I saw this somewhere on the internet and after reading, I completely agree and decided to share......
Hope you see the sense it it.
Enjoy



WRITTEN BY: Distinct Generation Ministry

My (our) answer is NO!

There are many things that make for a good marriage. Marriage is a work, an investment you don't give up and a ministry you must hold tight!

It takes a whole lot of sacrifices, great commitment and many more to keep a marriage.

Being a virgin is a good virtue which portrays you as a self-disciplined, determined, God-fearing, decent and possibly a faithful spouse.

If you are a virgin and you lack good & Godly character then you are not yet made for a good marriage. It is the fruits of the Spirit that beautifies the virgin.
It is a great honour if you can sacrifice an ungodly relationship and the fun/pleasure that dis pleases God through fornication.

From the revelation I had years ago, there are 2 types of virgins: IMPURE & PURE.

Impure virgins are the ones who are involved in MASTURBATION, FOREPLAYS, ROMANCES, ORAL/ANAL SEX all in the name of keeping their virginity/boyfriends. The pure virgins don't do such at all. Be either HOT or COLD! Don't be lukewarm. Don't sit on the fence!

Every saints has a past & every SINNER HAS A FUTURE.
I am not a saint but God chose me and kept me by His mercy. This is my ministry/ calling and He gave me this assignment.

I was among the impure virgins 3 years back through romances & foreplays of all sorts until I encountered God in a new light.

I saw in a revelation, a plate of delicacy placed before me and there was SHIT all around the edge of the plate.
I wondered and asked, Lord how come?

The delicious food with shit surrounding the tip of the plate?

He replied me: the food is good, delicious and inviting but there's a blemish therein, such are those who claim they are virgins yet engage in all sorts of filthiness. Be a virgin of purity!

I made a new commitment & re-dedicate my life to Christ.

It doesn't matter even if you have lost your pearl to the swine but please don't continue in it. Who is a swine? Your guess is as good as mine.

You are still a virgin to Christ and He's all you need for a good marriage. Allow Jesus to write your love story, He is the author of marriage. Run to Christ and make a new commitment 2 Him TODAY!

Are you contemplating giving up your body to your boyfriend/fiancé? Is your girlfriend pestering you for sex?

Don't! Don't tread the path that will incur you the wrath of God.

If your boyfriend/fiancé is not staying because of sex definitely he's not worthy of you!
If you are virtuous, you won't give out yourself cheaply and if he's worthy of you: he won't leave you!

You don't owe him your body but your husband. A real son of God will respects you, treats you as a queen, keep you like a treasure, takes you to the altar and not to his bed.

Do you really think you can KEEP A MAN WITH SEX? Do you want to marry a lady that keeps BEGGING YOU 4 SEX? Wait till he/she finds another SEX MACHINE out there.

I am made to share this, God desires an INTIMATE relationship with you, your body is His temple so sweep the dirt, clean the shit and let the king of Glory come in. Your life is a delicacy meant for a king he's preparing you for.

Rev. 3:20, Isaiah 54:8, 1 John 1:9, 2 Chr.7:14, 1 Thes.4:3-7, 1 Cor.6:13, 19-20, Rom.12:1-2

Welcome to My "memoir from Lasuth". Before you start your reading make sure you read the rules
And If you are going to read this article with a closed mind, please have a bottle of Maltina on me.

This is the first of a 24 (or hopefully more) serial episode and also my first time of writing a diary since I started growing pubic hair.. So hopefully as I was able to control the hairs, the diary will def get better. This week is gonna be inconsiderable very long but gradually I promise to make it short. So without further ado.......

ENJOY.

WEEK ONE........

Sunday, 2nd June 2013.

9:35

I have gotten everything I'll be needing for the next day ready.

Folder with complete documents *check*
Starched and well ironed shirt *check*
Black pants trouser *check*
Boxers and singlet *check*
Wrist watch and other accessories *double check*

I was soo gonna make a super *i am now a grown man* impression to my parent tomorrow...........
You see, I've never been more excited about any other day than I was for tomorrow. It was my first shot at doing things my way. From day one I came to this world, my parent have done everything for me(basically everything).

And when the time for I.T came, once again they had already secured a place for me. Well not this time. I had left school earlier and came to down to lagos, I practically trekked the whole lagos and I finally had the choice of picking one of two hospital to spend my next 6month at and we are here; Lagos State university Teaching Hospital......

Monday 3rd of June 2013

*Beep Beep Beep*
*Wakes up* 4:30
*Snooze alarm*
*Beep Beep !Beep*
*Wake up* OMG! 7:36

I burst into mumcie room and she was still asleep that was when it hit me that today was the usual "yearly sacrificial festival" ORO festival they observe in my part of Lagos. And what this means is women are not allowed to step out side. Choi!

I was going to have to go to work on a public transport on my first day!!!

I got to the hospital around 10:30 thereabouts. yeah Lagos and hold-ups. Met E and R and at that point I knew I was gonna have fun throughout this period.

We Got shown around the complex and then introduced with the staffs and then the students.

Let me tell you something about Med. Student..... Don't ever enter their gathering and start to feel fly. You don't want to know how miserable you'll be wen you leave.

Tuesday 4th June; 2013

Woke up before my alarm this time and by 6:30am I had left home thinking I'll get to work early this time. Still I was wrong.....

T'was like all the car owners in Lagos decided to show off their vehicles off today.
For the first time, today we had the chance of meeting with the H.O.D and the cadavar. I must say, there weren't much diff btw the two (hope he doesn't read my blog)

Wednesday 5th June; 2013

5.00am: I think it should be considered a sin for someone to wake up this early in the day, NO?

I had to wake up very early to pick my mum from the airport and we got to her office before the cleaners. One good thing about getting to the office before every other person is that you can sleep and fart in the office without an explanation to anybody.

Also, I Met an old secondary school mate today. Could barely recognise him initially. Maybe cos he wears glasses right now, I had for the first time someone else to talk with. I've been stuck with E and R since on monday........... All they do all week is talk about girly stuff. At some point I thought I was turning gay.... Thank God for change.

(E and R are two different girls and my uni class-mates from school. We are gonna be together for the next 6months. So you'll be hearing a lot about them in future posts)

Then we are at the cadaver room to work on the brain.... And there was this guy that caught the attention of everybody. Bros was trying to open the skull o, but he took it so personal that everybody thought he had a beef (no pun intended) with the guy when he was alive. If you've ever been to an abattoir before you'll have an idea of what I'm talking about.

Thursday 6th June; 2013

I was suppose to leave ikorodu and move to Allen or Abule Egba temporarily through out the duration of my I.T. today. But I think the devil must have dreamt of me the day b4 cos, it rained all night and yours truly I had lazily left my cloths outside to dry (since on sunday). So I'm still stuck at ikorodu.

Anyways I got to work at about 10Am Freezing like I had been locked up in a cold room for 24hrs straight. I got there for the first time earlier than any other person!!!!

Nothing happened today except I was on the internet all day and E was watching a movie. R came late (thank God) so there was no girl talk today.

Friday 7th June; 2013

5.09am – Home

I hate to wake up this early but what I don’t understand is waking up with an erection. I’ve heard different stories and theories surrounding waking up with an erection but I strongly believe that ‘Agro’ is the main reason for such a make-sure-you-satisfy-me animal behaviour.

I know a lot some of you maybe wondering what ‘Agro’ means.

Different schools of thought have tried to define ‘Agro’ but the most apt definition of ‘Agro’ was by Professor Oladele (2009) who simply defined ‘Agro’ as a BASTARD.

‘Agro’ has been found to be responsible for a lot of “Oga-housemaid relationships”, Madam-Driver relationships”, “Unprotected sex”, “Indecent wanking” amongst others but can be controlled with “Our Lord’s Prayer”.

I prayed and I was able to overcome ‘Agro’ that morning.
Advice: If Agro attacks you, pray and it will go but if it’s a serious attack of Agro and a lil “conji” then calla friend.

1.00pm – At work

It was the middle of the day. And I was happy that I'll finally move to the house at allen. The feeling was awesome. I had so many things planned. As I was reminiscing over the plans I had, my phone rang......

Me: Hello
Caller: "Embris", is that you?
Me: Hendrix, Yes, erm Ada?
Ada: Yes!, Why haven’t you call me?
Me How na? You know you never gave me your number. I hope you are good.
Ada: leave me joor. I’m angry with you
Me: What did I do?
Ada: You made me angry and you forgot that today is our anniversary.
Me: Huh?
Ada: Yes,We started dating a week today. Now tell me “Happy Anniversary”
Me: Happy Anniversary
Ada: I wish you the same
Me: Erm, I’m at work, so I may have to call you later.
Ada: Okay but I want to ask you something later
Me: I hope there’s no problem?
Ada: None. Can I ask now?
Me: Yes, my dear
Ada: can you send me money to come to Lagos
Me: Jisos is lord
Ada: What?
Me: Nothing, Nne
Ada: Okay, is that a yes?
Me: It’s something we have to discuss after work
Ada: Make sure you call ooo. I even called Mama today
Me: Your mum? did she travel
Ada: No, I’m talking about your grand mum
Me: Oh okay. I have to go
Ada: Make sure you call me oooooo, in short I will call you sef

(At this point lemme tell you a lil about Ada (this is a topic for another day)

- Sometime in July 2011 - issele uku (my village)

I had gone to collect my "certificate of origin" as it was needed by my school to and I used the opportunity to stay a lil bit with my grand mum.

There was a knock at the gate and I went downstairs to see who it was and what I saw shook the man in me. She was dressed in a short dress that brought out all her curves and for a minute I forgot that I had planned to be celibate (Yes, i do have days like that, I am capable of such) for the weekend.

Me: Hello who's it?
Ada: Hey, My name is Ada
Me: Ada?
Ada: yes
Me: *opens door*
Ada: Nice to meet you
Me: Same here. Please come in
Ada: Thank you

(we went upstairs and that's all you need to know for now)

- Back to present

For a straight 5 minutes, I was confused and didn’t know what to do or say. Yes I like Ada but isn’t having her in my house in Lagos a lil bit dangerous? Believe me this has got nothing to do with not trusting myself. I trust myself but I can’t really say same about a certain part of me.
This is my first time of being in a relationship without knowing when I started it.

So every Friday is an anniversary? Chai, uwa wu pawpaw men!!!

Saturday 7th June; 2013

10:55am

Woke up extremely tired/lazy today and I think it was because of the dream I had.

In the dream, I was invited to a nude party and obviously, I attended *insert evil grin here*

I got to the venue of the party about 8.15pm and was led into the changing room by a naked girl whose breast were shouting “What can men do to me?” and I was thinking “Try me and see”.

I removed all my clothes and put them in the suit bag handed to me by “Miss Fine breast”.

We walked into the living room and I saw for the first time in my life a blinding collection of boobs, d***ks and pubic hair. I saw a few people I recognised and loads of people I’ve not met in my life. I got thinking,

If only Eve did not eat that Apple maybe this would have been a normal church service and “Miss Fine breast” would have been an usher. .

So “Miss Fine breast ” finally introduced herself as “Candy” she told me it was her bday party and i told her that it was a great honour for her to have considered inviting me.

As I walked pass everyone in the room, I over heard so many random conversations such as:

“Ijeoma, what style did you cut your pubic hair”

“Shit, the sight of that chap is beginning to make it rain in between my legs”

“Do you know that the number of erection in this room can get a woman pregnant just by looking”

“Naija boys carry”

“They shouldn’t have allowed that girl undress, her boobs are so disgusting”

After dancing with familiar faces and attractive bodied females, I searched for Candy and told her that I had to go . She was sad but asked me if I would love to attend the one that's gonna happen in "real life". Of cus, I said YES.

And this was when I woke up

4:30PM
I've been waiting for the rain to stop mumcy won't allow me drive in the rain. So at exactly 4:30 it was "safe" for me to drive...I left ikorodu for opebi listening to "MICHEL TELO Ai se tu eu Pego...." Then somewhere along oregun I saw this girl along the side walk (from far)

My friend tobi made this theory " Fine from Far. Far from Fine"

This girl was SOO FAR FROM FINE!!!

And the annoying thing was the "thing" made me beat the traffic light and therefore was apprehended by the so called LASTMA officials. I was delayed for approximately 1hr 30min. I got home very tired afterwards.

Sunday, June 6th 2010

I'm gonna stay home today, I have nothing to wear to church. And yesterday event made me lazy..... Dear God please forgive me.

I'm about to post this week memoir. So as I open the wordpress app on my blackberry, a ping came in.

(*sigh* Just when I planned on keeping the day holy.)

The following convo took place.....

But I dunno why the devil is soooo......... devilish!

MZ-Sexy: PING!!!
Me: Wassup...?
Mz-Sexy: I'm fine...great sef! I saw ur PM abt being in allen
Me: yes. I'm o...
MZ-Sexy: okay cool.... There's this bday party happening tonight. Its gonna be wild! R rated things..... Are you interested?
.
.
.
.
.
.
I’m yet to answer her……. XD

Erm, this is supposed to serve as an introduction to my personal lifestyle and necessarily won't be entirely based on event from lasuth only as the title states.

Before we continue with the introduction, I’d like you to note certain things referred to as rules as long as Memoirs from Lasuth is concerned.

1. This is MY online diary and as a result I don’t really give a fuck care about your opinion.

2. I’ll be posting every Sunday or monday and may not have time to edit properly but because you would like to “Gbagun” I’ll provide you with a big ass bell for use.

3. This is not the news or the Anglican Church , so don’t come here to preach to me.

4. Names of some of the people involved in the memoir may be changed to save anything they may have as dignity.

5. If I say something about you that you don’t like.. .Start your own blog …It’s free
.
6. Don’t walk up to me in public and say “you wrote about me” . I promise you a head butt and my head is not small.

7. Majority of my post would be on keles , Midnight wakas, party, BBM and my life is not that interesting so about 70% of what I will write might be fictions too.

8. Yes I know what memoir is...... Didn't you read the previous rules?

9. Sometimes, It may appear like I’m talking about you but until I mention your name, STFU and Terry G me!

10. We’ll make more rules as we go on.

Enjoy

If you read my blog, you must know this too.
Err just read it already!

Dear God,

After my first letter to you, you opened my heart to a lot of things, things that I was ignorant of. Things that many has regarded as little but yet is as big as the biggest thing any one can imagine..... You know I don't read the bible or do I listen to messages but you led me to these verses:

• Jeremiah 1:4-5

• Isaiah 9:6

• John 15:13

• 1 john 4:8

I don't know what they mean but I do know they have a lot in common. You made me understand that In the recessed shadows of my heart, I have found an inner peace.

A peace that isn’t always visible or audible to the outer world. It’s only to be found when others see You living within me. Its a still quiet voice that brings a sense of calm that can not be explained by most. Your spirit whispers my name and cradles me in your majestic arms.
I have struggled with personal pain and emotional upset that only You have been privy too.

Your Love is as beautiful an artwork, as any that Rembrandt could have put to canvas.

Your Grace is the salt that seasons our lives with a taste that the world can not palate.

Your Faithfulness is a song, that only those who hear, could sing its’ melody.

Your Mercy is the gift that required no elaborate party to be received.

It was within my deepest pain and sorrow, that You lifted me up and encouraged me to truly find myself again. To obtain the remarkable faith that only a child could understand. In our years of living, we somehow distort that concept.

Our lives are filled with events that change our perception of what faith in You was truly meant to become. It is a tool that is used to craft a masterpiece.



My life has changed dramatically this past month. My mind has been filled with emotions that run the gamut of human conception.

I have felt lost, but You found me.
I have felt fear, but You calmed it.
I have know sorrow, but You wiped away the tears.
I have known joy, and I am certain that it all stems from You.

In those quiet shadows, You were able to make me see just how letting go of my own plans, put Yours into perspective.

My own selfish ways would have prevented me from some of the greatest joys that life had to offer. It was within the shadows of the great valley, that I could see the top of the mountain, and the view is phenomenal.

Thank Your son, Jesus, that encouraged me to write to You, the words that are within my heart and soul. It is this time that we share, that anchors my heart to Your inner harbor .

As the waves roar in, I have no fear. What can Satan do that could ever keep me from Your love?

Absolutely nothing!

For even unto death, I know where my soul will rest. That is the greatest comfort that Your children will ever know.

Big G, (I can call you that right?) I pray for anyone who is lost and searching for the peace that lies in their own recessed shadows. I ask that the Son will shine upon them and bring them the peace that only a Father can provide.

Amen!

Your Son,
Hendrix

....... Hendrix, I’m inviting you to my fellowship” she said. “Trust me; it’s going to be worthwhile”.



How the hell was I supposed to refuse such an invitation? Dolly was too fine. The girl set die…., In fact she was “Mmuuaa!!!” and I had been trying to get with her.

Now, the chemistry between Dolly and I was as mutual as it could be. In a nutshell, it was a bit like…….ok, Mutual chemistry? Check, Physical attraction? Check and then Religious compatibility? No check. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like she was a Muslim and I a Christian. In fact, we were/are both Christians.

But you see, the wahala come be say this girl was a Jehovah’s Witness. I’m not saying I dislike or hate Jehovah’s witnesses, no; but if you know these lots well, you’ll agree with me that they have some of the strictest “living righteous” rules/guidelines ever made.

Their views and outlook on life have never been mine at all. I digress, but apologies if I’m being judgmental however.

Anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that babes said “NO” a lot to a lot of things. “Oh no I’m not supposed to do that with you, you’re not a witness”. In fact me sef tire for the girl. She gave me the impression that all I had to do was show just a hint of commitment to her faith and then she’d loosen up on the “NO”s. Trust me na. “Yes, yes, I’ll be there”.

On this Sunday, I got ready and told my friends I was going to church. Of course I didn’t tell them I was going to a Kingdom hall for fear of becoming a subject of mockery, as they were Catholics who had always invited me to tag along with them to which I had always objected. So anyways, I set off and proceeded to board an okada to the address. Na here the drama come happen o! It wasn’t until we were about 15 minutes into the journey that it dawned on me that the okada man I had boarded his bike was drunk as a horse.

Suddenly, I had started to smell alcohol in his clothes, and his riding was no different to the riding style in that matrix movie. “E don happen” I said to myself. We had gotten to a point where it was inevitable to abort the journey and there was just nothing I could do about it. So I sat there patiently, with my heart in my hand, while bros had a blast diving into potholes at a very uncomfortable speed, obviously testing out his newly fixed shock absorbers. “All these wahala na because I wan impress woman abi?”

As we went along, I noticed we were going into a very remote area, and I started to feel really uneasy. “Bros you sure say na the church you dey carry me go so?” I asked, and his reply almost threw me off the bike. “Oga we dey go my girlfriend house”.

Now, at this time, it was 9.45 a.m. and I was supposed to be at the service at 9.00 a.m. I was livid. “Akpos!!” as I later learnt was his name, “wetin we dey go do for your girlfriend house?” “Oga sorry sir…… just gimme 2 minutes, we go comot now now abeg”. Before I could get Akpos to change his course and take me to my destination, Akpos had turned off his motorcycle. Whether I liked it or not we were at Akpos’s girlfriends place o! See film!!

It turned out Akpos had come to settle a score with his girlfriend who had caught him having an affair and had moved out of his house, just after trashing it. “She dey crase” he yelled. “How she go scatter my house, break my TV, burn all my clothes……” I stood there in total disbelief at what was unfolding before my eyes. All I simply wanted on that Sunday was to wake up, get dressed and impress Dolly by honoring her invitation to her church, but there I was at Akpos’s girlfriends place, forced to take on the problems of two complete strangers.

2 minutes turned into an hour, and to make matters worse, I became a mediator. I couldn’t believe myself. I had to say or do something just so we could hurry up and get me out of there. This was comedy at its very best. Well, Akpos and his girlfriend exchanged insults for the next 45 minutes and at this point, it became apparent that there was no way I was going to make the service, and so I resigned to these strangers and just stood there while they entertained me.

Eventually, when both parties had run out of nothings to say to each other, I asked Akpos take me back to where he had picked me up.

“Hendrix, welcome back….how was your service?” my friends asked. “Ah! It was fine o! In fact it was the most fulfilling service ever” Before nko? How was I to tell them I spent the day with Akpos and his girlfriend instead of the in the church I had earlier told them I was going to?

Plus I had to prepare a very convincing excuse for Dolly. Some weeks later I was going somewhere when I bumped into Akpos again at the same bike stand. I was surprised he recognised me. “Oga how far na? Oga come make we go”. When he saw that I was obviously avoiding him, he came over and said “Oga come make I carry you go… no worry, me and my babe don settle”.

I said “we bless God o! But no thank you”.

Of course, I got to lectures late. What self respecting big boy like me comes to lectures early? That’s for all those silly efficos that carry textbooks bigger than their heads with authors whose names they can’t pronounce.

Yes, those same effico that will still be counting ceiling boards in the exam hall. Me? I have my systems. I know how to get by.

For today, as every day, I had to spend extra care to make sure I was looking good. I had to visit the barber to make the mohawk sharp and dye it a bit so I could look tight. I was going to make a killing today. That girl, that course-mate of mine that I had been trying to bag since the start of the year? She would have to agree to go out with me today.

As I sauntered into the lecture hall, the lecturer, an old, hungry man-like 'thing', paused to cast me a withering look, that look that says “I see you, continue wasting your life, ehn? You’ll see me in the exam hall na.” before continuing the lecture. I quickly scanned the hall for an available seat. My fellow bad guys waved me over from the back and indicated an available seat among them. I was just about heading in their direction when I spotted it. An empty seat close to the front of the class.

You may be surprised at that, after all, wetin concern big boy, concern front seat for lecture hall? But it wasn’t the seat that was the attraction. It was the person that was occupying the seat beside it. Angel, the object of my Mohawk sharpening and hair dyeing. I normally avoid seating close to the front of the class (as all well known big boys do, only silly efficos and empty brained girls occupy the front seats) but today, I had to make an exception. I was going to seat beside Angel.

I mustered my swag and sauntered to where she sat.
“Is this seat available?” I asked in my most polished yankee accent, indicating the obviously empty seat.
She barely glanced at me as she said, “Yes.”

I settled into the seat gently, dropped my one notebook (that I rarely ever write in, ever) on the writing surface and took my pen out of my pocket, the look on my face serious, like I was about to learn quantum physics. I heard she likes brilliant guys. Well, she would have to deal with my brilliant guy act today.

I had just opened the notebook and written down a few chemical equations (it was actually a physics class but when you want to form brilliant guy, you have to make do with what is in your head) when my problem started, a slight twinge in my stomach. I adjusted a bit in my seat.

Must be the heavy breakfast that I had eaten trying to digest. I added a few figures to the chemical equation that would have made the chemistry lecturer call my parents and ask what I was doing in a university when I should have been learning a trade. Well, at least, it looked like what an effico would write.

The twinge came again, this time a bit stronger. Then pressure, that kind of pressure that comes when your system is about to get rid of gas began to build up in my system. No way! I thought to myself. There was no way I was going to pass this gas beside this girl and kill my opportunity to ask her out. Why now of all times did my body decide to start getting rid of waste gas?

With that decision, I concentrated and suppressed the pressure. The gas felt like it had gone back into my digestive system. Good.

No, bad. Even worse. After five minutes, the pressure came again, this time slightly stronger. Again I suppressed it by force of willpower. I was not going to allow my body fall my hands today. The third time the pressure built up (stronger than the previous two times) I realised one thing. This wasn’t gas pressure. This was go-to-toilet pressure, but of a special kind. The kind you get when you are purging.

My goodness, no! Not today! Not on this blessed day that I got the opportunity to sit beside Angel. I had already mapped out the questions I would ask her to explain better at the end of the class that I would use to drift into other topics, topics of a more personal nature. No way! No stomach problems were going to prevent me from taking this God-given opportunity today.

The pressure continued to build inside me and after five minutes, I felt like I was going to burst. How was it that the human body could make the human so miserable (the closest I have ever come to thinking about biology)? Now my stomach began to make small funny noises that I hoped Angel wasn’t hearing. I was forcing my intestines to stay closed because they were threatening to burst open.

Chai, what kind of problem was this. Inspite of the fact that the fans were on maximum speed and the windows were wide open, I broke into a sweat.

Angel may not have noticed my initial effico act but she certainly noticed my discomfort.

“Are you alright?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered too quickly, a wide obviously fake smile on my face. “Wonderful. Thanks for asking.”

Her look lingered for a second before she turned back to the lecturer. The smile instantly disappeared from my face. I had to go to the toilet else I would burst. Angel was still a student; I could talk to her at any time. Right now, I had to settle issues with my stomach. But even that was a problem now. It now felt like if I made any move from my current position, I would soil my boxers.
“BRRRRRRRP!!”

No, I did not soil my pants, thankfully. Neither did my system let go of a cache of toxic gas. It was the contents of my intestines rearranging themselves, very audibly indeed. Unfortunately, Angel had heard and assumed the noise came from the very part of my body I was doing my best to keep from discharging unwanted items. She looked at me with disgust and moved well away.
Then to pre-empt any unsavory smells, sheheld her nose with one hand and fanned with the other.
Fortunately, I didn’t care what she thought anymore. What I cared about was getting to the toilet ASAP. Couldn’t this lecturer stop yapping and get out of the class already? His period was over.

“Well, what lecture are you having next?” the man asked.
“MTH 101,” the course rep replied.
“Okay, I think I’ll continue till your lecturer arrives,”
“NOOOOOOO!”

I only realized the shouting voice was mine when all eyes fell on me. The lecturer’s hawk like eyes fell on me.
“Young man, is it that you are so averse to learning that you can actually voice your displeasure at my presence in the class? Stand up!”

Wahala dey , I thought to myself. If I stood up here, everybody in the class would hear it from my excretory system. I did the best thing. Sat and looked resolutely at the lecturer, sweat still pouring down my face like a Christmas goat.

“Will you stand up young man?”

Na here trouble dey na , I thought, still seated. Something would have to happen to save me from serious trouble.

Thankfully, something did. In the shape of an Okada man that contrived to ride too close to the lecturer’s ancient Honda car which was parked outside the window, leaving deep scratches on the already faded paint.
“You bastard!” yelled the lecturer, running out of the lecture hall to hurl more insults at the retreating biker with better accuracy. With a subdued “brrrrrrrrrp”, my system re organized itself and I felt a moment of calm.

Time to make abreak for it. I grabbed my notebook, left me pen and fled the lecture hall.

“Bike!!!!” I yelled before I even got to the road. Three Okada men stopped and I leapt on the closest one. “Divine Hostel, fast!”



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I’m not even sure where to begin this  really.

Can I start off by saying that you are fuckin’ amazing?
Because you are.

Not many times in a lifetime comes a special person who changes your way of thinking, your perspective…your life.

They bring in a special spice, a variety to your existence
They make you glad of your uniqueness; they occupy a special place in your heart and never really leave

They’re your friend, your confidante, your family
They’re there for you through thick and thin and just love you unconditionally.

They see grace, skill and genius in your "stupid-est" accomplishment

They see the best in you and as a result make you see the best in yourself.

Yeah we have fights,  but that's what friends do; fight and then make up.

If you have a friend that does not tell you the truth, they are not real.

Being "REAL" is very important. If you have a good friend, cherish that person/people. Friends are a gift from God..

How does one define friendship??

I think the simple definition is when people know all about you, but like you anyway. I think you need friends as much as you need your food. I don't mean fake friends.

REAL FRIENDS..

I remember back in the days when i used to think that it was fine being alone. I felt that i could take on everything by myself & i convinced myself that i was fine being alone.

Without friends.

Not that i did not want friends but i did not know who to trust. You get me?

It made me feel sad. I later realised that by sharing some of my burdens & anger with real friends, i feel way much better. I know that my problem have not been solved but it just made me feel better inside.

The person you become is as a result of the people you’ve met or failed to meet.

I think that every friend serves a purpose in my life.
They stand up for you when you’re tired of doing it for yourself.

They keep you in check when you’re getting out of line,

They’re that person you never regret meeting cos they make your life richer just by being in it.
You’re that person to me Badaru Oluwatobi my bestest pal.

I hope every wish you ever made comes true

I hope you find everything you’re looking for

I want you to know that I’ll always be here for you whether you ask me to or not

I want you to know that I’ll never betray you, your confidence or your trust

I want you to know that you’ll be a friend in my heart for always

Here’s to a 100  more years of friendship:



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Yes, I slept with an Ashawo and I paid with MY money.  I’m so sorry if you’re disappointed in me but it was not totally my fault.

It was raining and I was driving through Ijede road(ikorodu lagos) listening to Jamie Fox’s “Blame it” when I saw her standing under the rain. If you were in my shoes what would you have done? Leave another Nigerian in the rain?

Have you not read the story of the Good Samaritan?

I picked her and took her home but after that night, my conscience wouldn’t let me be and it was my first time (Conscience calls out, "Hendrix?!?") Okay maybe my second time but it was just two times and my conscience wouldn’t just free me whereas there are people reading this note with their ashawo on speed dial.

Talking about my conscience, a lot has been going on in my head of recent and they are driving me crazy.

Seriously, I think am going mad.  I’m not about to catch trips on mad people but these days thoughts and images fly around in my head and I’ve started wondering if that’s what qualifies someone as mad?  If you are reading this and you’ve been mad before, please pardon me.

At what point do you remove your cloth? Which comes first, moving out of the house and moving into the bus stop or running after cars?

I’m sure the random thoughts come first and that means I may just be at the first stage….Chai, Chineke biko!

Seriously speaking, I don’t want to go mad and I need your prayers. People, forgive me for what I’ve done but pray for me so that these thoughts can leave my head.

Now back to the issue at hand, recently I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and this started after my first second night with an Ashawo .

She is what our modern girls call “Runs” but while it appears to be an insult to refer to someone as an Ashawo, it’s fashionably correct to refer to someone as a “Runs girl” . *SMH*

Back in the good ol’ days, when Ashawo work used to be the pride of some states.  (Namely….) The day you decide to do ashawo work is the same day that you move into a brothel.

Most brothels were designed in a “Face me, I face you” style with about 10 rooms on both sides facing each other.  Each room consists of a small window, covered by a red curtain, a slim door with a red curtain, 3 nails on the wall, bright blue or red bulb (that’s why they are called Ashawo bulbs) and a mat or wooden bed depending on the location of the brothel.

Ashawo joints were known and they were sincere with their chosen career. They didn’t drive cars but they could afford small stout and cigarette.

Unlike those days, modern day ashawos operate from different places and in different ways.

Some operate from our higher institutions (with or without admission letters), some have their pictures in different hotels over the world, some stand by the roadside, some operate from their father's houses, some serve as nannies during the day and “Runs chics” at night, some work in hair dressing salons during the day, some do only “Home service”…

The list is endless but while Ashawo’s are sincere, Runs Chics are not but seriously whether you refer to yourself as an Ashawo or Runs chic, “Ashawo work na Ashawo no matter what you drive” ask M.I.

However my thoughts has got noffing to do with where they operate from or what they do during the day, I only want you to tell me why my head keeps wondering about them:

Random thought 1
How come Ashawos’ don’t get nominated for National Honours even though some of them are known to have serviced sitting presidents and the likes?  Are they not being cheated? Service is service period and once you’ve served you should be recognised.  I think a commission should be set up to fight for this right and in next couple of years we should be seeing National Honours like Ms Cynthia George, AFRN (Ashawo Federal Republic of Nigeria).

Random thought 2
If an Ashawo is filling out a UK Visa entry form or any form at all, when she gets to that part that says; “State your source of income ?”  What will she write? My body? Is that not being sincere? Should she not be given Visa for being real?

Random thought 3
What should be the basis on which to retire from this job? Age? Experience? Years in active practise? Considering the fact that some people do it while still in school shouldn’t that be added to their years of experience while applying for jobs that requires 3 or 4 years of experience or there about?

Random thought 4
Why can’t government regulate their fees? I mean it’s the same thing na. I think it should be same price across board. How come it’s more expensive on the Island than the Mainland? I mean that’s what’s obtainable in the case of Lagos state?

Random thought 5
Don’t you think that it would be better to relocate all of them to one community and a BRT bus attached to the community? That way we won’t have people doing it from schools and the likes.

Random thought 6
Since they operate in cities and make use of the amenities shouldn’t they be paying taxes? Somebody receives his salary, gives it to an Ashawo who don’t even submit a PO? Is that not cheating? Don’t you think somebody is cheating somebody and if somebody does not speak up then somebody will keep cheating somebody.  If you pay, hold back your tax, jor.

Random thought 7
Don’t you think all Ashawos should have an ID card representing their zones? I think Okada people are not allowed to operate in certain areas without paying a particular fee; should that not apply to Ashawo work? Do you know how many Nigerian girls go to Dubai to work? Should they not go and identify themselves on entering the country like “Hello, my name na Peace, I follow man come. How much be una international fee for here”? The ID card will make people sleep better sef.  If you sleep with an Ashhi and she audi with your money, all you need to do is go to her zone office and report her.

Random thought 8
Should one trust and use the condom provided by the Ashawo ?

And final Random thought.
….We’re all aware that Christ died in-between the two thieves but how come Nigerian girls want to suffocate him the second time by placing the crucifix in-between two large sagging boobs?

It’s just my thoughts, and for all you perverts, I only slept with an Ashhi in .my head but then if you can think it then you’ve done it, abi?

Let me have your thoughts…and remember AIDS IS REAL!!!!!



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I am now convinced that I am going to die single.

Growing up, I had been tutored to have high demands when it came to women. I was encouraged not to ‘settle’. So, as early as JSS3, I had made up my list of requirements. Whoever would be my main squeeze had to have the following exact characteristics:

1) Pretty face. Females who were ogres in their former lives were advised to stay far. Very far.

2) Hot figure. Something of a mix between Eva Longoria and Beyonce.

3) Height. Pygmies not welcome.

4) Fair complexion. This particular idiosyncrasy was handed down from Dad: you should see my mother.

5) Who doesn't want for himself some mammary?

But you see, dear readers, I met her during my first year of university. She had all but number 4. Her chocolate complexion was exquisite. I fell in lust instantly..... she dumped me after I farted in bed.(T'wld have been better if she had dumped me cos of this reason)

Anyway, I had then realised that I could date dark chicks. Awesome. Then I met another her(maybe we'll just call her "her2) who kind of looked like a bimbo. However, she was missing numbers 3 and 4.

Our relationship went down the drain after she caught me ogling at her mother. What? Don’t judge. The woman had all 5! But she also had her blasted husband’s stupid wedding ring. Aaaaargh…(another worse case senerio I wld have agreed to be dumped for)

It all went downhill from there. Her3, while of average height, was shaped like a pedestrian bridge: straight and narrow.

Her4(you should get it from this point) made me rethink item 5. She put the ‘2’ in too much. The Jews could have hidden from Hitler’s Nazis in her cleavage!

Recently, I finally let go of my precepts. I made but one new rule: conversation. I wanted a woman I could talk to. All my friends lauded the new and improved me. I had indeed matured, they all said.

And so I happened upon Her5. She was a colleague at school. And – you guessed it – she had all five. Plus, she was single. How ironic that I should meet the girl of my dreams AFTER I’d contrived to trash those prerequisite.

I’d only seen her a few times when she came to our faculty and… my oh my: she was stunning! First she was half caste, and then her figure was to die for. On top of that, she was at least 5feet 10inches.

I once snuck a peek while she was talking to a friend of mine (another colleague). I couldn’t make out what she was saying from where I stood but I figured she must be a pretty powerful orator because Clinton clearly had tears in his eyes. Amazing! What could make such a macho man cry? If my curiosity was piqued before,

I was nearing obsession by now. It seemed my search was finally over. I couldn’t wait to meet Her and have terrific conversations with this intelligent, hot girl.

My chance came soon enough.

One day, I spotted her at an eatery my colleagues and I frequented during lunch breaks. I was about to order when our eyes clashed. I ignored the attendant and walked over to where she sat.

“Hi”, I started, “my name is Chris and I’ve been dying to meet you.” By the time she was done replying, I was weeping like Clinton. She said:

“Hello Chris. I’m Ingrid. Let me start by apologising. I have a birth defect which accounts for my incurable, tear inducing halitosis…” I wiped my face without bothering to hear more and trudged back to the counter.

See why I wrote the first line?

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Its the 5th month of the Year, the month of 'may'.

Why don’t I feel the excitement- that amazing feeling that everything will be different, better and all one has ever wished for?

Why do I feel exactly the same as I felt the month before?

Why do I feel sad, knowing that I’m back to square one?

Why do I have over 1000 contacts on my Facebook, yet tons of messages from them can’t make me happy?

Am I an attention seeker?

Am I seeking attention from that person that means the world to me and getting an icy cold shoulder in return?

Am I just drifting into the land of the insane without even knowing it?

If I want to let you in on what’s going on in my heart, it’ll take forever to explain and ultimately leave you confused with my back-and-forth feelings that I can’t even put into words.

He that findeth a wife, findeth a good thing – so I’ve heard. *sighs*

I’ve heard of amazing love stories and watched tons of movies in which such was depicted excellently. Agreed! Most are make-believes but why then do I feel I’m the only one experiencing the reverse?

I hear relationships have ups downs…. But somehow I feel i …….

*is it just me or have you ever wanted to express your feelings on paper then find it hard to find the exact words to convey the message*

I’ve been schooled into believing that the heart is a muscular pump that supplies blood to the body-(mr peter)

TRUE! Being a medic, I’ve held a couple and dissected a few. And believe me when I say its not all that!

The heart I refer to in this article isn’t the one in your chest that deals with blood. Its the one we cannot see, touch or even dissect. It’s the mastermind behind what we feel and our emotions in general.

It’s what makes you light up when you see that person you genuinely cherish and care about.  It’s what makes you sleep well at night, knowing the love and care you dish out is appreciated and returned (in full). It’s equally responsible for making you completely miserable when you’re hurt!

I’m trying so hard to concentrate and take my mind away from the pain I feel inside right now.
Hmmmm………….

Life can be such a b**** sometimes, screwing peoples feelings and emotions over and over whenever she feels like.

As the sayings go  ”All is well that ends well”; ”It ain’t over till the fat lady sings”

This is just a phase I’m sure will pass over with time. Some things hurt so much that the only way you feel (a lil) better is if you write out how you feel at that very moment, as talking to friends or even a therapist won’t do you any good.

There are always two sides to every story. There’s always an element of truth in every rumor.

What if both sides of the story say the same damn thing, but I’m just too blinded by emotions to face facts and make up my mind. I don’t believe in star-signs, horoscope predictions and fortune telling- but I believe what will be will be!

Of late, I’ve been trying desperately to make up excuses for “your” actions.  Am I just scared of losing you, scared of moving on or scared of starting all over from scratch?
These are questions that I know I can never answer directly in this current state of mind without confusing myself any further and compounding my problems.

For big fans of chocolates, you know that feeling you get when you taste a good bar of chocolate and it dissolves in your mouth and momentarily you are in another realm surrounded by comfort, peace and bliss – and then that feeling is replaced by the bitter taste of “alomo bitters”,  that’s all I can relate to right now.

Hmmm…….
I must say I feel better writing down my feelings and problems. Like Lil Wayne said in 6 foot 7 foot,  “I talk to myself, I am my own consultant”

Matters of the heart are dangerous and dickey, you’ve got to handle with care! When the pain you feel inside starts to reflect on your day-to-day deeds and it then manifest as psychotic heart wrenching absent mindedness then, I think you may have an incline of how I feel.

I hear people say, Rome wasn’t built in a day. But i am very sure that concerted effort can bring it down to its core. It takes ages to build things and a couple of seconds, minutes…, tops,days to destroy the same things.

Life can be frustrating sometimes, with a lot of commas and people that are naturally kill-joys clamouring around you. Striving hard, never looking back or “aloofness” as my friends always say, is the way forward.  Karma exists whether you like, love, hate believe it or not and it sure as hell stings hard each time you experience it.

Bending over backwards for people doesn’t necessarily make you subject to them. The patient dog eats the……. Question is,   What if the dog prefers the meat to the bone, huh?

If you don't get it right at first, try, try again. It’s not every thing or every one you push your self to the limit for.
Tick tock.. Time flies… Soon my heart will be hardened like “stock-fish” and it’ll be goodbye or on to the next one. He who laughs last…. may not necessarily laugh best.  He may either have issues upstairs or is indeed very calculated.

“The best things in life are free” – “nothing good comes easy” commonly used words, Yes! But how can we fully relate the two especially when you know how hard you’ve worked to come this far? I wonder!
“The heart wants what the heart wants”. Can’t argue with that.  Searching for that “special-someone” that understands you is like looking for a needle in a haystack –  a medical friend told me the easiest way to find said needle is to burn the haystack.

Agreed no one is perfect, we all have flaws. I’m not looking for perfection, just a lil appreciation and a reassurance that I’m not the only one in this love boat.
If something is truly yours, it’ll surely come back to you. What happens when it comes back and there’s already a replacement?
Some questions in life are truly rhetorical!
Don’t YOU think so?

It really hurts when you love someone with all your heart, you’re willing to do a full 180° on your old ways and move mountains for the person, yet the person can’t even tell when you are hurting.

The more I try to write my feelings down, the more pain I try to let go of, as it consumes me. To you, I may just be a confused individual, true…  Scroll up and check the title, love does that to even the finest minds on earth.

If you’re out there and you’ve been in my shoes at one point or the other or you’re currently experiencing it, kindly let me know that i’m not alone ….

*sips coke...listening to Bruno Mars "Who Is".*

Bruno Mars - Who Is

[audio http://defpenradio.com/wp-content/2010/09/Bruno-Mars-Who-Is-BMF.mp3 ]
 

Oh I was perfect
For the circus
If she dared me I'd do it
Love makes you stupid
I gave it up
But I guess it was not enough
'Cos she never seems satisfied

I know I'm not perfect
But at the end of the day
Who is?
She wanted someone that's perfect,
Okay, but can you tell me who is?

She set the bar
Just above the stars
A rocket couldn't reach it
But I still kept on reaching
She watched me try
At least a thousand times
If she loved me she'd stop me,
But no

I know I'm not perfect
But at the end of the day
Who is?
She wanted someone that's perfect
Okay, but can you tell me who is?

I saw something worth my future
So wrong, so wrong
In my mind I would turn the clock
But I guess I wasn't wrong

I know I'm not perfect
But at the end of the day
Who is?
She wanted someone that's perfect
Okay, but can you tell me
Who is?

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T’was late last night when I went to sleep
I’d been so worked up so I slept too deep
I was oblivious of my phone’s “beep-beep”
And I did not know someone’d come to peep
He opened my door and in did creep

He had no idea someone else’d been there
Sitting cool and calm at my bed’s far rear
Watching o’er me like He really did care
Guards around my bed and He on a chair
The later guest, perplexed, became full offear

The later guest was He; who the earth does rule
And he’d used me once as a living tool
I had played along; yes, I’d been a fool
But traced back my steps to the cleansing pool
And the former guest had welcomed me;calm and cool

The later guest is known for untold evil
So craftily, he makes danger beautiful
Oh, how he entices little by little
And often, he traps naïve people
He is none other than the fiend, Devil

He thought he’d been smart but this left him shocked
His plans had been foiled and he was provoked
He would not relent though his way wasblocked
So he told the lies which in him were stocked
And when that failed him, then I he mocked

“Master, Lord” said he, “What doeth thou
This servant of yours is alone but foul
He has done much wrong and kept not his vow
If you’d love to know, I could tell you how
If you doubt my words, check his file right now”

So my file brought they, for my deeds to check
I had done much wrong; my good but a speck
Very many times, I had been a jerk
My sins were so great on a lofty deck
My life- in one piece- was a total wreck

While I deeply slept, my soul was at stake
So much wrong I’d done, mistakes I did make
Few sincerity, so much I did fake
Sometimes I’d been true, severally I’d shake
Most of the time, though, I’d totally break

My Lord said to him, “His sins are forgiven”
He went through my wrongs, and had them unwritten
He took no count of how I’d been living
He let it all go as if it were nothing
Extravagant grace, to me He had given

“Look at this, Oh Lord,” my accuser said
Some journal of my errs from A to Zed
He showed several flops I had long past made
All the dirty words I had often said
Little did he know- my debts had been paid!

My Lord held the book and apart did tear
Cos back on that cross, my sins He did bear
He christened me Free; salvation my gear
And said  I could go and be of good cheer
For no harm or darts would ever me near

My saviour looked up at my accuser
“His sins are forgiven, now and forever
By my love and grace, I have made him better
Now flee thee from here and near him never!
I have paid his debts,” said my redeemer.

My foe had lost, and he looked so cheap
He turned to leave and of course, did slip
He bounded away with a odd leap
While God, my soul did watch and keep
Safe and saved, I snored in my deep sweet sleep.



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2days ago was my birthday. Yeah!

But unlike when I turned 18 (old enough to bet the ponies) or when I turned 20 (duh), I don't really care. And like many of us on our *special days*, I got a lot of love on facebook: from old friends, family members, professional contacts—that random guy whose friend request I accepted while drunk and who now invites me to "one event on london" almost every weekend. It's actually quite touching, and I totally appreciate it. But also: a puzzle. How do you properly acknowledge all of this good will? Unless you have like 4 friends, answering each post is a losing proposition.

But thank God for Blogs, I'm going to answer those questions that I randomly checked out here......

So, To all of those who asked “So… how does it feel to be 21?”, the answer is the exact same as it does to be 20.

Believe it or not, not a lot changed instantly the day my birthday hit. Really, the only birthday you can say feels way different is the actual day you were born. Suddenly you are in a world void of amniotic fluid.

If newborn babies could talk, they would probably say, “What was all that pushing about? Can I go back in now?”

To anyone who said “Happy birthday,/HBD” thanks for the thought I guess. It’s nice to know that you want me to have one day out of the year that is happy. That’s almost 0.3% of my year being filled with joy. I guess it would be weird, though, if people just walked up to me the other 364 and said “Happy day.” There is no doubt in my mind that I would feel very uncomfortable.

To everyone who sang me a song, hahaha Thanks. And if you still planning to sing me one..... Unless that song is a brand new birthday composition set to the tune of “Mr. Tambourine Man,” I have heard it.

In fact, I have had this song directed at me at least 25 times already and, seeing as how three of the four lines of the song are THE EXACT SAME THING, I think I’ve gotten the message.

So, If someone really wanted to throw me, they would change a line in the song to something unrelated: “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, My socks are a cotton polyester blend, happy birthday to you.” I would spend the rest of my birthday thinking about your socks and wondering how well they hold up.

To the people who stressed on “And many mooooooooooore…” to the end of that Happy Birthday song, just know I hate you. For every second you hold out “moooooooooore,” my hate grew exponentially. Once again, though, you could just change it and I would have no complaints: “Good job not dyiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!”

To those who bought me a present, it is exactly what I wanted. It is perfect. It fits perfect. You did a great job.

That guy, that was bold enough to enter the banking hall and paid N20. into my account..... Loool God bless you!

That lovely Girl that paid for my BIS *kisses*

How will I forget the Coke!! Thanks.... I needed it after that conc exam.

Then Dr. Enahowo for the table water. I almost passed out after that stipple chase exam.. But If you are reading this, you can like to give me an 'A' in that Neuro-Anatomy + Head and Neck Exam.

Also, (Mina, tiffany, Brittany.....) that card you picked out was very funny and/or touching. I laughed/cried. To those whose present was a gift card, good call. There’s nothing that says “Happy Birthday” like a $10 credit to Old Navy.

To those that wrote on my Facebook wall, (about 300+) just know I probably will not see it for at least a week as I tend to forget Facebook exists. This is not a personal slight against you as I replied already to some. But you all were far too kind. I'll still try to reply to more though.

To my BBM family!! I love you guys!
Those that used me as D.P through out the day (Itimi, MJ, Grace, ruki,.....)

half of the day,( Ebode :-) )
Quarter of the day,
1Hour, 30min, 10min you guys were lovely!

To those that didn't....(Mamuzo, Eben, Obi, Jackie, ND, Sara....and abt 20 others) *no Comment*

Those that said "HBD" on their PMs thanks you guys are the bomb.

Inevitably, I got massages about aging. “You’re getting old,” they said. Of course, this is true. I am. In fact, so is everyone. We are all simultaneously getting old. That’s how time works. Imagine how weird it would be if someone wasn’t getting old.

To these people, I say, “No, I’m not. I’m immortal! Long after you are gone and buried, I will still be here!” There is no good response to that, so that will squash that conversation almost immediately.

So! Last but not least, special thank you to my Classmates you guys really surprised me people I never talked to since 100level wishing me a happy birthday and then the gifts. Plus how can I forget you that let me spy from ur work when my head became blank (I dunno if you allowed me spy cos it was my birth day or if you would have allowed me spy any other day.

Obviously, I am not a computer to remember all the names of people that were in particular kind to me on my birthday so.............

To those that I forgot to mention there names here......people that wished me on twitter (@onyix_ @sweetexcynn @delsuinfo)those that remembered but forgot to wish me....... And to those that forgot totally(well)......

“The Lord sent Jonah to Nineveh to the…the lord sent Jonah to the people of….the lord sent…aaargh!”

I groaned in frustration. This just wasn’t working. I wasn’t cut out for any kind of reading. If it came to looking cool hanging out with chicks,just looking fly with the guys then I’m your guy any day. But having to read? And memorise? Hmm, that was transformer hugging stuff right there. Yet here I was, trying to cram a summary of the book of Jonah, thirty minutes before the CRS paper was about to start.

It wasn’t as if this was one paper I absolutely had to pass. In fact, back in secondary school, I had failed CRS so woefully from Jss1 to ss3 that our CRS teacher was convinced I was from a strongly pagan family and we spent our weekends in offering sacrifice to the gods. The man even predicted (correctly) my WAEC result for CRS.

“If you don’t get an f9, then I will become a Buddhist!” he declared after trying (and failing) to make me understand that Jesus turned water to wine at a wedding at Cana and not a bar in Syria. I decided right there and then that I would surprise him with my result. By the time the results were released, he had better have bought his Buddhist habit and be prepared to relocate to a monastery in Tibet.

I failed the paper, of course; f9 being the particular score.

He was not surprised.

So no, I wasn’t preparing for the CRS WAEC paper, but the third GCE I was writing in a row.
I didn’t care if I failed CRS of course. It wasn’t as if I was planning to open a church any time soon (though that was definitely part of my long term plans). My problem was that I had failed to make any other paper as well in spite of my dashing good looks and smooth talk.

How was I to know that I would be bedevilled with deeper life invigilators for each of the examinations I would write? Besides, my brain is too filled with cool stuff to accumulate boring stuff like how to solve quadratic equations or dealing with set theorems. Infact, the first time we were taught set theorem, it had gone like this;

Teacher: Today we will be dealing with sets…
Me: Sex?
Teacher (fair complexioned woman, blushing visibly): No! Sets!
Me: But what does sex have to do with mathematics?
Teacher: SETS, SETS, SETS, OLODO, SETS!!!!

So you see, I’m really not cut out for all that caper. I was looking forward to a career in modelling. This fine face would be a waste behind a counter in a bank. I would dazzle the world with my million dollar smile and the ladies would just die when I walked into rooms.

My father wasn’t thinking along those lines when he saw my WAEC result:
“CHAIII!!!” the man screamed, giving my mother the impression that his long awaited cardiac arrest had finally happened and the poor woman dashed over from the kitchen to see if she could still save his life.

“What’s the problem?” she asked, partially worried at his scream at that time of the day and partially relieved that he was not writhing in pains on the ground.

“The problem? The problem?” he shouted. “There are nine problems!” He roared holding my result aloft. “F9 in nine subjects…..oh and look, he got an A…..in Yoruba!”

I didn’t even pass that Yoruba on my own effort, anyways. The invigilator had slept off after a large mug of hot cocoa our school principal had served her, leaving the path clear for all kinds of malpractice. Of course, the woman subsequently turned down all food offers thereafter. If she hadn’t, I would probably have made all my papers.

Anyways, that was my WAEC result from secondary school. After the traditional thrashing for failing a major examination, I was enrolled in a summer coaching programme in preparation for the GCE my parents had me registered for.

Need I tell you that I failed that one as well?
“HA!” my father screamed. “He couldn’t even make Yoruba this time. Yoruba!!!”
Again, the customary thrashing was dished out and I collected it in good faith, after all, it wasn’t the first time. Afterwards, my father called me into his room, asked me to sit in a chair opposite him and spoke in a calm, clear voice.”

“I will register you for the next GCE. It will be the last one I will register you for. I have also acquired a large metal basin for you, so that when you fail that one, you can go and start hawking pure water in traffic. Your mates are married with children,” I wondered which of my irresponsible mates would already have kids at nineteen “and you are still here, failing examination after examination. I’ve had enough you fail this one, get ready to join those boys we see in traffic running after cars, okay?”

Whenever my father did this (call you into his room, sit you opposite him and talk in a calm, clear frank voice) he meant every word of what he said. I had also spotted a gleaming, large metal basin propped up under the stairs.

Now this is one thing you’ve got to know about me. I can take a whipping, shouting, punching, head butting, electric shocking, choke slamming,groin kneeing, bi**h slapping, the people’s elbow, The Undertaker’s smack-down, ear twisting, listening to Justin Beiber for nine hours straight and a beat down from a permanently high tout at Oshodi but one thing I can’t take is embarrassment. The very thought of hawking pure water in traffic while the hot sun (that sun God must have specially made for Lagos traffic and nowhere else) bore down on me, then being spotted by the guys or one of my numerous girlfriends was just pure torture. It was time for me to sit up.

No, no, I didn’t fail that examination as well. I haven’t even written it yet, take a chill pill!

Actually, it was why I was here trying to memorise a summary of the book of Jonah, whose story I was quite sure I would have known if I hadn’t spent Sunday school classes pouring powdered chalk in girls’ hair and planting twigs (always with an impressive number of branches) in boys’ back pockets. But all around me was noise. Nobody in the GCE centre seemed to be even bothered that in thirty minutes, we would be starting the examinations with CRS as our first paper.

Over there, a girl was describing a particularly hot mini skirt she purchased the previous weekend. From what I could gather from her description, it was only two inches longer than the thickness of a piece of rope. And it still had a slit at the back. And right beside me,a guy was narrating to the small crowd he had somehow gathered how the last party he attended went down;

“Omo, una for come dat parti! Chei, see as girls just dey twist, dey bend, chai! E be like say I go heaven come back. E come get one girl wey I dey rock, chei! If you see as she just dey twist body…” he attempted a mime of how she was twisting and I was convinced that she must have been a particularly stiff girl. If his demonstration was anything to go by, she was more in need of medical attention than a groove at a party.

Still, it made pretty good listening to but my mind bugged me. These guys had probably not been threatened with metal bowls and pure water hawking so they could afford to make all that noise. Besides, they were probably depending on the N5,000 they had all “willingly donated” to the woman who was in charge of the centre where we were writing the exams, of course, at the woman’s behest.

“It’s not by force o!” she had declared. “I’m not forcing you to give me anything, but if you don’t pay up, I’m not sure the result you’ll end up with will get you into any university.”

The rush to give her money was overwhelming.
Still, I didn’t want to take chances so I continued cramming what I could of the summary. Meanwhile, everyone else felt there was nothing to worry about, that everything had been “taken care of”. What they did not bank on, however, was the deeper Life invigilator that walked into the examination hall thirty minutes later.

“Please remove anything that might implicate you in the examination,” woman said. Have you ever heard anybody with a Christian accent? This woman had it, and it was obvious that no amount of bribing would work with her. Her long, billowing white skirt and shining white head-tie/turban was testament to that fact. The previously noisy hall fell silent. “Hey, you,” she pointed to a guy seated on a desk. “Go and wash your hands and by the time you are back here, everything you wrote on your palms must be gone. That girl,” she pointed at a girl at the back. “If I see that paper sticking out of your hair when this paper starts, I will tear your answer sheet. And you,” a boy, also at the back.“You think I can’t see that Gideon’s Bible you are hiding under your thigh. Keep it well o, because if I see it when this paper starts, you might need it for prayers when you see your result.”

People began exchanging glances and plan Bs were discussed in whispers. Those without a plan B started chewing the caps of their pens before the paper started. I prayed a silent prayer. Lord please; let me see Jonah in this exam. If I don’t see Jonah in this examination, then I’m in trouble.
“Be seated!” snapped the invigilator. “And I want total silence in this hall.” Obedience was absolute and immediate. She immediately began handing out the scripts; question and answer booklets, assisted by other invigilators who looked like they were in awe of her mighty turban. After all the papers had been distributed, she glanced at the wall clock, cross checked it with her wrist watch, then declared “You have two hours and thirty minutes for this paper.” A low moan began to rise “Silence!” she snapped. I kill you! I couldn’t help thinking in my head. The moan died to its roots. “Start. I will be collecting your scripts in two hours and thirty minutes on the dot. May God be your help.”

I immediately skipped the objective part to the theory. Everyone knows the theory part is much more difficult than the objective so I decided to get that one out of the way. There were ten questions and we had to answer five, the first question being compulsory. It read; “Narrate the story of Jonah and God’s mission for him to Nineveh.”

I almost stood up to begin dancing azonto.
I immediately began writing down what I had crammed before it would escape my brain (which, by now, you know can be quite porous when it wants to be). Meanwhile, beside me, party goer (the guy who had been demonstrating what I still wasn’t quite sure if it was a girl dancing or an accident victim trying to walk) scanned his paper and let out a sigh. Then looked at the invigilator. Then at the ceiling. Then back at the invigilator. Then at me. Then started chewing the cap of his pen. Then looked at the invigilator who was now filling something in a form of some kind. Then back at me .

“Pssst. Psssst. Guy!” he whispered. I glanced at him.

“Which one you dey do?” he asked. I paused. Now I didn’t know what to do. It was almost traditional for me to help guys and ladies out in exam halls (yes, I know, I’ve only helped someone with an answer once in all the examinations I’ve written but that’s beside the point. It’s not my fault I didn’t know the other answers. A guy has to help another bro out) but with this turbaned woman looming large at the front of the hall, I wasn’t quite so sure if I was willing to take the risk.
“Pssst,” he came again. “Which one you dey do na?”

“Theory,” I whispered back, an eye on the invigilator. “Number one.”
He flipped pages to get to the theory section and read number one over.
“Pssst. Psst. Guy.” He hissed. “Guy, wetin do…..” he snapped back and pretended to be muttering to himself as the invigilator looked up to peer at us. “Wetin do Jonah?” he resumed after she continued her form filling.

O ga o! I thought. There I was thinking I was the biggest pagan in the world and here was this guy with no knowledge of Jonah. At least I had been familiar with the name Jonah, even if I hadn’t read the story but this guy didn’t even have an idea. Jonah could have been a wrestler for all he knew.
“You dey go church?” I asked.

“Ehn, I dey go church wella na, na wa for you o,”he replied.

“And you no sabi wetin do Jonah?” I asked.
“Eh guy….see ehn…..for awa church, we no read bible reach da side.”

I shook my head. This was going to be hard.
“Okay,” I started. “God send Jonah make im go preach for one place dem call Nineveh. Jonah no wan go so God send fish make im swallow am. For the fish belle im come pray make God forgive am. The fish come vomit am. Im come go preach for Nineveh. You get dat wan?”

“I get am,” He replied, nodding his head vigorously, like an agama lizard.
“Ehen, so just find as you go take write am make im long, ehn?”

He nodded his head vigorously again, then opened his answer sheet and started writing. After covering a line and half, he stopped. Then again:
“Psst. Pssst. Guy!”
I turned again.

“Er, shay Jonah na fish?”
I didn’t know whether to burst out laughing or start crying for this guy. His case was worse than I thought.

“No,” I whispered back. “Jonah na prophet. Fish swallow am. Im come pray….you no remember wetin I talk before?”

“I remember, I remember” he said, nodding vigorously again. Then:
“Psst! Pssst! Guy! Guy!”
This was getting rather tiring.
“Guy, you sure say you no make mistake? How fish go swallow pesin na? Dat wan no fit happen na. You sure say Jonah no be de fish? Or no be Jonah swallow fish?”

I shook my head in exasperation, my voice now becoming squeaky.
“No, no, na fish swallow Jonah, Jonah be…”
“Okay!” he exclaimed the light of realisation dawning on him. I was relieved. Finally, he gets the plot and will leave me alone. “I don get am now. The fish na shark. You for don talk am since na, you just dey here dey tell me fish.” Having said this, he turned away to resume writing.
I was quite speechless.

He had covered another line when he suddenly stopped again.

“Pssst! Pssst! Guy no vex but no be chop shark dey chop person? How person wey dem don chop go dey shark belle dey pray. No be die im don die be dat?”
I was beginning to see myself jabbing my pen in his left eye.

“Okay, wetin happen be dis” I said, calming myself as much as possible. “Jonah na fish. Biiiig fish. One fisherman from Nineveh come catch am carry am go house. And hunger been dey catch dem bad for Nineveh. Na so as the man reach house everybody gather. Na im the man start preach to dem say dem if dem wan catch fish, dem suppose first consult am. Na im the man open church, become daddy G.O. You get dat wan?”

“Ehen,” he replied. “Na now you come. Why you come dey tell me long story say fish dey swallow person, say person dey pray for fish belle. Ehen, I for talk am!”

He returned to writing again. After covering like,six – seven lines, he stopped to survey his work and he saw it was good. And he did give praise to whom ever it was that he worshipped and promised gifts of thanksgiving. Then he turned to thank me as well for the help I had rendered.
“Pssst. Psst. Guy, number two!”

Does murder in exam hall count as a charge in court?


Co Written with: @nadez_

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On the day that I saw the world.

For the first time, frightening, I so feeble,
So wide and big and filled with people.

I, weeping for the loss of the cocoon that shielded,
They, rejoicing for the gain of a one so awaited.

The questions in mind as they hoisted me high,
A doctor, lawyer, writer or why!
Even a president, their dreams did fly.

In the twenty odd years that have come and gone,
And the sorrows and joys I have seen and borne,

In this, I remain thankful, most of all to You,
Lord most high, without you I’d be in a awe.

Even when I am in the wrong,
Your grace is there to keep me strong.

And my family, support of my existence.
Thank you so much for your love and persistence.

I frustrate you a lot. Yes I do.
But then, you’re all my favourite boos.

To my friends both near and far,
Know that you are always dear to my heart.

And though I may not call and text adlib,
I should hope we will meet in a better place anon.

With this I say happy birthday to me.
With hopes and prayers many more to see.

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Dear God,





We’re tired of praying prayers that have no faith. You know us better than we know ourselves so why do we constantly try to play on Your intelligence? We know that we don’t spend much time with You throughout the day because the duties of life always seem to get in the way. It’s weird because we make time for everything that has nothing to do with You and we don’t even complain about it.

We can stand in a club for hours but it seems like when we get to church, we’re ready to go after praise and worship is over. The preacher is speaking Your words yet our minds are focused on what to do after service. Its so disrespectful how we carry on from day to day without telling You “Thank You”. We don’t make the time to talk to You because our thoughts are so polluted with guilt and stifled by shame.

Forgive us!

Not only do we ask for forgiveness, help us to do better with our relationship with You. Make us put the same efforts that we put into our personal relationships, into our spiritual walk with You. We can’t do it without You. Most of us want to be closer to You, but we’re afraid of change. We’re afraid that walking with You is going to required too much. We’re not worthy God, we don’t even have enough sense to comprehend that You love us even when we don’t love ourselves. Bless us because You are God and not always based on our behaviours.

Free our dear country from the shackles of "backwardness"  in which corruption and all other vices have tied us with. Teach our fellow citizens to fervently pray for our leaders, and not rain invectives on them like we often find solace in doing.

Show us the way; surround us with people who truly love You, not those who say what a TV preacher told them to say. Help us to know You for ourselves and not how people feel we should know You. We’ve realised that we’re nothing without Your presence; we just need You to show us a sign. Let us know that You hear our heart desires. We’re ready for a new beginning.

We know You are not on an internet plan  but can surely read our minds..

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I miss waking up each morning to the message you sent while I slept....
"Stopping by to drop a kiss in your dreams"

I miss hearing your voice when it’s all groggy nd tiny from not enough sleep....
"Hey babe! Good morning… Have an awesome day"

I miss bugging you all day, filling you in on the minutest detail
My course mate just peed her pants! LOL! I crave carbs! Diets suck! Ugh"!

I miss those unplanned visits...
Surprise! Guess who’s in town? Coming to ur house in a bit

I miss the random messages...
You’re beautiful, inside and out! Lucky me

I miss the chastising
"You snapped at your mum?! Why?! Okay, I understand but you have to apologize to her"

I miss making the future plans
"Small wedding, HUGE honey mooning!" Lol

I miss helping you pick out an outfit
You should totally rock the brown shoes with that Red dress(I loved the red dress)

I miss the endless teasing and banter
Your head’s big, by the way.. We both know yours is bigger!

I miss the cuddling even when we fight
Oya shift! I want to cuddle

I miss the pampering
You look tired, lie down I’ll massage. You need to eat babe, please. A kiss for every spoon, deal?
Oh, I miss the deal

I get that school is crappy but if you go today and study enough to impress me, you get a gift.
And of course the bribery…

I miss the impromptu fun games
Let’s make lunch together, over the phone of course. You give the instructions and I’ll cook

I miss… Gosh, I miss everything! I miss the things I can’t have because, well, because I’m alone …And while being single has it’s perks, I miss the things I could have…

I miss my first love.
In reply to
I miss you! http://wp.me/p30ldI-14 twitter.com/His_beloved8

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Dear Future Wife,

I know it's been a long time I wrote to you. The devil have tried every available means possible to make me forget about you.

For example if you read my "April fools' experience" Gosh! That was the closest I came to cheating on you. But I know you have a kind heart and therefore you've forgiven me already. But sweet heart, don't you think its high time you write me a letter? This is my fifth letter to you(not counting the numerous letters I forgot to publish or the ones I wrote way back in primary and secondary school. Not that I'm complaining or anything. But all I need is just a letter(yes just one) and I'll be the most happiest guy on earth. (My email's "hendrix@doctor.com" incase you forgot)

Anyways cocoa, (you don't mind me calling you that right?) Lately I have been inundated by texts of all kinds, graphics too, addressing me as some sort of coward or shy person who refuses to step forward and take his destiny in his hands. May I dis-abuse that notion and in my own defence say, I am not!

From display pictures (DPs) that read “I wonder what my future husband is doing right now” to the absolutely annoying “dear future husband, you dey mad ni? Must I date every boy before you come?” To the insanely hilarious write by kemmiiii that made me laugh till tears welled in my eyes, I have decided to respond and allay some of your fears.

As confused and angry as you may be right now concerning my supposed identity, please note that I am more impatient to meet you. To see your wonderful face and be lost in your smile. To know you more than anyone else could claim. To laugh with you and lend a shoulder for you to cry on.

Dear wife, understand this, I am impatient to meet you because I would be your boyfriend – your friend, a boy – the trustworthy dependable guy you relax with. The person who you wear no airs around. The one whose number is first on your speed-dial. I will be the friend who makes you laugh until it hurts, be there when you are passing through your phases, a constant familiar face that goes through the darkness with you
.
We will hang out together, go grab amala at Iya Mulika’s joint. Watch Arsenal play, (hopefully Arsene Wenger would have been cured of his dementia) together supporting as the team conquers England, Europe and then the world. Our voices lost as we give ourselves over to frenzied shouts that spurs the team on from a million miles away.


There will be no secrets between us. My eyes will reveal what is in my heart, it will start dancing at the sight of you. You alone will have the access to the codes of my mumu button; still I will be your friend, a boy, and maybe, your best-friend.

Your girlfriends will get jealous of our relationship, my boyfriends will pray for my soul and scheme to deliver me. Yet will our bond grow strong. We will ride the crest of time together, brave the gloomy valley hand in hand trusting each other implicitly and knowing that with each other, we are safe. Still I will only be your friend, a boy, maybe your best-friend.

And as we grow, as you are about to make the greatest decision in your life, as always mine would be the first name you say, the one you come to for advise and as we talk and discuss the subject of marriage your eyes will open in an epiphaneous (pardon the word – epiphany) moment and you will see I have always been there, your friend, your ally, your rock. Waiting, for the time your eyes will open and you will see, I have always been there keeping watch over you till you are ready to admit to yourself that I, I am the one for you.

-your future husband
Hendrix

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