Category: sorrowful

YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE?

You visited your your friend who is responsible like you. You saw all the things he has done and those he is doing and the ones he will will do for his people. You come back home and refused to do the same to your own people as a leader even when you have all what it will take to do those things, and you claim to love your people? 🤔.

The devil is better that you because he the devil has provided everything for his people both small and great for his kingdom to be strong and effective. I will not and will never remain. Is not easy but one day I will come back to change the story of my people.

Vous avez rendu visite à votre ami responsable comme vous. Vous avez vu tout ce qu’il a fait et ce qu’il fait et ce qu’il fera pour son peuple. Vous rentrez chez vous et vous refusez de faire de même avec votre propre peuple en tant que dirigeant, même lorsque vous avez tout ce qu’il faut pour faire ces choses et que vous prétendez aimer votre peuple? 

Le diable est meilleur que toi parce que le diable a tout fourni pour que son peuple soit grand et petit pour que son royaume soit fort et efficace. Je ne vais pas et ne resterai jamais. Ce n’est pas facile, mais un jour je reviendrai pour changer l’histoire de mon peuple.

Hai visitato il tuo amico che è responsabile come te. Hai visto tutte le cose che ha fatto e quelle che sta facendo e quelle che farà per il suo popolo. Sei tornato a casa e hai rifiutato di fare lo stesso a il tuo popolo come leader anche quando hai tutto ciò che serve per fare quelle cose e pretendi di amare il tuo popolo? Il diavolo è meno cattivo di te perché il diavolo ha fornito tutto per il suo popolo, sia piccolo che grande, perché il suo regno fosse forte ed efficace. Non lo farò e non resterò mai. Non è facile, ma un giorno tornerò per cambiare la storia del mio popolo.

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THE UNTOLD STORY OF MIDA

Darkness was the master of the day. The trees were bowing and rising as the cool balmy air of the night was blowing. Silence was in total control of the atmosphere inside the house until a shrill sound was heard at the door. Mida woke up like a mad dog and moved close the door of the bedroom, moved his heard very close to it in order to hear something and understand what was going on. “Honey, what is it?” His wife asked. He made her a sign to remain quiet. “Where are there? Come out now and entertain your visitors or we will bring down this house like the walls of Jerico,” a voice said. His wife asked him not to go. But after a few seconds, he took the courage and open the door. The bedroom door led to the parlour. 

His wife took their 6years old daughter and hid her inside the wardrobe. The little girl was trembling and shivering at the same time. “Don’t move or talk until I ask you to do so?” She said to her as she closed the wardrobe. She moved close to the door, just behind it. She heard every conversation made between her husband and the armed men. Tears on her eyes and heart beating very fast when she heard the unmerited and barbaric demand of the men. There came another sound. That was the sound that sent her husband straight to the floor and left him unconscious. “The woman will collaborate well with us,” one of the armed men said. They tied Mida’s legs and arms and asked his wife to show them where their money was. “Please, take whatever you want and leave my family alive for me,” she said to them. One of the men forced his way into the bedroom and went straight to the wardrobe. There the money was and their daughter. “How did he know that the money was there?” She asked herself. The young man came out with a suitcase filled with cash and the little girl. “Second line of action,” one of the armed men said. They asked the woman to undress and lie down. She hesitated but her strength could not save her. She was overpowered and the barbaric act was fully done by the four men one after the other. She went through hell and came back during the act. She was there on the floor like a lifeless body with a wrapper covering her from her chest to her knees. Mida regained consciousness and saw how his wife was lying on the floor. He thought she was dead. He wanted to move but discovered that he was tied. He looked at the suitcase that was on the centre table and smiled. “What else do you want?” He asked them. “Don’t talk too much or else you will see the worst happening in your very presence. It was out of respect we did the other one without you seeing it. We are not as bad as you think. You collaborate well with us and there will be many casualties, okay,” One of the men said. The moment Mida saw the undies of his wife close to one of the armchairs, he understood already what the men had done to his wife. In anger, he gave a loud cry and was able to cut the rope on his wrists. The men were just watching him. Her daughter was held by one of the men.”Do you want to fight us?” One of them asked him. “If I do what will happen?” He replied to them. “You want to see what will happen? Okay, watch the worst happening live. We will entertain you well this time,” one of them said. In his presence, his daughter was raped while he was been held by three of them. To conclude their criminal and inhuman act, a knife was pierced through the private part of his wife and they left peacefully, rejoicing over the success of their operation that night. Blood and water made their way down the floor from her injury. 

TIME IS NOTHING BUT AN ILLUSION

Do you think you have all the time in this world to live? No, you don’t. It is nothing but an illusion of the mind. I have seen many who were with me last week but today there are nowhere to be found. I spoke with them in many projects, dreams, aspirations, etc. that they had. But today, there are nowhere to be found, They are in the land of the oblivion.
Do you think you have all the months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, and seconds in the world to spend the way you like? Your answer may be yes, and I will say that you are right. Yes, you are perfectly right. But, I want to tell you that you are perfectly wrong as well. It is nothing but an illusion. Many started the day with me perfectly well. The day before their death, they had already in mind what the will do the next day. Spiritually, academically, professionally, and otherwise, they are better than me. But in less than 24hrs, I found them in the hospital, all in critical condition. A terrible incident happened in the subway station where they were all trapped in the escalator that got broken. A few lost their lives, where some would definitely come out with incomplete body parts from the hospital. None of them knew that that day would be like that for them. We all made plans on how we were going to live that very day before leaving our various houses, but something else happened.

Do you think you have the whole time at your hand? No, it is nothing but an illusion. You only have the present, just a second because, in the next second, you don’t know what may happen to you. Do you know that many woke up with me today, they prayed, left their houses healthy and strong for their various places of work and never returned to their homes? The place I went to see them was in the mortuary. Tears could not bring them back. We planned already how the evening would be when we all must have been through with our daily activities in school and places of work respectively. But a few of us, instead of spending our evening with joy and happiness, with faces filled with smile, we were in the homes of our deceased friends to console and empathise with their families. Our joy was turned into sorrow and our outing was turned into a gathering of mourners.

Do you think that you have the whole time in this world? You only have the second and not even the minute or the hour you are living because you don’t know what will be your fate in the next second. Try to live every single second of your life wisely. Once spent, you will never have it back. It is gone and gone forever. Today may be your last day in this world. Do not say God forbid, for I know that will be what you will say. Nobody prays for that. Nobody prays for death. Mind you, all my friends who lost their lives in the malfunctioned escalator never prayed or wished to die that way. They never thought of what happened. For years the escalator has been working perfectly well, why must it be that very day they were on it that it chooses to malfunction? Can you answer me? If you can, please, do. I will be happy to receive your reply. But if you can’t, then think about it. Today may be your last day on earth. Once you are dead, everything is gone.

Do you think you have all the time on earth? 

WHERE I GREW UP


I was born like every other person in the same world. But we all never grew up in the same way. We all have stories to tell the world. A story can be a tragedy or a comedy. Some may be good to the ears while some may not. But the same ears must listen to them all. Life has not been merciful when I was growing up as a child, not only to me alone but to all those around me whom I called my brother, my sister, my neighbour, and my fellow citizens. I will never be ashamed to tell the world my story because they are part of my life and that has made me who and what I am today.
I grew up in a place where leaders see power and authority like an entitlement. Who knows if they were been taught like that by the colonial masters. Once received, it can never be returned. As the slogan goes, “Power is not given but it is taken by force.” We elected them, we put them there, but at the end of the day, they will abandon us once the power is given to them. Before they got into power, they promised us heaven and earth, they were like brothers, sisters, and parents to us. They would condemn everything the present government was doing, using any means to prove to us that they would be the best once elected. And once elected, they would forget those who placed them there. We became a stranger, a nuisance, distraction, and even an enemy to them. Where have we offended them?
I grew up in a place where two people are fighting for the good of their citizens. It looks real and makes sense right? But the irony here is that if they are fighting for the good of the people, why are they killing the same people they are fighting for? How can you be killing the persons you said you want their good? How possible is that? When you asked both parties; “Why are you fighting?” The answer you will get will be the same; “We are fighting to for the freedom of the people.” Which people? The ones you are killing or the once you sent overseas for protection? Then should not the fight be between you and the opposition? Why are you using the citizens as your prey? It is indeed an irony. If it is a foreigner doing this to me, I will understand. But it is you, my own brother, sister, and fellow citizens. 
I grew up in a place where leaders will refuse to quit their posts of authority even when those who elected said they should. They like to remain in power until death. But that was not the agreement. That was not what the law said. You are in power and the people you are ruling are dying in hunger, pain, misery and negligence. The forces who are supposed to protect the citizens have turned against them and are now killing them. They offer protection to you and to you alone. You gave them ammunition to protect you and your family alone if at all your family is still in under your jurisdiction and ask them to handle the citizens the way they deserve. Your urge to remain in power for years has wasted lives and properties. Parts of human beings now litter the streets like dry leaves from trees in autumn. The aroma from dead bodies is the only fragrance we can now perceive. The songs of war are the only song our soul is adapted to. Each day that passed, a cry of mourning, lamentation and agony would be heard. 
My joy in all this is that I grew up in a place where there was once peace, harmony, love, and understanding until…..



DO I REALLY LOVE YOU AFRICA?

I imagine the kind of family I grew up from. Sometimes I asked myself if I was educated. And if yes, who educated me? What kind of brain do I have? What kind of thinking faculty do I have? If at all, I saw the four walls of higher institution, what did I learn from there? I wonder the kind of transformation that has taken place in my life. I wonder what has come over me. When I traveled to visit my neighbours, I admire the kind of infrastructures they are having. I praise them. I cherished them. I wish my people could be like them. Before leaving I would give them part of my resources to continue developing their lands while my own people perish in pain, hunger, joblessness, lack of infrastructure, and the like. They thanked me and called me, “The Wise Man.” Shame on me. It was only an ironical statement they made. I am a fool, a fool at 40.

Once I entered my own country, I put on that machine mind, the naive mentality, the wicked and devilish spirit. I start to see things in the same way just like before. The memories of my neighbour’s places would vanish like flash of light. I am happy that my people are suffering, dying in pain, killing themselves in unseless wars and fighting for no just cause. I am happy with my neighbour’s humanitarian service and charity, all disguised in the name of helping my people. How foolish and devilish I am. I have food but my people are dying of hunger. I have water but my people are dying of thirst. I have all it takes to make my people far greater than my neighbours but I categorically refused to reason it right. My neighbours make weapons and give them to me to give to my own people as if they were birthday presents. As long as we kill ourselves, their businesses progress. As long as we continue to fight, the humanitarian service and charity would continue to flourish. I am not against charity or humanitarian service of any kind. What I am against is creating an avenue to execute them or exhibit them to the detriment of the other persons.

When will I rise from my fallen ground? When will I wake up from my slumber? When will I have a mind of flesh instead of a mind of a machine? When will I start making use of my common senses? I have failed to look left and right, back and front, to see if there is hope to reverse the situation. In all these, my neighbours are still happy with me and even promised to do more for me if I continue in the same plan and method of ruling. 😥😥😥😥

Do I love you Africa?

MESSAGE TO ANGRY WOMEN

There is a strong unity between what we do think and what we do. No action comes out without it not passing through the form of a thought. The opposite happens when these thoughts have become part of us that sometimes we carry them out without thinking. Another name for this is called reflex action.

For many times, I have been called to settle some issues between her and her madam. They used to complain that she was very stubborn and arrogant. Just a little mistake all her good deeds would be forgotten. When you see the marks on her body, you needed no know to tell you what she must have been passing through. Anything the madam found within her reach would be thrown at her whenever she got angry. As if I knew it would happen. I have cautioned her severally to mind the way she used to punish her and throw any nearest available object to her, all in the name of punishment done out of anger. But she gave deaf hear to my words. I saw it as a domestic violence but I was misunderstood.

One fateful morning, my phone rang. And who was calling? It was Uluoma’s mother. “I am finished, ” she said to me and hung up the phone. I tried calling but to no avail. Fifteen minutes later, I received a message from an unknown number that Uluoma was dead. I gazed at the message, tried reading it for the second time. Lo and behold, it was correct. There was no grammatical error in the simple sentence and I knew who Oluoma was. During the funeral, I couldn’t withheld my tears. This was a girl whom I loved so much. She used to work like a machine. Even machines sometimes undergo ware and breakdown, and are be maintained. But her story was different. She was the slave and messenger of every creatures in the house both small and great. She could be cooking, washing, sweeping, and cleaning all at the same time, while queens, princes and princesses would sit down comfortably in the parlour and bedroom entertaining themselves. Poverty led to all these some said. But I totally disagreed with them. “Edu nwam, see what life has done to me,” Uluoma’s mother said to me as I watched how Uluoma’s mistress or the so-called madam was greeting one of the mourners. “Why must it be a knife? Didn’t she know that she was holding a knife? Look for a cane and flog her as usual, and she will not repeat it again. But knife was the only thing she saw. Agnes you have killed not only my daughter but also her mother.” These were her words as she laid beside her daughter’s corps.

It was nothing but a reflex action. She never knew that what she was holding was a knife, and she threw it on her. The innocent knife landed on her stomach with it its sharp and pointed head. Before she could come back to her senses, a lifeless body was already on the floor of the kitchen in a pool of blood. Rest in peace Oluoma. Hope to see you someday, where we will depart no more. I love you.

THE FRACTURED HUMANITY AND ITS PAIN

Every human person has something to offer to humanity in one way or the other, in order to make the world a better place for all. This invariably implies that your action can influence your life and the lives of others around you either positively or negatively. We all cherish happiness, wanting to help one another and to love one another. This has been the true human nature from time immemorial. When I look at the injustice going on in our world today, the words of Charlie Chaplin strike me with passion, inflicting on me the wound of longing and eagerness to have a human mind; a mind that can extend a helping hand to the other, a mind whose happiness depends on the happiness of others. We don’t need to go the extra mile of defining what justice is since every culture has its own definition for the word “JUSTICE.”   

The world has been fractured to the extent that people now live in fear and in total confusion. People are afraid of what the future holds for them because of their shattered hope. Common resources and individual’s rights have been privatised by some persons, leaving others to die of deprivation and starvation.  A child born in one part of the same world cannot understand why a child in the other part can’t afford a three square meal a day, can’t comprehend how the other child can live in an environment without electricity or water or basic necessities for days, months, or years and he or she is comfortable. The same child can’t believe that the other child can’t afford to go to school because some persons don’t care about his or her well being. It seems like a mystery to him or her, but it is a reality in the world of the other child.  It is funny indeed. This child has turned his or her sorrow, misery, pain, agony, etc from something abnormal into something normal and lives with them each day.

According to Charlie, “Our world is been ruled by EMPERORS who want to conquer everyone; Jews, Gentiles, Black, and Whites. These emperors have barricaded our world with HATRED. They make their gains, profits, wealth, joy, and happiness at the detriment of others. They have blindfolded themselves from the reality that the mother earth is rich enough to provide room for everyone.” Every blessed day, we see people losing their lives in wars they never asked or bargained for. The business keeps going on, and the emperors are doing everything possible to keep the business flourishing. Their business can only progress in a fractured or broken society and never in a stable and peaceful one. Many countries, especially in Africa have been victims of this so-called business.

My dear people of Iraq, till when will our land stop drinking the blood of innocent lives been killed every blessed day? We were all one until antipathy and greed came in-between us and divided us, giving us a mind of stone and not that of flesh, a machine mind and not a human mind. Why are we fighting? For how long will this continue? Are we fighting just to keep the business of the emperors flourishing or are we fighting because we like fighting? Are we fighting because we want freedom? If we need freedom, then we can’t be killing our brothers and sisters. It makes no meaning because our fight should be for their good and not to their detriment. How can we explain this to the younger ones who still don’t have that sense of reasoning like an adult? Which answer do we have to give to them if they should ask us why we are fighting? If we tell them that we are fighting for freedom, the question will still be, “Do you have to kill our brothers and sisters in order to gain freedom? What kind of freedom is that? I think till now we have not found the right answer to give to them.  Definitely, they will hold us responsible.

My beloved people of Syria, whenever I think of you, I feel like committing suicide. I weep day and night in pain and agony. I feel like begging the heavens to rain down peace for you. I feel like possessing a magical power that can automatically transform your sorrow into joy, your pain into pleasure, your misery into contentment, and your emptiness into fullness. We fight as if fighting has become our daily bread. The news headlines on international journals can’t terminate their works without having our name written on it as a country in a terrible situation just because of war. We fight but we don’t really know why we are fighting because till now, no reason has justified the WHY of our fighting. Look at the number of persons; our own blood we have displaced and sent unprepared to a different part of the world as immigrants. Pain, misery, hunger, thirst, and agony have become the daily bread of our people. The emperors are happy that we are fighting, and we are so plunged in it that we fail to recognise the harm we are inflicting on ourselves. Damascus, you were not made to be so. As Chaplin said, “We need humanity, not machinery, and kindness not cleverness. Without these two elements, life will be nothing.” Before, we could play and swim in water, but now, water has become like gold us, a precious gift that people can no longer get even to quench their thirst. Our hope has been shattered. Our so-called helpers have abandoned us and their only concern is how to sell more of their machines to us so that we continue the killing and fighting.  

My precious people of Yemen, we were once living in peace, not hating or despising one another, until the heart of our people were poisoned by acquisitiveness. The BARBARIANS were not contented with our happiness despite our nothingness. And the only way they can conquer us is to plant the seed of war in us. They did, and the seed is growing perfectly well because it found a fertile land in us. That moment we allowed their seed to grow in our heart, we sold our liberty to them and bought slavery in return. We can no longer look at one another and smile as before. Our joy has become a thing of the past. My precious people of Yemen, our oppressors are free, delighted, and relaxed. But we are in slavery. For how long will this continue?  

My people of Cameroun, Libya, Sudan, Somalia, Afghanistan, and Congo, I hold you at high esteem, where have we gone wrong? According to Charlie, “Knowledge has made men cynical. The present system of government has made man to torture and imprison many of us. The misery, fight, and wars in us were the product of greed, bitterness, and hatred of men who are fighting against human happiness.” We longed for independence, thinking that getting it will go a long way to solve many of our problems. But it was the contrary. The monsters were so wise that when the servant came asking for land to cultivate and to possess it as his own, they gave him land to plough without giving him seeds for the sowing so that he will come begging for it. Every form of imperialism has given rise to a new hybrid called “NEO.” They called it DEMOCRACY. But is it really democracy? It is not. Instead of it uniting us, it is dividing us. They said our leaders are dictators while in the real sense they are the Lords of dictators. They said our leaders are enslaving us. But if we go down to the root of the problem, we will see that they are the ones who laid the foundation of slavery.

You will never understand what it means to live in a war zone and to be born and brought up in a war zone. Look at the little child, crying and weeping day and night because since he was born, he or she is always on the move, from one desert to another. Many mothers will see their sons and daughters dying on their hands. What a painful exit and experience. Many people walk in the desert for weeks, days, and months without food and water. Their homes are no longer fit and comfortable to house and shelter them. Both old and young are dying of malnutrition. And even when aids are coming, some persons will even place an embargo on them. But weapons keep entry our land day and night without hesitation and embargo. Who is really doing this to us? They are the monsters, the barbarians, the emperors, the brutes.

Every country in our world has experienced war in one form or the other. But then, we may say that it was a collective fight for true freedom and liberation, and many countries then regained their freedom and are living in peace to a large extent. But in this present age, the war is not a totally collective one. It is a war to impoverish the other. It is a war to make the oppressed people feel the power of their oppressors. It is a war that has become a business for many so as to exploit the other. The emperors have decided to sow the seed of hatred among nations so as to make their affairs progress. They hate simply because they are unloved and maybe unnatural. Millions go without food, water, electricity, clothes, etc.  None of us made a prior choice where he or she will be born. We never made that choice, nature made the choice for us. He or she has never chosen to be born in either in Yemen, Congo, Sudan, Somalia, or in Syria.

Today one of the biggest issues facing some European countries is the problem of immigrants. Every foreigner is an immigrant once he or she is living out of his or her country for the quest for a better life and a good working environment. But there are migrants and immigrants. Immigrants are escaping for their dear lives. They are running away from war. I so much like the way the game is unfolding itself. Many will say the oppressed people are not reasonable. How can they just accept to be killing themselves through the command of a higher power? Are they kids? They are not. But these are men who have sold their mind to the emperors and in return, the emperors gave them a machine mind.

SAY NO TO INJUSTICE AND ADVOCATE FOR JUSTICE.

AS LONG AS MEN DIE, LIBERTY LIVES ON!!!!

THEY ARE IMMIGRANTS

Many came not because of war or hunger but for a quest for greener a pasture. The issue is on its peak now and the whole world is talking about it. Every day new stories and adventures from adventurers who thought making it in life will only be here in Europe or in the western world. We can’t deny the fact that back home there are many things that have been left undone. The blame is shared both to the government and the citizens. But there are people still surviving and making it. Though it might look like survival of the fittest, but even in Europe, the life isn’t an easy one, not denying the fact that there are ample opportunity for one to scale through in life.

It was actually a coincidence and I never knew it was one of the main subjects of the day in the parliament. On normal occasions, I usually do my shopping twice a week, never allowing my basic needs like comestics and toiletries to be totally exhausted before replacing them. My shopping is done mostly at Termini Roma, in some of the Lebanese and Indian shops. School activities were becoming hectic as each day passes, and there was no time to go for shopping. Many times I have programmed myself to go for shopping immediately after lectures, only for me to remember when I am ready on my bed at night. Finally a day came. After a seminar in school, I decided to go for it. While on the train, I kept myself busy with a novel titled “Americanah” by Chimamanda. Where I was sitting, there were two other persons with an empty seat since the seats are four per roll. The empty seat was between the two other persons and I. A young woman came in, looked at me with an angry face, then looked at the empty seat and left. I was not surprised because it wasn’t the first time. But what was peculiar about it was the look. At another stop, passengers came in. A woman with her son were standing close to me. Her son made himself comfortable on the seat close to me but her mother ordered him to stand up. The little boy was angry, telling his mother that he would like to seat down. The mother never said anything. As the child insisted, she took him and changed their position. I took a good look to myself. “May be I forgot to shower that day. Or I forgot to brush my teeth before leaving my house. Or my clothes are so dirty that the odour oozing out from them was making others uncomfortable. ” These where the thoughts going on in my mind. But since the other two sitting beside me were still there, I was consoled a bit, convincing myself that my thoughts were all wrong. I was so absorbed in all the scenario that occurred at that moment that I didn’t know when I arrived at Termini station. I only realised that I was three stops ahead of my final stop Cornelia. The urge of changing platform wasn’t there. I decided to continue.

Alighting from the train, I decided to do the shopping in a shop close to my house where I usually buy bottled water. From the train station outside, I usually take a bus home. Still thinking about what happened inside the train, another scene unfolded itself again. I sat, and close to my seat, there was an empty seat. The bus was filled with passengers and nobody wanted to make use of the empty seat beside me. Someone came in, an aged man with a staff in his hand, which showed that he would definitely need a seat. I politely welcomed him to make use of the seat. He refused with a smile. Only for him to accept a seat someone offered him just behind me. I was perplexed. “May be I gave her the wrong seat,” I told myself. In the buses, there are seats meant for aged people. These seat are usually low in height, totally different from other seats in the bus that are high. I was totally confused. I looked behind when I was alighting, only for me to notice that the seat he was sitting on was like mine and not the ones meant for aged persons. “Why are people standing while there was an empty seat beside me? But why today both young and old all decided to stand while there is an empty seat bedside me? ” I asked myself. It was as if they planned to trouble me that very day. It was difficult for me to understand.

I arrived at the shop, picked one of the shopping baskets and started getting the items I needed. Later, I joined the queue, waiting for my turn at the cash desk. It got to my turn, the cashier, a young, slim lady of an average height greeted me, “Salve.” I replied to her greeting with a forced smile. It is a normal thing here for people to smile especially when they come in contact with other people. A smile which disappears immediately in a twinkle of eye. I love them for these. They always put on a smiling face when addressing words to others. My bill was 89.55€. I brought out a clean bank note of 200€ from my wallet and gave her. The kind of look I received from her was a suspicious one. She took the cash from the counter, looked at it critically and looked at me again. I was only smiling. Already fed up with the incidents on the train and bus, this one could be controlled with a smile. Deep inside me, I was angry. She passed it through the counterfeit detector machine. The check was okay. She repeated it for the second time, it was okay. Not convinced of what she did, she took the cash to her colleague on the other counter. Her colleague did the same thing twice and it was okay. She came back and rechecked my bill for the second time as if she was a bit disturbed or afraid of something. Meanwhile, as all this was going on, people were on the queue waiting patiently. A few persons who were unable to tolerate the view of the drama going on, decided to go to other cash desks.

While I was eating that very day, I turned the TV on. Lo and behold it was a discussion in the parliament about immigration. It was one of the main issues on their list for that day in the parliament. I thought it might be the reason why I encountered those incidents. But was it a crime been an immigrant? May be they all believe that we are immigrants. I don’t think we are. Many came not because they had been chased by wars and hunger but by the quest for choice and greener pastures which we all desire to have in life as human beings.

YOUR FREEDOM IS IN YOUR HANDS

“You protect our interest and we protect your power,” Don said, smiling with the cigarette well positioned between his second and third fingers. “It is not a big deal, as long as my power is protected, ” Cury said. The game had to be played in a way that both parties would benefit from it.

There are weapons to be sold from one side and resources to be exploited in return. The country was in peace and things were moving smoothly. But there were weapons and other ammunition needed to be liquidated, Don was eager to increase production. The weapons must be used, they must be sold. One of the persons Don had in mind was Cury. “In a year, your tenure will be over. And your people are not ready to make you their leader for the second time, ” Don said to Cury. “It is very obvious that such will happen from the look of things around. There must be a way out but I don’t want blood to be shed,” Cury replied him. “But remember, we agreed to protect your power while you protect our interest. As long as you want to remain in power, I will do everything to make it possible. Cury, this is business.” There was silence. Cury who had tasted power desired to remain in it. “Just a little distraction and you will have your way Cury. ”

Few months to the election, there was a war in the country due to an unjust political maneuver that was done by some prominent political leaders. The country was divided into three groups. Weapons had their proper place during that period. Don was able to accomplish his plan on the weapon deal. Many lives were lost and Cury unjustly won the election.

“The casualties are much. I never knew it will get to this extent. And the war is still going on, ” Cury said to Don at his first visit to him after his victory. “You don’t need to worry yourself Cury. For you to remain in power in order to meet your part of the deal, your people must be distracted by something.” “Not to the detriment of their lives. It is really disastrous,” Cury said. “Haha! Disastrous you said. War has always been disastrous. Just like a snake will always bite you even as you try to save it from danger, so do lives have to be taken when there is war. If it is not disastrous then it will not be called war.” You protect our interest and we protect your power and your government.” “Yes you are right Don, but there can still be an alternative way, ” Cury said to him. “There are many of them like the one going on. For now, this is the highest distraction that is needed to shift your people’s attention. There is no going back. The deal has been sealed. Any compromise will be disastrous for you. I know you now know the meaning of disaster when war is evoked,” Don replied to him. “But when will all these wars stop? Till the very day, your people decide to free themselves, including the master himself.”

STORY BY: KEVIN

GOD WHY?

Permit to say what I think is right. If they have us in mind and really see us as the leaders of tomorrow, how could they be doing this to us? A complete semester has been fully spent at home, with no hope when it will end. It will be an understatement to say that the situation is shameful. These are people that we voted to represent you in the government. If their salary was held for a day, the whole world will hear and a solution will be ready at the next doorstep.

Do you still believe they have us in mind? How much will it cost them to bring things in order? I am sorry, you never chose to be born a Nigerian or did you chose your parents to be from Nigeria. It shall be well so they say but till when. What do you think will be the solution to this strike? Oh my God, why?

THEY ARE NOT

Enough is enough. Who told you that? From where did you learn that from? Were you brought up in that culture where the last and least thing you can see around you is a woman? Who told you that they are weak? Why do you see them as something you can just use and dump?

It is high time you changed such naive mentality. Don’t see them as a sex machine or a factory for making children where you are only interested in what lies in-between their legs. They can do things more valuable that.

I am against the notion or believe that they are the weaker sex. Though they may be the most vulnerable in our society for some reasons that are beyond their control, that should never be the reason why you should treat them anyway and anyhow you want. They should be respected and be given all the rights they deserved.

From my own experience in life, I think men are the weaker sex and not women, though not in a negative sense before you quote me wrong. If you want to know why it is so, you just take a good and critical look at the life of your mother. Try to imagine what your mother went from the day of your conception to the day you were born. Think of all the care, tolerance and love she showed you and still showing you if she is still alive, if not (may her gentle so rest in peace). The pain, the sorrow, the sleepless night, the empty stomach she carried on your behalf, the inner fight of many problems, and shame she went through just to make you useful in life. No matter how small it may be, women deserve to be respected.

Many will say, some women don’t respect themselves and are irresponsible. You as a man can make them responsible instead of making use of their vulnerable state for your own good and to their own detriment.

Show them respect and never see them as the weaker sex.

THERE IS HOPE

Scene 1

“How I wish I can see other means to raise fund for him,” he said while he laid on a bed thinking about his son’s academic pursuit. James father Ibori was a man of integrity and hardworking. A man who was abandoned by his fellow brothers out of hatred. Ibori had three brothers who were very healthy but none of them had a male son. For this reason, his brothers developed a strong hatred towards him as if he was the giver of male children to humanity.

James was the only son of his parents together with his two younger sisters. They lived in the eastern part of Nigeria. His parents were involved in petty business in a small market located three kilometres away from their home. The market days were usually three times a week. From the little earning they used to make from the sale of their wares, they were able to cater for their feeding and other basic needs. It could be said that it was out of the luck that James was able to finish his Junior Secondary School. The struggle was not really an easy one for his parents. James’ uncles were wealthy enough to assist him financially for his academic pursuit but they were reluctant to do so.

In many occasions, he had asked his father the reason why his uncles were acting that way to him as their brother, but his father had always told him that when they were ready to help they would assist them.  This reason was not convincing to him, he knew his father was hiding the truth from him until one day when one of his cousins openly told him the truth while they were playing. “You thought my dad was not willing to help your dad?” James’ cousin told him. “Well to me, it was a strange phenomenon. My dad kept on telling us that when your father will be ready, he will definitely do something,” he replied to her. She continued: “The hostility between the two families is the issue of a male child. You were the only male child we had in our immediate extended family. To that effect, my parents are not happy about it.” James gave a deep breath as she finished and left her sorrowfully.

The evening of that same day during supper, James took up the courage to ask his father what was actually the problem between him and his brothers. He only wanted to confirmed what he was told by his cousin. “Father please, did you have any unpleasant  experience in the past with your brothers for them acting they have been acting towards you especially when it comes to financial issues?” He asked with a tremulous voice. “My son, how many times will I tell you that I have nothing against my brothers, your uncles? Can you force your fellow man to help you when he is not in willing to do so? You see sometimes in life as a man, you have to work for your salvation because depending on others, they will fail you at the moment you least expected,” he said. His wife looked at him through the corner of her eyes with a facial expression telling him that she was not happy with his response to their son. After the meal, the girls tidied the place and put everything in order.

James parents’ consolations were from their children. Their children were so blessed intellectually and character-wise by nature to the extent that some of their neighbours envied them a lot. However, their major challenge was the financial demand of their children’s education.

In the quest of getting a better job, James’s father later found one in a metal recycling company. The work was hectic and dangerous. Due to unavailability of safety devices, his father sometimes used to return home with injuries on his hands. After dinner, his mother used to massage his father’s hands with hot water and after that, she would apply some local balm to help relieve him from pain. This was what the young man was doing until he was able to raise a reasonable amount of money for James.

It has been the desire of his parents to see that all their children were educated no matter what it would cost them. His father was determined to go to any length to make it a reality. His mother continued with the petty business while his father continued to work hard and at the end of the day, all their earning would be put together and used for the good of the family.

After they had passed through the financial stress of James’ secondary school, it was now time for him to register for the national exams into university. There came another major challenge: how to get the fund for registration and enrolment for a preparatory class for the entrance exam. After all efforts made by his parents to raise the fund so as to meet up with the date for registration, nothing reasonable was realised or achieved. His parents had to make recourse to some neighbours who could lend them money. One morning, James’ father went to see one of his good friends who was living 15km kilometres away from them.

“My good friend welcome. I hope all is well,” he said to Ibori. “A toad does not run in the daytime for nothing, either something is chasing it or it is chasing something,” replied Ibori. They both sat in front of a bottle of dry gin and small glass cups. “Can we take some drink before we start our discussion? He asked Ibori. “ Oh! Why not? That will even open our mind and bring out good ideas and suggestions in view of proving a tangible solution to my problem,” Ibori said. The two small glass cups were half filled with the gin and they both sipped the entire content in a twinkle of an eye with frowning faces. “Okay! Why this sudden visit?” He asked Ibori. “Well as I earlier said, something important and pertinent has brought me to your house. I came to ask you for some money so that I can register my son James for the national exam into the university. I have to be sincere with you, I will be paying you in parts till I finish my debt,” said Ibori. “But your brothers are really heartless. So just because they are not having a male child, they cannot in any way assist you financially? Our world is filled with mysteries and strange people. There is no cause for alarm. What are we friends for? But how much can be enough for you?” He said. “My good friend what you said is true. I will not be tempted to take what I will not be able to pay at the end of the day. I will need at least fifteen thousand naira,” he replied to him. His friend immediately stood up, went inside and came out with a bundle of cash and handed it to him. “Please, can you count it to know if it is complete, sometimes one can make mistake and at the end of the day the lender will end up blaming the borrower,” he said to Ibori. Ibori counted it and it was sixteen thousand naira. “Are you sure? Please can you count it again?” he asked him. Ibori counted if for the second time. But this time, he counted sixteen thousand five hundred naira. “You see what I was telling you. You did well by counting it,” he said to Ibori. Ibori extending his hand to give him back the one thousand naira note that was extra, his friend said, “That can serve you to buy a bottle of gin to keep body and soul together. He thanked him very well and took his leave.

WHERE AM I?

WHERE AM I? 

PART ONE

It has always been the prayer of many students all over the world that the inventor of examination is schools should be killed for the second time. It is something that usually makes some students get tensed up, emotionally agitated, and the like. After all these disturbances to the body system, nature has its way to compensate the body for all the inconveniences caused by examination stress.

It was neither the time nor the second time that Peter has been dreaming to ace his examination in one of his courses that has been giving him nightmares for months but all his efforts were unproductive. Despite all the materials he had to study and prepare well for it, he seemed not yet satisfied because to him something was lacking somewhere. He collected other study materials from his colleagues to add to the ones he was having, all in view of making the best out of them all.

He has two weeks to prepare again for the same exam and that might be his last chance for the examination for that semester. Failing it this time would mean that he had to wait for the next academic year before he could be allowed to sit for the exam again. This time around, body and soul were at work. He had to cancel all extracurricular activities in order to prepare assiduously for it. 

A whole week came and gone, Peter kept burning the candle at both ends trying to hit the books. The only thing that used to take him outside was just for him to take some fresh air and to stretch out his body even though it was during the winter period. The way things were going, he was satisfied and from all indications, it was obvious that he would make it this time around both in the written and oral parts. Three days before the examination, he gave me a call to come and pay him a visit. When I came to his apartment, books, and pieces of papers littered everywhere. I was unable to find a place to sit down. The surface of every object in his house was turned into a bookshelf. I tried to create a space so that I could find somewhere to sit but he humbly stopped me saying that I would mix things up for him. Finally, he created a place for me just opposite the headboard slat of his bed. He brought two cups of tea and a piece of cake. While we were doing justice to the tea and cake, he narrated to me his experience of the past week, how he has been preparing for his examination. Passing the written part would be your ticket for the oral part. Peter requested for a simulation oral test. I accepted and started asking him questions from his inorganic chemistry textbook. Oh my God! I was so impressed the way he was answering all the questions with detailed explanation despite the randomness pattern of the questions. It showed that he had a good mastery of the course now. “Guy, nothing on earth will make you not to pass this course this time. Even the devil cannot stop you this time,” I told him when we were about to go for another round of the simulation test. The second round was better than the first. After we finished, we chatted a bit and I took my leave.

The penultimate day to the examination, Peter worked all through the day and never had any rest. He was greatly determined to pass the exam without unnecessary mistakes. He burnt the midnight oil. At 4am the next day, he was already exhausted and decided to rest a bit on his bed after creating space where his body can fit in, with the intention of waking up as soon as possible to prepare for the great event.

He found himself in the exam hall, sitting with other students. Attendance sheet was signed and the exam started only for him to discover that he was not with his written materials. A Good Samaritan sitting next to him came to his rescue. He was so focused that while some students were busy complaining about the bad nature of some of the heaters in the classroom, his mind was somewhere else. The cold in the classroom was not giving him any concern. He was able to answer all the questions correctly and even demanded an extra sheet to finish up. He was almost the last person candidate to leave the hall. Coming out from the hall, he felt an intense urge to urinate. He rushed to the restroom, only for him to find himself waking up like one chased by a fierce animal in a dream, and made his way straight to his bathroom. “Oh my God, where am I,” he asked himself. Out of impatience to finish urinating, he ran to his desk to check his alarm clock with some drops of urine dripping down the floor. “What!” He shouted. It was already 10:15am.

The exam was scheduled to begin at 9am as usual. He was thrown into total confusion. All balled up, he headed for his wardrobe to take his dresses but its door was not opening as fast as he wanted. Just beside him was his desk chair. On it was a pair of trousers on the headrest and a shirt on the armrest.  He went for them as fast as he could. Immediately, his phone rang. He never cared about it and went for his shoes. Picking up his phone later, he saw twenty-five missed calls. I did call him forty-five minutes before the exam started but he did not pick my call. I thought he was already in the examination hall and never wanted any disturbance. I sent him an SMS, wishing him the best of luck. I never knew that at that point in time, my friend Peter was deep as sleep like a rock.

He quickly locked his door and went for the lift since he was on the fifth floor. The lift was occupied. He headed for the steps like someone been chased by death and was running for his or her dear life. Getting to the bus stop, he waited for a bus for about twenty minutes. Finally, the right bus came. Getting to the subway train station, he received another phone call from one of his colleagues by name Lorenzo. He touched the answering button without saying a word as he walked down the steps. “Peter where are you? What happened?” Lorenzo asked him.

“I am confused man. I can’t explain what happened to me,” he replied.

“It was already time and you were not in the exam hall. We tried calling you but you were not picking,” he said.

“I am already on my way now,” Peter replied. “Where are you now? Lorenzo asked him.

“I am at the subway now, waiting for the next train,” Peter retorted.

“Man, you cannot make it. You know already how long it will take you from there to the university. The exam is already over. It is almost ten past eleven o’clock. You know well that her exam used to last for only two hours,” Lorenzo said.

It was then that Peter came to his full senses and had a clear picture of his state. “Yeah, it is too late,” he said to himself. He dropped the call and went back home sad and depressed.

THE END

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.

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.