxing game was synonymous with crime, he knew he had to get into the ring and prices had to be paid. Then Hugo, the Mexican “hooker” brought him into the mix, introduced him to match fixers, they didn’t trust that he could deliver considering his slender arms and rather boyish looks, but they gave him a chance. Few jabs and hooks and his first opponent was spilling blood on the canvas, that got the attention of everyone, few cliques started placing bets on Mac and he always delivered, each victory added to his fast rising credibility. Soon he was out of the streets, got himself a small apartment on some county in Newark, Mac never tangled himself with the ladies, he had seen niggas go six feet for messing up with girls, so he stayed away from them until he met Natalie. She swept him off his feet, his rather blunt arrogance was soon replaced with self demean as he did everything to get Natalie’s attention. It worked perfectly; they started going out soon enough and it was splendid to feel loved, she seemed to improve his game because six months after they got together Stellar Mason, the president of a very popular boxing outfit invited him to come join him, he wanted Mac to go pro. Soon enough Mac was boxing under the spotlight, his fan base grew, he made sure he stayed clean with the people that made him. Stellar and his associates were all street thugs in French suits, but he knew that as long as he gave them their cut he was good. He enjoyed every fight, he didn’t always win but he always left the ring contented.

A year later he was the most sought after boxer, he was already making the headlines of major newspapers, he was making so much money but what gave him the most satisfaction was coming home to Natalie. He knew she had to be his forever, so in the winter of December 1989, on christmas eve he proposed to her, she cried so much that he didn’t get an answer that day, even when she told him yes she still sobbed profusely, they got married the following spring, his marriage gave him a sense of purpose, he took down opponents in the first few rounds, he fought clean without dope, but his techniques were top class, Stellar made so much money from Mac’s fights and match gambling. Mac had a target, he wanted to be the IBF champion that year and he had just one more fight before the title could be his. Few days to the game, Stellar called him into his office, slowly puffing from his cigar; he told Mac that he had to lose the game

“Dimmit, Stellar….. I aint losing no fight” Mac sounded very upset

“Look here boy, it’s a neat one, hit the canvas and 1 million dollars would be wired into your account” Stellar replied

“For six years, I’ve served you without hassles; I need that title, Stel”

“Wish I could help you boy, but the order is from above, you go against them, they goanna get you and hurt you boy” Stellar replied, puffing cigar smoke on Mac’s face

“This is crap! Quite plain crap!” Mac replied as he slammed the door on his way out.

The legendary night

The legendary night

So there he was on the day of the fight, throwing weak jabs, Mc Miller didn’t know it was a lost fight, he kept screaming, David Louino, his opponent kept throwing jabs, hooks, Mac tried slipping away, rotating his body to avoid David’s furious fists. Whenever Mac threw a blow, his eyes always locked with Stellar’s who was grinning mischievously, although Mac made his jabs weak on purpose he still used his techniques to fade away blows and duck, he just wanted to stretch the game a little further. His plan was to get to the sixth round and then let a few of David’s upper-cut blows get to his face, whenever a round was over Miller would scream so hard at him

“You too soft today Mac, we worked so hard for this, send this guy home!” if only he knew!

Mac was quite irritated at the grin David wore on his face, this dude don’t know I can take him down in thirty seconds! Just when Mac thought his game plan was working, David got clean on him, with a straight blow to his face that sent Mac sprawling to the ground; the punch was so hard that the crowd went silent for a while

One..two……three…….four………. the official counted

Mac knew he should stay on the canvas and get this done with, but then he heard a voice, it was Natalie!

“Get up Mac, get up!” she screamed


So he staggered to his feet, just as the bell rang for an end to the round. Natalie got into his corner with him.

“Darling, you look pretty hurt” she said, wiping off some blood from his face with her thumb

“Natie, will you hate me if I lose this fight?” Mac asked

“Never! You’ll always be my champion and junior’s” Natalie replied, she had tears in her eyes now

“Junior?” Mac looked bewildered

“Yes love, I am pregnant, he’s goanna be a champion like his dad too”

“Wow” Mac was sobbing now

They held each other, as they sobbed uncontrollably
Miller came around to let Mac know it was almost time to get back into the ring

“I’m goanna be a father Mill, a father…hahaha!!” Mac swollen face didn’t complement his smile

“Congrats boy, now go make me proud” Miller said

When Mac got to his feet, he walked to David’s corner, smiling seriously

“Sorry man, but I’m gonna be a father soon”

David and his coach looked quite puzzled, they were obviously wondering what was wrong with Mac, and then the bell went off. Both men moved quickly, showing great footwork, they exchanged a few jabs and shared a lot of clinging, and then Mac threw his trademark uppercut, then another and another! David staggered but didn’t fall to the floor, he showed some good skills, he slipped, bobbed, blocked but Mac was too good for him, a series of cross blows sent David to the floor. By now Stellar was fuming and making some calls, Mac didn’t care, he knew there was no way David was getting up again, he ran out of the ring to where Natalie was shedding tears of joy, he lifted her up from the ground as he spun her around, he was crying, obviously overwhelmed at his victory. He almost forgot that he had failed the ‘fixers’ but then he glanced towards Stellar, although there was noise everywhere he could read Stellar’s lips

“You are finished” those were the words Stellar’s lips formed.

Mac pulled away from Natalie, he felt a myriad of fear creep in

“Baby, no matter what happens, just know I love you very much, tell our boy about his father’s achievement”

“What’s going on Mac? You scaring me, wh……….” Natalie looked frightened

“Shhhhhhh……don’t ask dear, I want you to walk calmly, get into your car and drive home, don’t open up for no one baby……I mean no one!”

“You are coming home, right? We goanna sit and have pizza tonight”

“Yeah baby, sure, I’m coming home to you, now go baby go” he watched Natalie walk out, until she got lost in the crowd

The officials pulled him away; they took him to the ring and handed the belt to him, a deflated Mac lifted his belt up amidst the cheers and chants. He walked out with his eyes to the skies; he knew they were definitely going to come for him, he said goodnight to Miller, got into his Ford Escort and drove home as fast as he could. His hands were all sweaty and shaking, the pain from the fight wasn’t helping either, he just wanted to be home with Natalie. He could see his house now, the light in the kitchen was on, Natalie was probably preparing something, he was already thinking of the massage she was going to give him. He let his mind wander, he couldn’t wait to get into the bathtub and sip on some wine, while Natalie would talk and giggle in her naturally sexy way. He turned his car stereo on, Olivia Newton-John’s physical’ song was playing

“I’ve been patient, I’ve been good
Tried to keep my hands on the table
It’s getting hard this holding back”

Just then a black sedan wagon pulled up beside him, he looked out of his window, he saw a man he was sure he had met somewhere before. The man had a smirk on his face, and then he saw something else! A nozzle was pointed at him from the backseat; Mac closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The sound of the gun was the last he ever heard, the bullet went through his left eyes, a lot of blood splashed on his leather seat. Then there was silence everywhere, Mac was dead, a block away from his home.

if you enjoyed this piece,then feel free to join me on bbm! that's my barcode! God bless ya

if you enjoyed this piece,then feel free to join me on bbm! that’s my barcode! (2a15b1a5)God bless ya

Merry Christmas!


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I left my house that morning, had a lot to do that day so I hurriedly got into my clothes and left for my appointment. I was really hoping for a great day as I got into a cab, when I reached my destination and highlighted, I had just taking a few steps when somebody tapped me “bros, your trouser don tear for back”, I was shell shocked! That was all it took for me to have a very bad day. I was already late for my appointment so I couldn’t turn back home. I spent the rest of the day sweating, watching if eyes were on me and my little “bottom hole”. I hope you understand the mess I was in, it doesn’t necessarily have to be a hole, but my illustration just shows how a little “dent” can ruin your day, We all enjoy it when friends and strangers tell us that we look splendid, it’s always a great way to start your day. So today, I’ve put together some fashion tips for you, hope you enjoy this piece.

mixing simplicity with class

mixing simplicity with class

You necessarily don’t have to empty your bank account to look good, with little amount of money you could make a fashion statement. You don’t dress to undress your pocket; we all know our sizes so we definitely have to cut our coats accordingly. Fashion in Nigeria is ever evolving; fabrics are now trending, with a great and affordable designer you can come up with captivating concepts. The end product is that you’ll look really sweet like you are about to step on the runway yet you would have spent so little. Why buy one Italian shirt when it can get you get a couple of natives for the same amount?

ever evolving designs

ever evolving designs

I know a lot of us don’t have the freedom to go on natives very often, probably because our occupations don’t permit us to, but you can still look fantastic in that that formal attire. Whether you’re on a skirt and blouse, gown or a shirt and tie, with the right color combinations and shoes you can still dazzle! Personally, I enjoy going formal, I love my long sleeves and slim ties, everyone has their preferences and like I said earlier the bottom-line is to look good and confident. Don’t dress to please your friends or anyone in particular, there should be a certain level of consistency in your “style”, you should create your own identity, and it’s only possible when your clothes are easily accessible and affordable.(your price tag might be a million dollars,so long as you don’t sweat getting it)

looking formal doesn't reduce your ability to dazzle in any way

looking formal doesn’t reduce your ability to dazzle in any way

Finally, we all want to smile, your dresses should never be the reason why you feel unhappy, unless you have a “bottom hole” like I did, lol. So you should always have comfortability at the back of your mind, why wear clingy clothes till the extent that you can’t move your body freely, you get so hot inside and spend the whole day feeling irritated. To end this piece, I didn’t spend the entire day with my “bottom hole”(lol) I went to a tailor who patched it up.

A beautiful smile is a good way to step out

A beautiful smile is a good way to step out

Stay blessed peeps

Photos courtesy of:
Tee Tomi
BB Pin- 32FE8D48

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The world obviously has changed, ask your folks….

Money was never the only determinant for dating or sex, but here we are!! This 21st century trend has spawned a few sects; the ‘aristos’, the gigolos, the “pimps”, and “the runners”……runners? What does that even mean? Wait a sec, over a decade ago I watched this Nollywood classic ‘High Street Babes’ starring Shan George, Zack Orji and co. That movie was epic (Nollywood flicks used to be standard tho), was there a moral lesson? Of course! But I bet what was of more importance to our girls on the streets was the basic MO (mode of operation) of a runs gal. More movies like that, more mentions like that……and the myth of the runs gal became a reality.

Top end cars, tony clothes, endless trips, loud make-overs (especially when she’s not from an overly rich home) and a bossy attitude; these became some of the pointers to identifying ‘a runner’. And in this business colour is king, skin toning creams now sell like petroleum. The budding ground is my campus, your campus, the universities have become where new talents in this business get recruited, and because of the quest for materialism and the perpetual competition between females its hard to refuse this tempting offer.
Let me break it down, what are the reasons for being a runs gal????

Picture this, I had this very fine bestie who ‘friend-zoned’ me………..that eternal prison!! Okay, back to the story, Adaeze was her name, beautiful Ibo girl from a near average family, her dad was a rice trader in Onitsha and her mum was a petty trader on their home street. Now, she’s been through a couple of relationships…reason? The guys were average and couldn’t provide all of Adaeze’s requests. A lil more time, a quest for beautiful things and envy in her eyes, Adaeze finds herself ready to live the fast life in order to ‘live big’. Next time she walks past me on the stairs, she’s a whole new Adaeze and I swore I stared at her for years!!! A few words from the grape-vine confirm my fears “My Adaeze’s now a Runs Gal” She was a well brought up girl so why did this happen? Simple… She wanted pleasures her parents, friends and boyfriends couldn’t afford. This is probably the same situation with a good number of our university-girls-turned-runners and I think that translates to 1 thing: our girls are now extremely INSATIABLE!
It might initially result from the need to feed or clothe, but then the habit sets in and since it makes you money it becomes had to stop. But then again there are those who are in the runs business just for kicks, they basically do it because they enjoy it, the nymphomaniacs of our time, my evil alter ego wants to meet one *winks*…
Sin city is where we are, you really don’t want to know everything that goes on around you. Simply put, society has lost its values, parents are less attentive, children are less retentive, society worships the wealthy; legitimate or illegitimate and to crown it all our government is corrupt! In fact, if there’s a more corrupt society than Nigeria, then the devil must be president. All these still doesn’t justify selling your body for money.

Life is once, Life is short, Life is beautiful too, my advice is don’t waste it on transient gains, be forward looking, be creative, there’s a special gift in every person, find it… use it.
Remember these lines as you sleep tonight
‘’don’t spend your life to buy money, cos u can’t spend money to buy life’’

John Iyoha is student and freelance writer, follow him on twitter @johniyoha1

You loved it right? Now drop your comments! But please remember HIV/AIDS is real. Stay blessed peeps!


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Picture this! Imagine if Boko Haram suddenly attacks Aso rock, how will it go down? Yours dearly has probably been seeing a lot of movies of recent! So I decided to create this scenario, a Nigerian version of Olympus has fallen, I’m using real names, after all there’s no bill that limits freedom of speech, so sit back and enjoy this with me

President Goodluck sat at his desk, you could see he was obviously tensed, he kept scribbling on a note pad, and there was a big Nigerian flag behind him. The phone on his desk kept ringing but he wasn’t in the mood for phone calls so he ignored them. Just then his ADC walked in with a dusty looking file

“What are you holding in your hands” he asked

“Sir, I was told to hand this over to you” his ADC muttered

“Colonel, I have told you several times not to receive official documents on my behalf, haven’t I?” Mr President asked sounding stern

“Sorry sir, but this file was giving to me by V.P Sambo, it looks really important”

“Okay, drop it on my desk, but please don’t make this mistake again”

“Yes sir, it won’t repeat itself” his ADC replied as he saluted and took his leave.

President Goodluck returned to his note pad, he scribbled so fast, then he glanced at the file on his desk for the first time and immediately picked it up and flipped through it, you could see the anger in his eyes

“Dr Nassir, ehn! What’s wrong with this Asuu man? Why is he too stubborn?” he quickly picked up the phone on his desk and dialled a number, he kept tapping his desk with his pen in a weird way, the receiver didn’t pick so he dialled again, the receiver picked this time

“Wike, Wike! How many times did I call your name?”

“Twice sir, what is the problem sir?”

“Call that Asuu mallam to order!, you people want to kill me!” he screamed so loud that his hat fell from his head

“Sir, I am on top of it, I would report back to you in the next 48 hours with good news”

“I don’t care if you’re on top or below, just do something about it” then he hung up.

He stood up walked towards his refrigerator and got a can of beer out; he made funny sounds as he gulped it, like the beer had pepper. Just then a phone started ringing; it was his cell phone so he quickly picked it up.

“Daddy, I want popcorn, shey you will buy for me?”
He immediately recognised the voice and gave a high pitched sigh before replying

“Junior, are you not fat enough? Do you want to burst? By the way didn’t I warn you to stop calling me? Well I blame your mum, she is the one buying phones for you”

“Ooooooo, Daddy, buy for me”

“Okay, I will send Adamu to get some for you” he hung up.

He walked back to his desk and sat down, he put the note pad he had been scribbling on in his pocket, tossed the empty can into a trash can and felt satisfied when he got his target. Then he looked at the portrait of himself and his wife and smiled, he wondered what he would do without his darling wife, he kept smiling for quite a while till he heard a very loud explosion. He looked out of his window and saw fire burning, he ran out of his office and saw people scampering about the hallway, his ADC came rushing with some hefty secret service personnel. They escorted him into the first lady’s conference room, he saw VP Sambo, Pius Anyim and some top government officers pacing around, they all looked frightened; some of them were making phone calls.

“Mr. President, we have a security situation” Lt.Col Babatunde said in his hoarse voice

“Why are you telling me? Do you want me to set up a committee for you or what? What do I pay you for?” he screamed

“Sir, we need to find a way to get you out of here” Col Babangida replied calmly

“Please do! I am not ready to die yet” he was obviously scared

They moved together to the secret exit, all of them running, their pot bellies did not deter their pace in anyway, Pius Anyim ran like he was beefing Usain Bolt. Just as they turned to the exit wing there was another explosion, it had come from the roof top, all of them had dived to different corners trying to protect themselves, just then fully turbaned men jumped down from the roof top carrying AK-47s and started spraying bullets everywhere like they were actually trying to communicate with bullet sounds, it was moments like this that made president Goodluck wish he understood Hausa. One of the turbaned men kept screaming “ina ne mugun President nan ya shiga“(where’s the wicked president), they picked out a Hausa soldier and pointed a gun at him, still screaming the same question. The soldier was not ready to be a hero, he thought of his kids waiting for him at home and his sweet wife, Aminat. He quickly pointed at President Goodluck who was hiding under a table; they dragged him out and made him kneel in front of everybody.

“We have come for you” one of them said, it was obvious he was their leader, his English was perfect

” Pleaeeeease, let us dialogue” he stammered

The stench of urine was strong but it wasn’t clear who had urinated on himself Olympiss had fallen!!

“We are not here to negotiate, we have come for you”

With that statement, he gave the president a taste of his fist, he whirled around instantly, first he thought he saw his late mother smiling at him, then he could almost have sworn that he heard his wife’s voice, finally he blacked out!


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You lay in bed with your eyes wide open, everyone had gone to sleep but you couldn’t close your eyes. Your eyes were open yet dreams flooded your head, you knew what you wanted out of life, you were so little but with giant dreams. You didn’t tell anybody about the thoughts that ran through you head whenever you watched your favourite pop star on TV; once in a while tears dropped from your eyes as you sang along with her. The bathroom became your world class studio; you loved how different your voice sounded when you sang there. Your mother always told you that you sure knew how to sing, she even got you your first guitar, she encouraged you to do your best at your piano lessons, even when your brother teased you and told you music wasn’t for you, you never gave up. Then your dad got the pink slip and you couldn’t go on with piano lessons and money became an issue at home. You always dreamed of the day you’ll make a world hit and go on world tours, your wish was to become successful to take care of your mother, you felt really hurt whenever you saw tears in her eyes as she counted the money she was saving for you and your brother’s tuition, all you could do was hug her tight and some occasions you even cried with her. Then when you were sixteen your mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, you watched your dad become an alcoholic, you watched your mother wither gradually. You remember the cold morning she passed away, your dad cried so hard, your brother became quite distant, you knew you had to take charge, there had to be an anchor or you were going to lose your family. So you became a mother, you put your dad to bed whenever he came home drunk, you encouraged Tom to do great at school, you took charge of the home so well, but you almost forgot about your singing. The first sign that God had big plans for your life came during aunt Nana’s funeral, you asked if you could render a piece and surprisingly they let you. So you sang “amazing grace” and it was so beautiful, your voice seemed to calm the tears and soothe the hearts of everyone. You realised that God was reminding you of his perfect gift to you, so you never stopped singing , you touched the lives of so many with your voice, despite the hard times you never stopped singing, regardless of the pain that lurked in your heart you never stopped being a blessing.

Soon you graduated from high school, you saw your dad in the crowd that gathered, it was nice to see him happy for once. You had no plans of going to college, you decided to work instead and assist dad, you felt Tom should be the one to go to college, that was you; always willing to make sacrifices, you never put yourself first. You worked in the coffee shop down the street for many years, you made just enough money to pay the bills and support your dad with Tom’s tuition. Once in a while when you got into bed at night, you remembered all the promises you made to your mother, you promised never to give up on your dreams but you were already failing her and it made you cry, but nobody knew how you felt. Then one day you saw a commercial on TV, there was going to be a music talent hunt, you felt you should go for the auditions but you didn’t tell anyone. You drove several miles to the big city for the audition, you never knew you were going to make it, you were almost suffering from the defeatist syndrome, but that phone call came and that was how the journey started. Your family, church and friends supported you all the way. You always wore your mother’s bracelet to remind you that you had a promise to fulfil, when you sang it was flawless, so often you made the judges cry, your voice had wings!, every week you got several letters from people telling you how much they loved to hear you sing and how they were praying for you. Just like a miracle, you made it to the finals. Your dad and Tom came backstage to wish you all the best and it brought tears to your eyes for the first time you saw Tom cry “I’m very proud of you” he said. As usual your performance was great and when it got to that moment, you wondered why you weren’t scared, you saw the host hold the result slip up, you watched as the audience became quiet, just then you saw something! You saw your mother smiling at you and you shut your eyes, then you heard him call out the winner, you couldn’t believe it, it was your name! you had just won the talent hunt! The confetti showered on you, the judges and the audience gave you a standing ovation, the other contestants came out to congratulate you, this was your moment! .Tears of joy flowed from your eyes, your dreams had come true. That was the moment that changed your life for good, heaven had smiled on you.

From me
Wrote this piece hoping it inspires and motivates you to pick up your dreams from the rubble, you can be whatever you want to be, you just have to believe!


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She sat at the lobby, you could see that she was sweating profusely. Her hands were shaking and it was obvious to see that she was scared, she saw sick patients walk in and out but her mind was far away, she knew she couldn’t be certain till she got her result but a silent voice kept telling her that the outcome was going to be very bad. Her handkerchief wasn’t doing much to help her and her blouse was already soaked in sweat, just then a stumpy looking nurse came out from the corridor with a file, she was clearly reading from it.

“Card number 0977, a doctor is ready to see you” she said, in a very shrill voice that only got Funke more tensed

Then a bald headed man got up and walked towards a door with the fat nurse following behind him. She brought out some sweets from her pocket and tried to keep herself busy, but the fear was prevailing, she wondered why her result wasn’t ready yet. She had never liked hospitals, the strong stench of drugs and disinfectants always made her feel sick. The fear had been there for a while but it got pretty bad that morning, something kept telling her that the worst had happened. Few months back, she discovered that she had rashes on her skin and that she had small boils around her private part, she had looked the symptoms up on the internet and was really frightened to discover that what she was experiencing matched the symptoms of the dreaded disease, but she couldn’t get herself to go for a blood test. Her life hadn’t been “picture perfect”, she got in and out of relationships like she was changing clothes and she guessed she was very unlucky with men. She tried to remember some of her past relationships, there was Andrew the sweet and charming man, but that only lasted for a few months, he was a beast in a short while, then there was Yinka the very ambitious man, but that ambition was very restricted as they spent more time having sex than actually trying to make the relationship work. Now here she was in a hospital fearing the worst, she wondered if there were things she could have done better. Was this the price she was going to pay for trusting too much, for loving too easily? Each relationship had left its scars and now her heart was perforated; now all she wanted to do was pick up what was left of her life and move on. She remembered when she was still a virgin; how she had bragged that she was going to remain that way till she got married. Then came the first prince charming, then the second and they just kept rolling in. Abortions became routine, she was convinced that she was making the sacrifice for love, so it left no dent on her conscience. She awoke from her thoughts when the lady behind her started coughing badly. She saw the funny looking nurse come out again, carrying with her some files, she opened them one after the other calling out more names, then she heard her name

“No 7122, Adefarati Adefunke, come with me for your result” the noise said as she scanned the lobby with her eyes

“That’s me” Funke said as she walked up to the nurse, who led her into an office

She could hear her heart beating, she didn’t know how much more she could take, she noticed that there was a lady in the office, the way the lady shut her eyes and soliloquized it was obvious she was waiting for her result too. There was a stereo player on the wooden desk; it was playing one of her favourite songs so she tried to sing along, it seemed to be working, so she kept singing. Then a very old man worked into the room, he held the reports in his hand, he slowly walked towards the desk, he took a peek at the results he was holding before sitting down. His face bore no expression so she couldn’t tell if it was good or bad, then in a very awkward way he pulled his glasses from his eyes and cleaned them, put them back on and spoke for the first time

“Sorry for the delay, the machine suddenly packed up” he said

“No problem” Funke almost chorused her reply with the other lady

“Which of you is Grace” he asked

The other lady signified that she was Grace and he handed her result over to her, the lady grabbed her result so fast and immediately glanced at it, she burst into tears almost at once

“I am finished” she screamed repeatedly as tears flowed freely from her eyes

Funke didn’t know when she started crying, she hadn’t seen her result but she just couldn’t take it no more, she wept so hard till she got her blouse soaked in tears. It was quite a sight for the old man as he watched the ladies cry, Funke let all the tears out, she was tired of being the strong lady who believed she had things under control, she was tired of the men that always ended up hurting her, she let all the pain flow out as tears. The old man handed the result to her and walked out of the room, the other lady followed behind him, sobbing profusely. For a while she held the result in her very shaky hands, and then with all the strength she had left, she took a peek at it. There it was, her golden key to a new life, she saw the highlight on retroviral 1 and 2 negative, for a while she was very silent then she burst into tears and started laughing almost at the same time. She picked up her bags and headed for the door, fate her given her a second chance and she was going to embrace it with open arms.

You all know the drill……H.I.V is real,if you must indulge,use condoms.


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“kapoom”! That’s the sound, very loud and brief, but that’s how long it takes for a man to hit the ground. I’m going to be extremely subjective as I scribble down this piece. It’s very painful when we lose people very dear to us, but it’s worse when the circumstances behind it all are completely gruesome. Few days ago I decided to go all detective and make detailed research before writing this piece and I hope it pays off; illustrations are always ideal as it strengthens the emphasis and makes the whole point vivid.

If you take a walk down crown heights in Brooklyn one thing you’re certain to notice is the “hood”. When a group of individuals come together for common interest, they call themselves brothers and it will be silly to deny the strong presence of loyalty. I remember growing up as a child and how good I felt each time my uncle stepped in to fight my ”wars” for me. The same applies to every one of us, we must have been in those situations, where we had to run to an older brother or sister to bail us out from the snare of the class bully or street thug, that’s the most elementary phase of loyalty. We begin to make friends, not the kids we had swings with or built sand castles with, these are the friends that go a long way in defining who we become. Definitely, life’s reality subtly filters most of them away and the ones that remain go ahead to form a very close bond with us. Friendship is beautiful, it’s amazing when a friend gets so close and becomes a brother or sister, the loyalty is unique but it becomes a major issue when we “go the extra mile”, loyalty should be flexible and once the society or our friends stiffen it, then it should be questioned. A kid pulls the trigger of a .44 magnum because he was told that a nigga should fight for his own, he thinks his actions are justified after all they let him share their joint and hang out with the “cool gang”, so he is going to send another kid to his early grave.

The sister at the dark alley, with her skimpy gown and cheap makeup, she had always been alone and somehow she survived even when she had basically nothing and now she has “sisters” and they have opened her eyes to see that the money can flow in so long as she knows how to keep her thighs spread apart. We see these things happen on a daily bases, it was diagnosed and giving the name “peer-pressure”, but true comprehension is most vivid after personal experience. Shrinks believe they can understand, perhaps they can in bits, very little bits.

Adnan P was a teenager, very vibrant and sociable, discovering the seemingly intriguing parts of youth and then one day he was kidnapped by his friends who asked for a very huge ransom. He was murdered when news of his kidnap broke out on national TV (source-Wikipedia). You can try to picture how sad his parents must have felt, tears definitely flowed freely but tears can’t wake the dead. Several other instances like this and you don’t have to be a detective or psychic to see that the key factor is friendship and this brings me back to the hood. It is particularly wrong when a group of friends or so called brothers decide a man’s fate! And it’s usually one sided, very brutal and cruel. Is “kangaroo justice” our only option? Yes, you have made some brothers proud, probably going to have extra bottles for your devilish courage and a lady for the night but you have made a wife cry, left a child fatherless, you have imprinted agony in the lives of so many. Would be very wrong if we don’t recognise the strong presence of loyalty, but the same loyalty made you take the first shot at hard drugs and now you can’t stop, the very same loyalty thought you that hustling only becomes a crime when the cops have your hands cuffed up! It’s very easy to understand the plights and challenges people have growing up, probably having to grow up as an only child or in a family that lacked love and now you have friends that are now brothers or sisters but we have a mind of our own, to discern our actions. We end up hurting people with dreams and a family. Nobody is a mannequin, don’t be the reason why a man has to suffer.

Redemption is what we need, it is the only escape route. Also the right lifestyle will always attract the right people to us. I know life is a battlefield and there’s always a war to fight but they should be fought on the right grounds within the confines of the law, with morality steeped at its highest threshold. God bless you brother, God bless you sister.

KAPOOM!……. Isn’t what we want to hear

KAPOOM…….. leaves so much pain for us to bear

KAPOOM! …….Remember Gods judgment is near

please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments box


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We all read the book Oliver Twist growing up, it’s a Charles Dickens’ classic. The main highlight of the book was the suffering Oliver had to go through and how a simple request for more transformed his life negatively.  Today, it’s a common slang. You hear things like “I want more, just like Oliver!” A popular pop star even sang to it. We have forgotten the other characters and the role they played in making the story an epic one that has gone ahead to sell millions of copies, decade after decade. But one particular character that scared me at first and later intrigued me, is Fagin. For those of us that can still recall, he was the thief that used children to do his dirty work (Dawkins and Charles Bates). At a point, he had the meek and noble Oliver stealing and enforced his policy by bullying Oliver at will.

 It’s always amazing when we read a book and try to extract its moral lessons, Fagin helps in every way to shed more light on what I intend to discuss today. It’s so easy to get covetous in the generation that we are in; I remember how I assumed I had the best mobile phone until a better one got out the next month. Satisfaction is almost extinct; the more we get, the more we want. We all have a bit of Oliver in us, the quest for more often stirs us to do better and we all know hard work is the antidote to failure. It gets complicated when our hunger for more can’t be controlled. At that point, the term “Fagin’s curse” pops up. It’s just the usual me trying to use popular characters to pass my message across. In the book, Fagin is portrayed as a very greedy criminal that’s far worse off than Oliver. He never “asked for more”, instead he wanted everything!

 So, you are under “Fagin’s curse” when contentment has dissipated from your life, the idea of satisfaction becomes a mundane thought at that point. It could be triggered off by simply blinding your eyes to life’s realities. The concept of “we only reap where we sow” becomes irrelevant. We fail to realize that even Gulliver, so easily seemed tiny in Brobdingnag; the land of the giants! The common saying “life is in phases and men are in sizes” helps as further emphasis on the need for patience. There are very simple ways to know if you are under Fagin’s curse and I am going to highlight a few of them.

It’s very common to hear ladies make remarks like “my boyfriend must have a car” or the gentlemen say “my wife must be a model!” Now all these are prerequisites, but are they worthy enough to be made standards? Isn’t that the kind of statement Fagin would make?

Fagin had his cohorts make Oliver climb up a window at night, all because he wanted him to steal stuff! Is that your own story? Are you already making money through the “back-door”? Has greed and impatience led you to becoming a con artist? Can your supposed success story be scribbled down to inspire others? If no, then in my own opinion, that’s so “Fagin like”.

Fagin was surrounded by criminal’s i.e. Bill Sikes, Nancy the prostitute. There was certainly no way he was getting out of crime. Who are the people you call your friends? What are you gaining from the relationship? You must have some friends that never discuss anything meaningful; they give you reasons why you must get involved in one shady deal or the other. Well, it’s only a matter of time before the curse hits on you. A stitch in time saves nine!

Finally, we all know how the story ended. Fagin was tried in court and sentenced to death, Charles dickens was quite descriptive when he elaborated on how pathetic Fagin looked in his cell just few hours before he was hung, he didn’t even want Oliver to say a prayer for him. The bottom line is that he died in the worst way possible. I believe nobody wants to leave this earth that way, this should just serve as a wakeup call to all of us. Have you seen potter mold clay? No matter how ugly the clay looks, he keeps molding because he knows something beautiful will come out of it. Please don’t be a Fagin!


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If you are like me, then you’ll understand graphically the beauty of the hills, it’s rough stones and sharp edges. It’s so difficult to climb and takes almost all your breath away. I’ve gone hill climbing a couple of times in the past year and each experience came with its own challenges. I got stuck in the mud more times than I can remember, but the beauty came just when I got to the top and had that invigorating feel. Watching houses look so tiny and cramped up and also having the perfect feel of nature. There was one remarkable similarity with each visit and it was how we felt so good when we got to the top that we forgot how difficult climbing had been. For those that have never gone mountain or hill climbing, you definitely must have walked up the stairs and we know how tiring it gets sometimes but you definitely forget when you’re watching basketball night live with a bottle of Dr.Browns.

I want to make my illustrations as common as possible, so that the motive of this article does not elude you. I vividly recollect the lyrics of Miley Cyrus’s 2009 hit song “The Climb”. The song talks of the need to keep trying despite the obstacles and the realisation that we don’t win every time but we just need to pick ourselves up and keep going. Growing up, I came across a lot of books and one of them was Robert H. Schuler’s “Life’s not fair, but God is good”. He shared a story of his daughter that had gone bike riding with her boyfriend and lost her legs after a ghastly accident and how she refused to tag herself a cripple but instead went on to build a life.

The climb is never easy, you might trip several times, life might bruise you here and there, but you just have to keep going bearing in mind how beautiful it’s going to feel once you’re up there. We all have different “climbs”. Yours might be the struggle with drugs, it could be failed relationships and you’re wondering if you’re ever going to find love, your dreams might be going blur on you but you just have to keep pushing because you’re going to be there one day and you’ll smile. There’s always extra motivation for you, stories of people that had their climb difficult but they persisted and overcame. So keep pushing! You’re a success story, you will make it!


Few days ago, I had a conversation with a friend and got really upset; as usual I shared my thoughts on social networks. I’m really puzzled at how we have chiselled our own idea of salvation and Christianity in general. I’m a Christian and a practising one at that, but I’ve seen a lot of issues that need to be addressed. I really think it’s time our preachers examine their lives. If they live for Christ, then they should exhibit his traits. My Bible tells me Jesus was very humble, it also tells me that he was very accessible, kind and lived an exemplary life .

Today it’s really troubling when you see how churches are being run. The only thing that differentiates the “house of God” today from an Aliko Dangote venture is that they don’t sell shares! Men of God now live like celebrities while their “sheep” suffer.  The only thing members benefit are “holy proclamations” like “You shall not suffer lack or want! Can u shout an amen to that?” And then the multitude shouts amen, yes that’s pure faith being put to practice but in that congregation there is the lady that isn’t sure of her next meal or the man that can’t send his kids to school, or even the person who has no place to lay his head at night!

 Philosophers have always argued that the church is a safe abode for those lacking ,that the Church is meant to inspire hope in our hearts and motivate us through life (even when they rarely believe in God) . We so easily criticise politicians but nobody dares speak about the men of God. That would be blasphemy right? I know how sensitive this topic is so I’m trying my best to thread carefully. I might not be “righteous” enough to address this issue but I think it’s wrong when preachers acquire private jets and their members have no food to eat, I think it’s wrong when certain preachers have turned the house of God to a “family plc.” I think it’s wrong for preachers to have universities that their members on an average can’t afford
This certainly wasn’t the concept of Christianity Jesus had in mind, it’s so obvious for everyone to see, yet we inexplicably turn a blind eye to it all. I think the issue with preachers is that everybody looks up to them, to emulate and learn from them, never for once are they scolded and most times they don’t know when they get it all wrong. We all pray to God for his intervention but according to a famous Nigerian saying, “wetin we dey find for sokoto dey our shokoto”

There is money in the house of God, plenty of money and it should be used to enhance salvation, not to be used by religious leaders to acquire private jets for gallivanting and globe-trotting!

We all know how upset Jesus got when he discovered they were selling in the temple, may that wrath not befall us!

If you know you’re a writer or you have a desire to delve in then there’s an amazing opportunity for you to learn more in a really cool way. From the 25th of October there will be an online workshop brought to you by i-versity, where you’ll watch tutorials and engage in friendly contests. It’s a very simple process and I’ve already enrolled! Wouldn’t miss it for nothing. Just click and enroll, share the good news to as many friends as you can

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Love you all so much.


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Inequality stares at us in the face daily. Inequality is everywhere, and it is not shy. We see it in our homes, we see it in our classrooms, and we see it in our places of work. We have grown so accustomed to seeing it that we now consider it part and parcel of our society, but this shouldn’t be so.

Inequality refers to differences in sizes, differences in degrees of circumstances, and in totality, a lack of equality. Inequality is a monster that has assumed multidimensional faces and one that was conceived by the definitely unholy union of avarice and corruption. This monster creates tension between neighbours, increases criminality, lowers lifespan and causes instability.

Many a time, we witness heinous forms of it, but we almost always consider ourselves too powerless to correct this great ill of society; to right this wrong. We have a political culture marred by corruption, and a lack of return on high taxes. Poverty has become the opium of the masses. Our courts have become a regular sight for travesty of justice!

The World Health Organisation described poverty as the greatest cause of suffering on earth. How befitting for an offspring of inequality! In as much as a lack of material wealth doesn’t depict that one is deprived, we would all be doing ourselves a great disservice if we do not stem the tide and nip this ugly cancer in the bud.

I have seen people toil day and night, night and day but yet aren’t guaranteed their next meal. They try to live happily and the poignant smiles I see on their faces make me want to shed tears. But on the other side of the divide, we have politicians who loot our treasury with reckless abandon and laugh to the bank. They disgust me!

I write with grief in my heart, with ink-bloodied hand, with blood, sweat, and tears to call for a halt to inequality at all levels. It begins with you!

Kevin A. Marteen is a freelance writer and Anatomist


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HOPE– It is a word that has sunk deep into the hearts of Nigerians, it is the reason why we believe in a better tomorrow, it is why we keep moving, it is the reason why life still progresses despite the darkness and bloodshed that surrounds us. Nigerians as a people have held on to this for years now; it is the reason why the things we hear on the radio, watch on t.v don’t pierce through us no more because we have seen and heard worse, even our leaders and politicians have taken us for granted because they know they have the most “hopeful” citizens a nation could ever wish for.

I grew up watching the parade and catalogue of the past wondering how a nation could go through all these and stand un-perforated and have come to the conclusion that if those who were before me could experience all these and still relish better days for their “great” nation then maybe it is just my duty to emulate them and become another hopeful citizen praying for a miracle.

I’m just a young man, gained knowledge of the past basically by reading and hearing from the lips of others and perhaps these people were once young individuals who also thought it was their duty to carry on with the dreams of their fathers but for how long are we going to keep dreaming and fantasising on a better Nigeria? for how long are we going to continue with the trend of setting targets that we never accomplish? or am I just going to be another Nigerian that teaches his child how to dream and believe that there are better days ahead for all of us?. I’m sure many Nigerians my age also share in my fears.

We are part of a system where nothing works, a system where corruption has eaten into the hearts of men, a country where everybody seems to know what to do but leave actions to rest as mere thoughts scribbled on paper or words only spoken with no action. ACTION is something we have always lacked,”Truth” is a word we have so trampled upon and yet we all claim to want a better Nigeria, I’m part of those that have so often made politicians our punch bags and agree that they are responsible to a very large extent in the hardship that has so plunged Nigerian citizens but I think it is only through our personal resolutions and collective effort that we can actually advance for good. If I’m to take citing from the bible where group of individuals came together to build what was meant to be the tallest building ever and actually came close if not for timely intervention by God, it only goes to say anything is possible if we all come together to make things work.
It is good to dream and desire but without action it leads us nowhere.

Many of us don’t see any reason to fly the green flag today. We have lost complete faith in our system and to us the 1st of October is just another date on our calender. Well if we look at the epidemics and the challenges we are currently facing in this country, we tend to loose hope. When you look at the security challenges, A.S.U.U strike, bad roads, low unemployment rates and poor power supply, these are enough to make you feel downcast and question the point in celebrating our independence but please give it a second thought. Nigeria is not the president, Nigeria is not the Senators, Nigeria is not the 36 states and border lines, we are Nigeria, we are the nation itself and as long as hope still gleams in our hearts then hope still gleams on Nigeria . So just as our anthem says “Arise o compatriots”!, Arise my brothers and sisters, keep the faith and belief!.




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“There is an overwhelming desire at moments to escape personality,
to revel in the action of forces that have no respect for ego,
to let the tides flow, even though they flow over us.”
– William James –

It’s well planned, with its unique specification so it is only right to assume that it’s very tactical. Well, some of you reading this might not know the meaning of BDSM so I’m going to try to break it down to its simplest units. BDSM stands for BONDAGE AND DOMINANCE, SADISM AND MASOCHISM, do you get the scope now? Ok, in case you’re still lost, BDSM relates to “crazy sex”. It’s not related to how many hours you can go just to please your partner, that’s quite mild in context to what I’m trying to explain. It’s actually an erotic practice that involves inflicting severe pain on each other (guess it’s clear now).
I’m quite certain you have heard stories about people that only enjoy sex in painful and crazy situations. Its WAR in every sense but just that the battle is brought to the bed. It’s a form of lovemaking that involves handcuffs, whips, sticks (lol), iron chains and even blind folds. It sounds insane but it’s a long serving practice, it’s also quite addictive. The whole concept has to do with inflicting enormous pain as a means of reaching orgasm.

I heard a story of a lady that only enjoys sex when wax is melted on her skin and also of a guy that loves being slapped and scratched while having sex! At first I was baffled and disgusted until recently when a friend narrated a story to me. According to her, her next door neighbour’s who have been married for many years are BDSM “victims”, she was always puzzled at the loud sounds they made at night and assumed they were just “noise makers” at their game until she saw Uncle Tobi(not his real name) coming back from work with a long piece of KOBOKO!(even though they didn’t have children at that time) and it all began to make sense to her. I know some of you might think they should go seek the help of a shrink, I actually felt that way too but what’s most puzzling is the fact that married couples actually indulge in it! Religion for one serves as a cushion in this case as couples have every right to indulge in whatever pleases them (that’s gist for another day!).

We thrive in a society that has soaked itself in denial, we are always quick to scream TUFIAKWA and not give a second thought to it. My sole opinion is that BDSM is and will never be a crime so long as the two parties involved want it. I only wrote this because I’ve been pondering on what sadism has to do with masochism. A sadist is someone who obviously enjoys seeing people suffer and a masochist is someone who inflicts and enjoys pain during sex. So at what point do they correlate? Are you also of the opinion that a masochist is a sadist? They enjoy the painful sex but that doesn’t mean they are not happy . Well I’m an advocate for true love and if it’s what gives you and your partner the satisfaction you need to stick together and be an amazing couple, then ride on with it. As a reminder I’d advice we consider our “love tools” because you don’t go using machetes and hot water all in the name of masochism! That’s just pure evil. Stay blessed till I bring you another exciting piece.


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If you opened this page expecting to see naked ladies and dudes doing their thing then I must break the news to you that you’re in the wrong place. I laughed when a friend told me that if you want to please your woman then you have to F.U.C.K her.


You F.U.C.K her till she is yours forever. Beauty of relationships becomes vivid when you F.U.C.K that man or lady alright. The steps below take you closer to all you have ever dreamed of in a relationship.

F- Faithfulness
U- Understanding
C- Charm
K- Kindness

By now you can see that I played a fast one on you, I specifically chose this topic because I knew it would capture you, secondly I wanted to make beauty out of the word itself.



The concept of “they lived happily ever”Is borne out of faithfulness, I grew up playing with poems and words and created this phrase “when there is no TRUST we begin to RUST”. If you want to grow in your relationship then you must recognise the fact that the first factor to consider is trust. It’s very typical in our African society to see couples that have left “trust” in its default mode. Situation’s when you can’t vouch for your partner leads to serious decline.



Understanding is very vital as nations have gone to war for the lack of it, it’s always rosy in the beginning but in relationships we have to understand that it’s not always going to stay that way. There will definitely be tough moments that push you to the edge. That’s where understanding comes in. Have you played with a Plastacine before? How it stretches out to its limit and only rips off when it can bear it no more, that’s how every true relationship should be, to be there for your partner even when it gets hard.


The epic Disney story “beauty and the beast” teaches us that it takes more than good looks to impress. It’s always beautiful when you can make every day feel like the first, when your love is ever fresh and new and when at last you’re old and bent all you’ll feel is pure satisfaction as you recount every moment. We must realize that
those little actions that we don’t consider are very important. The hugs, kisses and the whispering in the ears (mushy is the word!) might just be all you need to show your lover that it’s always going to be beautiful.


The easiest phase in the “F.U.C.K THEORY”, once your feelings are genuine then it comes naturally.  Kindness is the ability to overlook the norm and go out of your way to make your partner happy. If you’re a man when was the last time you helped out with the dishes? Or skipped your soccer game to stay home with the kids? These are just some ways we can exemplify kindness to our partners today.

I hope you have been able to absorb this article, the F word has always been used negatively and its very typical for “ceeflo” to make an attempt to draw beauty from it. So please F.U.C.K your partner some more today.


© . Unauthorized use and/or duplication of any material on this blog and website without express and written permission from this blog’s author and owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. e-mail:



She looked quite exotic, everyone watched and admired her because she easily stood out.  Her true story was veiled behind her perfect make up and designer clothes, many assumed she had it all. But behind closed doors she had to deal with two shadows, his and hers. She wondered when he would throw his next aggressive stunt.  He did soon enough. That evening, once he walked in, she saw the cold stare and knew trouble wasn’t far away.

I hope he doesn’t touch me!

Just a short while later, after he had descended on her, she felt the pain flow in. she felt the anguish sweep through her, it came in different sizes. But she had to make everything look perfect. She couldn’t let this secret slip out.  This scene always came back. The beating was continuous and as constant as oxygen.

Then this warm afternoon, he sent heavy blows her way, he pummeled her till she couldn’t take it anymore. The pain came with adrenaline, she felt motivated yet she begged him to stop. He didn’t. She got up with all her strength and ran, he chased her fervently. She ran till her knees felt numb, she fell just as she got to the road. Onlookers watched, obviously excited at the free show before them.

”you’re a b**tch” she screamed
her words only puzzled the crowd. They were used to arguments, and swear words. But her choice of words stunned them.

“You’re a h*e” she continued

Now, Mayweather wanna be felt so embarrassed, but she screamed the words, repeatedly. Some laughed, some watched keenly. She felt vindicated. A man that treated her like he did, was a ho*, any day, any time.


Vanessa Morris is half Ghanaian and half Nigerian

A nurse and Writer