Author: Chinedu ikechukwu

A writer, a teacher and a comedian.

A CHARITABLE LIFE

All were born in the same way and nobody ever had chosen who would be his or her parents in life. But everyone has a story to tell because the path in the journey of life is different. Life sometimes could be funny and mysterious in nature. Peter never dreamt or asked his creator to make him an orphan one day. And if someone from the land of the dead should tell him that one day he would be one, he would doubt it.

Peter was the first and the only son of his parents. After his birth, his mother was unable to give birth to another child. Miscarriage has always been his mother’s sort in every pregnancy since after his birth. The very moment nature smiled on her by allowing her to carry her pregnancy for eight months, she met her death while she was in labour pain.

The hospital she was admitted refused categorically that she would not be attended to until his father deposited the sum of ten thousand naira. Where would the poor man get such amount of money from? Even if you killed him, he would not provide it. Despite all his father did for attention and medical care to be given to his mother, all his efforts were fruitless. At the end of the day, she died on the way while she was been taken to another hospital. Yes, she died in Peter’s presence. Initially, Peter thought she was sleeping. But the facial expression of his father was a clear indication that she was already dead.

It was not easy with his father since then. The death of his wife traumatised him. How he wished he lost his wife after an illness or through a car accident, it would have been something bearable and tolerable. But he lost his wife out of poverty. Peter remembered vividly that very day in the hospital, how his father was moving from one end of the hospital to the other, pleading for something to be done to his wife but no help came. Peter saw that very day, the depression, pain, sorrow, discouragement, and hopelessness that were written all over his father. He pitied him and cried for him in the depth of his heart. Unable to bear the pain after six months, Peter’s father died of cardiac arrest.

Their demise left him in the valley of suffering, pain, misery, and loneliness. Life could be so cruel to some persons on our planet earth. After the burial of his father, Peter joined the family of his uncle, his father’s immediate younger brother. The maltreatment and lack of affection that were given to him made Peter prefer the street than his home. On a very good day one evening, Peter left the house for the street and never returned. They searched for him but he was nowhere to be found. His uncle could have done more than what he did but due to his lack of love towards Peter, he never worried himself to go the extra mile in searching for nephew. Even pressure from neighbours on him never changed anything.

Poor Peter left alone on the street, where he made his home and formed his new family. Many would ask if he had relatives, uncles, aunts, cousins, etc. He would say yes, but none cared to know their whereabouts. For three years, he was on the street with other children who were either orphan like him or abandoned by their parents to cater for themselves. Really life on the street is something else. On many occasions, He was beaten almost to death when caught trying to steal from street hawkers. All he cared for was just to get something and feed on. There was nothing like day or night for them on the street. Together with his friends, they would go out at midnight to people’s homes to steal water just for them to make use of. No season was ever favourable to them because they used to sleep outside, and if lucky, one would find a good place well protected from the chilly breeze of the harmattan and raindrops during raining season.

There on the street, he met the saviour of his life. He was picked together with three others and taken to an orphanage house called “For A Better Tomorrow Orphanage Home,” by a Non-governmental Organisation. There in the orphanage house which was at the outskirt of the town, they were trained in many skills like the making of beads, reading and writing, carpentry work, and so on. After four months there, They were enrolled in primary school. 

It was not easy initially because it was like a strange world for him as someone who has never seen the four walls of a classroom. Sometimes, Peter used to feel unease because he no longer had the freedom he used to have when he was on the street. Everything was regulated and controlled in the orphanage house. Many times, he would leave school before dismissal to play football and returned very late. Despite the correction and warning that were given to him, nothing seemed to change. After some time, the urge of going out was not as strong as before. He started coping well and coming back home after school dismissal together with his mates. From the training given in the orphanage house, he continued doing his best in school. Whenever he remembered the sudden death of his parents, he would feel like a fierce lion, having the urge to break anything within his reach. There was a day one of his mates called Joe took a piece of meat from his plate jokingly. Joe never knew Peter was not in a good mood that very day for the pain of his parents’ death was fully on him. Peter bounced on him and gave him a punch on his face. The fellow fell down immediately and was unable to stand up. He laid down there for about a minutes. When he was helped by others to stand on his feet, there was blood on the floor. The blood was from Joe’s nose. At the sight of the blood, Peter came to his senses immediately and started apologising to the steward. Peter was cautioned that very day and was told that if such thing should repeat itself again, he would stop going to school. That same day during recreation, none was willing to play with him.

Five years in primary school came and gone like a flash of light. Six months after his primary school, Peter found himself in secondary school. Though he was not the best in his class but was doing great as expected from him by his sponsors. The orphanage home created a conducive environment to study. Almost everything they needed for their studies was provided to them. In his final year in secondary school, he participated in a debate competition with the topic “Teachers are better than Doctors?” Peter’s group was against the motion. The work he did with those in his group was an eye-opener for him to so many things. Through the help of some of the stewards, he was able to come up with a good write-up. His group won the competition and he emerged as the best speaker. Since then, he vowed to become a medical doctor in the future in order to save the lives of many innocent people who could not afford medical treatment for lack of money. Peter strongly believed that he would become a medical doctor in the future. How it would come about, he did not know but believed in divine providence.

Peter never dreamt of going to the White man’s land nor boarding an airplane in his life. He had only heard and seen Europe as a continent on a geography map in the orphanage house. As destiny might have it, he saw himself in Europe studying medicine and surgery.

In his third year, he had already started making plans on how he would start realising some projects in collaboration with the Non Governmental organisation that was sponsoring his studies and other benefactors to build a hospital and an orphanage house in his hometown after he must have graduated. For him, that would be the only way his own community would benefit from his studies, which would go a long way to put smiles on the faces of poor masses and less privileged.

After his graduation from the medical school, he got a job and was doing great. Six months after he got his new job, he asked for two good and intelligent students from the orphanage home who would be willing to study medicine like him. Aminu and Ruben were the lucky ones who were sent to him.

Peter never lived to see what Aminu and Ruben became in life. A year after their arrival, Peter died in his house as a result of high level of cortisol in his body.

THE END.

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DO YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO WRITE INTERESTING STORIES? CHECK IT OUT

In life what is not useful to some maybe precious to others. If you are good at writing short interesting stories, this is an opportunity for you to make some cash with your talent.

Read the instructions below and for any further information for clarification, write to any of the email addresses below. INSTRUCTIONS ON HOW IT WORKS

  1. Narrate any story of your choice that is interesting.
  2. Story should be (max 1000 words).
  3. Give your story a good title
  4. You can write as many stories as you like.
  5. Stories should be in the comment box or you can send your stories to chiikeagu@gmail.com or tonywhiz2003@yahoo.co.uk

Stories submited will be evaluated and if your story(ies) is or are accepted, you will be contacted through phone or email for payment. We pay N200 or N300 per story depending on its quality and rating by our judges.

IT IS NOT YET TIME

On the 23rd of July, 2004, in the city of Lubumbashi, Congo RD, my sports bike was having a little problem with its breaks. That very day, I was so reluctant to go out after the stressful day at school. After taking a nap, I decided to take the bike to my technician to put the breaks in order.

The breaks were put in order, together with other parts that needed little adjustment and repair. As I was about to mount on my bike, I received a phone call from a friend, asking me to come and play football with him and some of his friends in a football pitch close to his house. Even though I was tired, I was unable to resist the desire to go and play with them. I responded to him, telling him that I would be with them in a short while. I rode home, picked all my necessary sports materials and hurried up to join them.

There was a rail track across the road leading to my friend’s house and a market around there. Normally when trains were coming, there was always a horn very loud that could be heard a kilometre away from its source. To be sincere, I could not tell what came over me. I was on high speed, and a few metres away from me was the rail track. The train operator never honked the horn because I did not hear it and I never looked left or right to see if anything like a train was coming. Since I was already close, I thought I could cross before the train could arrive where I was. That was the first thought that came to my mind. In fear, I continued thinking that my breaks were still faulty. Out of reflex action, I held the two hand breaks. The tyres scrubbed the ground on a distance of about 300m and stopped. And right in front of me was the train moving on its normal speed. Passers-by were just looking at me with mouth and eyes wide open. I quietly came down, turned and head towards my house. It was really a miracle and was not yet time.

THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE

Narrate the worst day of your life as a student either in secondary school or university.

First prize; recharge card of  1500
Second prize: recharge card of 1000


Congratulations to the winners. The result will be published at 4pm today. Please, winners should send a valid account number if they desire to receive their reward in cash. Congratulations once again. 

mama africa

story story

OH MAMA AFRICA

– November 22, 2018

The soil of Africa has drunk enough blood of innocent people, all in the name of political and tribal wars. The story of Danladi was one of its ingredients. How I wish the story of my life could be rewritten and started afresh on a clean slate.

It was a loud scream that penetrated my ears and almost made me deaf. “Who are they? She asked herself. Danladi was totally lost and confused because it was dark. She ran towards the one and only window in the house to see what the problem was. He heard the ground vibrating like a battalion of soldiers marching on a parade ground. “Jesus!” She exclaimed. There and then, he knew that the worst was about to happen. “What is it Mama?” He asked his mother. He tried moving to the window to see for himself but she drew him from behind, holding the collar of his shirt like a fierce lion holding its prey. He was lucky to fall by the side of the bed. “Where do you think you are going?” She asked him.

She carried her big mortar and placed it on the door as if it would prevent one gaining entrance into their house. There were cries of sorrow and pain outside.

A few minutes later, three heavy knocks were heard on the door. “Open the door,” the angry voice said. Danladi could hear the sound of his heartbeats. He saw the way his mother was shivering in fear and confusion. She took and hid him inside her big box. He nearly suffocated and was tempted to come out but he had no choice than to remain there because the last order from her before closing the box was: “Don’t come out until I say the contrary!”

Danladi overheard how the door was forced opened. “Where is your husband? One of the men asked. “My husband is dead long ago!” The poor woman replied. “Okay, you don’t want to tell us where he is. Don’t worry, we will give you what we supposed to give him,” another different voice said.

“When you get there, send our greetings to him,” the voice said. “Please don’t kill me. If you kill me, who will looked after my son for me?” She cried aloud. “Oh! You even have a son. Where is he?”

Things were be thrown here and there, like one angrily searching for a missing item. They were searching for Danladi. Luckily for him, they never came close to the box where he was.

“Bullet finish her let us go, there is no time to waste” the voice said.

Later, the whole room was quiet. The sound of the gun vibrated the entire house. He decided to go against the order. He forced himself out, only to see his mother, lying on a pool of blood. Her hands were still shaking. As he moved close to her, she stretched her left hand and held him on his thigh. “Son I love you.” These were the last words Danladi heard from his mother before she gave up the ghost.

OH MAMA AFRICA YOUR CHILDREN ARE MOURNING

OH MAMA AFRICA

The soil of Africa has drunk enough blood of innocent people, all in the name of political and tribal wars. The story of Danladi was one of its ingredients. How I wish the story of my life could be rewritten and started afresh on a clean slate. 
It was a loud scream that penetrated my ears and almost made me deaf. “Who are they? She asked herself. Danladi was totally lost and confused because it was dark. She ran towards the one and only window in the house to see what the problem was. He heard the ground vibrating like a battalion of soldiers marching on a parade ground. “Jesus!” She exclaimed. There and then, he knew that the worst was about to happen. “What is it Mama?” He asked his mother. He tried moving to the window to see for himself but she drew him from behind, holding the collar of his shirt like a fierce lion holding its prey. He was lucky to fall by the side of the bed. “Where do you think you are going?” She asked him. 
She carried her big mortar and placed it on the door as if it would prevent one gaining entrance into their house. There were cries of sorrow and pain outside.
A few minutes later, three heavy knocks were heard on the door. “Open the door,” the angry voice said. Danladi could hear the sound of his heartbeats. He saw the way his mother was shivering in fear and confusion. She took and hid him inside her big box. He nearly suffocated and was tempted to come out but he had no choice than to remain there because the last order from her before closing the box was: “Don’t come out until I say the contrary!”
Danladi overheard how the door was forced opened. “Where is your husband? One of the men asked. “My husband is dead long ago!” The poor woman replied. “Okay, you don’t want to tell us where he is. Don’t worry, we will give you what we supposed to give him,” another different voice said. 
“When you get there, send our greetings to him,” the voice said. “Please don’t kill me. If you kill me, who will looked after my son for me?” She cried aloud. “Oh! You even have a son. Where is he?” 
Things were be thrown here and there, like one angrily searching for a missing item. They were searching for Danladi. Luckily for him, they never came close to the box where he was.
 “Bullet finish her let us go, there is no time to waste” the voice said.
Later, the whole room was quiet. The sound of the gun vibrated the entire house. He decided to go against the order. He forced himself out, only to see his mother, lying on a pool of blood. Her hands were still shaking. As he moved close to her, she stretched her left hand and held him on his thigh. “Son I love you.” These were the last words Danladi heard from his mother before she gave up the ghost.
OH MAMA AFRICA YOUR CHILDREN ARE MOURNING

Ije Uwa moooooo

THE PATH TO HAPPINESS AND FULFILLMENT
The harmattan was totally something else. The wind was dry and dusty. The poor woman came back with a plastic bag in her left hand. “Welcome Mama,” Tekwe said as he collected the bag from his mother. He was amazed at what he saw. He knew well that they had no domestic animals or ruminants around in the compound. “What is she going to do with these cassava leaves?” He asked himself but was unable to find an answer.
They all sat in front of two bowls. He opened the first bowls, lo and behold what Tekwe saw were the cassava leaves, cooked in the form of vegetable soup. There was total silent. Later, his sister Zima asked: “Mama, what happened? These are cassava leaves. They are meant for goats.” Tears were dripping down from their mother’s eyes. Tekwe was speechless. The poor woman started eating, with the thought that her children would join her but they could not. He took only three small lumps of the foufou and that was all for him, he could not continue. It seemed she ate the food either out of shame or hunger. “But Mama, what happened? Was there no vegetable in the market?” He asked her. “My son, for the past three months, your father has not sent any money to us. What should I do?” She said. There, he saw the shame, pain, and sorrow written all over her face.
Tekwe’s father was in another state in the eastern part of the province, where he was working. His job could hardly put a good meal on his table not to think of sustaining his family. Normally, he used to send money to his wife for feeding. At a point, the cash was not forthcoming.
It was already the third term in school, Tekwe was in his final year in primary school. Unable to pay his final exam fees, he was sent back home to get the fund. When he got home, he told his mother for formality sake, of which he knew already the answer because there was not even a penny in their house. The economic condition of his family made it cleared to him that he had concluded everything that had to do with school for his entire life. But deep in him, he kept hoping with an optimistic thought that he would make it to secondary school someday.
One fateful morning, after a friend of his told him about a construction site where workers were been hired on daily basis. He told his mother of his intention of going for such a job, in view of raising some cash for the family. She accepted in a sorrowful manner. 
When Tekwe came to the site, it was at about 7: 20 am, He saw no one. He took a brick and sat on it. Later, a man came. “Good morning Sir,” He greeted him. “Good morning my son, did you come to look for a job? He asked. “Yes Sir,” Tekwe replied. “You look too young; I hope you can bear the stress till the end of the work. You may work with me today” he said with a smile.
Tekwe was to carry some quantity of sharp sand with the help of a head pan from ground floor to third floor.  When he told Tekwe what to do, Tekwe said to himself: “Oh my God! Will I be able to bear it until the end? He calculated the number of times he would climb the steps, fear came over him. A few seconds later, he engaged himself.
The work went partially well that day. He fell four times on the steps with the head pan on his him. At home, he was as weak as a kitten. “How did it go? His mother asked. “It went well Mama,” he replied. The next day, when he woke up, he was unable to walk properly. His entire joints were paining him. He had to force himself because he wanted to realise his dream and happiness.
The second day, while working, in order not to feel the stress of the work to a large extent, he was singing and put on a joyful mood. The man he was working with was delighted the way he was singing. “Young boy, are you a chorister?” He asked him. “No,” Tekwe replied. “You sing like one,” he said. “Thank you, Sir,” he  replied. After they finished for the day, one of the engineers called Tekwe. “I liked the way you worked today. You were working with zeal and passion,” he said to him. Tekwe was shy to look at him. “Well, will you come tomorrow?” He asked him. “Yes sir, I will,” he replied. He was about leaving when the engineer put his hand in Tekwe’s pocket, removed it fast and left immediately. A few metres away from the construction site, he stopped, dipped his right hand into his pocket. Lo and behold, it was money. He was on cloud nine.
When he gave the cash together with his daily pay to his mother after he arrived home, she was perplexed. “Who gave you this cash?” She asked in amazement. “Somebody gave it to me where I was working,” he replied. “Why?” She asked again. “Hmmm, I do not know. I think he was highly impressed the way I was working and decided to appreciate my effort,” he retorted. Her mood from that day changed positively. She was excited.
Life from that day was a bit good for them. From that cash, his mother was able to be putting something reasonable on the table for them to eat. He continued working on that same construction site till the completion of the entire building. This lasted for about two months.
The last day of his work on that site, he came very early. Fortunately, he met the engineer that gave him money the other time, together with some men who were offloading a trailer loaded with rods and other building materials. The work that day was tedious. He could not tell how he managed to finish it. When they all gathered to receive their wages, he was asked to wait behind by a young man that he rarely saw in the site. At first, he was tensed, but after much thought, he became calm. When almost everybody had left, he looked at Tekwe and said: “Small Boy, you were really hard working. I so much admired your ability and strength. “Do you go to school?” He asked him. “Yes. I was.” Tekwe retoted. “Which class are you? He asked him. “I was in primary five but presently, I am no longer going to school,” he replied. “Why did you stop?” He asked in astonishment. Tekwe was silent. He came close to him and tapped him on his shoulder three times saying: “You were very hard working. You worked with happiness and passion despite the tedious nature of the job. “Could you take me to your house? I would like to see your parents,” he asked Tekwe. Both entered a car and they drove off.
His mother was surprised of the visit. That very day gave a light to the darkness in Tekwe’s dream of going to secondary school. After listening to his mother as she narrated her ordeals, their guest willingly accepted to offer financial help to Tekwe’s studies in secondary school from A to Z. Their guest gave his mother some words of encouragement and departed.
THE END