“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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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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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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