Posted in Let's Talk

It is Not All About You

“I can’t believe this oh Muyiwa” Timileyin started her rant. I sighed and took a deep breath.

“Please Timi, I have a headache” I was still shaking and needed to sit down.

“Oh, now you have headache abi?” she bellowed down at me. “Now when we are talking about another girl you have headache. Between yesterday night and today, they have come to cook, clean and form girlfriend and you let them, but no, you have headache” she rolled her eyes as she paced in the kitchen.

No, not today, I said to myself as I forced myself to stand up and headed to my room. I had typhoid and a migraine that was making me dizzy. I didn’t have the strength for this. Gbodi had told me this my gentle nature would be the end of me.

“We are talking and you are walking away Muyiwa, seriously?” Timileyin barked at me as she followed. I reached my drawer and brought out the ibex capsule. I squeezed his hands in anger and turned to face her.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I shouted. I hated swearing or cussing in front of a lady, worse my girlfriend but I had had enough.

“Timi What are you upset about?” I asked. “Is it the fact that I am sick and you as my girlfriend didn’t think it wise to prepare something nice and bring over knowing I would be too weak to cook for myself or the fact that there was someone else who thought so and I appreciated her for it”.

She looked like she was having a hard time deciding which it was.

“Or is it such a surprise that I even have other girls that care enough for me but have no intention towards me? Is it so difficult t believe?” I asked her as she stood looking dazed.

Never, not once; have I ever raised my voice at her. She didn’t know how to react.

“But why will Ronke cook for you? Your ex fa?” she looked hurt but I was too angry to care.

“Why will she not cook for me?” I quickly cut her short, “what is the big deal? Some people care regardless of the past, they will not buy lunch for themselves and come to my house to come and eat not considering me”.

“But baby you said you were not hungry now” she replied defensively.

“Really? First I told you I had not eaten , then I told you I was not hungry, and I am ill and need to take drugs” I decided to paint the picture for her “but Muyiwa said he wasn’t hungry so you now you are not obligated to care now”.

The sarcasm was in full force now.

“How many times do I beg you to take your drugs when you are sick, I pet you till you eat, but I am ill and you can’t atleast show some care?”

“Baby . . . .” she looked remorseful but I wasn’t buying it.

“See just go back to the office, you have work after all. I will be fine” I said going back to my bedside.

“But . . .” she started.

“I am too tired to fight today. I’ll be fine” I took the bottle of water and took the drugs. I got on my bed and lay down.


………         ………         ………

Hmmmm, people and their issues. Was Muyiwa in the right? Was Timileyin in the right? Guys kindly share this post with your friends and drop your thoughts. My friends and I have been deliberating on this topic ever since I brought it up. Thanks again for reading.



Posted in Let's Talk

Balancing Your Passion & Reality

It wasn’t till my fourth year in the university that I understood what Mechanical Engineering was all about and started enjoying it. It took me four years before I found purpose in what I was studying and even then I still wasn’t sure if it was going to be enough. Before then all I wanted to do was study and graduate with good grades in a professional course. A Professional course according to my dad was a course that had way better opportunities (medical doctors, lawyers, engineers . . . you get my drift).

I was blessed with a sharp mind right from a tender age. I didn’t need to study hard to pass exams and when I did study, I aced my papers. But university was a different ball game. Everything changed in my third year when I had my first carryover (a student’s way of saying you failed a course). I had never had to retake any course before, I had got bad grades before but never low enough to have to resit the exam.

It was a tough blow, a bitter pill to swallow. It should have been a bit consoling as my group of friends and a portion of the class had also fail but my third year was actually my most focused year. I read hard, I attended lectures and submitted all assignments, so it made no sense whatsoever. It was a bruise to my ego, a dent to my record and that was when I started to question everything.

Why was I studying a course I didn’t really understand?

Was I doing it just to please my father??

How the hell do I get out of all this???

Do I have to start all over again????

The questions just came coming. It took 6 months in an industrial plant to change my perception about me , not just my course of study but ME. I realized I loved to work outdoors, I was curious about how machinery worked, I enjoyed working in teams. I started to fix the puzzle together and I realized that I had no problem with Mechanical Engineering, all I needed was to connect something real to all the theories in class. It ws like opening a door I didn’t even notice was there.

Now is Mechanical Engineering my passion? My dream career? Let’s not rush. After school I served and oh did I love it. I was posted to a village and it was both fulfilling and a joy to give hope to people who had so little belief in their ability to be something more that what their immediate environment offered them just but teaching. Service year ended and I got into network marketing and damn did I have fun. Did someone ask how will he ever connect the all three? Errrrm . . . I’m coming. Know that I made money, I lost money,  but most importantly I learnt lessons and I gained experiences. And now, because of these experiences I have an idea of what I want to do with my life and I am working towards it daily. I am not throwing Mechanical Engineering away, niether will I give up teaching but whose says I can’t add Project management to the mix, or motivational speaking.

“Why is this dude bickering?” you might ask. I know I would. Well I am trying to say I don’t think there is a fine line between what your passion is and how reality comes at you. If you have it all figured out and you are living your dream, thumb up to you, when I grow up I want to be like you lol. . . BUT if you are still figuring it out please and please don’t stop. Do not let your passion and dream blind you to what is happening in reality but do not be so occupied with the reality of life as not to follow what makes you happy.

It maybe what you do for a living and that would be great. But it may be something off such as cooking, grilling, writing, motivational talks, acting, drawing, singing, something not relating to what you went to school for or what you do for a living. Find time and pursue it.

Someone once said to me, find what you love doing, invest in it, bless others with it and watch how with the proper tools, it will bring you more than you bargained for.

. . . . . abi how una see am? Will look forward to your thoughts in the comments section. Stay safe people

Posted in Let's Talk

What Is It?

Every heard one of that story where an old lady differentiates between the older generation and ours? How the old woman tells her granddaughter that the difference is “we where taught that when something gets broken, you try to fix it instead of throwing it away”.
That story hit home a few days back when I stumbled upon a tweet. Trust me to get creative with it.

Mr. Bako turned to us from the chalk board and smiled.

“So how did it go?” He asked.

Almost immediately the class went rowdy as everyone wanted to be heard first. Mr. Bako smiled. He was a smallish man in his mid thirties, dark, quiet, stern (I wouldn’t like to call him strict, he was way too cool). He let us enjoy our excitement for a while then raised a hand. in less than ten seconds the class went silent. It always amazed me how he could do that. We where is SS3. Top of the Secondary school food chain, teenagers with crazy hormones and a nack for challenging authority. but for Mr. Bako, we behaved. I think we really, truly respected him because fear didn’t work on us. Oops, I am going off.

We raised our hands excitedly. his charming smile came on again.

“Yes, Abraham”. I smiled and stood up.

“Sir, I still stand on my ground. Love is a feeling” I said boldly. He nodded. almost immediately Joyce shot back.

“No sir, I disagree, it is a choice”. She had her yes fixed on me as she said it. I think I even saw a slight wink. I was forced to smile.

This topic had come up at the end in our last Economics class. Oh you thought Mr. Bako was like a school counselor? Nope, he is our Economics teacher and after class, lets say he is our teenage-guidance-support-system. Everybody attends his classes.

“Ooooh, I see some tension here” Mr. Bako said teasing, the class filled with teenage giggles.

“How many agree with Abraham?” I sat at the back and had a good view of the class, I was glad to see a lot of people raised their hands.

“And is it fair to say the rest supports Joyce?” there was a small chorus of affirmation.

“Okay Abraham, let us hear you” he said looking at his watch. I stood up, cleared my throat and prepared to convince.

“Sir love is an emotion, it is how we FEEL towards someone, our parents, our siblings, even our friends” I said the last part looking at Joyce. Damn she wasn’t looking, but apparently everyone else was and the cheering and teasing started. I was grateful for my dark skin or I would have turned bright pink.

“Settle down, Abraham has the right to ‘love’ his friends now” I opened my mouth in shock as Mr. Bako teased me. He chuckled for a little bit then raised his hand for silence.

“Go on Abraham” he encouraged.

“Sir, that is it. It really is that simple. Love is a feeling” I said boldly. In my teenage mind my explanation was top notch. I had got my confidence back and seeing a number of nods in agreement with me only made it stronger.

“Okay, love is a feeling, Joyce I see you have something to say. We have ten more minutes so go ahead” Mr. Bako gave the floor to her.

She stood up elegantly, this was not a debate for her, it wasn’t a chance to win one for the girls or whatever. She just wanted to make her point.

“Sir, after last class I thought about it at home, and I asked a number of people about it” she started. Mr. Bako smiled and nodded for her to continue.

“My mom, my sister, and my aunt who just had a divorce. They all have more experience in that area and they all said love is a choice” She said.

“They all said that it is a choice. It is a conscious commitment. It is something you choose to make work everyday with a person who has chosen the same thing” she paused. “My mom and aunt said that at one point in their marriage, the ‘feeling of love’ had vanished or faded and they were not happy”.

I took a quick scan and even the so-called tough guys in class were paying rapt attention.

“For my mom, she said when things are bad, she chooses to open communication, identify what is broken and how to fix it, and choose to recreate something worth falling in love with” Joyce stated, “she made a CHOICE”.

“And your aunt?” Mr. Bako was interested.

“Well”, Joyce said looking a bit gloom, “my aunt chose to walk away”.

She sat down and almost immediately, mini debates in hushed voices started. everyone agreeing or disagreeing with me and Joyce.

“Well folks there you have it” Mr. Bako said packing his books.

“Sir?” a voice called out.

“Yes Peanut” Mr. Bako answered a short boy sitting a roll behind me on my right. Another cool thing about Mr. Bako, he knew most of our nicknames.

“Sir, what says you?” Peanut asked with a smile.

“Well, even I have learnt something today. I used to think Love was a feeling too, but now I see it transcends into a choice” He smiled. when he noticed the confused faces he added, “feelings are always changing and you cannot build something that will last on such a shaky foundation. When you make that choice to stay, you will work towards it succeeding”.

With that he walked out of the class amidst more discuss.

Posted in Let's Talk

Gender Equality

“I can’t believe you just said that” Dimtang shouted, wow she was actually irritated. Looking across to see the smirk on his face, I knew Godwin knew what he was doing. Oh man here we go again.

As one always wanting to play the perfect host, I got some friends over to my place just to hang out and somehow; maybe due to the fact that the electricity company had taken power AGAIN or it was just what happened when a group of guy and girls come together; an argument began.

“I can’t believe you have refused to see reason, you are smarter than that” Godwin replied nursing his drink.

“And you are too much of a gentleman that it is shocking you would say this” Dimtang fired back.

“Hey”. I turned to my left to see Gbodi resting casually on the couch, his head resting on Chidinma’s lap as she was having a filled day poking it.

“How far?” I asked.

“You don’t think it is time to bring out the pop corn and drinks? I want to enjoy this” Gbodi grinned what we called his ‘evil’ grin which always came when he was feeling mischievous.

I looked round the room, Ikenna was getting ready to jump into the argument and I knew Chidinma would definitely side Dimtang, girl power and all that. I smiled at Gbodi, gave him the thumbs up and left for the kitchen.

“. . . wait what did you expect?” I could hear Chidinma say as I walked back in, one hand held two deep bowls filled with popcorn and the other two plastic coke bottles. Godwin must have said another statement that had made Dimtang even more disappointed than she already was. I had a feeling she would soon be out of disappointments to give. She added “he is a guy now”.

“Pop corn and drinks in the kitchen oh” I shouted out. Of course I was ignored. Gbodi sat up and grabbed a bowl from me, his face filled with gratitude and excitement.

“Okay let us look at it logically please” Godwin said trying to sound as calm as possible. “you girls want gender equality right?” Dimtang nodded, Chidinma just looked at him. “You claim you can do what guys do but that is not true”.

“Oya name just one thing” Chidinma challenged.
“Una no fit give girl belle” Ikenna jumped in jokingly. Gbodi and I fought hard to hold in our laughter.

“Well men can’t carry a child for nine months either so one-one. Besides science has found a way around that” Chidinma fired back and turned to Godwin with that look that said ‘I can do this all day’.

“I don’t see Ladies opening doors for me or pull a seat for me at a restaurant . . .” Godwin started

“. . . but that is a man’s duty” Dimtang interrupted. That was all Godwin needed.

“Oh, it is a man’s job, but somehow it isn’t a woman’s job to cook food? Why is it that you girls make noise about this gender equality shit only when it suits you?” Godwin felt he had the upper hand.

“You say gender equality but still belittle a man because his wife earns more than he does and so that makes her bread winner, let me guess it is his duty right? He is suppose to be the breadwinner now abi? You all make it seem like men are devils, na una go carry us go eatry, shops, clubs and we are to pay the bills or else ‘he ain’t man enough’ but at the office chants of ‘gender equality’ is the order of the day and SOMEHOW that is not biased? Please give me a break” he said.

“Kai Godwin which Abuja babe have you been following” Ikenna teased. Gbodi and I busted out laughing.

“Baba for the babes” Gbodi whispered to me.

“So, you will let a lady open the door for you?” Chidinma who had been quiet spoke up.

“No that is not …”

“No, let us analyze it now” Chidinma stopped him, “You are okay letting a woman provide for the family? Your testosterone will allow you?”

“Or maybe he would like his wife to just sit at home, giving birth and cooking” Dimtang added.

“God forbid, I cannot marry anybody that dumb”. And just like a flash the girls had the upper hand.

“Eheeeeeen!!! So you don’t want a mumu as wife but she will go to work, LIKE YOU, bring money home, LIKE YOU, be exhausted and tired … (Ikenna joined in this time) … LIKE YOU and yet she will still cook, change diapers, do homework, and all that” Chidinma said, “and somehow that sounds fair to you?”

“A ah, why are you taking it personal now” Godwin could feel the heat.

“Men just feel we are here to be at your beck and call, because bible says women be submissive that automatically means be salves now” Dimtang joined in “It freaking pisses me off.

“Now that is the one that irritate the shit out of me” I was surprised to hear Gbodi’s voice. Funny enough it seemed the whole room was.

“It grinds my gears when, just because you are passionate about something, you assume the worse and generalize. Who said all men treat their wives or girlfriends that way? Who says all men see women as tools?” I had never seen Gbodi so rattled up.

“I said I wasn’t going to say a word but when you generalize, when you make everyone look bad is that fair? Bible says women submit to your husband, you forget it also says men love your wife, so if I love my wife why will I not notice that ah today this woman is tired oh, maybe I should prepare something for her or even take her out, that is if I am the type that can’t cook”.

“Nooo, sit down there and tell me there are not men that do those things?” he asked mockingly.

“This world was created in a particular type of way for things to function properly. Equality can’t work because of the simple fact that there cannot be two captains on a boat. Seek fairness because in truth, you can’t do what a man does” he ended, then sat back and sipped his coke.

“I’ll drink to that” Godwin raised his glass smiling victorious.

The above write up is an act of imaginations and I hope you enjoyed it.
The arguments, fights and debates of Gender Equality have if not anything, increased these past few years. On Tv, radio and social media. I personally feel the pursuit of fairness across both gender is a great cause but what of gender equality? I would love to hear you opinions on this topic in the comment section below.

Posted in Let's Talk

I Don’t Give A Shit How Married You Are

In my troublesome spirit I decided to share this. For those who will want to ping/call me asking if I am stylishly speaking my mind, NO this isn’t about me, I am not 30 . . . yet. First it is a re-post second it is says a lot. . . A lot of sense.

I hope you enjoy it.



Call this a cynical rant, but…

Oh what the heck.


This is to all my friends out there:

I don’t give a flying f#*k how married you are.

I’m 30 today and yes, this is the age where whenever I check Facebook, one by one, my friends are getting hitched.

This is when photos of the proposal, the ring and the celebration are posted up.

This is when the congratulations, Likes and comments pour in.

This is when the impending wedding invitation would come, and I’d decline to go.

Marriage today isn’t sacred anymore to many. Only a rare few gets it.

You won’t believe the shit I’ve seen.

I know friends who are married today and are regretting it entirely, telling me that they were stupid to have rushed into it.

I know a girl who posted up her announcement of her engagement on Facebook before, and she cheated on him with me before.

I know a guy who is married to a lady with kids and he’s gay today.

I know of many who are already cheating on each other.

Please stop rushing into this shit.

Marriage is sacred. Marriage is a bond. Marriage is forever.

You don’t f#*king take that lightly!

To the young people getting married in your twenties-

Are you really ready? Boys and girls, you haven’t seen shit in this world yet. Marriage isn’t some fairy tale. A proposal doesn’t solve all your problems. A pregnancy doesn’t either.

Divorce is f#*king real my friends.

To the people who are marrying their first partner ever-

If you’re already wondering if the grass is greener on the other side, you’ve playing it wrongly.

You don’t marry out of comfort or fear of being alone.

To the people who are marrying for anything besides love-

Scoring privileges and grants from the government just so you can buy a house or some shit isn’t going to make you happy forever.

That is called convenience.

To the people who are already cheating-

Shame on you. Did your vows mean f#*k-all?

How would you truly know what true love means at the tender age of… well I’d take a swipe here, before 40?

How would you know he or she is “the one” when you’ve stay put in one place your entire life?

How would you know it’s going to work out when you don’t even know yourself well? Sorry, but telling me you love her or him and then telling me shit like, “Oh it was just a text. It doesn’t count as cheating” is an automatic disqualification of your marriage altogether. It usually isn’t just a text. It’s like a f#*king hundred texts.

Maybe it’s just me… No wait. I’m sure it isn’t.

The only marriage I felt was sacred and true were my parents’. And that’s including the fact that my dad has passed on.

That said, who’s to even say that was true love? How can love exist without life itself?

Nonetheless, I know what they had was way stronger than the bullshit I see today.

This is to all my cynical friends

I know you’ve been hurt.

I know you’re tired.

I know you feel like there’s no hope.

But at least, you’re smart.

You’ve been through shit and that’s real experience more than anything.

It’s better to live life than live a fairy tale; a self-created delusion; a trap.

Just take your time.

And you’ll be fine.

Do it your own way.

Written by  Alden Tan

Originally from

Posted in Let's Talk

The Ten Minutes Walk-Smile Therapy

 Good evening beautiful people? I hope everyone is good, not too stressed, or frustrated or pissed off. So in my ever buzzing mind I thought to share this with you. Enjoy!!!!



I was glad, the end to another work day. Time to head home. I carried what I liked to call my briefcase (basically a zipped folder with a handle) picked my phone and ear-piece, told my colleagues good night and headed out of the office. The evening breeze was a bit friendly, it would seem the hamattan weather was trying to behave itself today.

‘Drop’ or ‘Along’? I asked myself. It was one of those pleasant days I could afford either.

PS for those who don’t know . . . Drop:- to hire a taxi to drop you in front of your house (expensive). Along:- taking short trips where the taxi stops at bus stops then walking the rest of the way home (way cheaper).

I liked the weather and I had read about some walking-therapeutic-positive habit thingy I wanted to try out, so I opted for ‘along’. I got a taxi and when I had reached, got off at the bus stop closest to my house. I crossed the road and started to walk. It was a 12 minutes walk (yes I timed it).

So here was what I read, the main reason behind the walk ……
“Everyday, take 10 minute walks and smile. It releases stress and gives positive energy”. I laughed when I read it. Positive energy kwa! But in the name of making my walk meaningful I decided to try it.

I started walking and I began to smile. It felt so awkward almost plastic and I was tempted to stop. I didn’t know when I asked myself “dude why in heaven’s name are you smiling?” The next thought that came was “but why shouldn’t I smile?”. It was like I was having a mental argument with myself (BTW I have a lot of mental arguements with myself #justsayng). Before I knew it I was giving myself reasons to smile. My family were all fine, I wasn’t broke, I wasn’t sick, some colleagues had just complemented my ‘cute’ legs (don’t hate …. Please don’t hate), my friend was coming into the country soon and plans for a reunion was creeping up in my head, plus she told me she had thought about us (sssshhh don’t ask *winks* story for another day)!!! The more I thought about the different reasons to smile the more I smiled, the more I smiled, the better I felt, the better I felt the more I thought “it can only get better from here on”. Before I knew it I was home.
I walked in, hugged my nephew and niece, didn’t go crazy when I heard they had been a tad bit naughty and it ended up a pleasant evening.

The theory DID work!!!

Now I am not saying you all should do same, or expect results like me but I will encourage you to try it. If not for the fun of it, then try it so you can prove me wrong…… Make sure it is a 10 minutes walk minimum. Hit me with your results.

This should be fun. Cheers people, stay happy.

Posted in Let's Talk

Team Forever Alone

Disclaimer:- this is a work of friction . . . but I am sure some people can relate. Enjoy!!!



I look at her as I sip my drink. She notices and smiles. Is that a ‘green light’? Should I introduce myself? She flicks her hair backwards and plays with her drink looking like she is waiting for me. Once again I start my mental argument:- to go or not to go, to go or not to go? Five minutes later, I’m still arguing and she is leaving with her friend. DAMN!!!

I grew up with the following principles:-
“Never hit a girl, only cowards do that.
Never break a girl’s heart, remember you have sisters.
Always be a gentleman, the type you want your daughter to date”.

When I was 17 in high school I had my first kiss. It was with a girl I had crushed on since junior high. I remember it like yesterday. It was our sports day and the funny thing was earlier that day she had insulted me and some friends about being nerds. After I won the 4 by 100 race I guess things changed. It took me a whole month to build up courage talk to her after that. She shouted at me in front of her friends and said she had moved on and didn’t have time for spinless losers.

University then came with its freedom and exposure. I told myself I would date despite the tedious nature of my course. Like my friends I was social, I could be a clown, but it didn’t send the message I wanted. Girls always thought I was joking when I asked them out, I was the go to guy for my friends’ girlfriends whenever they messed up, King of the Friend-zone I was called.

Then I met Kaycee, beautiful and all. She loved my jokes, she liked that I was smart, and after a few tips here and there she loved my cooking. But on that fateful Valentine’s day, when I was ready to pop the question she turned me down.

“You are a great guy and any girl will be stupid to not say yes (words I found I would hear a lot in the coming future) but you are not from my tribe”. Damn I asked you to be my girlfriend not to marry me I thought to myself. I nodded and made the mistake of accepting to ‘just be friends’.
My friends laughed when they heard. “why ask? You should have gone with the flow. Let it take its course” they had scolded. I shook my head in disappointment. My confidence had taken a knock and I didn’t see the point of trying.

The my eyes caught Rukky. Maybe it was the lame attempt of giving her an apple as a sign of affection or because (as Nigerians would say) ‘her eye done tear’ but still, to be left in front of the girls’ hostel waiting while she spoke to another guy (maybe because he had a car and I didn’t) had to be the height of disrespect. I was heartbroken despite the fact we weren’t even dating in the first place.

And so I decided to throw caution, instruction and everything I had been told to the wind and flex. With such notion you would think I would beat my friend’s record of dating two best friends. Naaaa, I soon ended up falling for Dora. Sweet, cute, innocent . . . . Maybe too innocent. I guess that was the problem. Everything she did was by principle, either it wasn’t good in the eyes of God (Christianity coming into play), or she couldn’t imagine being seen doing such (her naïve senses coming into play). Everything seems programed. It was like I was on a year long test of being worthy to date her. And when it seemed like it would never end, when I was at my wits end, she decided to give me a shot (Ope oh!!! Abi? Nope). With time passed comes either foundness or disgust and unfortunately frustration, fights and everything in-between had caused the latter. In two short months she told me she couldn’t bare it any more and we needed to go our separate ways. The offer to be friends wasn’t even on the table. That sucked.

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I graduated from the university and was excited about NYSC, rumor had it that ‘things’ happened during NYSC. Unfortunately nobody mentioned that this was outside school and girls no longer understood that you were on an allowance. No one said anything about being a man, no one said anything about me having to be more than a funny fine boy. And so the year passed with me working hard and hanging out with friends who didn’t demand so much from my pocket.

Three heartbreaks and a number of times being friend zoned (permit me to play it down), I sit and wonder, what did I do wrong? I was a gentleman, I respected every girl I was in contact with. Even when they said girls like bad boys, I played that card for a bit and still nothing.
Story of my life….. I smile sadly, finish my drink wondering if it would have been another friend zoning or heartbreak …… Well we will never find out now will we?

I stand to leave.

“Excuse me sir”.
I turn to the bartender who calls me back.”Yes”
“A note from the lady that left with her friend”.
“Thank you” I open the neatly folded paper.
“Hi, I was there wishing you would speak to me, well done leaving a girl hanging lol. Okay, I think you are very handsome. I apologise if this is being forward but can we have lunch?”
Her number was at the bottom.

The pictures where zapped from goggle (my handy friend). Plenty thanks to Oluchee, your post “ask me already” inspired this. Don’t forget todrop your thoughts and opinions people. Keep smiling!!!

Posted in Let's Talk

The Begger That Grew


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“Oga give me chop” one of the begger ladies asked the guys sitting at the back seat of the Toyota Sienna bus we sat in as we waited for the rest of the passengers to come back so we could continue the journey. I was on my way to Ibadan and we had taken the routine stop at Lokoja for passenger to “stretch leg” after some hours of travelling to get stiff muscles relaxed and (if you wished) get something to eat. Oya back to the matter.

“Madam I don already give” one of the guys replied. His companion shook his head. That was all she needed.

“Oga wey dey drink Lacasera give me now” she asked putting on a tired smile. He raised his hand indicating he had nothing to give. But she was relentless as they always are. Her daughter was already pestering the lady who sat in the front seat with her child-like charm.

“At all, at all na em bad pass oh” she quoted a popular lyric.

“Madam no vex we no get” the first guy replied. I could see he just wished them to go away. I couldn’t really blame him. They could be really frustrating and persistent.

I stood at the other door watching. I noticed the women were looking at each other. They said nothing but their eyes communicated volumes. It looked like they were trying to decide if it was wise to still keep trying or move on. At that moment the little girl caught my eyes. A boy (maybe her brother or one of the others who also begged in that area) had come to beg the lady she was prospecting. With a forceful shove which was impressive for a girl her size, she shouted at the boy in their language.

The message was clear “leave my customer alone for me”. With a grunt the boy walked away.

I knew these type of beggers, saw them alot while growing up in Jos especially around the Terminus market axis and through the years we (my sisters and I) invented a formular. You had to know that no kind of face would put them off (if you like squeze your face in a knot e no go move them), walking fast will only make them touch you or hold on to you which is just …… let me say not nice. Out talking them hardly worked, it seemed they were skilled in having an answer or alternative to every excuse you had. So we came up with two things. Either you keep quiet and keep walking till they get tired or you offer them something edible. They aways seemed to hate that…… Till today.
I had my “don’t mess with me” face on and I was eating a sausage roll while watching all this. I guess I was too engrossed in seeing the outcome of the two sinerios I didn’t see the one beside me till she touched me. Damn I wanted to scream.

“Brother find something for baby make baby chop” she said holding a child to her bossom. I looked at her then at the child then back. I kept quiet.

“Brother nothing is too small oh” she pressed on.

“Madam no vex I no get anything” i replied. It wasn’t necessarily a lie, I was tight on cash and even though I would willingly offer my sausage roll, I wasn’t necessarily eager to do so. Besides with my experience with them I had metally planned to use the sausage roll to chase her away.


Now I know, I know, I sound like a big bad wolf but lets be frank, these people piss off the nicest Nigerians. Then to make matters worse growing up there were some ideologies I would rather not state here that contributed to the “less than friendly” response I and others were showing. But that is for another day, back to story..


She touched me again and if there was any ounce of niceness or empathy in me, it fled with that touch. I pull away quickly with a startled look.

“Why you go dey touch me now?” I said irritated. I was trying to control my temper. She totally ignored the question and what she said next shocked me.

“Give baby buns make him chop” she gestured to my sausage roll as she spoke. The first thing that came to mind (being a game addict and all) was “when did they install this update now?”.

She pointed at the sausage roll as if to make sure I knew that she was referring to food and no longer money. Still in shock I gave her. By then the two women had gone away and the girl’s enthusiasm had died. I quietly sat down as the car filled up. Before we could close the door one of the women appeared from no where with ” baby” the child who my sausage roll was meant for and a smaller boy.. You would think they used the kids to attract more Sympathy. (Ok lets not go there).

“Oga find me something make baby chop” she repeated the same line the other lady said to me to the elderly man who seat was closest to the door opposite mine. I though of my sweet sausage roll and tried not to be angry. The elderly man wasn’t in the least interested.

“Madam we are going, move” he said as he reached for the handle to pull the bus’s door shut. Just then she said something and the little boy jumped on the side of the door and gave the cutest puppy eye look I have seen in a while.

“Oga, me and my mama never chop, same with baby. Even if na for just baby give small” he said quietly. That did the trick. The man looked at the boy and then put his hand in his pocket. He brought out three one hundred Naira notes and gave the boy who smiled and said thank you. So did the woman.

“Limani, a ah is this you?” I turned to see the driver speaking to the woman holding baby.

“Oga you come this side today?” She replied him. He nodded. As we closed the doors he said to her in his thick Yoruba accent “take it hezy oh”.

As we drove out of the park I could see the lady named Limani and the little boy sharing the cash. The lady sitting infront spoke up.

“She told the boy to stand on the door side to prevent you from closing it oh” she said. The elderly man looked back at the two and then faced the lady in front, “are you serious?”

“Yes, I understand her language a bit” she replied.

“That’s how they do. That is why I didn’t even give them face” one of the guys sitting at the back (Lacasera guy) said.

“It is those yeye children touching person that pisses me off” a mother of two who sat behind me said with a sigh, “the way they will hold you like you forgot to give them breast milk”.

And with that discussions about beggers began.

“I met Limani about 10 years ago in this same pack wey people dey come chop” the driver spoke up. “Shey e ri, these beggers some of them were born here. Limani no big reach that small girl wey dey beg you that time madam” he spoke to the lady in front.

“That time, remain small them for beat her because of this hold hand thing. Ever since that day, whenever I dey stop for Lokoja as I dey drive passangers na so I dey see her. Make una reason am, if na by begging you go see food chop, you sef no go find ways get something from people?”

That statement left everyone in the car quiet and deep in thought.

Posted in Let's Talk

Discipline (Then and now)


“Cristabel go and lie down. If you allow me come there right now you won’t find it funny” Mrs. Ajunwa said to her 3 year old daughter.
Looking at her mom with a smile that could melt any heart and continued playing with her Princes Sophia doll. It was obvious the little girl thought her smile would calm her mom down. Mistake she made? She turned her back to her mother.
“WAAM!!!” A heavy smack landed on her back and without think twice Cristabel flew to the nearest couch in a mixture of hysterically loud wailings.
“MOMMY!!!” Cristabel shouted in a pleading manner. She didn’t see that coming and her child like eyes looked upon her mother with confusion and a sense of being betrayed.
Mrs. Ajunwa’s heart softened but her face did not share the same emotions as her heart. She was determined not to spoil her child.
“Oya hold your lips” she said, the young child complied quickly still breathing heavily and crying.
“Listen when your mother speaks to you. Do you hear me?” She shouted, the child nodded quickly.
“Why would you make me shout? Why won’t you listen? Now you are crying. Are you happy now?” She asked sarcastically. Cristabel shook her head. The poor child didn’t know sarcasm.
“Oya face the other way and sleep” Mrs. Ajunwa said. Cristabel quickly obeyed. Mrs. Ajunwa sat down beside her watching. She felt bad. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so hard, or maybe not. She now understood when her mother used to tell her “you will have your own kids, let’s see if you will ‘pity’ them as you say I should”.
After a couple of minutes Mrs. Ajunwa felt her daughter was on the way to dream land. She stood up to go to the kitchen and prepare dinner.
“Mommy” an innocent voice called out carefully.
“Yes” Mrs. Ajunwa answered turning back.
“Mommy I’m sorry” the little girl turned carefully to face her mom. Mrs. Ajunwa’s heart skipped a bit. Her little baby. She went beside her daughter and gave her a hug.
“Its alright my darling. Mommy isn’t mad any more. Oya take your nap and we will do your assignment later”.



I love children. It became glaringly obvious when my siblings started having kids of their own. I have two nephews and four nieces and they are bundles of joy. Through them I can proudly say I am a professional baby sitter and care giver, (yeah, yeah I know my wife will be luck to have me *wink*). From diaper changing to feeding them, from knowing their baby English to finally helping them pronounce my name properly (that took ages and a couple of them still can’t). It has been an awsome phase. Best part is my sisters, brothers and sister-in-laws know they owe me (please catch your sub here).
I had a discussion with one of my sister-in-laws some days back and I was of the opinion that the old way of discipline was way better and more effective than what we have now a days. It always baffled me when I see parents trying to have a matured conversation with a 1- 3year old child, what do they know I think.
My mom? (God bless her for me) My mom had what my elder sister and I called “laser eyes”. They could burn through anywhere and reach you even if you were backing her, and when we saw those eyes it meant one thing. “Re-adjust yourself before I come and do it for you”. My mom’s disciplinarian skills where very simple. She threatened you with not eating supper, she shouted till someone else came and dealt with you, or you get the surprise-me slap that somehow always came from thin air.
I see children now todays telling their moms they can’t eat this, or they don’t want to eat that or they prefer this to that. Oh Lord, you dare mention preference to my mom and you have opened the chapter of inappreciation were she lectures you about people that don’t have food and how your ungrateful self is being choosy. By the time she is done, you feel worse than the most sinful sinner and you will eat your food in peace.
My dad had the three strike rule. 1st strike he warns you about how bad what you did was. 2nd strike you get punished, you were sent to kneel down, or pick-pin or go sleep when everyone else was playing or worse, sit beside him at his desk while he worked (epic boredom by the way). 3rd strike was the strike we dreaded, we got wooped. I think knowing you were going to get wooped was way more painful and a bigger torture than actually getting wooped.
So when I told my sister-in-law I would do same as a means of discipline to my kids she laughed and said she was 100% sure I wouldn’t. And she explained and I came to reason with her explanation.
Let us forget about Western influence in our lives where you see children reporting their parents to child support or shouting back at their parents, or banging doors in a fit of rage (let’s face the truth, e go tey before that ever happens in Nigeria. You dey craze abi you wan die?) But even now schools are prohibiting using flogging as a means of discipline. Parents through books and other people’s experiences are finding better ways to relate to their kids what is good and what is bad and why it is so.
There is a whole lot of difference between how I was raised and how my nephews and nieces are being raised. I see my brother and his son having a “don’t say NO” argument and I laugh. My dad says “don’t say NO” and you argue? I’m sorry for you.
I think the simple truth is found in the phrase “change is inevitable”. Kids of today are way smarter and learn faster. My 5 year old nephew can read reasonably. It amuses me because I am very sure I wasn’t reading at 5 years of age. Truth is talking to kids actually works better than the old fashion wooping of behinds.
I love my parents and although my bum might not agree with me, I appreciated their discipline methods. It made me who I am today.Discipline-In-Private-35Photos from google search engine.

Posted in Let's Talk

The Job Interview

How many of us remember our very first Job Interview? Tensed much? Excited? Hungry? Determined? Or were you scared shitless? Enjoy today’s post.



I woke up excited. My very first interview. It had been barely two months since I finished my National Youth Service and finally I had an interview. The aptitude test had been what my friend tagged “bloody” but we both were lucky to have been picked. Unfortunately our interviews where in different states since my friend had opted to work in Benue State whereas I had chosen the country’s capital FCT.

I took my bath and went through the ritual of applying deodorant, body spray and perfume asides my normal lotion. Smelling or unattractive had nothing to do with my description and I was going to make sure they knew it. I had already done the battle of picking what to wear and so my straight trousers and blue shirt was already laid down. My black sweater was still under consideration. It was going to be a last minute decision.

The interview was for 10.00am and I remembered one of my dad’s favourite sayings about time; “to be early is to be on time, to be on time means you are late” and so I decided to leave home buy 9.00am. I arrived at the office complex by 9.30am, just like I calculated, walked in and walked into the elevator. Abuja and its fancy offices, this elevator even had a door man or would I call him an elevator man. He looked at me puzzled.

“Oh, 6th floor please” I said recalling the reason he was there. He nodded absently and pressed the button with the number ‘6’ on it. The doors closed and we started moving up, suddenly the elevator came to a halt at floor 3, I knew because of the indicator. I turned to the operator in confusion. He ignored my stare as the doors swung open and two middle aged women walked in. I looked at my watch anxiously. Thankfully there was still time. The door closed and we began to move up. They ladies where heading to the 6th floor too.

Suddenly the elevator stopped, the annoying music that had been playing since we started moving also stopped. Next thing I know everywhere is dark. “Oh no” I thought “we are stuck”. Before I could say anything trust Nigerian women to take the lead in panicking.

“We are going to die ooh” one of the ladies said.

“I have children oh, what is this now? Is this how my life will end?” The other lady lamented on and on. Despite the efforts of the operator to calm them down they would not yield. In an attempt to passify them he only made matters worse when he shouted “calm down oooh, e don happen before”.

The women rushed to the elevator doors and began banging it in desperation, bombarding prayers for safety and curses on their enemies that might have wanted this for them. What amazed me the most was how calm I was. I knew there was nothing I could do and so I sorted humour in it. “How many of my friends would brag that they died in an elevator” one voice said “be serious boy” another voice said. I quickly said an short prayer for protection and kept quiet. After what seemed like an eternity (26 seconds to be precise) the lights came one, the annoying music began again and the elevator started moving. I could hear sighs of relief from the women and short prayers of thanksgiving.

I felt light and was happy to finally reach my destination. As I alighted from the elevator with thanks to the elevator operator I turned to see a well arranged office entrance and just ahead a reception desk. A pretty lady sat at the desk. She had a plastic smile fixed, I could tell because of the edges around her mouth, they looked like they had been plastered there.

“Hi, am here for the job Interview” I said nervously. I don’t know if it was my perfume, my face or my nervousness but she smiled (for real this time at me) and pointed to a row of nice seats where 3 other people where seated.

“Go join the other applicants and…” She looked me over “try and relax, it is just an interview, the hard part has passed”.

“Thanks” I managed. It was then I realised my hands had been shaking. So it was my nervousness. And here I was thinking I was a bloke.

I walked and sat down beside a tensed looking man. If you think I was uncomfortable, this guy was having a nervous break down. He nodded at me acknowledging my presence. I nodded back. He introduced himself as Frank and I offered my name as well. The other two seemed very relax and chilled. After like five minutes the one closest to Mr. Frank brought out a pack of biscuits and started eating. Damn I just realised I hadn’t eaten before leaving home. I held my bottle of water tight and ignored the pangs in my tummy that had come from no where. The guy then turned to Frank and offered him some biscuits. He shook his head in refusal and then turning to me he whispered “see these companies, they will put agents to see if you will mess up. They don’t know I am a professional”. I looked at the other guy and looked back at Frank. I just nodded but in my mind I knew this dude had lost it.

Thirty minutes and I was called. I was the second person after Frank who had gone in and coming out was soaked in sweat. That scared me. I told myself it was just an interview and walked in. A man sat behind a large mahogany desk. A lady sat beside him, she wore glasses. I whispered to myself “if you made it here you are good enough, you got this”. I sat down on the chair offered me and put up the calmest face ever and waited. The man spoke up.

“Alright, my name is Mr. Coker and this is Mrs Iwela. Let’s get started”….

The above was a piece of friction. I haven’t met Frank Dunga…. Yet lol. Hope you enjoyed it. Be nice and share my blog link with your friends.