Long Distance 2
PHOTO: SACRED JOURNEYS AND SPIRITUALCOMMUNITY The story doesn’t begin here. It springs from HERE.Jason Ogbeche kept flitting in and out of consciousness. He didn’t know where the sounds were coming from. He barely knew where he was. Someone seemed to be tugging at him, trying to pull him out. But from where? He tried to open his eyes and when that finally happened, it came with a lot of pain. His mind registered that he was surrounded by people. The tingling feeling all over his body beckoned him to ignore the sea of faces and concentrate on his body. He looked down. There was blood everywhere! He tried to move and something held him back. ‘Do not pull him like that! You will kill him.’ It seemed to come from a far place and each word punctuated the pain he was feeling. He looked down again and saw that the blood flow had one major source. Jason blanched when he saw the source. The pain overwhelmed him again and he lost consciousness. *** Doctor Amara Obiekwe forced her way through the crowd, shouting ‘Do not pull him like that! You will kill him.’ until she got to the front of the very ghastly car accident scene before her. When would Nigerians stop pulling people out of accident scenes?! When would people realize that more damage is done when accident victims are not properly removed from the scenes?! She pushed some more and stopped in her tracks just as she got to the car. Someone had wrenched the door open and the sight before her was daunting. The young man in the front seat was impaled to his seat by an iron rod that obviously came off the trailer lying a few feet away. From the look of it, the iron entered into his left upper side and exited somewhere into the seat. Thankfully, the man had been wearing his seat belt. If he hadn’t, she was sure he would have flown out of the window and crashed head-first into the underbelly of the huge trailer; which was what happened to the driver. Dr. Amara dialed the Jos University Teaching Hospital as she assessed what could be done. She could stem the blood flow but she was worried about the proximity of many vital organs to the entry-point of the injury. This man needed immediate surgery if he was to live. But before then, she carried out the ABCDEs of First Aid; she checked his airways, breathing, circulation, and his level of consciousness, the penetrating iron and the amount of blood loss. She was about to start the secondary survey when she heard the sound of an approaching ambulance. The forces of the universe seemed to be with this man. She started to get up when he woke up and grabbed her hand. ‘Don’t leave me!’ he muttered, sputtering some blood and losing consciousness again. Though unconscious, his hand remained tightly gripped in hers as they raced to the hospital. *** Adon Kato was restless. She had been calling her boyfriend for the last two hours and he wasn’t picking. He left her about four hours ago as he journeyed to Abuja. It took every ounce of her strength to watch the bus leave. When she could no longer see the bus, she grudgingly went to her car and drove home. She had just opened her front door when her phone buzzed. She just knew it was Jason. She smiled even before she read it. ‘Missing you already baby.’ ‘Come back to me! I am so lonely with you gone!’ She responded. ‘Stop it woman! I swear, I will come down from this bus and come back to you!’ Adon laughed. She started typing and then stopped; a voice note would be better. ‘I am so glad we worked things out. I almost thought your presence here would mean the end of our relationship but somehow, we found ourselves. I love you so much baby! I haven’t been this happy in a long time.’ She watched her phone, anticipating his response. ‘Aww baby! Why are you torturing me? You know I cannot send a voice note and you keep enveloping me with your honey-smooth voice! I will get you back for this. When you come to Abuja, I will make sure I spoil you so bad, you will have no other choice than to quit your job and leave Gombe. And you know I keep my word!’ Adon laughed again. She was blushing! What did this guy do to her? ‘You will not believe that I am smiling like a sappy teenager. And blushing too! What did you do to me, Jason Ogbeche?!’ He sent in a laughing emoji. ‘Laugh all you want oh! Shebi you now know I love you so you are forming champion right?! Lol. I know what I will do to you. And hey! Speaking of work, I need to prepare. Talk to you as soon as I settle in. I love you, Jason.’ ‘I love you too baby.’ They had been chatting when he suddenly went offline. Adon was a bit worried. Something was wrong; she felt it. But she shrugged it off. She tried to concentrate on work to get that nagging feeling away. ‘Adon, you are too much of a worrier.’ she told herself just as… …her phone rang. She jumped to pick it and in her excitement, dropped it. She quickly it picked up and saw that the call had ended. Checking her call log, she saw it was Jason. The phone began to ring again. ‘Jason what the hell is wrong with y…’ ‘Good day ma’am. I am calling from the Jos University Teaching Hospital. The owner of this phone was involved in an accident and is currently is surgery. You were the last person he interacted with and we would like to know if you can make it to the hospital.’ Adon barely heard anything beyond Jason being in an accident. She wanted to faint, to go numb,
Trading Sexual Favors
Couple on a date.Image: Connect Nigeria. I used to have this friend and roomie who absolutely loved grilled fish. She loved grilled fish so much that she practically had one every day. I always say that she made me love grilled fish because until I met her, the delicacy was a luxury. But when we became friends, it became a perfect finish to whatever kind of day I was having. Thing is, she never bought the fish herself. Every time she hung out with friends, she always returned home with fish. And when she couldn’t go out, someone would always ensure that one was brought to her. At that time, I had morphed into my new personality and it was not unusual to find me at home reading a book or sleeping. This meant that fish always came to me in our little room and though I would never have been so bold to ask anyone to buy me fish, I always ate it when it came. And for your information, it is NOT longer throat! One day however, my friend had a fight with this steady admirer. The fight was so big that they were not on speaking terms. After finding out what went wrong, I tried to encourage her to work things out with him…and hey! It wasn’t because of the fish! But back to my story.My friend wouldn’t budge. She just kept groaning about how we wouldn’t eat fish that night. I was shocked by what she saw as a priority. After a few hours, the guy called and…she didn’t pick. He called and again, she still didn’t pick. What happened next surprised me to no end. The guy sent an SMS, categorically saying that he wanted to take her out for fish. My girl piped up so quickly I had my mouth agape! She didn’t even pretend to wait for some time. She quickly called the guy, acted coy and asked when he was coming to pick her. I was more disappointed than surprised by what I had seen if I am being honest. Did this girl just sell herself short for grilled fish?! It got me thinking and I have to admit there are many girls like that. These girls would do just about anything for fish! And when I say anything, I mean anything! I have seen a lady who hugs a guy really tight when she has a grilled fish craving. She is this big-breasted girl who knows that the guy in particular loves them big. When he sits down, she would lean over him with all that breast rubbing his head and shoulder, and when he turns, his face is almost buried in those breasts. She smiles and that is when she usually asks for her fish. I asked her why she did stuff like that. She told me that I was such a prude, men were supposed to cater to her needs and she shouldn’t have to spend money on what she wants. It still piques me that women continue to trade sexual favors for stuff like grilled fish! This isn’t about being judgmental or anything like that. It is just that when I want fish, I take out money and head to the spot. And because I know I love fish so much, I make sure I space out the days I eat it so I am not bankrupt because of my cravings. Once in a while, I am invited to ‘fish-out’ but I only accept when the invitation comes from really close friends; and they are not many. I cannot imagine how I would feel if a man says, ‘No be Ramat. She is that grilled-fish girl. If you want to get her, buy her a grilled fish.’ I would literally be ashamed of myself if that ever happens to me. But in the last couple of years, I have grown to realize that just because something works for me doesn’t mean that it should be the standard for everyone. In my ideal world, women are able to pay for the things they want, when they want it. But in reality, many women want to be wined and dined by their suitors and admirers and they are not averse to trading sexual favors to get what they want. Now, as long as both parties agree that that is the way they want their relationship to be, it really isn’t any of my business. In the famous words of Cardi B, “what you eat don’t make me shit”. And that is the way it should be. But…what do you think about trading sexual favors for simple things? And I am not talking just girls because if living in Lagos and Abuja has shown me anything, this is also very common with guys. So…what do you think?
Would You Work for an Unprofessional Boss?
Employees working on a problem.Image: Video Block So…I got an invitation to attend an interview in Lagos and it got me really excited. The company had a great online presence and I imagined how I could add value to the company. I took a bus trip and somewhere between Ondo and Oyo, we were nearly in an accident. It would have been fatal if the cars had connected so I was thankful for the miss. The near accident left me shaken until we got to Lagos and as such, I couldn’t sleep well that night. By morning, I knew I had to get myself together or be horribly bad at the interview. Knowing Lagos traffic, I set out for Ikeja 2 hours before the scheduled time. As fate would have it, I got to the venue a good 1 hour before my interview; even though I took leisurely walks and paced my bus-hopping. I decided to buy time by going to the bank, entering a shopping mall and enjoying the scenery. I only managed to use up 20 minutes. I walked back to the venue of the interview as slowly as I could and got there with 20 minutes to spare. I knew I couldn’t go anywhere else so I just went in. When I got into the office, I was a bit disappointed. It didn’t look as I expected it to do. I was not bothered (much) because they were an online firm and all they needed were computers and internet right? Moreover, I felt that since they could rent a place in Ikeja, they must be serious with themselves. At 10:20am, only one person had resumed work. That was my first cue that something was wrong with the firm. The guy whom I saw kept calling his colleagues to inform them that the person scheduled for the 10am interview was around. After about 30 minutes, the guy told me he had to go somewhere and left me alone in the office. I was surprised. How was he comfortable leaving the office with a total stranger? What if I was a criminal? Or had evil intentions? I remained where I was, hoping the guy wouldn’t be long. Another interviewee came in at around 10:40am and we both sat and waited. You wouldn’t believe that the COO of the company came in at about 11:30am and the CEO came in at about 12:30pm. How could they set an interview for 10am and turn up more than two hours late for it? I sat there and waited like a fool, wondering if this was what I left Kaduna to Lagos for. I hoped that it would be worth it in the end. When the boss was finally ready for us, he asked to see the other girl first. The guy I met said I came in first and the man said in a loud voice that ‘it didn’t matter’. I was beyond shocked! Did this man have no principles?! I sat there fuming and knew I wouldn’t want to work with them. When it was my turn to be interviewed, I went in and sat across from the man. He started by saying, ‘so you are the one who came here since 8’o clock right?’ That made me pause. Here was a prospective employer mocking me for coming to an interview early! I wondered if the man even knew any interview etiquette. I faked a smile and waited for the questions. He asked me a series of questions and I answered them. Then he mentioned a few brands and asked if I followed them. I said I had heard of them. He said he wanted to do ‘something like that’ and my disappointment finally set. This company didn’t understand what originality was. After less than 5 minutes, he said he was done and that I should return in 3 days for the second phase of the interview. I was so mad! If I had known that was what I was coming for, I would never have come to Lagos! I went back home and packed my things. My friends and siblings said I should wait and see since I had gone all that way. I really wanted to leave but I didn’t want to worry about ‘what could have been’. So I waited. I went back to the office as planned and again, had to wait for 2 hours before the CEO came in. I swore that no matter what they were offering, I was not going to take the job! From the waiting area, I heard the CEO call a group of people repeatedly and I thought they were part of the interview panel. This was because he kept saying, ‘we are waiting for you oh!’ When these people finally came, turned out they were also to be interviewed; just like me! They had no sooner sat down than the CEO invited them in for their interview. I was mad! So was the other girl! Here we were waiting for more than two hours and the moment 2 guys walk in, they were attended to first. Eventually, I moved beyond anger to resignation; I had wasted money coming to Lagos. When I finally got in, the first thing I noticed was that the CEO’s shirt was streaked with dirt; almost like he had spilled coffee on himself and used his shirt as a rag. I was repulsed. This man didn’t even bother to make an impression. Like the first time, I sat across from him and waited. The man said I had the job and explained my duties. It wasn’t another phase of the interview; it was just job confirmation. I wondered if they couldn’t have done that via mail and why I had to come back after 3 days to hear that. After explaining himself, he told me what the salary was and that was when I lost it. The fake smile dropped and my semi poker, semi I-wish-I-can-punch-you-in-the-gut look came on. I
The Weird One Out
PHOTO: ONE EQUAL WORLD Society has defined how the ‘ideal woman’ should look, walk, talk, behave and be interested in. This evolves every once in a while but the core tenets of what society wants from women are basically the same; be pretty, talk less, marry, give birth, support your man and fade into oblivion. When a woman doesn’t fit into the well laid out specifics of the ‘ideal woman’, she begins to feel odd and worse, and doubt her self-worth. Her difference plagues her and she wonders if something is wrong with her. As she battles these thoughts, society sends men and women who fit in to her ‘ideal’ classification to pepper this ‘different woman’ with wandering anecdotes and poisonous sarcasm. Here is a glimpse of the thoughts that plague women who do not fit into the ‘ideal’ or ‘perfect’ or ‘true definition of what a true woman should be’ classification. Let us start off on some of the questions she asks herself about her look: · Is it weird that she does not know the difference between a hair conditioner and a moisturizer? Or what their uses are?· Is it weird that she cannot tell between an original human and faux human hair? And that even if she knew, she would never spend over ₦50,000 just for her hair?· Should she be worried that she cannot tell the difference between a foundation and a concealer or even a highlighter? Oh! She knows what they are supposed to do but isn’t sure she can tell the difference when placed in front of her.· Why does the sales girl at the lipstick store ask her if she wants merlot, garnet, sangria or currant when all she asked for was red?· Why did the man at the cosmetic store snicker when she insisted there was really no difference between a ‘bleaching’ cream and a ‘toning’ cream?· Should she have been mad when the man at the underwear shop told her she was better off with the push-up bra as she isn’t well endowed?· Is it weird that she is not worried about her belly fat? And why was it acceptable to use waist trainers and give an illusion of a flat tummy when she had anything but?· Is her natural smell so wrong that she has to douse herself with multiple perfumes, deodorants, sprays and scents?· Is it wrong to just want to wear something comfortable instead of something trendy? That she wouldn’t spend money on designers who are all the rave now but whose designs would be outdated after a season? That she would rather wear generic clothes because somehow, they never go out of style?· Should she pretend those heels don’t hurt like hell or should she just stick to her ballet flats and scandals? And when she is done thinking about how she looks, she also has to ponder on these other questions: · Why should she be quiet in public places when her voice is a great tool in correcting societal wrongs?· Why should she catwalk and sway her hips when all she wants to do is to get to where she is going?· Is it weird that she would rather spend ₦20,000 on books than on clothes, shoes, bags, makeup or jewelry?· Why do people give her the funny look when she says she never watches ZeeWorld or Telemundo or Africa Magic Epic? Is she so wrong for preferring Discovery Channel, National Geographic and BBC and the NBA channel?· What is so wrong with being interested in The Big Bang Theory, Fringe, CSI, Criminal Minds, Bones, Sherlock and the Marvel series? Why should she have to limit her scope of understanding because girls are ‘not supposed to be that intelligent’?· And where was it written that women are only interested in sports because of their boyfriends or because they want to ogle men? Even when she proves she has been a supporter of Arsenal since they first signed Robert Pires, some men still think she is a supporter because Theo Walcott is fine.· And why do her female friends keep telling her she ‘sounds like a man’ when she discusses politics and the economy and global happenings? Like, because she is a woman, she shouldn’t be able to understand politics, economics or espionage?· And talking espionage, is it weird that she would rather cuddle up with a Dan Brown, Robert Ludlum, Steven King, Tom Clancy, Agatha Christie, James Patterson, Sydney Sheldon and John Grisham than Complete Fashion, City people, any M & B or eHarlequin?· Is it weird that she knows about NASA, quantum physics, coding and app creation, DNA sequencing and cloning, artificial intelligence and Einstein’s Gravitational waves theory? · Why should she have to take the words of ‘spiritual leaders’ as true and infallible when she studies the scriptures herself and sees that, many times, these ‘spiritual leaders’ are just wrong? And why should she not teach the word because she is a woman? These questions keep her up at night wondering if her difference will negatively affect her life. The worst area for her revolves around her sexual relationships. She wonders: · if her mind is sexy enough to attract the guy she wants; · if the guy she wants wouldn’t be bothered by her lack of interest in fake nails, caked faces and flamboyant clothes; · if the guy wouldn’t be threatened by her intellect and the quality of her mind; · if the guy understands that a relationship is a part of her life and not the entire essence of it and; · if the guy she wants even exists? What many people do not know is that more women are waking up to the realization that there has to be more to life than looking pretty, ‘slaying’, wearing the hottest designer clothes, getting married, giving birth and taking care of a family. These women want to change their world in their various fields. They want to leave a
The Men Who Snitched on Their Gender
Picture: BLACK WOMEN OF BRAZIL I woke up this morning with the thought of one of the shows I did on television. We had this business mogul on the show and he was talking about business principles for success. Just as we were rounding up, he asked us to let him say something. It went something like this; ‘I am the man I am today because I have a very wonderful wife. If she isn’t in my life, I probably wouldn’t have reached this success level I am enjoying today. What most people don’t know is that she isn’t good at business but she is a great idea churner. Almost every venture I have turned into a lucrative money-making business is an idea my wife whispered to me. She is the idea and I am the execution. That is why we are so successful. Men, learn to respect the women in your lives. They hold the key to your success.’ After our cooing and awwwing, we wrapped up the show and went out of the studio. When we went into our office for the post show discussion, I couldn’t help but notice that some of my colleagues were laughing at our guest. I wondered what it was about but didn’t bother to ask. As we proceeded with our analysis of the day’s performance, we got to the issue of the business mogul and next thing you know, one of my very vocal colleagues shouted, ‘That man has been pussy-whipped’. This drew some laughter from those who understood what he meant and blank faces from those who didn’t. It prompted a gender debate and we jokingly discussed the importance of women. My colleague didn’t let go of his opinion. He kept saying, ‘That man is such a snitch!’ I asked him what he meant by that and he said men who let their women ‘control’ them are snitches on their gender and that men are supposed to be ‘manly’ and behave a certain way. I remember that I looked at my colleague and imagined how a person could be so ignorant! So, because a man praises his wife and respects her, he has snitched on his gender? As I pondered on that incident, I thought of other men who could be said to have ‘snitched’ on their gender. Here is a list; 1. The Men Who BELIEVE In the Equality of the Sexes: you know how women are supposed to be less than men and thus, defer to them? Yeah, there are men who don’t believe so! These men understand that gender equality doesn’t negate the roles of each sex but accepts that we are human first before we are our gender. They believe that women and men should have equal access to education, healthcare, life choices, job opportunities, same pay, leadership positions, promotions, dignity of person and of ideas. These men get incensed when women are treated less than men are because of their sex. Know a man like this? When you see him on the road, this is what you should say to him. ‘You bloody wonderful snitch’! 2. The Men Who HELP Out In the House: in this world of men sitting down and watching football while their mothers/sisters/wives slaves in and around the house, finding that man who helps around the house is such a breath of fresh air. I went to stay with a family recently; a mother, her daughter and son. I woke up to help out with chores only to see that the guy had done almost everything. He cleaned the house, did the dishes, washed the cars and prepared breakfast. I was like, ‘Dude, where are you from?!’ He laughed and told me he had to prepare for work. I asked about his mum and his sister and he told me his mum was down with fever and his sister wasn’t a morning person because she worked nights. So he took care of the house and when his sister got up, she didn’t have to do all the work in the house. I looked at him straight in the eye and said, ‘will you marry me?’ Such a snitch! 3. The Men Who would NEVER Hit A Woman: women, you know how we can get very blabber-mouthed when we quarrel with people right? How we go for the jugular? Where we just want to eviscerate a person? Well…I am not one of such women! (Hey! Don’t vex na! I am just playing! Chai! Okay…okay…I confess. I am THAT person!) There was this day I quarreled with a dear friend…(what now?! Stop giving me that side eye. Okay! Okay! Insert boyfriend)…and I was really mad. We had never gone at it like that before. Usually, when I am mad at him, I just walk away because I know my mouth is razor-sharp. On this day however, all the claws were out and drawing blood. My alter ego came out and looked at me and quite frankly, if I was him and I was listening to the things I had to say, I would have descended on me. Have you watched Kung Fu Hustle? Trust me, the slaps would have been that fast! Anyhoo, I could see that he was about to explode and I didn’t stop. He walked away and guess what? I followed! I started pulling him at, tugging at his shirt and spewing my venom. Reading this, you would think I wanted to get beaten but the truth was, I was dealing with rage issues and I couldn’t reason clearly when the anger got to a certain point. One final tug and gbam! He punched! He hit the metal door away from my face. After the sound of bone hitting metal, the silence was deafening. I had pushed him to the point where he raised his hand but he still wouldn’t hit me. He preferred to injure himself –
The Curse of Social Media
I pick up my phone, look for the best light source, tilt for the best angle, present the left side of my face, pucker my lips (or smile or laugh), choose a filter and bam! Picture taken! When I want a full length picture, I hand over my phone to someone and repeat the procedure. I always present my left side because it is my most flattering side. My smile seems fuller, my eyes brighter and the ‘love handles’ on my waist doesn’t look so pronounced. I take as many pictures as possible and then choose the best from the rack. Every picture that shows me in an unflattering light doesn’t see the light of any prying eyes. It is CTRL X on them ugly pictures! Having done that, I go through filter after filter to make my face smoother, clearer, and fresher and my clothes and environment more ‘tush’. When all that is done, INSTAGRAM baby! 50 likes! 100 likes! 1000 likes! And if I am Kim Kardashian, likes in the millions! Yeah…I wasn’t just talking about me. When you go on any of the social media platforms, whether it is Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, Pinterest, Tumblr or whatever suits your style, you see pictures of people that seem a bit…unreal. Everyone is more beautiful, richer, sexier and much more likeable. Everyone seems to be having fun and celebrating life and doing things that you seem to be left out of. Everyone seems to have a very happy life! But is this usually the case? In most cases, no. Social media has given us an opportunity to lieto the world. I know many people who are extremely differentfrom what they put up on social media. There are people who post snaps showing they live in opulent houses while living poor. Women with smaller waists on Snapchat or Instagram seem thicker in reality. Remember when 50 Cents was with that bed of money but filing for bankruptcy? Wizkid spoke of a house he supposedly ‘bought’ when in real sense, the owner was waiting to embarrass the heck out of him fornot paying rent. And supposedly happy relationships on the gram are anything but. Take the case of Toke Makinwa and Tiwa Savage for example. I cannot count all the #CoupleGoals posts people put up after seeing well edited photos of their supposedly happy marriages. The wedding pictures were heavenly and the gowns were out of this world! It wasn’t until their marriages publicly came crashing down that people saw how unhappy they really were. I met an actor cum TV and red carpet host recently. This actor had a very healthy social media presence. He was always on fleek in all his pictures and one would have thought he was swimming in money. He was at our school to talk on his career as a learning platform for aspiring actors. One of the first things he said was, ‘Forget what you see on the gram. Most of what I wear is brought to me by my producers and after the show, I return them. I go home in the clothes I went to the office with.’ I was shocked. Here was an ‘accomplished’ actor telling us that most of what we saw on his Instagram was just for show. Another actor, this time my favorite Nigerian male actor, spoke of moments of poverty when he was smiling for the gram, when he was posting happy pictures and when he was motivating others to reach for the stars. I can go on and on with the celebrities but they are not the only guilty ones. I know ladies who cannot take a picture without caking their face first. Theycannot go out without their face beat on fleek and dressed to the nines. These ladies spend almost all their money on clothes, makeup, accessories and what not. They hardly ever repeat a dress or shoe. Every day, they take pictures to show off what they have. How would the world know they just bought a new dress if they don’t quickly upload photos online? This is not just a thing for girls. Guys are guilty too. You look at snaps of Tyson Beckford, Trey Songz, Ebuka Uchendu, Nobel Igwe and you just know that men also want to show off. These men are fashionable and trendy so they show off their appeal in well taken shots. Some other men who may not be conventionally sexy or ‘cute’ show off their wealth. Men like Floyd Mayweather, Young Thug, Birdman and Davido are about showing off that paper. Again, how would people know they are millionaires if they don’t show the things their money can buy for them? And another category is the men who show off their penis prints. You all know how many women swooned when The Game showed off what he was packing on Instagram or when Serge Ibaka mistakenly posted a picture emphasizing his size. You hardly ever see anyone deliberately putting up a bad picture of themselves. Everyone always wants to look good. And even though I am anti-body shaming, I will never take a picture of my love handles and put online. Hell no! I ain’t sorry! Khloe Kardashian photoshops her bad knee, some dark skinned girls use lighter filters, some ‘white’ girls use the tan filter, people without cars never post pictures where they are trekking or in public transport and stuff like that. The effect then is that when many people go on Instagram or Facebook or any social media site that is especially designed for pictures and videos, they think that their lives isn’t as good as it should be. They look at the plush houses, luxury cars, designer clothes, expensive jewelry and accessories, state-of-the-art gadgets, perfectly done make up, trips to exotic locales and mouth-watering food and they can’t help but think that their life is sadly lacking in many things. If you are one of such, remember that away from the well
Good Christian People II
Add caption Tolulope has been facing abuse from her family and boyfriend because of a mistake she made. She is about to be pounced on by her brother in-law and her sister. Would she escape the beating she is sure to get? Will her life get better? Find out by continuing the story. Remember, all the events of this story are based on true events. Only the names have been changed. If you haven’t seen Part 1, start off here. *** For 2 days they beat Tolulope, punctuating each slap or kick or punch with the Bible thrust into her face, reminding her that she could be free when she swore to give up her boyfriend and their child. She lost consciousness several times and as soon as she came to, the threats and subsequent beatings continued. By the third day, she couldn’t take it anymore. She went to them while they breakfasted and knelt down. ‘Uncle, Aunty, I have come here to apologize. I have been a fool. I have been a disobedient child and I have been sinful. Today, I want to swear before you and God that I have repented and I will never see Femi or Ayo again. I will obey you with the whole of my heart and do anything you want. If you still want me to swear with the Bible, I will do so.’ Aderopo smiled. ‘You have done well. If you had agreed since, you wouldn’t have suffered all these things. But you know that God told me to do that. Anyway, go and eat.’ For a week, Tolulope was the picture of the perfect niece; waking up early, cleaning the house, bathing the kids, prepping them for school, cooking the household meals and doing the dishes and laundry. For one week Tolulope didn’t speak to Femi or her daughter or anyone else for that matter. She was not allowed to go out of the gate by the express instruction of Aderopo but she didn’t even attempt to. Until her opportunity came. Friday, the gate man, left the house every day at 1pm and 4pm to play draft at the top of the street. He would return after 30 minutes and continue his work; like clockwork. He usually locked the door from outside with a piece of stick instead of the padlock. Her sister had gone to the market and Tolulope knew she had time. Her uncle was not due back until 6pm. This had to happen today or no other day. As soon as it was 1pm, Friday set off for his game. Tolulope gave him 5 minutes. She ran out to the gate and started shaking it. Gently, gently she did to see if she could dislodge the stick. She continued on for 15 minutes and with each push-and-tug, she despaired at getting caught. Finally the stick fell! She opened the gate and looked out. There was no one on the street. She got out of the house, put the stick back in place and walked away. The street was a typical upscale street in Abuja. There were no hiding places and getting a bike or taxi was hard. She had to walk long distances to get one. She walked as calmly as she could because she didn’t want to arouse attention. She nearly died when she saw a car coming her way. Was it her uncle? His wife? Was she about to be caught? Her heart was beating faster than was healthy. Her legs couldn’t carry her further and she just stood there. The car inched closer…and closer… …and then it passed. Phew! It wasn’t her family! That was her cue. Damn any attention she would draw to herself. She had to run! And run she did! When she got to the top of the street, she saw a bike and used all her desperation to flag him down. When he stopped, Tolulope saw, from the corner of her eye, the unmistakable red of her uncle’s car and before she could tell the bike man where, she jumped on, and shouted ‘Go! Go! Go!’ The bike man roared with speed and passed Aderopo who wondered at the rough rider and continued home. There were two car parks close to the estate and Tolulope asked the driver to take her to the farthest. Her heart was still racing and she knew she was not out of the loop yet. When they got to the park, she saw a vehicle going to Kaduna and they needed just one person to fill it. She jumped into it and the driver collected her money. As he went about looking for change, Tolulope kept praying she would escape. She just wanted to leave; she just wanted to live. When they finally got on their way, they got caught in traffic. Maybe God wasn’t going to help her after all. She knew that her uncle would come after her and he would not stop at anything. She kept praying and praying until the red jaguar rolled up and stopped right by their side; by Tolulope’s side. It was her uncle. She was in the back seat but if he looked, he would see her in the rearview mirror. Tolulope ducked, hitting the Muslim woman beside her. The woman asked what the fuss was about. ‘That man in that car is my uncle. He has been raping me for years and beating me. I just escaped today. Please, help me.’ The woman looked at him and looked at her. She looked at him again. She made up her mind, took off her veil, covered Tolulope and put her hand on her. The man in the car looked at her and she could almost feel his malevolence. He looked away and inched closer in the traffic lane. After 15 minutes, the gridlock opened and they were on their way. Smooth sailing to Kaduna. And all through, the girl she had just helped cried and cried. *** When Tolulope
Good Christian People
Based on true events. Girl crying.Image: Women’s Net Tolulope Brainard sat in front of Dr. Kikelomo with bated breaths. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion. She was sure that the result in that envelope would change her life forever, yet she dreaded what it would say. She wanted to pray but knew that whatever prayer she sent now was too late anyway. It was either positive or negative. ‘You are pregnant Tolulope.’ Dr. Kikelomo said. She didn’t just say it with finality; that would have been nice. Dr. Kikelomo said that with cynicism, seemingly mocking her predicament. Tolulope got up to leave. Dr. Kikelomo stopped her in her tracks. ‘I must say that I am ashamed of you. How could you have been fornicating all this while? What a shame you are to the church! You do know I am sending the report to the pastor so you can be disciplined right?’ Tolulope looked back at her and turned the door knob. She walked out of the consulting room and out of the hospital. As she wandered the streets in a state of confusion, her life’s choices began to flash before her. *** Tolulope was born into a strong Christian family. She was the youngest girl of four siblings; one brother and three sisters. Her father died when she was five and her mother took up the responsibility of taking care of them. They were poor; not piss poor, but poor still. Her mother, if anything, became more religious. She spent all her time reading her Bible, attending church services and doing evangelism. Tolulope grew up on nothing but the Bible, its edicts and its teachings. Her mother drummed morality into all her children, chief of which was staying away from fornication. Tolulope knew by heart all the Bible verses about sexual sins. Her oldest sister – Shayo – was married off to the church choirmaster, Aderopo Bolaji, when she was 17. He was a middle class man who worked in the government. He took the load off Tolulope’s mother by paying most of her bills. As he got promoted, his burden increased; he became the chief financier of Tolulope’s family. He trained Tolulope’s siblings until only Tolulope was left. When Tolulope got into the university, she maintained her Christian life. She studied hard, prayed a lot, never missed campus fellowships and completely stayed off boys. She did all that until she met Femi. Femi was handsome, intelligent and dedicated to the things of God. He was, in her definition, the perfect man. No one taught her to understand her body and its urges so when she started feeling things for Femi, she chucked it up to being ‘sinful’. She prayed to God to deliver her from her feelings and when that didn’t happen, blamed Him for them. She found out later that Femi also shared same feelings and they started dating…or more appropriately, courting. They never spent any time alone together. They always had a chaperone or a friend. They didn’t want to tempt the devil to cause them to sin. When they had dated for 2 years, Femi proposed and Tolulope said yes. She was elated! She couldn’t wait to share the happy news. She called her mother and sister Shayo and they seemed genuinely pleased. God had sent them a good man. When Shayo told Aderopo, he flew into a rage. How dare Tolulope date someone? Who gave her the right to date anyone he had not first approved off? Shayo was surprised at the anger but since the Bible urged her to submit to her husband, she soon began to see things in his light. Aderopo began to make life harder for Tolulope. He told her to choose between Femi and continuing her education. When she didn’t listen, he threatened to stop sending money to their sick mother. Tolulope told Femi everything and they decided to keep their relationship secret until Shayo’s husband was more cooperative. Well, she couldn’t hide it any more. *** Carrying the pregnancy was the hardest thing Tolulope had to do. Aderopo beat her every day, maybe hoping she would lose the pregnancy. Shayo joined her husband in the beatings. When they weren’t beating her, they were piling house chores on her. They prevented her from going to church because she was, in their words, a disgrace to their family. The only time Tolulope was happy was when she returned to school but even that was a drag. Her course mates gave her that how-can-you-be-born-again-and-pregnant look. She couldn’t explain that she had had sex with Femi in a moment of weakness and the result had been the baby. She couldn’t explain that she had prayed to God, begged for His forgiveness and felt that she deserved the suffering she was facing at the moment. Femi’s mother, who had been so loving when they were introduced, suddenly became a monster when Femi told her about the pregnancy. She swore that Tolulope was the corrupting influence on her very Christian son. She swore that when Tolulope gave birth, she would take ‘their baby’ and be done with her. Tolulope was afraid she would lose her child. So every day, she prayed, hoped and begged God to let the child be okay and to be able to keep it. Maybe God finally took pity on her. *** Tolulope had not seen her sister’s family in two years. Since that day when she took out the IV line from her hand, took her baby and walked out of the hospital, she had not even thought of them. She was happy with her beautiful child and even though she had to hide the effects of Femi’s physical abuse from the inquisitive eyes (and hands) of her daughter, she was happy. Oh! She didn’t tell you? Femi was abusive too. From the moment she turned up at his door, he took every opportunity to beat her. And he had many excuses; she was a temptress, she
Should I Quit My Job?
Image: Google Plus Let me start by making this broad statement; I believe that many people are sick and tired of their jobs! Yeah! I said it! I can also go further to make another broad statement. It doesn’t matter whether you are working for someone or you are your own boss: there comes a time when everyone feels their job sucks! And not just the I-hate-my-job-but-I-will-manage kind of suck but the I-hate-my-job-and-desperately-want-to-quit type. I have been at both places. When I went to serve in Yola, Adamawa State, Nigeria, I was the doe-eyed optimist who believed that I had the Midas touch. I believed I could always find something to do. And true to that, I got something to do barely three months into my stay in Yola. I started ‘working’ at a broadcast media firm. By October that year, a little over 8 months after I started ‘doing stuff’ for the company and the month I finished my service, I was co-opted into their system; I received my first pay as a freelance presenter. For me, it was doing what I loved. I was on radio and I was increasing my sphere of influence. The fact that they were paying me was a plus. Even though the pay was not great, or even good, I was excited doing what I loved. I woke up every day with a burning desire to do well, to be better than I was the previous day, to achieve better than I had done in the past and to dish out new information in newer and more innovative styles. I made sure that my shows were well researched and different from what was the norm at the station. I wanted people to hear a playlist and just know that Ramat was on duty. I wanted my own signature and I worked really hard to ensure I got it. I soaked up all the information I could get from my friends and colleagues and from rival stations in my quest to standout. As long as there was information to be learned about radio program production, you can be sure that I was learning it. As I improved my skill, I took up more and more work until I was spending almost all day at the office. I wanted a scenario where my work would stand out so well that the company would have no choice but to fully employ me; instead of just paying me for my shows. A year went by and I wasn’t given an appointment letter. The disillusionment started to set in. Was I not good enough? Did I not meet the requirements? Did I just have an over-inflated view of my capabilities? These questions plagued me and made me unhappy and unfulfilled. The love for my work gradually began to wane and my passion started to die. This made me take up even more work. I felt like I needed to do more and give more to be good enough for the company. My bosses would praise me for the ‘good work’ I was doing, random people would see me on the streets and appreciate me and some would even pay for my stuff in the market. In spite of all these, the full employment still didn’t come. Here I was living in a backwater town that was so far from all I knew and held dear and to whom I was giving my all and yet, I couldn’t even get employment. Soon enough, resentment began to build up. It came to a place where my self-worth was tied to whether I got a letter or not. You can imagine how bad my life became. I kept sending out job applications but had become so busy at the office that when I got called for interviews, I couldn’t go. This was because my responsibilities were as though I was a full staff of the organization; though my pay grade was notthat of a staff. I was worried that I would lose the little I had in the process of finding something better. I was also worried about the economic situation of the country and when I thought about how many of my friends didn’t have jobs, I just stayed put. And felt trapped. The more I felt trapped, the less happy I was with my job. I kept wondering if I should quit my job and pursue something else or continue to hold on, hoping for a day when my bosses felt I was good enough to be employed. After three years of the same routine and no letter of appointment, I knew I had to borrow myself some sense. For whatever reason, the company didn’t think keeping me was a priority and I knew I couldn’t keep on working like a donkey and getting very little pay. So I knew I had to leave. I couldn’t continue to give a lot of my time, money and energy to a company that didn’t value me. In June of 2016, I packed up my stuff and left Yola for good. I realized I was not the only one with such stories. One of my besties was also going through issues like this. While it was my choice to be overworked, she was forced to work overtime every day and wasn’t paid as much as her work demanded. Recently, she found out that her boss paid members of his staff who were his tribe more than he did her. Truth is, she worked way more than others and was the most trustworthy staff. Finding out she earned way less than her colleagues really broke her spirit. She was at that crossroad where she wondered whether to continue to stay or to leave the company. Another lawyer friend got to that crossroad and walked away from the firm that was overworking him. It wasn’t that the pay wasn’t good but that he wasn’t just growing there. He knew that he could do more, be more, and achieve more if he just wasn’t working with that firm.
Being the Weaker Sex
Working woman with her baby.Image: Your Life Hack. I know this very beautiful lady whose spirit is equally beautiful. She is the type of lady that brings about a sense of calmness when you speak to her. Her humility is so inspiring and the light in her eyes tell of a spirit that is happy, carefree and blessed. Then she got married. Barely three months into the marriage, I noticed a marked change in her demeanor; the light in her eyes had dimmed considerably, there was an air of sadness about her and what used to be graceful slimness began to look more gaunt than slim. When I perceive such sadness, I don on Agatha Christie’s Monsieur Poirot’s persona. I went about investigating the cause of her sadness and what I found was deliberately annoying! Her husband works in a multinational oil company while she works in bank. They both have to leave the house before 7am and both return home quite late. You corporate workers know the drill! It was a power marriage…but only for the husband. I found out that the husband demanded she cooked fresh breakfast, lunch and dinner every day. This lady would wake up at about 3:30am to prepare breakfast and lunch and to clean their house. She would package his lunch in a flask and help him prepare for work. After a long day at the office, she would rush home to cook his dinner and probably wait for him to fuck have sex with her at night. What was most annoying was that the husband demanded she washes his clothes too. He used to take his clothes to the dry cleaners before he married her but he was quoted as saying, ‘I cannot be wasting money now that I have a wife’. So this lady had to wash his suits, shirts and kaftans and iron them for her ‘darling husband’. After three months, she was bone-tired from balancing slavery house work and a hectic bank schedule. Truth is, she was tired of the marriage. She wanted out but being a ‘devout Christian’, she felt she had no options. You can imagine how angry I got when I heard all these. I was so mad I almost walked up to man to slap him! I know you would think it is not my business but truth is, it is! Here is why I got so riled up. Time and time again, we have been told that women are the weaker sex. Most religions of the world preach that women are weaker and it seems to be one of the few points that the religions of the world agree. In Islam, the Qur’an the Hadith says a woman has a ‘weaker mind’ (Qur’an 2:228 and Bukhari 6:301 respectively), the Bible in 1 Peter 3:7 calls the woman the ‘weaker vessel’, early Judaism saw the woman as ‘weak minded’ and even my grandfather drummed it in so well into his children that my father believes we are weaker. What of our cultures? They lend their weight to the notion that women are weaker. And not just that, they put up cultural markers in place to remind us that we are the weaker gender. So…if we are the weaker sex, why the bloody hell do we do most of the work?! There are many women like the woman I mentioned above; women who have to get it right at the home front and get it right at work. Some women are lucky and are allowed to have maids. Some are not. They have to do everything themselves! The argument has always been that men need to ‘focus on work and provide the bread’ so women have to ensure the home is properly catered to. I used to understand the logic. But now, more and more women are in the work place as their husbands are. Some women even do morein the office than their husbands. Is it then fair to continue to hold that ‘logic’ and to make such women do all the work at home? Let me shade my dad and brother a bit. My sister and I don’t live at home because of work so they probably see us twice a year. My other sister is in school and is home about four times a year. When we are away, my father and brother do all the household chores and maintain the house. My dad fixes his breakfast – a cup of tea – daily and sets off for work. Fast forward to whenever I come home. Soon as they see I am home, they take their hands off the household chores. My dad would even ask that I fix his breakfast. I want to assume that he misses me and would prefer to have that special bonding moment but eh ehn! I no gree! See, my father is set in his ways and one of his beliefs is that chores are for women. Simple and short! He raised us like that and even when my mother insisted that my brother does chores, my father relegated him to sweeping duty. Even that became a problem for him as we grew up. I knew he wouldn’t do it so I just took his portion. I spoke to my sisters and they said when they also come home, they experience same. My brother is especially worse. If I don’t wake up on time, my dad may still fix his breakfast but my brother? Total hands-off from chores! It wasn’t until I fell a bit ill that they both miraculously found the ability to take care of themselves (and the house) again. They wanted me to feel that if I wasn’t home, they would die but seeing how fresh they both looked, I begin to wonder. Done shading! Okay popsi, no vex abeg! You see, many men in the country are like that. They feel a woman can and shoulddo any and every household chore. A woman is supposed to maintain a house and maintain her husband and
