THE PHOTOGRAPHER 17 --by Rose

 

(Image source: www.gettyimages.com)

Udeme shifted restlessly in the cab, it was getting darker and she was quite sure it was around 10 o’clock as she checked her phone to confirm. They were caught in a traffic jam and they were at the tail of the line, a very long queue of cars it was. She wondered if this was yet another sign that herself and Bode were not meant to be but she refused to believe that. The traffic jam was just a mere coincidence. She would still see him for the last time tonight before thinking of a plan. She couldn’t give up easily on Bode, she was sure that he loved her although he had his weaknesses but she trusted in his love. She braced herself with hope. She would seek for advice from Nadie and with the help of her best friend, she would win Bode back.

Her phone shone and vibrated on her laps, it was Nadine. “Udeme where are you right now?” She quickly explained the traffic jam situation. Being satisfied her friend was alone with Bode in the hospital, she dropped the phone and faced the cab driver who was eavesdropping. She observed him for a little while, it was quite weird for such a young man who spoke excellent English to be a cab driver but then again, this was Nigeria. “Madam, there is another route we could take to the hospital but you would have to pay extra,” he offered. Udeme considered this for a moment. “And what route could that be?” She asked staring at the young man suspiciously, he wanted more money and she guessed that other route would be longer. “Brooks Avenue.” She considered his suggestion and checked her purse to be sure she had enough. She didn’t want any embarrassment from any driver. She had just the exact amount he had asked for. There was no point of hanging around such tight traffic which could take few more hours to clear up. She had to hurry before Mrs. Thomas could return to take over from Nadie. 

**** 

Danga Roland lowered himself upon the heap of sound that lay by the roadside, he felt like a chameleon, having the need to blend with his environment. He spotted a police van from where he hid and prayed they moved further or his ‘job’ would be ruined. He was a wanted man already in the country, one of the highest paid assassins in West Africa. Many politicians had employed his services. He smiled as he remembered his first job in The Congo; he had been hired to destroy a certain writer who had posed as an opposition to the government. He had administered a very deadly poison to the man while taking a picture with him as one of his fans, all he did was simple; he had poisoned the tip of his nail and had dug into the man’s skin while hugging him along other fans. It was a natural death to the masses but to him, it was his first success. 

‘Yakubu’ was only a pseudonym, he had hidden his real identity since the day he began training, only his family knew him so well and that had always exposed them to threats. So with all what he’d earned from the jobs, he sent his mother and other siblings outside the country. He had done different kind of jobs but tonight’s was going to be a bit odd for him. The client was a female, he hadn’t met her in person but through the Kabarl, an online agency that used pornography as a cover for their assassination network. She had asked for the best and was ready to pay heavily to get the job done. He sighed with relieve as he saw the police van on the highway, now he had to prepare, he took out a wrap of cocaine and sniffed it gently but the beep of his phone disrupted his moment. 

The text was clear and apt, it read ‘She is Coming, I’m driving a brown Volvo. KABARL. He felt his blood rush but he controlled himself; the drug was getting to him. The woman client had given him specific instructions and he was sure to follow them through but he wondered briefly why a woman should inflict such havoc on another woman. 

He steadied himself as he sighted the Brown coloured Volvo and luckily the road was empty, he rushed out and waved for his partner to stop the car. It was time for another job. 

**** 

Udeme suddenly felt scared as she saw a strange man waving at their cab and was more confused when the driver headed towards his direction. “What’s going on?” She asked, feeling more afraid, but he ignored her and drove faster, she felt her heartbeat increase. She tried opening the door but it was locked. She felt so helpless, was she going to be kidnapped? Or killed? Who was after her? She had no other choice but to scream but she was too late as the other man silenced her with a piece of clothe while the other packed the car. 

She felt her back against the heap of sand and looked around helplessly, she couldn’t scream as her mouth had been covered with a piece of cloth. She cried helplessly as she watched the man loosen his belt, she tried moving but he held her down and pulled down her skirt with such a rush. The other man stood watching while making a call, she felt like dying, she wished the earth could just open up and swallow her. But it was too late as the man parted her laps and thrust deeply into them and she gave a loud scream only she could hear. The last thing she could see was a flash of white light and she went numb. 

Yakubu rose up quickly and beckoned on the other man whose job was to take pictures. ‘”Are they okay, clear enough or I should take new ones?” He asked, fearing the wrath of Yakubu. Yakubu went through the pictures and shook his head. “We have to go again, the rag over her mouth spoils the whole picture, makes the situation look like a rape but love making is what is intended’. The young man nodded and prepared his camera for another round. 

Yakubu sent the pictures directly to the mail of his female client and was yet to receive a credit alert. He waited patiently while the other man dressed up the girl who was now awake but felt too weak to struggle or utter a word. His phone gave a loud ring and he moved away to take the call. “Done” was all he said and cut the call. He wasn’t a man for many words. “Let’s go,” he called out roughly to the other man and they walked away, leaving the bleeding girl behind. 

Udeme couldn’t accept what had just happened to her. Was she raped? No, she couldn’t be. She sat dejectedly on the sand as tears streamed down her face. Who would she tell? She wished she had listened to Duncan. She rose up slowly and picked her phone. She had to tell Nadie as quickly as possible, she needed to see a doctor. She dialed the phone severally but there was no answer. She had no other choice but to call Duncan.

“Hello Udeme where are you? Are you home or at the hospital?” She was silent and couldn’t hold it down any longer. She broke down into sobs. “What’s wrong, Is it Bode? Is he Okay where are you?” But she couldn’t bring herself to say those words. She closed her eyes and whispered “Duncan…I’ve been raped.” He was silent for a while then finally asked, “Where are you?”

AN NYSC CAMP EXPERIENCE --by Nickz

So many things actually happened back then in November 2014, during my three weeks NYSC orientation in Umunya Camp, Anambra State. A lot of guys were trying so hard to win the heart of pretty girls they came across. Some were successful; others kept spending until they read the invisible back-off handwriting. The engaged girls sometimes played smart by pulling off their rings when they found a catch to flirt and mess with. The military supervision and time restrictions couldn’t completely cut out fun from the whole process.

One of the moments that made the camp days fun was the evening activities which brought everyone out to the open field. The various platoons usually had several activities to display, ranging from cultural dance, drama, comedy show to music performance. It was interesting to watch youths display talents gracefully. It was also interesting to know that some nocturnal fellows were usually far behind the crowd, doing their thing in shady corners. Yeah, many things happen when youths come together. They can serve in many ways, you know. Once, two guys were arrested in the bush and brought for trial in the camp court for possession of hard drugs. I felt for them as they were handed over to security agents.

Back to where I’m really heading; what happened in camp. Well, a couple of interesting things happened, likewise a couple of saddening things. There’s one experience that really stands out when it comes to the later. Let me start from how that day started.

The early morning trumpet went off by 4:30am which meant we all had to be up and ready for the morning drills. If one wasn’t fast enough to be ready, then the soldiers would remind such a fellow that he wasn’t in his father’s house. Because of time and the long queue for fetching water, I decided to postpone bathing till after the drills. I’d also wash off the sweat from the drills. Besides, the morning was really chill. So I brushed my mouth, slipped into my white shorts, shirt and jungle boots and doubled up to the field.

The thousands of us assembled on the field and our superiors directed the devotion before telling us the usual schedule of activities. Afterwards, we commenced our drills with Man O War officials guiding us. We did jogging, chanted crazy songs, did some more physical exercise and the chill was replaced with sweat. After the drills, we gathered again for instructions from our platoon officer. The officer announced to us that our platoon will be keeping security watch that day and so she needed ten volunteers. I raised my hand too. Ten of us were selected and while others dispersed, the ten of us followed the officer for further instructions. We were given tags and locations to keep watch over later in the day.

By then, day light was ripe and it was time for breakfast. The queue for food was really long and noisy. Even with my duty tag, I could hardly get special attention. Finally, breakfast was done with and it was back to bathing. The water supply system in the camp was a huge fuck up that day. Few outlets dispensed water and the rate of flow was miserable. Buckets lined again.  The flow ceased and we had to go and join an existing queue at another outlet. Unluckily for me and some others, the trumpet went off again and that meant we had to double up to the parade ground. Damn! That meant no bathing for me at the moment. Without wasting time, I tidied up and rushed to the parade ground. We were briefed for some minutes then told to dispatch to our various skill acquisition groups while those on security should go to their duty posts. Within minutes, I walked down to my security post and manned the area for hours. The sun came up and temperature was high. I could smell sweat from my armpit. I promised myself a good bath after the whole stress.

Finally, we were relieved of duty by 5pm. The ten of us later met, compiled our reports and submitted. By the time we were done, it was time for dinner. We queued up again for food and after dinner, I went to fetch bathing water, only to meet another queue. The length of the line could form a border around Kaduna state. While there, guess what? The trumpet sounded again! We were summoned for evening activities. Mehn, those evening activities could be time-consuming and in my dirty state, it wouldn’t be enjoyable. How would I be comfortable around my friends?

Several platoons carried out activities and at the end, the judges announced the winning platoons but I couldn’t feel the fun that night. Finally, the activities ended late at past ten pm, eating few minutes into light-out time. I was feeling so disappointed. Really? Are you going to bed like this? I asked myself. While approaching my dorm, I saw a guy rush out with an empty bucket. “Water dey rush for one tap o! na there I de go so.” I didn’t need further words. Rushing in, I grabbed my bucket and hastened in his direction. On getting to the outlet, my jaw dropped. If what I had seen in the morning and afternoon were queues, then this was their grand master! I contemplated going back to find other options but I decided to wait. Thirty minutes later, the buckets were moving okay and I was getting closer; like twenty buckets close. I smiled when I saw a long line of bucket behind me and I remembered I was once at the end. Progress finally. Fifteen more buckets. Ten more buckets. Seven more buckets. Seven more buckets to fetch mine, the beats changed. Out of nowhere, one black and tall soldier carrying a thick stick that could club a bear to death walked to the front of the tap. “Oya Move!” He commanded us. We started to complain that most of us had not washed since morning but this man was hardened. Maybe we expected he’ll later soften and allow us to fetch some more before leaving so we hesitated in complying. Unknown to us, we were wearing out his patience. It was when he raised his heavy stick up and smashed the line of buckets that we knew he meant business. Immediately, people picked their rubbers and moved, complaining as they left. I picked mine and went back some distance. I didn’t go. I was glad there were few other guys, about fifteen others still hanging around with me at some distance. The soldier would not leave the tap area so we brought up a plan. “This is not fair! They can’t even provide us with water. We are not animals o!” one of us complained. “Let us go and complain to the State Coordinator.” Someone suggested. That sounded like a good idea but it required steel balls. The State Coordinator was like the governor there. She was highly secured with state security agents and other security outfits but we were willing to give it a shot. We made up our minds to go to her quarters. Armed with out buckets, we left. The source of our strength was that we were many and so with a collective voice, we may win a little favour. I was in front with two other guys while the rest followed behind. “We cannot be suffering like this! Since morning I have not taken my bath!” Someone complained as we marched on. Wow, it sounded good to know that someone else was in my shoes. This was already some minutes to eleven pm.

We were getting close to the quarters. We could see it. Unfortunately, that was all we could do—see it. Some armed State Security agents approached us and we halted. Mehn, these guys were armed with bad arse P-90s! I was comforted with the knowledge that with our presentable number, we would gain some attention from them. But a surprise awaited me when I turned behind to see that all our followers had vanished and we were left just four! One of the superiors dressed in black suit stepped forward with a stern look that could fry a rock. With a commanding voice, he asked us, “What time is it by your clock?” First of all, the shock of seeing how few we had become was weakening enough. Now, these dreadful faces. “Sir  we came to say that we need water to take our—” He didn’t let us land. “My friend, listen to me. Before you say anything, let me have your state codes!” What? State Code? Mehn, it could have been better for us to frog-jump all the way to our dorms than to surrender our state codes. That could warrant serious penalties. In the morning, they may say we came to attack the Coordinator and read out our state codes for us to come out before all and face our judgment. For the first time, we all feared. “Please sir, we only came to —” He cut us off again. “Are you all aware that it’s past light-out time and you should be in bed? Before I count three, I don’t want to see anyone of you here!” That was the best thing I heard all evening. Sir, just one is enough, you don’t have to count up to three. I said in my heart before I vanished into thin air.

That night was very long and uncomfortable and I understood that being under training could be a hell hole. The following day, there was water and in spite the queue, I fetched enough for my bath and laundry. I developed a technique that prevented such future occurrences. Ask me what I did.

THE PHOTOGRAPHER 16 --by Rose

(Image source: www.gettyimages.com)

Duncan couldn’t believe what Udeme had just told him, he was astonished at the behavior of Mrs. Thomas. How could a woman be so cruel? Maybe she blamed Udeme and suspected her of having something to do with the attack. He couldn’t bear to see her cry, but he knew from the beginning that a man like Bode was always bad news and couldn’t be kept in a cage. He tried comforting her but it was quite pointless as she couldn’t be pacified, he left her and rose to get her some brandy, at least, alcohol was handy in situations like this. 

“UD, have this,” he handed her the tumbler while staring at her teary face. She gulped the liquid down and felt her throat burn. “Has Nadie returned any of your calls?” She asked, looking worried. Maybe she was busy at the hospital. He shook his head in response. He was awed by her nature. Even in her situation, she still showed so much concern for her friend Nadine who hadn’t responded to their calls and messages. “It’s okay, I would just get some sleep then I’ll go to the hospital for the last time.” Duncan felt her pain, she looked so hurt and helpless. “Are you sure about that Udeme?” He inquired gently. For a woman to reject her son’s girlfriend meant such a relationship couldn’t amount to anything in future and it was best to walk away in good time and that is what he thought his friend should do. She had suffered enough in the hands of Bode but she loved him so much and he feared this could break down her spirit. “I’m sure Dee, let me just see him one more time before I walk away for good, apparently we aren’t meant to be together. If we were, things would’ve worked out.” She sniffled as fresh tears poured down her face. “Now Adenike has him, she is free to take him and others. He is no longer mine.” She continued, leaving Duncan confused. 

“Who is Adenike?” She blinked and swallowed. “His ex girlfriend. She works in the company and wasn’t quite nice to me. She was the lady you saw in the hospital.” He nodded “Oh, I think I remember her, just stop worrying about this issue, I know it’s not easy but I know you’ll get over Bode soon,” he assured her while rubbing her shoulders. She checked the time and saw it was getting late, she had to go to the hospital again as she had received a text from Nadie who confirmed Mrs. Thomas had left. “You know what Dee?” She began, as she picked up her purse and straitened her skirt. “I think I should go now, Nadie just texted me and it’s all good.” “Okay, let me pick up the keys, I will drop you so I could bring some supplies for Nadie.” He offered but she declined. She felt like being alone, you know, she wanted space to take in all that had happened to her and the next action to take. “I’ll be fine so also Nadie, just take care of yourself. Goodnight.” She whispered and left. 

Duncan shook his head sadly, wondering if Nadine loved him the way Udeme loved Bode. Lately she had begun acting strange, he felt something change. They had lost their connection. In the beginning, he attributed it to the stress of planning a wedding but he had his suspicions and he hoped his guts weren’t right. He felt it kind of strange for her sudden devotion to her friend’s boyfriend, the Nadie he knew was self centered and had nothing to offer people except it benefited her but he loved her still. He had noticed how she treated her friend sometimes, like Udeme didn’t really matter and all that but he ignored it. It was all getting to him now. Could he cope with such a woman when they got married eventually? He shook his head, Nadine couldn’t be having an affair with Bode, maybe she just liked him because he was Ud’s guy but that feeling crept up his spine again as he remembered the condoms he had seen in her bag some time ago and once again he wondered if getting married to her was the right decision. Just as his thoughts were speaking to him, his phone rang, he sighed and decided he had to talk to someone, a relationship expert, he needed to air out his feelings, he needed some advice. 

“Good evening Engineer Duncan,” the cool female voice greeted and he checked the number to see who it was, but it wasn’t familiar. “Strange,” he muttered. “Hello, who am I speaking with please?” He inquired rolling his eyes. “Someone who cares about you,” she answered and it startled him. “Who could that be?” He was getting a bit impatient. He needed some sleep because the next day was going to be super hectic. “Okay, call me Love Doctor,” she said sweetly. He stretched his full length on the cushion chair. This was getting interesting. “Love doctor.” For a moment, he wondered if his wish had come true because he had wished to speak with a relationship expert. He took a deep breath wondering what to reply next but he heard some noise at the background, the line was breaking. “Bad network. Hello? Miss? Are you there?” But the line went dead. 

He tried calling her back but to no avail, that was no coincidence he felt it strongly. Something bad was going on in his life and he was being kept in the dark. He rose up and made for the stairs hoping to find out whatever it was. 

**** 

Adenike quickly rushed to the door to see who it was that had interrupted her call with Duncan. She had devised a cool strategy to deal with Nadine, she would expose her to the whole world for who she was and she was nothing but a cheap whore. She leaned by the glass windows and peeped, feeling a little bit startled as no one was there but she maintained her cool because she’d heard loud knocks on the door. 

She shivered and began dialing the number of James, her gateman. What if it were robbers? She looked at the clock and prayed against such an ungodly visit. It was getting very late. “Shit!” She exclaimed as she tossed the phone aside. That fool didn’t pick up. Something fishy was going on in her compound, she felt it strongly. Could Nadine send thugs to her? She thought of this possibility and shook the idea off. Although she was a cheat, she didn’t think Nadine had it in her to kill someone but how was she to know. Nadie didn’t look that smart, she was quite sure of that but right now she had to find whoever it was that pounced on her door.

She made for her room to pick up her pistol which she kept for safety and protection in situations as this. But immediately she reached the entrance of her room, she felt something cold on her back and she knew it was too late for her. She felt the weight of the gun of her attacker while he roughly pushed her into her bedroom and threw her on the bed. She turned around to see his face and was quite surprised as her captor hadn’t worn a mask. She smiled mischievously and felt her plans fall into place. “Yakubu!” She yelled his name. She was surprised to see him because she thought he was dead. She had paid him and the other boys to waste Barrister Edwards but they had shot Bode instead and they had lost their lives in the process. At least, that was what she was made to understand. “I thought you were—” She halted as he completed the word. “Dead?” He paced around the room a little bit. “Madam Nike, I barely escaped death on the mission to waste Barrister Edwards, the other two weren’t quite lucky and somehow the police got to know we were three in number. So I had to be careful while visiting you.” Nike watched the young man carefully, Yakubu was one of the top assassins in the country. She knew very little about him and she was quite sure ‘Yakubu’ wasn’t his real name. From what she’d gathered, he was a graduate of Microbiology from the University of Illorin, Kwara, and like other graduates from Nigerian institutions he was unemployed for about seven years. He had no other option than to train himself and do something worthwhile to survive. She was happy to see him. She would employ his services well in her battle with Nadine. He was the best hitman in town. “So what are your plans?” Nike asked eagerly. He contemplated for a minute “I need jobs so I can get enough cash and flee the country.” She smiled slowly at him and he understood the smile. She offered him a job, of course, he wasn’t wrong to pay his long standing customer a visit. He was instructed to terminate Nadine in a week’s time and that job was quite lucrative. “I have to go now, I have a job to carry out tonight.” He gasped while checking his phone for notifications. He rose up and melted into the thick darkness for the girl he was about to silent. 

DIMPLES --by Kreed

(Image source: www.pinterest.com)

Do you remember that girl? The one with dimples? She was beautiful right? And the dimples perfected her beauty. Remember how you wished you had one and even went as far as using your pen to push your cheek every morning to create your own dimple? Few weeks after the pen puncturing exercise, you still had no dimples, instead the pimples trying to cover every facet of your face became even more relentless. So much effort, with rather undesiring results. Downhearted you were and I’m sure you wondered why God decided to ‘bless’ some and not all. Cheer up! Think no more, I’ve got good news. What if I told you that a dimple is actually a deformity? Stunned huh?

Dimples are a facial muscle deformity. Dimples may be caused by variations in the structure of the facial muscle known as zygomaticus major. Specifically, the presence of a double or bifid zygomaticus major muscle may explain the formation of cheek dimples. This bifid variation of the muscle originates as a single structure from the zygomatic bone. As it travels anteriorly, it then divides with a superior bundle that inserts in the typical position above the corner of the mouth. An inferior bundle inserts below the corner of the mouth.

There are 3 types of dimples, namely:

Cheek Dimples: This is the most common type of dimple. It can be found on many areas of the cheek

Chin Dimples: Often referred to as a ‘cleft chin’, is less common dimple on the face, which results from a connection to the underlying jaw structure

Back Dimple: This type of dimple has been referred to as the ‘dimple of Venus’ after the Roman goddess of beauty (when will they ever name something after our own gods, like Sango et al). It is the least known of the three. It is often situated in the lower part of the back and is more common in women than in men.

However, if you’re still obsessed about this deformity, you can get it through a surgical procedure called Dimple Creation Surgery (so literal) or Dimplasty. Dimplasty is a procedure that can be done under local anesthesia. Prior to the procedure, the oculoplastic surgeon will mark the area with you, so you are fully aware of the planned dimple placement. During the procedure, the doctor will make a small opening inside the mouth and work on the buccinators muscle inside the cheek to create a natural-looking pimple. The inside of the cheek is closed with dissolvable stitches. Since the procedure is performed inside the mouth, there is no obvious appearance of surgery from the outside. Dimplasty is a quick, relatively painless procedure. A dimple creation procedure takes approximately 30 minutes to complete.

There you have it. Despite all this however, the dimple remains the cutest deformity ever.

REALLY? HAPPINESS FROM WITHIN? --by Nickz

 

(Image source: www.musedmagonline.com)

This is one topic I have controversy over but let me not flare up on the first line so you can understand me.  Happiness from within; this expression has been made several times when people post on social media. If you go to Facebook, you may see a post by some person saying something like, “Don’t depend on anyone or anything for your happiness. Don’t let what they do to get to you. Discover the happiness from within you. Then no one can ever take your smile.” Then you see multiple likes and comments like, “you’re so right dear. I wish everybody could know this.”  There’s a blog I visited and the writer posted this:

 “When nothing lasts forever, our dependency on materialistic things or people around us also perishes one day. Keeping this fact in mind, we must be the sole responsibility takers of our happiness. We can very well create happiness when we would maintain a distance with the outside world.”

After reading the post, I was left confused and I hate to be put in a confused state of the mind.

When someone says happiness from within, I imagine an ideal figure that does not get offended or unhappy, no matter what happens, or has a button in his heart to press so as to overcome every frustrating event and becoming happy even during a traumatic situation, or does not require any external factor to restore his or her happiness.

Some time ago when I had a date with an old time female class mate, while we got to know ourselves better over a table of drinks, she had told me something that made me confused; she said to me with a smile, “I’m always happy.” I paused for a while and asked her, “how’s that possible?” she confused me further with some philosophical words and idealistic quotes. I had to change topic because that subject made me feel like, dude, it seems you haven’t discovered yourself. How come you can’t be happy from within?  After the date, we spoke often on phone and it was usually fine but few weeks after, I gave her a phone call and she was sounding extremely cold and distant. I asked her what the matter was but got the reply, “nothing”. The next day was the same thing; still got “nothing” for a reply. I knew she was not fine and I really wanted to know why. I was surprised when she later disclosed she was sad because her phone’s screen was faulty! She did not only become unhappy but she had transferred the unhappiness on me! I was now the one playing her part, reminding her of how she told me she’s always happy. Well, I encouraged her to cheer up as it was a temporary situation.

Now, you may be wondering what my problem is with happiness. The truth is; I don’t have any problem with the subject happiness. I’m only unagreeable when people say one can always be happy from within or by separating from the outside world. Some will go ahead to tell you to go to the Holy Scriptures, that that’s the best place to find happiness. This gets me more annoyed! Dude! I read my bible regularly. The same bible makes us to know that  if someone comes to you naked and hungry  and you tell him, go in peace without providing what his real physical needs are, then your faith is vain (James 2:15&16). Well, another problem with our people is “Over-Christianity” but that’s gonna be a subject for another time. Back to the subject at hand; I seriously wonder how these people generate happiness from within at all times and how they stay happy always, as they claim. I would really want a detailed and a non-confusing tutorial on how this works. But before that, let me say my mind.

Though I’m naturally a happy, peaceful, jovial and cheerful fellow, I have my moods. Sometimes, things people do get at me so hard I become saddened. For instance, one of the things I despise is open embarrassment. If you talk to me rudely in a public function and make it so loud that people turn their heads; people that hold me in high esteem watch the scene you’ve created, it could make me really unhappy. Now, assuming I manage to pretend and leave the scene with a fake “all is well” smile, it’s just a cover. The bitterness is there. Though I may forgive the offender, I will still feel unhappy for a while, if I don’t do anything to help my state of mind. Now, look at this scenario, do you expect me to go and open the scriptures to find what it says about happiness at that point? Do you expect me to press one button inside my heart and happiness from within will just take over me? No, I don’t think so.

Though what works for me may not work for others, there are certain things that I can do to stabilize my mood and restore my happiness, based on the scene described above. If I take a walk along a quiet road or sit out somewhere dim and distant from distraction, it might not really help as it will only make the scenes play again in my head. If I start telling myself, “be calm, get over it. You know you’re not all that bullshit he/she said,” I’m not sure it will work. But if I find a good friend or an elderly and understanding person I can sit with and share my feelings, receive some comforting words and advice, I’ll just feel my shine rising again. I’ll end up becoming happier and cheerful. I guess that’s the thing with melancholies. Depending on the situation, its frequency and how unhappy it makes me, I use different approaches; sometimes, a soothing music may do, other times, a change of environment is what’ll work. 

That was from a personal angle. I’m proud to have studied myself and know what works for me. I know there’re others out there who fall under the same category.

I write all these not to disrespect anyone’s opinion or medium of happiness but to air out my views on the subject and share what works for me. I also stand to be educated properly if I have misconceived anything.

Please if you have read this post, don’t be a passive reader, share your comment on this subject too. I’m sure you have an opinion about this post. Take a little time and drop your comment.  You may help someone. Remember, what works for you may work for another person.

THE CHURCH & COMMON SENSE --by Slick

(Image source: faculty1.coloradocollege.edu)

Sometimes you witness a particular event repeat itself in the same manner and you are just helpless. You can only but keep your thoughts to yourself to avoid being thought of as agent of the devil or enemy of progress. Well here is why I say so.

I attended a particular Church for close to fourteen years, where the preacher was the only person who seemed to prosper at the expense of the well-being of her members. Ehen! The gullible ones would say; “Michael, you better don’t blaspheme or speak ill of a servant of God”. I agree with you, but there are some truths that must be told.

I got used to various bible passages that were used to convince members into sowing seeds. I am not against anyone sowing seeds since it is a personal deal between you and God. Rather, I am not pleased with the special tags that are attached to these so called seeds. Some even go to the extent of telling you that blessings attached to these seeds are not for everyone.

A popular example is JOHN 3:16. Surprised! Don’t be. You’d only be because the preacher in your church doesn’t use this bible passage. As it says “For God so loved the world that he GAVE His only begotten son that whomsoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life” (Note the emphasis on the word Gave). Then, a professional goes ahead to tell you the essence of sacrifice laying emphasis on the story of Abraham sacrificing his son Isaac. What sacrifice can be greater than this?

The church has a need or the “Lord” wants to raise ten millionaires amidst the economic crisis the nation is facing. Therefore I want ten people to step out to sow a seed of (for example 100,000 naira) are usually the sentences that follow. These statements are supported by a final blow which says “I have this special oil that I have been praying over for some days now, and if I anoint you, no devil can stop you”. They do not even care about the salvation of your soul or the sources of these seeds that people are coming out to sow.

Wait! They hear specifically from the Lord that it has to be ten people and then you see more than ten people coming out to sow seeds all in a bid to get a feel of the special oil. Last I checked, God is not an author of confusion. And just when you think the whole drama is over, they bring down the bidding price all the way down to the lowest amount possible. Then you begin to wonder if the oil or prayers would work for you in the same way it would for those that sowed the highest amount.

The results of your seed sowing are evident in the new cars, buildings and property acquired by these preachers. You complain about your situation and all they can do is smile and tell you that “IT IS WELL” even when your landlord is threatening to throw you out to the streets. You make them richer at your own expense.

Don’t agree? Can you count the number of preachers in the country that own a private Jet or go about with Police and Military escort? And you foolishly point and say “See; na my pastor dey go so” from the window of your One room apartment.

I do not even want to lay emphasis on the number of private schools owned by these so called Men of God where their members cannot afford to pay the fees for their wards to attend. And when you complain, they say “If you think education is expensive, try ignorance”.

Must life continue like this in the name of honouring the words of your pastor? I am of the opinion that if your Church does not change you, change your church. Your pastor should teach you how to invest your money, time and other resources. Your pastor should teach you to be as successful as he is. This is 2016 and you are not getting any younger. Stop standing behind your pastor as a protocol officer if you struggle to feed twice in a day. You are struggling to train your children in public schools and your pastors children school abroad. Na wa o!

What would you say to yourself if your pastor drives the latest of cars and you are struggling to enter a bus with your starched attires? My brothers and sisters, this is just my humble opinion. Let us pray that God would grant us the spirit of discernment and His endless blessings.

May we receive sense!

THE POT OF SOUP WAHALA --by Slick

(Image source: www.appropedia.org)

Sometimes as a writer, you decide to go spiritual in your articles; but then there are folks out there that think they know you or have seen things that you have done in your past and believe that you should not be an authority on any particular subject. Well, that’s a discussion for August.

First off, I would like to apologize for my sudden break in transmission; economy just get as e be. No electricity in addition to the heat that everyone is complaining about. Today, I would love to share an article on “LOVING YOUR NEIGHBOUR”. Hope you enjoy and learn from my experience.

When the word “Neighbour” comes to mind, we readily conclude that the word refers to people that live around us; in the same compound or vicinity and most of the times throw our relationship with these set into the bush (Not literally though!)

I woke up this morning suffering a headache, probably the after-math of a wild night, to hear the voices of two women screaming on the top of their voices. They lived in a building adjacent to my house, but I could hear their voices clearer than when one had headphones plugged in. Their noise aggravated my headache and then I thought I would just listen into their conversation to understand what the hullabaloo was about. Voila! It was about a pot of soup! Can you believe it? A POT OF SOUP. Now read carefully and let your imaginations come alive.

These women lived in a building that hosted one-room apartments where some of the occupants shared the same kitchen and bathroom. That one we colloquially call “Face Me, I Slap you”. One of the women had apparently woken up early to warm some left over soup for breakfast. She left the soup on the stove to warm and headed off to carry out her other morning chores. The other woman walked into the kitchen and was doing her duties and could smell the soup on the stove burning away but she decided to play blind to what was going on. The owner of the pot of soup returned to a completely burnt pot of soup and thus resulted in the noise I was hearing. It was a good source of inspiration for writing this piece because as a typical Nigerian, I could draw various questions and inferences from the scene I had eavesdropped on.

1    1.      Did they have a prior score to settle?

2    2.     What was the behavioural pattern of the owner of the pot of soup?

3    3.    Was the other woman just avoiding trouble?

4    4.    Why did the woman abandon her pot for something else?

5    5.     Who had greater fault?

You know a lot of stuff goes on when you live in a place like that. I don live for there before so I can give you the low down on how it goes down there. Jesus taught us to love our neighbours as ourselves, or as we hear it; “Do it unto to others as you want it done to you”.

“Madam, why you go do like say you no smell as the pot of soup dey burn? The owner of the soup repeatedly asked. I could hear the pain in her voice; probably it was for breakfast. And the only response she got was, “Wetin concern my life for inside”

Does the world have to go on with us not paying less attention to events around us except for those that concern us directly? And then we lift our dirty hands in worship to a God that showed us so much love even to the point of sending His son to die for us. We read about heroes that died for the love they had for our nation and people around them. Remember, that you have not started living if you do not break your selfish routine and live for others sometimes. Ehen! Be quick to say that I do not know what I am talking about, well it’s either the hangover playing mind tricks with my head or I am actually passing a message to your conscience. The world can get better with a simple act of love and care. Do not wait till it’s Christmas... As for the noisy women, I don’t know jor. That would be all for now.