MAAGUN-ED (A Short Story)

“Please call me, I love you.” Samson reads out the message and fling the phone on the creamy laced sofa. “Nonsense” he sigh as he made his way into the bathroom. He had been expecting a bank alert notifying him of the money his friend Jero claimed to had transfered to his account via the internet two days ago, but instead had got an entirely different message. His composure throughout that day had been due to the much anticipated lucre he envisaged would change his pocket status. His neighbour, madam mercy, who noticed this had teased him that afternoon whispering into his left ear when no one was in sight to ask the cause of this his new found joy.

“Is my wife going to come?” she had asked him hoping to get no answer than a shy smile that usually plays around the corner of a one o’clock sun, and that was what she got from Samson plus mouthing of ‘na you sabi’ as a bonus.

As he drags his feet lazily into the bathroom, he could not but think of how penury will so drink a lady’s blood to the point that instead of putting a call across to one and wishing him happy new year, she instead is sending “please call me” and to even make matter worse, she added I love you. He laughed sarcastically at the mere thought of that word, love. Does that even exist in his own dictionary, it has died long time ago, and it will take only God to get it resurrected. What now overcharged his heart like air across the space is how he will get to meet Jero and tell him to his face that he could be nothing more than a liar, he is going to have to split open all the dirt he’s been bottling up for a long time, he thought to himself.

As the cab make it way towards Challenge finding its bearing from Ojoo, Samson soon find himself in the midst of bee-like noises of co passengers. And if not for courtesy he could’ve shouted one particular middle aged man down who insisted Badmus is not a good name, and anybody bearing such should just make a change of name to ‘Goodmus’, if he was in his right mood he could have open the gate of laughter, but such for now counts for nothing .

“Mr man, the name is not what matter but the achievement” stated a man whose big tummy is perfectly matched with a bald head. “Well, if you say so, but as for me I will never name my child Badmus, a combination of bad and musu.” The average aged man retorted.

As he alighted from the cab, his mind once again feeling the breeze of peace from the unnecessary arguments the cab avail him of the unsavoury chance of partaking in, he heads toward Jero’s lodge, his legs moving with the speed at which his mind pants to drop in Jero’s ear a piece of his mind before collecting what he brought from Abuja. He soon find himself standing in front of Jero’s quarter as before him stands a view of a crowd, moving close to where they stands, Samson could not believe the sight before him, at first, he wipe his face with his right hand to see whether his eyes was after all not deceiving him.

Jero lie down with face congealed, showing no sign of glee nor pain, foams covers his lips and some remnant drips down his neck.
‘Bros, please what is wrong with this guy’ he ask a young man who also stood amidst the crowd.
‘I were told by the mon over there that na magun he take’ answered the young man almost making Samson to laugh inspite of himself. ‘If you don believe, ask the mon’ he said Samson move closer to the elderly man standing near Jero’s body.
‘Sir, what happened to him?’ he asked as he jettisons the courtesy of having to greet first before speaking an elder, something typical of the south western Nigerian culture.

‘My son, he died of maagun’ the elderly man answered shaking his head like a leaf on top of a river. ‘sorry to ask sir, WH..A…T is the meaning of MAA…GUN’ he asked stammering.
The elderly man looked him over as if he is a strange being from mars. ‘You mean you don’t know the meaning,’ He said with mouth agape, well it is a charm that is attached to a married woman’s waist in which any person that have sex with her will die without remedy.’
Samson could not believe his ear, his intellect refute the possibility of such crap, if any of his friends had brought this up he could’ve asked for the test of verifiability of such posit, but now, for the sake of the situation at hand he will pretend as if it really is possible.
‘And this Jero lived for only one thing since I knew him’ said a ‘bedtacled’ man. ‘What is that’ the elderly man asked.
‘sex’
Samson looks at Jero and wonders at the ignorance of the men that sorrounds him as they runs their mouth on him like an heaven that is not exhausted of pouring floods, how could a handsome guy like this not live his life to the fullest, he thought before retracting his focus back to the issue on ground.
‘And who did he do it with’ he ask briskly.
‘That young lady over there’ said a broad chest man pointing in the direction opposite where Samson stand. ‘You mean this girl’ Samson look the girl obviously amazed at how Jero could so debase himself to the point of having an illicit affair with a girl he sized to be nothing less than 14 years, at that moment a part of him want to beat the hell out Jero’s corpse.

‘Who is her husband please’ he said, throwing the question to no one in particular. ‘The husband had taken to his heel having learnt about what happened’ someone answered from the crowd.

Samson thought he had learnt enough, his leg is soon found drifting away from where Jero lies. He couldn’t conceive of it that Jero could die this way, he died committing paedophilia and to even think he was maagun-ed rather than murdered is disheartening, he thought of reporting to the police but thought better of it, there and then, a thought occurs to him, he had before then thought of dropping his ambition of becoming a writer but here is a really interesting story, he is going to write a book on this and name it maagun; THE MURDERER WITHOUT A SWORD.

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REASONS FOR ADDICTION TO SELFIE UPLOAD ON SOCIAL MEDIA

Selfie is a photo of yourself that you take, typically with a smartphone or a webcam and usually put on social networking media such as facebook, BBM, WhatsApp, Baddo etc. This act started some years ago as a result of high usage of smartphones and the introduction of BlackBerry Messenger (BBM). It’s common among the youths, both male and female. Though some adults also engage in it.

Nevertheless, a news went viral on the internet that selfie has been confirmed by American Psychiatric Association (APA) as a mental disorder called ‘selfist’. The news was posted by many blogs in 2015 but the source of the news posted it in 2014. The source of the news is Adobo Chronicles which is one of the well-known fake news websites. The news is fake and the claim has never been posted on APA website till this moment.

Although selfie may not be seen as a mental disorder, there are some psychological reasons that cause addiction to selfie upload on social media. The reasons vary from one person to another. Some of these reasons are explained below.

Self-obsessed: Obsessed about one look and body. One will always want to show-off his look and body. Some of those people, especially women don’t care about moral and they can expose sensitive parts of their body.

Narcissism: Extreme self-esteem and a grandiose view of oneself. Narcissists have an excessive need to be admired by others and have a sense of entitlement. They always feel that they look better than most people and they are more likely to show-off with selfies.

Self-objectification: This is a tendency to view your body as an object based on its sexual worth. Those high in self-objectification tend to see themselves in terms of their physical appearance and base their self-worth on their appearance. They make extra effort to look their best in these photos, i.e. Photo editing.

The above are common psychological reasons for addiction to selfie upload on social networking media. However, narcissism is correlated with high self-esteem while self-objectification is associated with low self-esteem. Those on high self-objectification don’t post more selfies but they are always more conscious about their appearance in the ones they will post. Thanks for reading.

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TWO WRONGS, TOO MANY

It was a bright, brilliant morning. The sun set right from the eastern sky smiling through every odd that might have hidden its rays. Tolu, a short and dark girl in her thirteen, had dressed up for school with all the eagerness in the world. ‘Mummy’, before she would leave for school, she whispered in a low and graceful manner, ‘I heard you making some noise through your nose while you were sleeping last night, why do people snore?’ Her mother answered with a caring voice that betrayed her bothered mind, ‘It’s normal for men to snore’. ‘Mum’, but my teacher beat me up because I was sleeping in class. She said I was snoring. Is it a sin to snore?” No, Tolu, he must have beaten you because you were sleeping, not snoring’. ‘Yes, you’re right, I felt so too. The whole class laughed at me when I woke up. It was shameful, I couldn’t withstand it. So, I should always avoid sleeping! ”Don’t sleep in class anymore’, answered her mother. ‘Thanks mum’, she replied as they heard the driver press the horn.

On getting to school, it was late. She did not leave at the right time. However, all the pupils in her class had gone somewhere. In a moment, she dashed, like a bat, into the classroom that was buried in screaming silence. It was a strange sight for her. In a jiffy of time, in awful horror, she heard a loud sound creeping along as she took every step forward more and more into the looming silence. She waited a bit with conflicting thoughts beating in her little heart. She was troubled because there was no time the class became so empty at nine o’clock in the morning.

Meanwhile, peeping through the window that opened into the next classroom, she saw her teacher deeply sleeping and snoring to high heavens. Now, she knew there was nothing to fear about. It was Mr Dele that had been making the scaring snore all the while. Hence, a thought jumped up in her mind, ‘Let me go ahead and wake him up’. All at once, she eventually did what brought some strokes. She crooned along as she wept, ‘I was trying to let you know you were scaring me with your snore’.

It was already noon. Tolu was back at home with all the sadness in the world. She had been treated badly by her teacher. ‘Mummy, mummy, mummy…’. She shouted as her mother spred her arms wide open to carry her up. ‘I was beaten for waking Mr Dele when he was snoring today’. ‘Beaten’? No impossible. You must have have done something else’. ‘He was scaring me with his snore since there was nobody in the class. ‘Mum, have you forgotten that he also beat me when I was sleeping in the class? Is it right to be wronged when it’s right?’ She lamented. Now, her mother lulled her. She explained to her that she was taken to be rude and foolish out of sheer ignorance. Though she was taken to be wrong, not too wrong; the teacher was just hysterical in reacting to the situation wrongly. She exploded, ‘these two wrongs are too many and proper examination would bring effective correction’.

Written by: Oyeyemi John Ojo

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SORRY I DID THIS TO YOU

Listen carefully. Read with your mind open. This is a true life. Your comments does not matter. Only your attention does.

As you read. You would discover a bitter truth. This is my story.

A story I never picture seeing myself writing – not now – or ever. But this is where fate had steered me and – my mistake of blindly trusting a fellow human. And the mistake of wanting what everyone has.

Like every story, mine started with a happy beginning. I was a humble – beautiful – lady from a comfortable home. Well brought up by both parents with the scriptures being the centerpiece of my upbringing.

Life breeze up so fast and I got to meet a lot of people. Some of them affected my life positively and few leaving a little dent while one person – the devil with a charming smile – left a hefty pain load in my life that I still deal with till date.

My brothers and sisters, never trust a fellow man. Never trust anything that walks on two feet. You wanna know why? Because I’ve been through this path and I’ve experienced the heavy dosage of pain it promises for anyone that venture into the path of blind trust – and love.

In my case, this fact did not become clear until I met Kunle – an innocent looking guy back then in High school – when I was applying for admission into a state-owned polytechnic in Ogun state.

Back then in High school, Kunle was a senior colleague, a gentle, handsome and peace loving person. No one would ever taught he could hurt a fly. Well that’s a fact, he said he can’t. Maybe because flies are not his speciality.

When I met Kunle on the day of Post-Utme, I was very glad and we struck a friendship that continued after I gained admission.

After the orientation week and everything, I realize the Polytechnic like other higher institutions was a jungle not fit for a fragile looking person like me. I was afraid of everything – the bullies, cultists, lecturers and even co-students. It was just it everyone against me. I even refuse to make friends.

It was in my quest for refuge that I moved in with the kunle – my savior. Kunle proved to be a nice person and we get on well. He taught me the basic about school and even though we are not in the same level or department, we are often seen walking hand-in-hand.

With this kind of cordial relationship, I didn’t think twice when Kunle asked me out during the second semester of my N.D one and things went on smoothly. Kunle’s friends became mine and I sort fit in perfectly into his life.

Mind you, our relationship was a decent one – one devoid of the ‘iranu’

And ‘abasha’ that characterize regular teenage relationship. That does not we didn’t do things – we hug, hold each other hands and have light kisses – insofar it was in public and not behind close doors.

Everything was perfect. A perfect relationship. I was even planning the future: three boys and two girls. Kunle want two girls.

Things did fell apart and I was woken from this my soothing nightmare. Kunle was never the man I thought he was – he was not even close to the picture of what I have in my head.

Things began unravelling after he finished his ND program. He became paranoia, and possessive. Always accusing me of walking around with strangers because he is away on ‘IT’. I tried to calm his fears but he wouldn’t listen.

The relationship began to display cracks – a thing we never imagined a semester back.

One blue afternoon, Kunle called to notify me he was around for his clearance. I was really happy. It’s been a while I saw him last. I didn’t even think twice before saying ‘yes’ when he told me he was coming around.

Kunle did kept to his promise, he came in around six in the evening – smelling all posche and cleanly shaven. It dawned on me that I have missed him. We hugged, smile and held hands.

My new room-mate – Anita – quickly excused herself. She assumed we need all the privacy and would not want to disrupt the flow. She thought Kunle would love to spend the night – something I never considered – in order to iron out our misunderstanding.

After she left, I offered to prepare our best meal – Spaghetti and fried plantain. Kunle offered to get a Chivita drink to balance the table. He went out straight while I master the kitchen to prefer a meal we so both like eating.

By the time Kunle arrived, the meal was ready. He sat down and prayed. He asked God to forgive our sins – his inexcusable sins – and to add a better episode as the conclusion of our relationship.

I innocently murmured ‘amen’ and quickly grab my fork to resume my meal.

Kunle poured me a drink. I smiled, knowing fully well he doesn’t take sweetened drinks. He poured himself a cup of water.

“Cheers! To all the memories” – he said. I smiled again. There is always something about him that brings this smile to my face.

I gulped my cup of orange juice – with the face Kunle being the last thing I saw.

I didn’t remember dropping the glass cup. All I knew was everything was enveloped in darkness – and my eyes and brain – and I was automatically shut down.

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DEFILED (A Short Story)

My name is Obaseosuwake, but I will prefer you call me Osu. I am a 16years old, SSS 2 student of Brighter Grammar Model College, Lagos. Uncle Jacob who is the new neighbour is such a nice bros and he seems to like me alot. The first day he came to check the new  apartment with oga caretaker he dashed me the four hundred and thirty naira change for helping him buy a cold bottle of orobo (soft drink). His level of generosity caught my eyes so I couldn’t wait for him to finally move in. I thought mama and papa will be ok with him too. Long as buying cigarettes and going across the express way is exclusive.

Finally, Uncle J moves in to the new apartment which is opposite ours. As a new bro in the hood and a bachelor too, I do help him to do the dishes most times after school and chilled in his crib till late at night watching action movies. Uncle J has all the complete WWE world series, lots of season films and my favourite of them all Chinese movies. I love ‘kung fu’ movies so we stay up all evening watching action movies.

It’s so obvious that papa is having issues with my constant absence at home but I trust mama to calm him down. As the only child, mama places my happiness as her number one priority so with mama on my side papa can only bark like a toothless dog. The woman is a pro in calming the pot bellied chairman down. Saturdays are my favourites as we match out to our maracana to go slug it out with ‘dem boys’, Uncle J is a baddo in street soccer. He will convert almost all his chances upfront, no matter how tight the monkey post is. He has this accurate shot that keeps the spectators in awe. Most people thought he is my biological brother but little do they know that I know not where this son of man hails from.

After the early ‘mormor’ saturday street soccer, we went home to chill as mama brought us our favourite ‘tchaw’ which is made of dodo and tomato sauce. Sincerely speaking, I started feeling larger than live and everything was looking so bright and beautiful. I wished uncle J was my biological brother though. After eaten I hurried home to quickly do my school assignment and update my almighty biology note, like it’s not enough government note was still gazing at me, but trust me, that government note is a no go area this week. Fadekemi the anti social class captain should help out. Hopefully Uncle J forgets his 100naira change with me, I will pay her to update my note for me, but before then let me do small eye service for oldman so he doesn’t stretch forth is 10pound pot belly to accuse me of being unserious boy. After four hours of fake studies I hurried back to Uncle J’s apartment to meet him watching my favourite series “The second chance”, I quickly retired to the couch to join him, he offered me a drink, Uncle J is such a nice guy.

Minutes later I started feeling tired and sleepy and my vision was becoming whirl. I noticed Uncle J smiling at me as he whispered quietly to my ears “it’s not gonna hurt you, just stay calm”. Now I’m laying helpless on the couch battling to stay awake when my eyes behold the sight of a mighty rod dangling from above. I was frightened as Uncle J decended gently on me, yet I was looking so calm and helpless like a lamb that is lead to be slaughtered. Oh heavens! I felt the creamy rod piercing through my anus. My failing voice tried to scream out loud for help but I couldn’t feel my voice any more – Uncle J the nice guy has drugged me.

For 5minutes I tasted hell, it was like a dream. I wished mama could just wake up from this nightmare. After a while I gain consciousness but I couldn’t sit upright as my boxers were socked in blood, tears fell down from my eyes. As I sat in unbelievable, I asked myself these questions; “why me?” “Why did uncle J chose to defile me?”. I never imagined in my wildest dreams that a man could lay himself with another man. Still trying to recover from the shock and pain, Uncle J walked in from the toilet looking remorsed and he threw me a white towel and asked me to go wash myself. I tried standing up but my legs were feeble but I managed to limp to the toilet. Then I heard mama screaming my name, Osu!!! Obaseosuwake oh! Uncle J startles and begins to panic, he hurries to shut the door but mama was already at the door.

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ENTER HANNAH (IGBOGI ROAD – PART 2)

It was 9:15pm in a posh part of town in a state in the western parts of present day Nigeria. It was raining cats and dogs outside. Hannah was sitting on a green leather couch beside her cousin, with an empty cup in her hand, in a lavishly furnished and fully air-conditioned living room, staring at the news on a 60″ HD plasma television. Though she was staring at the screen, she wasn’t listening anymore. She was in her head. How can these men and women call themselves leaders? Were the people blindfolded to the polls? How could people who can’t manage the affairs of their own house be able to manage a country that is made up of several ethnic groups? This is a shame to the seat of government? Ignominious acts of this manner should not be aired on television. The children of today may take it as the norm. She thought.

The fuel that had caused the train of thoughts to move was the sight of representatives of the people in the legislative arm viciously throwing chairs at one another during plenary session. This had been aired by one of the local television stations. She was baffled.
“Hannah ki lo se e?” asked Bimbo, her cousin.
Jolting into consciousness and in a slightly accentuated American English she said “Nothing my Bimbo”.
“She has gone and there is nothing we can do about it. God gives and He decides the time we shall go.” Bimbo said trying to sympathize with her cousin.
“We should all stop saying that. Yes God gives and I tell you man decides when we go.” Hannah countered.
“I understand what you mean Hannah but I believe she is resting in peace though.” Bimbo tried to calm the atmosphere sensing a bit of anger in Hannah’s posh voice.
“Bimbo, Rachel is not resting. She is angry. She would want the truth to be known. She would want justice. I have known her for 6 years and I tell you one thing… Rachel would want some real justice gal.” Hannah reaffirmed.
“Take is easy. You don’t want to get upset. I don’t get you… You used to be calm and all girlish. What happened?” Bimbo asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s life. Maybe I shouldn’t have seen that young black American undergraduate who was constantly raped and tortured by her own father. Maybe I shouldn’t have talked to her and in the process found out that she was raped from the age of 3. Maybe life itself is a place were some folks assume they are the predators and others are preys. Bimbo I don’t know but this is one thing I know….” she paused. Stood up and refilled her cup of Coke from the mini-kitchen beside the living room. She checked the time from the wall clock. It read 9:27pm. She wasn’t tired. She was strong and weak at the same time. If she continued she would shed tears. And tears would make her look weak before Bimbo. She walked into the living room, stared at the news, smiled and looked at Bimbo.
“Mo fe lo sun” She said.

“Hannah but…” Bimbo said as she turned towards Hannah but halted after looking at her eyes.
Looking into Bimbo’s eyes, with a smile plastered on her face, Hannah said “Dream of God”
Seated beside a king-sized bed, wearing only a towel, listening to the soft music of Enya playing at the background and holding the picture of her and Rachel, Hannah could not stop crying. She had tried several times to hold back the tears but all her effort seemed to be futile. She recalled the times when this promising former student of hers had told her of her dreams and aspirations. Why does the world kill it’s finest? Why does the world fail to see the truth? Man is blessed with all the resources, both human and natural, to make the best out of the world. Instead man chooses to run the path of least resistance and in the process put their own kind in early graves. She was appalled when the image of Rachel in an open casket came to her mind. She was at the wake-keep of Rachel as well as the internment. She didn’t cry on both occasions even though most there seemed to had allowed their tear glands to burst open. She had stopped crying, so she thought, because she knew crying couldn’t change the world. What the world needed was action, determination, believe, dreams and not realities, doing more-than-paid-for jobs, unity and a sense of dignity. You could add a sense of purpose to the list. The worst part of it was that Africa has been stripped of even its self-esteem.

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MY LIFE AS A FRESHER

The aim of many secondary school leavers is to gain admission into higher institution. I had the same when I finished my secondary school in 2006 but I couldn’t further my education because something happened then. Although I didn’t make the required credits in that year, I made one sitting result in NECO June/July 2007. However, I had to wait till year 2010 before I thought of admission.

Moreover, it was a friend of mine who advised me to obtain UTME form which I did and I scored 210. The score gave me chance to go for Mass Communication at University of Lagos (UNILAG) which was my most preferred and The Polytechnic, Ibadan which was my more preferred in year 2010. But financial constraint didn’t let me do UNILAG post-UTME so I did The Polytechnic, Ibadan post-UTME alone.

It was a day of joy when I received admission alert from The Polytechnic, Ibadan that I have been offered National Diploma admission to study Mass Communication. I was cleared at Ibadan campus before I went to Eruwa Campus (now, The Ibarapa Polytechnic, Eruwa) where ND for Mass Communication is situated. In fact, I was one of the first few people that finished their registration between the first and second week. This is because I was too eager to leave home after the years I’ve spent at home.

Regrettably, I misused the opportunity to build a good G.P in my first year. This is because I spent the year to roam around the town with friends. We were thinking that we are still freshers (new students) and we need to enjoy our freedom. In fact, we didn’t have time to read, although we always attend classes. It was late before some of us changed our ways and faced our primary assignment, yet I was unable to reach my target.

Fortunately, I later joined a resourceful caucus of guys which is called G10+ and I regained my courage that I can still reach my target but it was futile because it’s already late. Though the courage that I gained from the guys really helped me to finish my programme with a presentable grade and I didn’t have any carry-over throughout my programme.

This article is for Jambites to learn from my mistake. Don’t misuse your freedom at school by joining those students who will change their behaviour at school just to feel among big boys/big girls in campus. Stalites who are guilty should also amend their ways before it’ll be too late for them. Furthermore, always have it in mind that unmerited grade through bribery can only secure a job for you but it may not sustain it in future.

Strive to acquire the necessary skills that you need and they will be yours forever. Remember that your parents/guardians/sponsors send you there to expand your horizons. Don’t waste their money (even if it’s yours) and your time. Thanks for reading.

Written by: Mayowa Oladele (BabaModder)

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A WRITER’S TRAVAIL

Quite a number of times, you have this profound urge to move the world in a particular direction as a writer. The desire to put down your thought or idea becomes so acute that you feel the need to write them as the ideas flow in. Most likely, you want to guide against not scribbling down important things that you see or hear about. You want to avoid leaving any stone unturned or distorting the picture you want to create. You often times realize that you have so much you want to put down, but you cannot just find the right words to use to paint the right image. 

Sometimes, writers get frustrated, livid, and defeated when they experience that writer’s block. It feels like they have lost the magical touch they possess to produce another epic novel. That mental anguish they experience when they grope for the elusive words can be likened to the period of childbirth. A woman in labour tosses, groans and writhes in pain all by herself for unending hours at the early stage of childbirth. The contractions she experience are always longer when she is close to having her child. Her face contours into different expression that gives away the intense agony she is passing through.

The searing pain that a woman goes through during labour can be transformed to the excruciating distress, throbbing and torment that a writer goes through when he tries to string innovative ideas together in his work. Even, as her contractions become incessant, she contains the burning torture because she can only picture the moment where she carries her child in her arms and smiles fondly at it. She is patient, resilient, resolute and determined to finish the work she started nine months ago and no amount of pain will deter her. Even, when all the Zest and vitality she has, appear to be failing her, she only has to remember why she is making so great a sacrifice for her to continue to muster all the courage she has in her to deliver the precious being who wants to make its appearance into the world.

Writers go through a similar experience because they believe they have an obligation to fulfill to their readers. So, they work fiercely day and night. It is so inconsequential if they go through hell and high waters to achieve their goals as long as they are able to impart and impact the world positively. They are willing to endure any form of discomfort that will ensure they produce a masterpiece that they can call their baby. Even, when they are fatigued from the hurdles of the day, they still make sure they devote some quality time into their work.

Diligent writers do community service. So, they usually feel the deep longing to expose the ills of the society and at the same time proffer solutions to them in their work. They are painstaking, experienced and dexterous in the way they present their write up. Solely, a writer, irrespective of his accomplishment, often feels like he just recovered from a long bout of illness when he finally finished his work.

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THINGS FALL APART

They’ve been together for six months. Everyday doing nothing but kissing, talking, holding each others hands and smiling at each other. They seemed like the perfect couple…

Then distance happened and life happened. It dawned on them like reality; they had different jobs that required them both to live at different places.

He thought she would fall in love with someone else, she thought so too but ironically, she was stronger but her job took most of the time unlike his.

And so, he had time to reminisce over what she could be doing and whether or not she was even thinking about him.

Slowly, they began to drift away and slowly, they began to tell lies and slowly, they would go for hours then days without having a meaningful conversation.

She was always tired… From the  job.
And he was always tired… From thinking about her.
And then he got another job that could get his mind off her. Now, remember that she wasn’t doing anything uncalled for or seeing someone else, it’s just her job.

And then he wanted to talk to her one night but she shouted at him out of anger… Why couldn’t he just understand that she was tired and that she had work the next day?

She felt he was trying to boss over her and she got mad at him, he got mad too but he told her why… Because they were not who they used to be.

She didn’t sleep that night and thought about it, she cried for her baby was gone (or so he thought). She begged him and he begged her too but somewhere deep inside, she still thought he was at fault… Somehow.

Then he kept begging until she finally forgave him for what none of them even know about. What a man, right? He was quick to do everything, quick to say I’m sorry, quick to tell her that they would get married… Someday. Quick to tell her how beautiful she looks even when he looks stunning himself. Quick to tell her what an amazing girlfriend she is.

And so he told her to stay truthful and she told him not to be afraid, she wasn’t ready to quit the job and she’s not going anywhere either because one thing he didn’t know was the fact that she sees him in her work and that’s what makes it easier and she doesn’t wanna be a liability upon him, that’s why she wants all the money in the work… To save it all for this bright and amazing future of theirs. One can have it all… Right? Your love and whatever it is that brings joy to your heart.
Always and forever… That’s what she told him.

Lesson: Guys should learn to be more patient in a relationship, it makes your girl feel on top of the world.

The Scenarios is my mind.

Credit: MystiqueAlly | Featured Image: Coffeewithasideofautism

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IGBOGI ROAD (A Short Story)

It was on the penultimate week before the last presidential election. He was in the supermarket adjacent his home. Clad in a white kaftan that he likes to wear on evenings, due to his love for the Arabs way of dressing, and a black leather slippers. Mayowa is well-groomed and tall. He looks like he is 27years old but is close to 34. Unmarried and loving it, he lacks the aura associated with a philanderer. But don’t be deceived. He could sleep with his father if he was wearing a skirt.

He checked his wrist-watch, one of the few of his Armani collections, and it’s luminous hands showed the time was around 7:22pm. The evening breeze outside was cool and soothing. His jet black and curly hair, reflected the ray of the moon and made him appear a rich and successful young man. In retrospection, this was how he envisioned his appearance would be when he first saw the Arabian who manages the branch of the construction company he works with as a project manager.

Looking through the varieties of cereals he wanted to buy, he saw what he wanted to be in the next four or five years; The Project Coordinator-Africa of this multi-billion dollar company that pays him good salary.

“Excuse me. Do you by chance work here?”
The soft feminine voice just behind him made his heart skip a beat. He turned around and discovered who should have been crowned the most beautiful girl in the universe just behind him. She was so stunning time could only wait for him to scan through the face. She had beautiful dark eyes that slants perfectly at the edges, full lips and the perfect nose.

“Hi!” she said looking into his eyes.
Mayowa was completely over taken by her beauty that he had no words slipping out of his own mouth.
“Do you work here?” she asked again
“I’m sorry I was taken to the land of dreams by your beauty. I don’t work here but if I have a chance to see you here everyday, I’ll resign where I work and start working here” Mayowa said
She giggled and waved a hand to hide her blush.
Mayowa stretched his hand, stepped forward and introduced himself.
“My name is Mayowa Olabanjo and it would give me so much excitement to know your name and be of assistance to you.”

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THE CONCEPT OF “BIG-PICTURE” THINKING (PHASE 3)

For better understanding, read the PHASE 1and PHASE 2 if you’re just starting........

How To Get The Knowledge/Idea of Big-Picture Thinking

Before the publication of this article, I’ve used almost 7-days to learn and evaluate some possible ways individuals can actually get the idea of Big-Picture thinking. Like I do say, many successful people attributes their success to Big-Picture thinking, thus, they saw the Big-Picture of where their businesses and investments were going to. To be one of the successful people, you need to be guided with the Big-Picture and below are some possible ways you can get the wisdom of seeing the Big-Picture in whatever you’re doing to sustain life.

1. Think of the targeted goal
First of all, for you to have the wisdom of the big-picture, think of the targeted goal in any organization or field you are. When you have the idea of creating something, I believe you must have known what will come out of it. Therefore, knowing the possible outcome leads you to the knowledge of seeing the Big-Picture of what you’re creating and what it will produce.

2. Don’t be too Certain
This is a true fact, you must be complex and diverse with the way you think. Don’t just stop thinking if you’re up for the Big-Picture, always make sure that you arrive at a good start. The more thought we give in for our businesses and organizations, the more the idea of the Big-Picture of that organization keeps coming.

3. Remain Teachable, Learn from Every Experience
To get the concept of the Big-Picture, you need to be simple and fast in learning. Don’t skip lectures concerning what you’re into, and always try to get something from the ideas and informations shared. Create room for people to teach you what you don’t know as this broadens your knowledge for thinking of the Big-Picture. Where you are now is not enough though, but know the experiences you’ve encountered so far. This gives you more wisdom to see the Big-Picture in your career.

4. Brainstorm, Get insights from people
People who sees and think of the Big-Picture do learn from experiences they’ve encountered on the way, but this is not enough as you’ll have to do some little brainstorming. Ask people or colleagues the experiences they’ve had on there way so you can have a little insight on how to resolve the problem should you encounter it, but know the kind of people you ask, people with the intention of success. This shapes your way to seeing the Big-Picture because It’ll widen your knowledge.

5. Explore life 
Don’t just be in one place, else you won’t make it so easily. Take charge and command in your life to visit places related to your career so as to get more ideas.

These five methods to get the knowledge of Big-Picture thinking ends the phases of “The Concept of Big-Picture Thinking”. It’ll help you if you start having the idea of seeing the Big-Picture in your career or organization you’re working on. Work on these steps, and check the phase one and phase two to have better understanding.

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UNDER 2.5 (A Short Story)

If my knowledge about football was anything to go by, this was no mere situation. The headache I am having seems to be a tactical one. A keen lover of the Barclays Premier league would understand better; a joint tactical plan of Jose Mourinho and Sam Allarydyce. The headache seems more of a Jose Mourinho’s ‘parked bus’ and the long air balls of Big Sam, hitting every corner of my head. My head has been banging like balls hitting the bars of a goal post since Idris broke the news. If there was anything I was damn good at in recent months, it was calculating odds. I had gain reputation like tiki-taka, I hardly lose bets.

So, the news comes not only as a surprise but a blow to my rising reputation on campus. I didn’t see the odd coming before it hit me.

It was already past seven as I checked the time on my phone. A Saturday morning was already looking dull than usual. Without the head2ache, I would have been on the field already…no dare misses Saturday soccer in Unity (my hostel). The glamour that comes with it is more than a champions league qualifier. Windows and balconies are always filled to the brim, not leaving out the packed surroundings of the field. Sometimes we would have close to 12 sets and it was usually a ‘six players, one keeper’ game. I was a star player in my own right. I won’t consider myself the Messi or Ronaldo type of player…I was more of a James Milner (always full of energy). I was just in ND1 but I was always guaranteed a start ahead some older colleagues. Apart from the football I was going to miss out on due to headache, today was Saturday and no better time to cash money on sports betting. I’m not a bet addict though; betting is just addicted to me. Unlike most students, I hardly go to bet shops to place bets. I preferred the online way; play and cash your money online. It is more of a big boy thingy I thought.

I brought out my book of betting. A book that houses most of my winning tickets and those I nearly won. The book was a reference to my forecasting stats. Today is Saturday, which means there are several matches to be played across Europe; both the known and unknown leagues. I prefer sticking to leagues I was familiar with – la liga, bundesliga, epl, ligue 1, Russian league and others. I’m always of the opinion that the devil you know is better than the devil unknown. My last ticket was close to winning if not for Motherwell and Salzburg both losing; I had placed a straight win on them. I had always preferred my favourite odd – under 2.5 but I just wanted to try something new. Maybe under 2.5 is even my calling, I jokingly said. I was even nicknamed ‘Tola2.5’ by some of my betting friends. I continued my tactical forecasting as the headache grew in tempo. The noise in my head was greater that the starts of matches at Anfield. My mind raced back to the genesis of the headache. It was after Idris told me that the second semester GP was out. It was the GP for the whole of my ND, after all we didn’t get to see the first semester GP. Seeing the result made my mind raced to different places and moments while I stared jealously and praying for some magical add ups. How did I come about this result? How do I explain to BabaTola? What would my friends say? I   had series of unpublished questions. My GP was a weeping 2.19, which means I was actually below 2.5. I was in pass. My GP was under 2.5. Questions mixed with headache hit my system. I could only provide one answer to all the questions tabled. Graduating with upper is like asking Watford to qualify for the Champions league and win it. The only realistic option was to make lower which comes with having above 2.5. I am keen on making 2.5 and it starts with no more under 2.5 bettings.

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WEEPING OCEANS (A Short Story)

Mere looking at the countenances of the new set of prisoners, that just were confiscated by “the runs boys’ as my accomplices, their captors, preferred to be called, I could not but shake my coconut sized head in pity for these ones, that were soon to be hosted by mother earth for a period of eternity.

I almost forgot what I was told to do, as compassion gripped my heart, threatening to pull off anything identical to inhumanity. My first attraction was a pregnant woman, clutching tightly to her baby which my instinct told me could not be nothing less than a year old, who unlike other babies seemed to find solace in looking at her mothers’ eyes, instead of weeping out her eye ball, something other babies in the group accepted as part of life since their reaching our ‘den’, maybe, she knew crying the whole of river Niger wouldn’t bail them out, I thought.

Turning to take my leave, I felt a hand touch my leg, but on looking down, an unfamiliar sight greeted me as my eyes locked up with that of a hefty man, who I suppose would be in his late thirties, with both hands rubbing each other, he seemed to be pleading for something.

“What do you want from me’ I spoke with a voice that masked my compassion.
“Please oga, I”m sorry to disturb you, shey I feel get igbo wey I feel sneeze’ he said.
I was left to opt between laughing and shaking my head for him, but chose the latter as I gently walked away, feeling sorry for his sickly condition.

‘Give me janja na, even if una wan kill person, shey you…’ he shouted as his voice melted into obscurity, with each step I took away from him.

“Kay, it’s time you come for the transfer”. A voice blared through the public address system.
Soon I found my leg as if in hypnosis, heading toward the direction of the voice, my heart quake at the thought of the implication of the words, I could not gulp down the thought of having my human heart exchanged for a friend’s own. What will happen to my love, my compassion, and every other thing that made me human, I asked, leaving the evening wind to answer my questions.

Entering the surgical ward, where I was soon to undergo what determines my behaviour for the rest of my life, I was motioned to go lie down on the bed, for the next line of action, I need no telling twice, as I lay myself down on the bed with eyes closed.

“Well, Kay, today been your 10th years here, as our custom demands, you will be given a citizenship heart’ One of the surgeon said.

I actually did not remembered that my abduction had took that long, but taking a safe journey through memory, I remembered the round face of my drop dead gorgeous wife, who now would think I’m nothing but a passing tale, and now, all of my feelings for her had find its place in the wind.

“Your hands on your necks, if you move, I will blow your heads.” A familiar voice said.
Opening my eyes, I was aghast to see that the man I thought to be a smoker was a detective, and soon we were rounded up and arrested.

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THE CONCEPT OF “BIG-PICTURE” THINKING (PHASE 2)

On the Phase 1 of the Concept of Big-Picture Thinking, I wrote about how you can bring out the Big-Picture in your mind and make it real, but today on the Phase 2, its about “Why You Should Have The Concept/Idea Of Big-Picture Thinking.

Like I said before in the phase 1, Big-Picture thinking is the idea you possess that brightens your future. For you to have a better view of what the world covers or what the world entails, you should consider being a Big-Picture thinker as this will guide you through success. Below lays out some of the reasons why you should receive the wisdom of Big-Picture thinking.

1. Big-Picture Thinking Makes You Successful
What else do you need when you’re guided with the Big-Picture? Why won’t you be successful in that stuff you’re into when you already know the possible problems/challenges you’ll face and the possible solutions to them? Big-Picture thinking helps broaden your knowledge about things and as such it guides you to success in anything you’re doing. Think of it!

2. It Allows You To Lead
Big-Picture thinkers have the opportunity to be leaders because they possess some qualities common thinkers doesn’t. They have the ability to detect what’s going on around them. Before you’re being made a leader, you must have the concept of Big-Picture thinking, you should be able to know the challenges you’ll face in future so you can prepare for how they’ll be fought. Only Big-Picture thinkers can achieve this and being a fast Big-Picture thinker, you have the opportunity to be a leader because you can see the vision and what’s in front before other people do, you can sketch a picture of where the team you’re leading is going and show how the future connects with the past to make the team more meaningful.

3. It Keeps You On Target
Yes, Big-Picture thinking allows you stay on target in anything you’re doing. Having the thought of what you’re driving at i.e what you want to achieve that has been the Big-Picture you’ve captured in your mind, you’ll be on target. The Big-Picture keeps you focused and straight forward because you have the idea of what you’re up to and things you’ll face.

4. It’s Allows You To See What Others See
Having the concept of Big-Picture thinking helps you know/see what other people see and the way they see them. Not just being a psychologist, If you want to understand people’s life, and what they face or see, try Big-Picture thinking. Thinking of how things are done in one’s field/occupation and possible things to come across helps you know what that occupation entails and that’s Big-Picture.

5. It Promotes Teamwork
Knowing what you’re driving at as a team, Big-Picture thinking helps promote the activities of the team. When all team members have the idea about what each of them will be doing in the team, they will succeed because they can see the future of the team.

Life only gives us what we give it. We can actually become great and successful if we can get the concept of Big-Picture thinking and I believe that the aforementioned reasons why you should be a Big-Picture thinker will convince you.

Thank you for reading the Phase 2 of the Concept of Big-Picture Thinking which talked about the reasons you should be a Big-Picture thinker. On the Phase 3, I’ll be writing on How to Acquire the Concept/Idea of Big-Picture Thinking. 
#Anticipate

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LETTER TO MY DEAR JACKSON- PART 2

Click here to read Part One


My Dear Jackson,

How is your day going? I do trust you are having a great time with your new courtesan, Angela. I wish I could eavesdrop on your date with her at Forks and Fingers but I’m pretty sure you both had a groovy moment together. I have some thoughts to share with you that I feel you are still not getting right. Relationship is not for boys, it’s for men and it does come with stacks of responsibilities and a very high level of mellowness. I’m going to get a bit motivational in today’s letter. The quality of life that you would ever live here on earth will be determined by the eminence and extensiveness of the knowledge that is rooted in the two symmetrical halves of your cerebral hemispheres. I don’t know why you call me your mentor and you can’t just follow my footsteps! I have always accentuated the importance of knowledge in your journey in life as a critical conduit to a fulfilling life. I have told you that there are no self-made men, only self-made idiots. The first law I taught you at the hotel room you came to meet me in Yenogoa last year is the law of Intentionality. I did charge you that it’s never possible for you to climb a staircase accidentally. That’s the same way it’s impossible to go up in life without making certain conscious decisions. I wouldn’t like a situation where you are flourishing in your relationship and you are lacking in other areas of your life. I’m going to talk about two of such key areas; spirituality and finance.

First, spirituality. Notice I didn’t say religiosity, which is an intellectual challenge of the church in today’s world. There is no successful man that exists in this world without the support of any extrasensory and paranormal entity. You either belong to God or the devil. There is no sitting on the fence. If you are going to go far, you had better stop all this pharisaic viewpoints that has encapsulated you over the years and face serious business. All the puerile and fatuous attitudes of speaking in tongues for two minutes while brushing your teeth in the morning and saying you are praying should be thrown out of your mentality. You can’t just read the Bible only when you are sick or when you need help. It wouldn’t work. I have told you that the most important word after salvation in the Bible is the word ‘fellowship’. It’s gotten from the Koine Greek word, ‘Koinonia’ which means a deep-rooted companionship with someone, an inherent covenanted amity with divinity. You could start with 15 minutes. As time goes on, you keep getting deeper. Get a devotional that can help you out. There are lots of them: Open Heavens, Our daily Manna, Rhapsody of Realities, Your word for today, Spurgeon’s daily devotional, David Guzik’s Devotional and a lot more. Buy spiritual books. I recommend Benny Hinn’s Good Morning Holy Spirit, Kathryn Kuhlman’s Heart to Heart, Joyce Meyer’s How to hear from God and Andriy Kuksenko’s In the Beginning. They would help you a lot.

Let’s talk about finance. You are now a man Jackson and you have to start thinking and acting like one. No lady would ever like to date a broke man even when God gives her His I.D card as a proof that such man is the right person for her. Even when she tells you that she would be with you through thick and thin, be careful because sometimes, promises can be frustrated! It’s so natural. You have to understand the way money operates. You must be au fait with some philosophies about money. The poor work for money, the rich make money work for them. The fool keeps money in the bank and keeps piling it up, the wise man understands that money is a current, it keeps moving. So they invest their money in form of stocks, real estate deals and government securities. The poor withholds money, the rich gives out money. The poor spends loads of money on luxuries even when he has just little, the rich spends money on just necessaries despite having lots of money. The poor prefers to buy clothes with thousands of dollars but the rich prefers to put on just a simple t-shirt, jeans trousers and a leather sandal. They are not proud! You should also understand dealings in the stock exchange market. Your adeptness to diagnostically analyse the economic situations of your country tells a lot more of your desire to make big money. You should be able to know how to avoid tax and not evade it. All these aren’t just some theoretical tenets; they also have real-world implications. The rich pays less tax than the poor because he understands tax law very well and realise that money is emotional.

Conclusively, if possible, attend a business school. I know you are studying English Education but that’s irrelevant to making it in life. It’s beyond the semantics, phonology and grammatical rules you were taught in EGL 101. Read magazines about finance. Get addicted to Harvard Business Review, The Economist, The Financial Times and so many more. Don’t just read them, devour them! And lastly, buy books. You can get books from Robert Kiyosaki, Sharon Letcher, Donald Trump, Allam Williams, Sanford Botkin, Dan Renoylds, Ron Paul, Robert Slater and so many more.

I know you are charged up already but I can read the look on your face; Akin, where will I get money for all these things? Before I drop my pen, let me quickly teach you four ways to getting anything you need. First, inherit it! There are some books your dad read but are now lying idle in the book shelf, clean them and start to read. Secondly, buy. Start saving from the little you have. You should be able to buy at least a book in a month. Thirdly, If you can’t buy, borrow. Be courageous to ask from people, they will be willing to give you. Finally, if the above does not work, steal it. Yes, I mean steal it or better put, take it. There is a holy stealing. Jesus took the ass in the nearby village that did not belong to him. He understands this last principle very well. Be very bold to steal that book you honestly want to read but you can’t afford. God will definitely reward your labour! (laughing)….have a nice day!

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